TWENTY

Percival Benjamin Lawson Chadwick had been born a weak baby who mewled constantly. His high-pitched cry annoyed his mother to the point that she had his nursery moved to the other side of the house and told the nanny not to bother her with the child. Originally, Linda Lawson had told her husband that Percy was born early and that was why he was so sickly but the true reason was that in order to hide her pregnancy as long as possible, Linda Lawson ate sparingly so as not to gain weight. And when the child was born, Linda hated him. To her, the infant represented all the stinging words that Ben had spoken when he had refused her way of life in New Orleans, refused to marry her, to live in the house she had chosen, and was appalled at her suggestion to send Adam away to school and to be rid of Hop Sing. She had been willing to pass up her rich fiancé, Lord Millburn Chadwick, and all the power and wealth he had to marry Ben Cartwright who was struggling to support his family and his "farm," as Linda called it. She would have helped Ben become even more powerful as a partner in the fur trade with her father-she had arranged that, but he refused her-dismissed her even after she had given her body to him. And instead of the happiness she felt was her due, she had given birth to this weak child that to her, looked like a skinny, plucked chicken. He had none of the vibrancy, the lust for life that Ben Cartwright had. But he was Ben's son. Of that she was sure.

Linda Lawson had, as was the tradition, handed Percy over to a wet nurse and he grew slowly but became a bit healthier although his lungs were weak. He had colds and even a bout with pneumonia but lived. Linda felt a slight disappointment at his recovery. Eventually, Linda confessed to her husband that Percy was not his progeny but that the father was no one he knew, and that she had been, according to her, seduced by a man who was a friend of her father's; she had been a naive victim of an older, sophisticated man; Percy was a mistake that she had to live with. And because Lord Chadwick didn't care to be reminded of his wife's earlier peccadillo-even though she claimed to have been coerced, as soon as Percy was old enough, he was sent off to boarding schools a great distance away.

But Percy always seemed to be asked to leave his many schools for various reasons; the boy stole or he caused havoc among the students by playing one against the other. Percy was highly clever and manipulative and although it was not allowed, he managed to manipulate the younger boys into performing sexual favors. But Percy did successfully remain in his final school for the last five years of his education but Lord Chadwick who loathed the young man, felt it was merely because Percy had managed not to be caught doing something distasteful. But Lord Chadwick did note that whenever Percy spent time at the manor, unusual things happened.

When Percy was about twelve and home between schools, Lord Chadwick's favorite hunting dog, Feather, began to howl and cry and did so for hours until finally, the dog vomited a mixture of blood and a white grainy substance and then died, its body twitching and heaving. The kennel master said that it looked like arsenic poisoning. Lord Chadwick asked how that could be and raged against the kennel master who said that the dog, somehow, must have gotten into the arsenic imbued fruit that he used to kill rats. Lord Chadwick raised his riding crop, the one he always carried outside and whenever he took his dogs out, and the kennel master cringed to bear the blows he would receive, when he saw a small shadow. Lord Chadwick turned and saw Percy standing there.

"Did you quiet the dog, father," he asked. "I couldn't sleep last night due to his howling." Percy, his pale, blond hair hanging limply, his eyes large and dark, looked the picture of purity and innocence but Lord Chadwick felt a chill run through him. Somehow he sensed the boy was culpable, that the boy knew that Feather was his favorite dog and wanted to kill the dog to hurt him but there was nothing to substantiate his feelings so he just turned and left the kennel. The next day, Percy was off to another school which had agreed to take him but at a cost higher than its normal tuition.

And when Percy was older and through with his schooling, Lord Chadwick was called to a brothel in the seedier part of London. When he entered the dimly lit building, he was approached by an obsequious man who told Lord Chadwick that he had decided that instead of handing the nasty matter over to the police, he had decided instead to allow the implicated young man's father to hush the matter.

"To what matter are you referring?" said Lord Chadwick. The whole place offended his delicate taste. The filthy streets he had needed to ride through in his carriage, the terrible smell that emanated from the brothel-the whole matter smacked of scandal.

"It seems, sir," the man said in the continuous stance of a toady, "that your son, Sir Percival, has had an accident-or so he claims. A young girl, one of my employees, has died. She, of course, has not been killed he says-she merely died unassisted although the police may believe that she has been from the look of things."

"Where is…Percival?"

"Follow me," the man said. He led Lord Chadwick up a set of narrow, winding stairs to a small room. Lord Chadwick saw Percy huddled in a corner wearing only his shirt with an open collar and on the floor lay a young girl, her eyes still open although unfocused and her face bruised and swollen. Her lip was split and her thin gown ripped open. It looked as if she had been strangled as as bruises were on her neck.

Percy looked up at Lord Chadwick, panic in his face. "You must help me," Percy said. "I beg of you, Father, help me. It was all an accident. She bit me, hurt me and I was paying her to let me do those things; I became carried away. I didn't mean for her to die. I only needed to do certain things, I needed to and when I tried, she fought me. If she only hadn't fought me everything would have been fine but she did. She hurt me. I am not the one to be hurt-she was, but she protested. She screamed and I had to shut her up. Help me. Pay the man, please, Father. Pay him what he asks."

And so Lord Chadwick paid a great amount of money to the unctuous man who ran the brothel while Percy quickly dressed and the two rode back to the manor in silence. The only thing that Lord Chadwick said was that his mother was not to know what happened-no one was to know, and he warned Percy that if he ever found himself in trouble again, Lord Chadwick would formally disown him. Gaming debts were one thing as he, himself, had over the years lost large amounts at the table but beating a young whore to death, and a pretty one at that, was just too much, accident or not.

Percy said that understood and once again, he thanked his Father. And he was grateful but nevertheless, he hated the man even more; he hated having to owe anyone-it made one inferior to the other for his largesse and so Percy amused himself on the ride back by calculating how he would spend his share of the money from the estate once Lord Chadwick died.

And so Percy did spend a great deal of money once Lord Chadwick died. It was stress, the family doctor had said of Lord Chadwick's death, that caused his heart to give out. And Percy feigned grief and then went to the bank with the death certificate and informed the banker that he, the now Lord Percy Chadwick, was the controller of the estate and immediately took out a large sum of money and spent the day in a gambling house where he actually ended up ahead, and later rewarded himself with a slender youth who was employed in one of the more varied brothels that catered to all tastes.

And now he found himself in the western area of North America where people were crude and vulgar. And he stood and watched while his oldest brother made a pot of coffee. And Percy hated Adam most of all. Percy was determined to make Adam suffer, suffer until he couldn't bear it anymore. Percy didn't so much wish to see Adam dead but to see him grovel and beg Percy for mercy, and then he would make Adam lick his boots and then show Adam none—no mercy at all.

Joe, Ben and Hoss, they could die. Percy would be happy to sweep them away and have the majority of the Ponderosa. But one day soon Percy would have Adam under his thumb and eventually, Percy would own it all because Adam would sign his share over. And Percy would sell it all-everything-and return to England as one of the wealthiest men there. All he had to do was plan properly. Noting so vague as tripping Joe and hoping he would be killed. No, that had been foolish, he told himself, an impromptu act that he committed when he saw a chance. It hadn't been planned out properly. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

"What's goin' on?" Hoss asked as he entered the kitchen. "Little early for all of us to be up. I know it ain't Joe-I already checked on Pa and 'im-although he's still feverish. You makin' breakfast, Adam?"

"No, just coffee. Want some? I'm taking a cup up to Pa."

"I'll pour myself a cup." Hoss gave Percy a wide berth; he was leaning against the butcher block, watching the two brothers with a smile of amusement. "What's so dang funny?" Hoss asked.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing. Just making plans for the day."

"I was thinking', Adam," Hoss said. "There ain't much we can do 'round here so why don't we go fix up that property?"

"I'll do that," Adam said, pouring a mug of coffee for his father. "I want you to stay here with Pa-see if you can spell him; he needs to get some rest." Adam carried the mug out of the kitchen. "Oh, and fix him something to eat. Just anything-get him to eat. If Joe gets worse, come get me, otherwise, I'll be home a little after noon. I'm just going to straighten up the place and then go see Nash Jeffers tomorrow."

"And his wife," Percy added. "Don't forget his wife. She's so delicious that I don't know how you could forget her. Like a ripe peach just waiting to be plucked." And Percy gave a small laugh as Adam glanced at him and then went upstairs.

Percy rode into town; it had taken him longer to get to Virginia City than he had thought because he had made a few wrong turns but he knew that he would find the return easier. He wasn't sure about finding his way to town and back in the dark but that would only give him the excuse for staying in town all night.

Percy wasn't quite sure where he should start looking for a cook but then he found the seedier section of Virginia City, the far side of town where the squatters lived and those who lacked the ability, mainly due to opium or alcohol, to hold down a job with the railroad and whose luck had failed at finding gold or silver. This was where the petty thieves lived and the families with lazy fathers and dirty children with dried, white, crusty snot on their upper lips and noses.

The people who lived there in their shacks and hovels eyed him suspiciously as he rode by in his fine clothes. He stopped in front of a brothel where a man sat smoking a pipe.

"We're closed," the man said.

"That's fine. I need to talk business with whomever runs this fine establishment."

"Why? It's a little early in the day for that and most of the 'employees' sleep 'til noon if not longer. You got yourself an itch that needs scratchin' this time of day and you'll pay dearly. Easier to scratch it yourself."

"May I please talk to the proprietor?" Percy tried not to show his annoyance with the slovenly man. The man just stared at him and then Percy realized what was needed. He pulled out his wallet and removed a bill. He handed it down and the man took it.

"Now the owner, if that's what that 'propter' word means, would be Miss June and she'd need a little something extra to roll out of bed this early." The man still sat as he tucked the bill in his shirt pocket.

"Oh, very well," Percy said and took out his wallet again. This time he pulled out a five dollar bill. "Wake her up."

The man slowly stood up and took the money from Percy, grinning at Percy's annoyed look. "Follow me," he said and Percy dismounted and followed the man into the darkened house that reeked of alcohol, sweat and urine. He was directed to wait in a cheaply-furnished parlor where he dared not sit down; even in the dull light, he could see that the upholstery was stained. He shuddered to think with what. Percy heard a noise and looked up and saw a blowsy woman in a thin wrap walk in. Her hair was an odd color of red, obviously dyed, and her cheeks and lips still bore vestiges of rouge from the night before.

"I hear you wanna do business with me?" she said. "If it's to get a pop, I don't do that no more."

"No, that's noy it." The idea of receiving a "pop" from Miss June almost gave him the shivers. "But I do believe that we may come to an understanding-a business understanding when I tell you what I need. Do you have anyone here who is good at domesticity."

"At what?" The woman sat down heavily. "Frank," she called out. "Bring me my coffee and put a shot in it, would you?" The man answered that he would. "You want any?" she asked Percy.

"Thank you but, no." Percy doubted that the glass would be clean and the liquor they served here would be so crude that he believed that it would eat through his gut. "By domesticity, I mean, do you have any employee who can cook and keep house?"

Miss June looked at the slender young man oddly. Well, she thought to herself, it takes all kinds. "Let's talk," she said and Percy smiled.

At the rental house, Adam pulled the sheets from the furniture and opened up all the windows to air it. He looked around. The place wasn't good enough for Piper, he thought. Piper deserves something grander. He thought back to how he and Piper had discussed possibly moving back to Nevada after his apprenticeship and while holding Piper in his arms, he described the type of house he would build for her. She laughed and told him that she would be happy living in a cave as long as it was with him. That would be all she needed, she had said. And Adam felt a stab of sadness at the memory and of how life had separated them when they had been so much in love.

But the house was a good one for a blind man; the floor plan was simple and the flow between the rooms carried no barriers. Once Nash familiarized himself to the placement of the furniture, he would be fine, Adam thought and that would make life easier for Piper.

So Adam stood in the middle of the parlor and looked around. He was satisfied with the way the place looked. Piper had told him not to make a fuss; she would enjoy making the place a home for them. And Adam remembered that it was she and Nash that she meant by the word "them"- Adam would always be a visitor now, an outsider.

So after one final look, Adam left the house, mounted up and rode back home to check on Joe before he went to Virginia City. He was going to look for Hop Sing and ask him to return. And then he was going to see Piper. He hadn't stopped thinking about her and he was worried. Adam wasn't exactly sure why he was worried or about what; it was some nebulous fear that he couldn't understand but it sat at the back of his mind and wouldn't let him rest but kept him in turmoil. He wanted Piper closer as soon as possible, somewhere that he could check on her, could make excuses to ride over and see her.

As he rode home, taking a shortcut through the stands of trees, Adam planned how he would approach Piper and Nash to convince them to stay and not to go on to Sacramento; he couldn't lose her again. Even though he knew that Piper would never be his, the knowledge of where she was, that she was close and that he could see her was enough-at least for the time. And he would make certain that she was happy, that she lacked for nothing.

Adam walked into a quiet house; no one was downstairs and there wasn't the usual clattering and clanging from the kitchen. He would have to convince Hop Sing to return and then maybe this hollow feeling would begin to be filled. That was it, Adam thought to himself—hollow, everything was hollow.

Even outside, things were quiet as if in a vacuum-empty of matter. Adam thought of the class he had taken in physics where they had discussed a vacuum. But Adam agreed with Descartes; a vacuum cannot exist in nature, something will always fill an empty space. "Horror vacuii"-nature abhors a vacuum. Yes, Adam thought, he agreed. In class, he had even argued against natural vacuums, postulating that only man could or would want to create a vacuum. But then another student raised the aspect of the universe, perhaps there was a vacuum in all of space and that the stars operated in a vacuum? But Adam, always the rationalist, said that the mere fact that we existed negated the aspect of the universe being in a vacuum. And the student was flustered and said that he, of course, was playing devil's advocate and merely arguing for argument's sake.

But now Adam wasn't so sure of himself, not quite so arrogant anymore and as comforting as it was to live in a world of absolutes, he knew there weren't any absolutes. He still had a spot, a vacuum, that Piper had once filled and when they were torn from each other, that hole, that empty lifeless hole in his being had never been filled and now it ached with emptiness. And Adam also knew that if Joe died, the hollow emptiness his father and he and Hoss would feel would never be filled. Empty. Completely empty and crying to be filled.

Adam knew the three ranch hands were out on the property, checking for mavericks, maintaining the young stock that hadn't been taken on the drive, and checking fence lines and making certain that the line shacks were stocked or taking note of what was needed if they weren't. They rest of the hands, the ones who had chosen to return to the Ponderosa after the drive, still wouldn't return for another month so there was enough to keep the three hands who had stayed behind busy. Adam had looked around the yard when he arrived home as he tied his horse to the hitching rail near the trough and the horse dipped its head to drink. And now he was standing in what appeared to be an empty house. He threw his hat on the credenza and climbed the stairs.

"Pa?" Adam asked when he opened Joe's bedroom door. "How's Joe?"

"Not good," Ben said, looking up at Adam. "He's burning up. I'm been wiping him down with cool water but it hasn't done much good." Ben's voice broke and Adam was embarrassed to see his father, his big, powerful father broken. Then Ben recovered. "Hoss has gone for Dr. Martin. I don't know what more he can do but…I'm hoping."

"Pa, I'll go to Frenchman's Creek. You know that water's freezing-it's glacier fed and I'll fill a barrel and bring it back. That'll help cool him down even more."

"Yes," Ben said. "I hadn't thought of that. Yes, Adam, that's a good idea." Ben sat slumped over, watching Joe, hoping, Adam knew, that Joe would open his eyes instead of occasionally moaning in his sleep.

"Where's Percy?" Adam asked. "Did he go into town with Hoss?"

"What? Percy? I don't think so. I don't know where he went. I don't care where he went."

"I'll go get the water. I won't be long." Adam rushed downstairs, grabbed up his hat and went out to the barn to find an empty barrel. He hoisted one up and placed in in the back of a small buggy out in the side yard. Then he hitched up one of the horses in the paddock but kept missing the hole in the strap to buckle on the traces. So he stopped and took a deep breath; he made himself settle down but it felt as if the fire that burned through Joe also burned through him. And then he finished and took off for Frenchman's Creek.