Chapter 12, by LizK

Folly tilted her face from side to side, studying herself in the mirror. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and smoothed the powder over her eyes. Then she moved back and gave herself a wink. Not many women in her business looked so good at her age and she knew it.

She stepped back to get a fuller view of herself. Placing her hands at her hips and turning sideways she studied her figure. She could still turn heads with it, even old goats like Roy Coffee.

She smirked at herself remembering how he'd come charging into the room earlier, eyes blazing, scaring Thalia and Kate out of their wits and startling her -- she hadn't seen him leave the room next door. Boy, had he been fire and brimstone.

She grinned as she smoothed her emerald green dress down over her still slim hips. She liked this dress because it matched her eyes and she knew she looked good in it. It gave her confidence. Something she'd need tonight, that was certain.

Of course she hadn't needed it earlier, all she'd had to do was bluff and bluster right along with him for awhile, then turn dumb and innocent and twirl the sheriff's tie a little and he'd calmed down quickly enough, letting her go after warning her to get the wall fixed and to stop eavesdropping on people she had no business eavesdropping on.

It was an old trick but a good one. She'd have to remember to pass it on to Thalia. Poor kid.

Folly leaned forward again and adjusted the collar of her dress, then reached for her powder to apply a few careful touches here and there until she was perfection.

The Farrows wouldn't be so easy to maneuver. Folly knew that and she cursed the impulse that had led her to offer Hoss her room when Little Joe had been brought into the saloon, beaten and bleeding.

Her weakness for those Cartwrights was causing her all sorts of trouble and now she had a summons from the big man himself. Folly just knew it was because of them. She should have stayed well away from the whole thing. Thank goodness they'd moved over to the hotel and given her room back to her.

Folly tweaked a curl carefully into place and studied herself one last time. It was as good as it was going to get. She only hoped it was good enough. She hoped she was good enough. It was going to take all her ingenuity and vaunted acting skills to keep herself out of trouble tonight, she could feel it. Well, she hadn't gotten as far as she had by being a dummy or letting anyone intimidate her and she wasn't about to start now.

A light tapping on her door interrupted her thoughts and after another careful scan of herself, she picked up her wrap and went to answer the door.

***********

The room was dim. The dark paneling and heavy brocade curtains reflected little of the light from the oil lamps over the fireplace. Rather they absorbed it leaving most of the room in shadows. But Byron liked it that way. He snipped the end from his cigar, lit it, then settled back deep into the armchair and crossed his legs. He pulled on the cigar, enjoying its flavor. His father had always had excellent taste and he was glad to see it hadn't changed. He smiled in amusement at the silver-haired man pacing just in front of the massive desk beyond the sitting area.

Ray Farrow stopped his pacing long enough to pull out a gold pocket watch. He glanced at it then closed it in frustration before returning it to his vest pocket.

"Hasn't changed much has he?" Byron commented dryly.

Farrow glared at him but didn't respond, merely began his restless pacing once again.

Byron shrugged. He was used to his father's lack of response when it came to Dirk. They'd long ago agreed to disagree about Byron's younger brother. He was also used to Dirk being late. He had never been on time for anything. It was of a piece with his arrogance and lack of respect.

The two men waited together in silence--Byron enjoying the cigar and watching the flames of the fire, Farrow endlessly pacing.

Both men were instantly alert as footsteps approached down the hallway. The door opened and Dirk walked in. He greeted his father with a haphazard smile.

"Sorry I'm late. I was busy with something that couldn't wait." Dirk began his explanation, then stopped when he saw Byron sitting quietly beside the fire.

He turned to his father. "What's he doing here?"

"Hello to you, too, little brother." Byron said, his voice dripping sarcasm, but Dirk ignored him, focusing instead on Farrow.

"Your brother has some information he thought he should tell us in person." Farrow explained.

"Not to mention getting your sorry hide out of another mess." Byron added.

"I don't need your help."

Byron raised one eyebrow. "Oh? You certainly could have fooled me."

"Boys, please." Farrow broke in. "This is hardly the time." he leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms. "Dirk, Byron has information we need. Important information. So have a seat and behave yourself for once."

Dirk began to protest but a look from Farrow silenced him. He glared at Byron again, then sat in the chair opposite him.

"All right, Byron, tell Dirk what you know."

Byron sat back deeper in the chair and pondered his cigar for a moment. He enjoyed making Dirk wait, knowing how impatient his brother was. It was one of the ways he kept Dirk humble. After waiting a few moments while Dirk squirmed, he started.

"The Virginia City Sheriff' has gotten jittery. All this animosity you've been stirring up against the Cartwrights is making him nervous. Evidently he's worried that things might get out of hand so he's called in reinforcements. He sent to the Territorial office for help and they've sent a marshal and his deputy to help him keep order."

"And that's supposed to be news?" Dirk said. "We knew that two days ago."

Byron smiled tolerantly at him. "In that case you must know who they sent?"

"What does it matter? A couple more badges aren't going to make much difference one way or the other."

Byron looked up at his father and shrugged.

"Cut the theatrics, Byron, and tell him."

"Tell me what?" Dirk looked suspiciously between his father and brother.

"They've sent Taylor and the Murdoch kid is with him."

"You know what that means don't you, Dirk." Farrow broke in. "He's here after us."

A light tap on the door was followed by the entrance of the butler.

"Miss Folly and Mr. Saunders" He announced and then withdrew.

***********

Folly trotted along behind Pete Saunders trying to keep up as best she could, though the darkness of the streets made it difficult if she didn't want to fall on her face. It would have been nice if Saunders had offered her his arm but she had discovered long ago that he wasn't one to waste social niceties on "his girls". It didn't really matter. He paid well, better than a lot of saloons, and he pretty much left them alone to do their job--except for the occasional special request as in the case of the Cartwright men. Folly still wondered about that, but she'd learned early that if one didn't ask questions and did her job one got along a whole lot better. Folly was a smart gal; she kept her nose out of things and she'd done well by herself because of it.

Until now that is. Now she found herself smack dab in the middle of two warring families and was finding it a very uncomfortable place to be. As she scurried to keep up with Saunders, her mind worked feverishly trying come up with a plan to keep herself from getting in even deeper than she already was.

She'd just have to explain to the Farrows that she'd had enough. She wanted out of whatever it was they were planning. That she didn't know anything and didn't want to know anything. It had worked with Sheriff Coffee. Dumb and innocent, it always worked. Dirk liked her, she knew that, a little push in that direction and maybe they would just leave her alone. Maybe...

Saunders suddenly stopped in front of her and she stumbled into him.

"Watch it, girl." He said as he grabbed her to keep her from falling. Then he turned and strode up a walkway toward a large brick mansion - the Farrow house.

"Sorry." Folly said to his back as she followed him. Her voice quivered and she silently cursed her weakness.

He turned and stared hard at her. "Don't worry; they just want to have a little talk." He rapped on the door and gave her a crooked smile. "Just tell 'em what they want to know, and everything will be fine."

"Yeah, well. What if I don't want to talk?" Folly tried to sound tough.

Saunders just laughed. "You'll talk. If you know what's good for you."

The door opened and a butler appeared. "Yes?"

"Mr. Saunders and Miss Folly to see Mr. Farrow."

"Ah yes, you were expected. This way please."

Saunders smiled at her again and then led the way behind the butler. Folly stared around her. The Farrow's lived in a style she hadn't seen often. And though she felt slightly overwhelmed at the sheer size of the place, it surprised her that there was so little ostentation about it. From her dealings with Dirk, she would have thought his father to be flashy as well, yet the house was simply and elegantly furnished, the man had good taste she had to admit that.

The butler stopped outside ornately carved double doors and asked them to wait a moment. He entered the room and Folly heard her and Saunders announced to those inside, then the door was opened wide for them to enter.

The room was lit by only a few oil lamps and a fire in the fireplace, but Folly could feel the immense size of it as shadows leaped toward high ceilings and far walls. She felt dwarfed by it, small and insignificant, and it added to her nervousness. She stood quietly just inside the door unwilling to draw attention to herself and scanned the room as Saunders stepped forward to take Farrow's outstretched hand. Dirk was sitting in a chair before the fire, looking as handsome as ever. He saw her glance at him and he gave her a smile and wink. She smiled back, then turned her gaze to the man seated in the chair across from him.

He was studying Saunders with an air of detachment, holding a cigar easily in his right hand. Folly had never seen him before, but she was pretty sure who he was. His resemblance to Dirk would have told her even if she hadn't already known Dirk had an older brother. An older brother he didn't care for. He'd told her lots about Byron. The name came easily to her mind and she was sure it was the right one. He lived in San Francisco she knew and took care of the Farrow operations on that end. Dirk considered him a show off and a know it all. Underneath it all, she thought she detected jealousy. From what she gathered Ray Farrow leaned heavily on his eldest son in matters of business and otherwise and Dirk resented that. She could understand it. The man's calm presence was quite a contrast to Dirk's habitual moodiness. She could see a lot of his father in him.

As if he felt her studying him, Byron suddenly turned and looked at her. He held her gaze and then smiled a slow intimate smile that had her blushing. Folly didn't blush easily and it irritated her. Quickly she turned her attention back to Saunders and Farrow, but not before she caught Dirk's glare at his brother. He'd seen the smile too. Well, Folly couldn't help it if she was attractive to men, but good grief she sure didn't need anymore men trouble, not at the moment. She kept her eyes on Saunders back, but she was sure she heard a low chuckle and she felt her face flame again.

"Well, we've no time to waste. Let's get started shall we." She heard Farrow say and he directed Saunders to a seat and then as if noticing her for the first time, he smiled and stepped forward. "Ah, Folly. What a pleasure to have you in our home. Please won't you be seated?" He said, taking her arm and gesturing to a chair near Byron.

Byron stood as she approached and flashed her another smile. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure, Miss." He said taking her hand and bowing over it.

"No introductions are necessary." Dirk interrupted, grabbing her arm. "Sit over here, Folly." He said giving his brother a look that sent a clear message and that Byron accepted with a smirk.

Folly extracted herself from both men, unwilling to get in the middle of another war. "Thank you, but I think I'll sit over here." She said and moved swiftly to take a seat next to Saunders.

"Wise girl." Farrow said, moving to stand by his desk and grinning at his sons. Scowling, Dirk returned to his seat and Byron winked at her before resuming his own. Farrow smiled down on her. "You are a wise girl aren't you, Folly?" He said, then threw a leg over the edge of his desk and sat down.

"I try to be, Mr. Farrow."

"Please, call me Ray." His smile made Folly feel like a mouse about to be pounced on, but she squelched the feeling. She refused to let the man intimidate her.

"Ray" She smiled.

"We've been told you've had some important guests recently."

Folly shot a glance at Saunders, but he was giving her no help. "I'm not sure what you mean." She said, trying to give herself a little time.

Farrow smiled again. "Oh, come now, Folly. I don't think we need these games. I think you know exactly who I mean. You've had quite a few visitors today. The Cartwrights, Doctor Martin, Sheriff Coffee, and some others too. Am I right?"

"So what of it. I'm paid to be nice to people."

"Remember where you are girl." Saunders voice held a warning, but Farrow held up a hand.

"I'll handle this, Pete." Farrow returned to Folly. "Yes, you are paid to be nice to people and you did a very good job today, Folly. You helped the Cartwrights and I'm sure they're very grateful to you."

Folly narrowed her eyes. The conversation had taken a turn she wasn't expecting. She had expected to be taken to task for giving aid and comfort to the enemy.

"We want you to keep being nice to them." Farrow glanced at Saunders and winked. "Get real close to them. Help them. Let them know they have a friend in you."

Folly suddenly understood and it made her go cold.

"What!" Dirk came out of his chair.

Farrow wheeled on him. "You have a problem, Dirk?" Folly could hear the steel in Farrow's voice as he glared at this son.

"Folly's my girl, Dad. You can't make her play nice to those Cartwrights!"

Farrow turned back to Folly and looked her over carefully, then turned to Dirk. "Can't, Dirk?" He stood and stepped toward his son until he seemed to tower over him. "I really don't think you're in a position to tell me what I can't do, boy. If it weren't for you we wouldn't even be having this little conversation would we? If you hadn't been an idiot and robbed a bank I wouldn't have to concern myself with saloon girls, yours or otherwise, would I?" Farrow's voice had risen steadily, but suddenly it changed and became low and menacing. "And if it wasn't for you we wouldn't have Taylor breathing down our necks again, would we? Now sit down and don't tell me again what I can't do. As far as I'm concerned you no longer have any say in this discussion."

Folly watched as Dirk's eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. She had seen those signs before and she prepared for the outburst. It didn't come. As Farrow held his son's eyes with his own Dirk's fell and sullenly he sat back down in his chair. Folly eyes fell on Byron. There was a smirk on his face almost as if he relished the scene between his father and brother and she couldn't help contrasting it all with the other family scene she had witnessed earlier. They were as different as night and day.

Farrow turned to her again. "I'm sorry about that, Folly." He smiled. "Now where were we?"

***********

Adam checked the edge of his razor with his thumb, then leaned in toward the mirror and carefully ran the razor down the length of his chin. Slowly, he began removing the two days growth of beard that had been plaguing him. It felt good. Almost as good as being out of that bed and almost as good as not having his family hovering over him. Finishing the left side he tapped the razor against the porcelain bowl and started on the right.

It had taken a lot of ingenuity, no small amount of persuasion and even a little bullying to get his family to leave him on his own for awhile. But as soon as they were safely away he had used the chair to hobble over to the wash basin. It was a small act, getting up and shaving on his own, but Adam felt as if he'd won a major battle.

And though his leg had throbbed painfully and he'd had to stop more than once to rest even in that small distance, he had persevered until he'd made it to the wash stand and mirror.

It wasn't easy, shaving while leaning against the stand with most of his weight on one leg, but it was better than nothing and he wasn't going to quit until he finished the job.

Methodically, he scraped under his neck, and then went carefully around the curves of his mouth and over his upper lip. Tapping the razor once again, he looked at himself in the mirror, turning from side to side, making sure he hadn't missed anything. He smiled at himself and then used the towel to wipe away the rest of the lather. He ran a hand over the now smooth skin and sighed. Much better.

A sharp twinge in his leg and a wave of dizziness that had him gripping the edge of the washstand reminded him that he didn't have time to admire himself. He turned and used the chair to hobble back to the bed. Gratefully he laid back down. The dull throbbing pain, the dizziness, and the exhaustion that swept over him as he lay there made him wonder if it had been worth it. Then he ran a hand across his smooth cheek once again and smiled. He'd done what he'd set out to do, he'd been up on his own. He'd had to prove to himself that he could because the trial was coming up day after tomorrow and as hot as everything was getting he couldn't be lying around--his family was going to need him.