Brave New World

Adam tied off his horse and crouched to examine the wolf spoor. They spoke of a complete pack, only one of many that wandered the Ponderosa as he had seen a few bovine bones lying where they had been dragged, most of the flesh ripped off; it took more than one wolf to clean a carcass like that. Cougars covered the left-over meat with leaves and other debris until they could return to finish it and the area wasn't high enough for a bear to stay and feast without being harassed by coyotes. There were at least five or six separate adult wolf tracks, perhaps more, and tracks of younger wolves. "A lot of mouths to feed," Adam said as he stood up. There was more than likely a den nearby from which the young wolves never strayed far, more than likely returning while the adults hunted. Adam glanced back at his horse cropping some of the still-green grass. Cradling his rifle, he followed the tracks for about half a mile until he first heard the pups and then saw them. The den was a downed tree that had left a gaping hole where its roots were upturned. Playing about were 14 wolf pups no more than 12 weeks old. They tumbled over each other, nipping and lightly biting each other's ears, legs, paws, testing their ferocity on each other and determining dominance. Adam crouched down to watch them. He couldn't help but smile at their antics. But pups grew and developed greater appetites and then bred, giving birth to more wolves. Adam stood up, putting the rifle butt to his shoulder, sighting his first shot. He knew once he killed the first pup, the others would scramble into the den and it would be like shooting fish in a barrel after that. They needed to be killed. But Adam took down his rifle; he couldn't do it and instead, continued to watch the wolf pups cavort, a yip escaping from one every so often. No, today he wouldn't kill anything, not today. He was so tired of death.

He walked back to his horse and slid the rifle back into the sheath and mounted up. He looked at the sky. It was bright blue with a few scudding clouds and the breeze ruffled the trees and the hair at the nape of Adam's neck, reminding him he needed a haircut, especially for dinner tomorrow night but again, the thought of going into Virginia City made his heart thud. Why? He couldn't understand his foolish anxiety. He wasn't going into battle, just into town, someplace he had been hundreds of times before. He had been through battles, seen horrors he hoped he could someday forget, killed total strangers who were trying to kill him and the mere thought of going into the once familiar town made him break into a sweat. Adam considered that it may be, as strange as it seemed, that for the past few years, his life had been so constrained, seeing the same people, going through the same routine of washing socks, cleaning rifles, checking ammunition and swapping vulgar stories with others in the same situations, performing the same rituals and tamping down the fear that bloomed with every sunrise. But understanding didn't resolve it; he knew it was something he had to face. He couldn't hide on the Ponderosa no matter how much he wanted to, so turning his horse's head toward Virginia City, Adam kicked the animal into a slow canter, hoping that by the time he made his destination, he would be more in control of himself.

~ 0 ~

Riding down the main street of Virginia City, Adam noticed the changes. One or two stores were closed but Miller's Mercantile was still open and from the looks of a customer coming out with a full sack over her arm, prospering. The sound of hammers rang out and he passed construction sites with pallets of stacked red bricks and strapped stacks of planed wood. ll buildings required wood and Adam wondered which mill had provided those. If they were being brought from a distant mill, shipping raised the price and Adam was sure the Ponderosa could do it cheaper and better yet maintain quality; he would have to visit the mill and check the machinery and then order what was needed. The sooner the mill was up and running again, the better.

The city was bustling and Adam passed quite a few new saloons and a new hotel, not yet named but it seemed from the piping being installed, that gas lighting was being introduced. But despite the noise and activity, all was normal, ordinary, and Adam felt a sense of calm come over him. He recognized no one and no one recognized him. He could have been a ghost for all the attention he roused. The Silver Dollar Saloon was still standing and Adam tied off his horse and went inside. He looked about the dimly lit place and it looked essentially the same except the bartender who drew his beer was a stranger and swiped the money off the counter without a word. It was far too early for any heavy drinking and other than him, two men sat at a table off to the side, quietly taking while sipping mugs of beer. Adam took a table in the back and felt himself relax while sipping a surprisingly good beer.

"Hey, handsome, mind if I join you?"

Adam looked up and a young woman wearing a spangly dress, stood smiling. "No," he said. She sat and asked if he was going to buy her a drink.

"You old enough to drink?" Adam asked. She was a pretty thing with blond hair piled up with fancy, decorative combs and had rouged both her cheeks and her lips. But the bosom of the bright blue dress was too big and gaped under her arms and above her breasts.

"Course, I am." She turned and called to the bartender. "Hey, Slim! Bring me a whiskey. He's buying." The bartender looked at Adam who nodded and brought over a glass and a bottle of brown liquid, pouring two-fingers worth.

"A little early for the hard stuff, isn't it?" Adam asked.

"Not for me," she replied and took a sip. "Call me Beth. What's your name?"

"Adam."

"Ah, Adam—the first man…but not for me." She tried to look seductive. "You new to town?"

"I haven't been here in a long time so I guess you could say so. You?"

"Been here about two years." She took another sip and her distaste for the substance showed. "Say, Adam, I have a room not too far from here and Slim don't need me—we're not that busy you can see—so how 'bout I entertain you there? I got some better stuff than this here whiskey and you won't be sorry for visitin'." She smiled showing straight white teeth with only one missing on the left side. Adam wondered if someone, perhaps a father or husband, hadn't knocked it out, causing her to run away.

"How old are you?"

"Old enough to know how to please a man. How 'bout it?" Beth waited, trying her best to look seductive, but to Adam, it only made her an object of pity.

Adam took another slug of his beer and stood up. Beth did as well. "Lemme just tell Slim…"

"No, no, no," Adam said. "I'm leaving here alone. You're just a baby as far as I'm concerned."

"I'm no baby…" but Beth stopped when Adam tossed her a silver dollar. She deftly caught it and grinned. "Thanks, Mister. I was only gonna ask for two bits. Why you could've had me four times over for this!"

Adam laughed at that, and left the saloon smiling.

He stepped out on the sidewalk and looked about. Although the little saloon girl wasn't a prospect, the idea of bedding a woman stirred his blood. He pulled his hat off and ran his hand through his hair. It was curling about his ears and over the back of his shirt collar. He'd get a haircut and tonight he'd return to town and get his other needs satisfied. Passing strangers, Adam headed to the barbershop hoping it was still in business and across the street, he saw Roy Coffee leisurely strolling, checking out his domain, tipping his hat to the ladies and exchanging comments with a few of the men. Dodging horses and wagons loaded with construction material, Adam loped across the street.

"Roy!" He called out. The sheriff turned, his brow furrowed at the approaching stranger but once he realized who it was, he grinned. "Adam! Well, I'll be…when did you get home?" He grabbed Adam's proffered hand and shook it. "I can't believe your pa didn't come yeehawing into town with the news!"

"Got home yesterday. He's injured his knee, twisted it somehow so he's pretty much housebound, well, he should be but you know him. I came in for a haircut." Adam looked about. "Virginia City's really booming. I barely recognize the old place."

"Yeah, it is booming," Roy said and his face took on a serious look. "Don't know if it's for the best though."

"Why do you say that?"

"Oh, just too many people passing through—bunch of riff-raff from the war. I had to hire another deputy to handle all the—well, you know how it is, too much whiskey and grudges break out and when you're dealing with men used to killing, it's a bad situation. Undertaker's been prospering the most, him and the cat houses. Now there are three of us keepin' the peace and let me tell you, Adam, it wasn't easy getting the city council to approve it. But my time as sheriff may be coming to an end anyway."

"What? Why, Roy?"

"Adam, I've been thinkin' it's time for me to retire to my little house and raise some vegetables and chickens and just watch the sun rise and set, just wait out my days peacefully. It's time for a younger man to take over." Roy set his mouth but Adam noticed the mistiness of his eyes. Roy pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose. "Every year about this time, I get to having a runny nose and watery eyes. Doc Turner says it's the pollen in the air and the only thing I can do is stop breathing it. Man thinks he's funny."

But Adam knew what was really bothering Roy; getting old and becoming useless, the same thing that made his father push himself with an injured knee. "Well, Hop Sing might have some tea or such to take care of that. And talking about Hop Sing, he's making a little dinner party for my homecoming, just family, not a big to-do. I'd like you to come. Tomorrow about 7:00. Will you?"

Roy pulled on his ear. "Saturday night… I don't know, Adam, this is one wild town Saturday nights. But, well, I'll tell Clem and Amos to be extra vigilant and I'll be there. By the way, what's he cooking?"

"I haven't the faintest idea." Roy and Adam laughed together because sometimes, for special occasions, Hop Sing served a dish that had no English equivalent or a recognizable taste. Those times, you took your chances.

"Now, you save me a seat," Roy said, shaking a finger.

"I will, Roy. Right next to Hoss."

"I won't get any food then!" Roy said, laughing. The two men shook hands again and Adam watched Roy as he strode away, observing the people in his town, keeping an open eye for any problems.

Ah, the haircut. Adam turned quickly and bumped into a woman carrying a package. It fell to the ground.

"Oh, excuse me, ma'am…here. I hope it's nothing breakable." Adam held the package out to the woman who reached for it but stopped.

She stared at him. "Adam?"

It took Adam a moment to place her; although she looked familiar, something was different. But her face, the expression… "Flora."

"Yes, you do remember."

"Still the prettiest thing I've ever seen. Flora for flowers," he said almost to himself.

Flora smiled shyly at the familiar phrase. "I had heard you'd left to join up and I'm glad to see you're home, that you made it through." She smiled gently and it was then Adam noticed the high-necked gray dress she wore with a silver and onyx brooch at the throat, the black bonnet and black leather gloves-mourning attire. So many male passersby wore black armbands over their jacket sleeves indicating loss of a loved one and many women wore black, gray or dark lavender dresses, some with veils over their faces. Adam had never cared for the tradition of mourning wear as he felt grief was too personal to be advertised.

"Thank you, Flora. I can't help but notice…" He indicated her clothing.

"Oh. Yes. I've been in mourning for two years—Royal never made it home. He was killed somewhere in Maryland, and we never received the body. That killed his mother, the loss and such, and then my father died last year and…well, you don't need to hear about all that. I am glad you're home, Adam. Whenever I'd see your father, I'd ask after you and once, he read bits of your letter he'd just picked up. He lived for them, you know."

"Now you make me feel more guilty for not writing more," Adam said.

"Well, it's what we lived for. I woke up every morning under a cloud of dread, hoping for a letter. I'm sure it was the same for your father and…oh, enough of this. Are you going to keep my package?"

"What?" Adam had not even realized he still held it. "Oh, no. Here." He handed it back.

"Are you on business?"

"Well, I need a haircut." He tucked a few errant curls behind his ears. "And a shave."

Flora laughed and Adam was delighted. Flora had always been a lovely girl and was now a lovely woman but when she smiled, when she laughed, she became glorious. "Oh, I think you look delightful with the curls peeking out about your ears—very boyish and naughty!"

"Oh, Flora," Adam said, looking at her with the old longing, "I haven't felt like a boy in so long…" But with Flora standing before him, Adam did feel like the boy who had playfully teased her at school and stolen an innocent first kiss behind the schoolhouse. And the boy of so long ago who had handed her a bouquet of fresh-picked wildflowers, saying, "Flora for flowers and flowers for Flora."

But so much had happened and neither of them were the same people they once were. Why couldn't Flora be the one asking him to share the afternoon pleasuring one another? Adam felt an acute longing for a woman, perhaps Flora, with whom to share whatever was left of his shattered life. But it would have to be Flora's choice just as it had been when she chose Royal over him for reasons Adam never knew but could only surmise.