I haven't posted a story in quite a few months. Thank you to any readers and to those who leave comments but any guest reviews will be deleted.
Melinda
Sleep eluded Melinda but her husband, Joe, slept soundly. But then, why shouldn't he? she thought. He had everything he could ever want, or so he had whispered many nights as, in the intimate darkness of their bedroom, he held Melinda close; a beautiful wife he adored, three children and a grand home. But Melinda suffered every day and now, with the new Cartwright wife, she felt the situation was beyond endurance.
It had been a trying day but, as her mother had instructed, she had smiled and been gracious to the interloper. "Of all Ben's sons, you are the first Cartwright wife and have three children of that name. Look at you," her mother, Deborah, had said, standing behind Melinda as they both gazed in the mirror. "You are so beautiful and that dress—magnificent! You will outshine Adam's bride in every way, and he won't be able to take his eyes from you nor will anyone else. Lift your head high, my darling, and remember, be gracious and welcoming, even if you don't feel it. Say you are very happy for them both and how nice it will be to have a 'sister'." And so, Melinda had been brave and welcoming of Adam's wife; her cheeks still ached from forced smiling and her head pounded. Afterwards, as Joe drove the buggy home, Melinda sat, not really listening to Joe's animated conversation as her mind swirled, unable to hold a single thought. She was wrung out. Once home, while Joe woke the barn boy and supervised putting away the buggy, she had dragged herself up the stairs, her legs shaky and her eyes burning from the fire behind them. She stepped out of her clothes, leaving the expensive, hand-beaded dress in a pile on the floor along with the petticoats. The satin shoes, she kicked off, and they lay on their sides on the plush carpet. The rolled-off stockings were tossed beside them. Melinda didn't even bother to wipe the rouge from her cheeks and lips or take the pins from her hair, instead, merely slipping her gown over her head and feeling it fall about her body, almost as a soft caress. She was bone-weary and wanted nothing more than to escape into sleep but once Joe joined her, he began to kiss her neck and slid an arm beneath her. How she wanted to say, "Please, Joe. My head hurts so." He would have sympathized and kissed her good night, but Melinda remembered her mother's marital advice; never refuse your husband. So, Melinda always complied, even managing to appear enthusiastic although she often had to close her eyes, imagining Adam groaning on top of her. It was a trick she was ashamed of using but when she would open her eyes and see the love in Joe's eyes, Melinda felt it was worth the charade. She did love Joe and Melinda was certain he loved her; he said he always had and always would, no matter what and she believed him. After all, he had forgiven her for the pain she had once caused him and believed it when she said that their time apart had convinced her that she did love him but had been too inexperienced in the ways of love to recognize it. Her mother, Deborah, had chosen the wording of the explanation.
Joe had never mentioned the long-ago kiss between Melinda and Adam. Either he wanted to forget about a possible betrayal from his brother or he just didn't know; after all, Joe had only seen them standing close, Adam's hands on Melinda's upper arms, pushing her back. Melinda considered she couldn't very well ask Joe if he knew about the kiss because if he didn't, he would ask, "What kiss? What are you talking about?" and she would have to explain. But it never came up causing Melinda to rightly assume Adam had never told Joe and probably not even Hoss; he treated his sister-in-law with genuine affection and respect. But Melinda was sure from the way he looked at her, the way he treated her, that Ben knew. She therefore was never truly comfortable around him. But her father-in-law had never spoken of it and Melinda had never even told her own mother of the humiliation she suffered from Adam's rejection or even how she felt about Adam at all. For all Deborah Banning knew, Melinda held Adam in as much disdain as she did. During their first visit to the Ponderosa, after observing all three of Ben's sons and their reactions to Melinda and her quiet beauty, Deborah had decided on Joseph as her daughter's husband-to-be. When Melinda had asked why it had to be Joe, her mother had answered that Hoss didn't feel that way about her and that she had watched Adam at dinner; he was too cunning, would be too difficult to control. And Melinda had wanted to cry out that that was why she wanted him.
When Melinda had first met the Cartwright brothers, they were breaking horses and Joe had explained that horses had to be broken in spirit or they wouldn't be useful. Melinda knew that her spirit had been broken by her overbearing mother years ago and she instinctively knew Joe's spirit could be broken by love; he would do anything and everything for the woman he loved. But Adam, she was sure, could never be broken, never held in check by the cruel bit of matrimony, never made "useful" as those horses were. No, she saw Adam as the dominant stallion in the herd who mounted any mare he chose. Adam would always be beyond anyone's control and that was why she wanted him so badly, why she ached for him, for his hot mouth on hers and his strong arms about her. She felt that through her body and her passion, she could tame Adam, break him, and make him plead for her love.
Melinda rose and pulled on her wrap that was on the end of the bed. It was early spring and the house was chilly but the kitchen would still be warm. She would heat up some milk, maybe even put in a few drops of laudanum to help her head and allow her to sleep and keep her from dreaming about that other woman intruding into her world.
Red embers glowed in the stove's wood box so after Melinda added some fat wood and then a few larger sticks, she heated up a pan of milk. After filling a mug and placing the pan in the sink, she opened the kitchen cupboard where her mother kept the bottles of her Chinese medicines. She reached for the bottle that was labeled with Chinese writing that she had come to recognize. Using the dropper, she put two drops of the bitter tincture in her milk and then, replacing it, took down the bottle of laudanum and swirled the amber liquid inside. She stared at the bottle and considered that if she drank the whole bottle. It would peacefully end the misery of seeing Adam so enamored with another woman; that was almost too much for her to bear. But instead, with a heavy sigh, Melinda put in a drop and stirred the whole concoction.
With the mug of hot milk in front of her, Melinda sat at the kitchen table and stared into it as if it were a fortune-teller's crystal ball. She considered the bottle her mother had purchased for her in Chinatown. After the doctor had warned Deborah that another pregnancy, another birth might kill Melinda and that Joe should know, Deborah had begged the doctor not to tell him; Melinda would tell Joe herself since it was a private thing between a husband and wife. But later, once Melinda recovered, when they were both over the loss of Abigail, the smaller twin girl who had only lived a few moments in her father's arms, Deborah had told her daughter to say nothing to Joe. After all, Deborah had explained, Joe could only take so much. And as she had said to Dr. Turner that night, tears brimming in her eyes at the thought of her dead grandchild and the sight of an inconsolable Joe weeping as he held his dead daughter, Dr. Turner had agreed. But Joe was never told. Instead, Deborah found a tincture in the little stall in Chinatown where she bought various herbs and pills for her personal maladies. Ying Song who spoke broken English and translated for her father, a frail, bird-like man whose store-front sign proclaimed him a healer and surgeon, explained that two drops in a small amount of liquid the morning after would prevent any pregnancy. But only two—no more, she emphasized.
~ 0 ~
Life as the wife of Joe Cartwright was better than Melinda could have wished or even hoped. After the loss of her beloved father Horace Banning, she finally found stability within the Cartwright family, the stability she never really had as a child although her father tried to keep the harshness of life from her. That his death was unexpected made the loss more devastating to Melinda; it seemed finally, that life was good with hope rising anew every dawn with the sun; then her life was shattered.
The job Ben Cartwright had helped secure for his old friend Horace Banning was at a San Francisco weekly newspaper as a features reporter. After six months, he was fired. It seemed he couldn't meet deadlines and always offered one excuse after another. But the truth was that he spent too much time and too much money in a grimy little bar near the waterfront. And then, within a week of his firing, Horace Banning died leaving his wife Deborah and his daughter with little money and no home; eviction loomed over their heads. Deborah immediately wrote Ben Cartwright informing him of Horace's passing and of his burial at the far edge of the cemetery among other indigents. Couched in gracious language, Deborah asked for Ben's counsel; he was so wise, she added. But she was secretly counting on Ben's generosity and kindness. Perhaps he would send her a bank draft.
"But, Mother, after what happened between me and Joseph, and all that Mr. Cartwright already did for us and father, how can you ask him for help again?"
"Because we have no one else, Melinda. You don't truly understand our situation so please don't question me. Do you think I take any pleasure asking Ben Cartwright for help?" She stopped and swayed a bit before she clasped the side of one of the wingchairs and managed to sit. The small apartment had come shabbily furnished and Deborah noticed that the padding had broken through the threadbare armrests.
"Are you all right, Mother?" Melinda kneeled next to her mother's chair, noticing how pale she was and how suddenly old she looked. "Would you like a wet cloth?"
"No. no…I just felt a little weak and light-headed." Deborah clutched Melinda's hands. "Listen to what I'm saying. We are in a desperate situation. I've swallowed what little pride I ever had in asking for help, but we only have enough money to last through this month. I've counted and recounted every penny and…" Deborah's voice cracked with emotion. "Once we've run through what little I've managed to save including the small severance your father received, we're on the street. We don't even have family to take us in as poor relatives. We have nowhere to go. What then? Will you work in a saloon? Let men fondle you to sell whiskey? Or will you marry some nobody who has nothing in an effort to save us? Tell me, Melinda? What next for us if not my practically begging Ben for help and trying again to find security and happiness for you?"
"Yes, Mother. I suppose…I had no idea things were as bad as that."
As Deborah had hoped and prayed, Ben was true to form and she quickly received his letter of condolence with apologies for learning of Horace's passing too late to help with a funeral. And although Ben didn't mention it in his reply, it was obvious to him that Deborah and Melinda were indeed in dire straits. Therefore, Ben extended an invitation for them to visit until they found a stable situation. He also included stage tickets from San Francisco to Virginia City, saying he would meet their coach and if, out of misplaced priced, they didn't accept the tickets, he would look a fool waiting at the station for two ladies who never arrived!
Melinda barely spoke during the journey, gazing at the landscape and fighting the queasiness produced by the swaying motion of the stage. What lay ahead, she wondered? Adam's face rose before her and remembering her brazenness of forcing herself on him, she flushed. She could still taste his mouth, the slight saltiness of the sweat on his upper lip, the heat of his body next to her, and she closed her eyes. On this visit, she would contain herself, keep her passions in check. And although her mind always turned to Adam, Melinda listened with one ear while her mother, speaking lowly, schooled her again on how to go about securing Joe's marriage proposal; in Deborah's view, things were far more desperate now than they had ever been or, she told Melinda, never would she suggest a thing, having failed once. And, in a sudden rush of compassion, Deborah said Joe's heart should not be broken again.
"As I told you before, my dear, marriage is a contract, and it can't be executed under the influence of emotion. I married your father because I loved him and look what happened. You saw what life was like with your father and now that we have no one but each other, realize I won't always be here to guide you. Please, Melinda, let me die happy knowing you're secure for life."
And Melinda only said, "Yes, Mother." And she thought of Joe, of his earnest, green eyes and boyish, tousled hair. He had a smile that could fill her heart with joy and a kiss that made her aware of his passions. Melinda decided she would devote herself to him and if he would have her, to be the best wife he could desire.
Ben was waiting for the two Banning women at the stage depot just as promised. He smiled warmly and welcomed them both with a kiss on the cheek; he was especially glad to see Melinda as she, on her previous visit, had earned his respect. Ben and Deborah talked quietly and somberly on the buggy ride to the Ponderosa, mainly about Horace, his struggles to keep his job and his unfortunate death. Surprising herself, Deborah Banning, while speaking of her husband, shed genuine tears. Melinda felt her throat close with emotion; her mother did care about her father. So far, Melinda thought she had been the lone mourner of her father, her mother retreating into stony silence. She put a gloved hand on her mother's shoulder. Deborah turned and patted Melinda's hand and whispered, "Thank you, my dear."
Both Joe and Hoss were through with the day's work by the time Ben and their guests arrived. Joe was unsure how to greet Melinda, what to say, but once he saw her, heard her voice and shy smile and gazed on her delicate beauty, he fell in love again. Deborah and Melinda were shown to their room, given time to "wash the dust off" as Ben put it, and dress for dinner. "Not too much," Deborah had told Melinda as they pulled a simple frock from her battered trunk. And it wasn't until dinner when Deborah inquired, that Melinda discovered Adam had enlisted in the Union Army. Surprising herself, Melinda felt a wave of relief. Temptation was removed, her heart was lighter, and she turned to Joe with fresh appreciation.