Chapter 8
The trip to Placerville took three days. Adam had rented a covered wagon from one of the nearby homesteaders, Max Brooklyn, who still had the wagon in which he and his family had ridden from eastern New York, across the mountain ranges and plains to reach Virginia City.
"Now you can buy it off me if you like," Max said as he showed it to Adam. "I got no more use for it—I'm here to stay. The bonnet's folded up and in the barn but except for some minor damage, it's in good shape."
Adam had walked around it, checking out any wood damage and he climbed under the wagon to see the condition of the axles and the inside of the wheels. He also checked the tongue and the yoke. "Is the Yankee bed still watertight?"
"Was the last time we crossed a river. You planning on crossing any deep water, Mr. Cartwright? Thought you were only traveling to Placerville."
"No, not really, but you never know. It's warming up and the ice will be melting quickly turning creeks into rivers. You never know." Adam walked around the wagon one more time, thumping the sides. "You still have the water barrel?"
"Yup, and the jockey box too. You taking any chickens along with you?"
"No, just a milk goat." Adam opened and closed the tailgate.
"A milk goat? Why not a cow?"
"I was told to get a milk goat so that's what I did." Adam faced Max. "I don't care to buy the wagon—I only need it for about two weeks so how much to use it?"
"Now, I don't know," Max said, stroking his chin. He had become familiar with the Cartwrights within three days of settling on his small piece of property. The first time Max Brooklyn was in town, he asked in the Bucket of Blood who owned the vast acreage near his property as a young cowboy—and a pretty one at that—riding on a paint pony had warned him to desist cutting the trees he was going to use for the building of his house. A man at the bar said that "cowboy" was Joe Cartwright—one of "The Cartwrights," the family that owned the acreage of pines and almost half the state of Nevada—or so it seemed. "Who are they," he had naively asked. The question was met with laughter by many of the patrons and then he had been informed. "Who are they? A family you don't wanna cross." Now, Max had the chance to set a price for one of the wealthy Cartwrights, a good price for the wagon and he was afraid of asking too much—or too little.
"Well do you want to pay by the day? You can hurry the trip and pay less that way."
"All right—by the day. How much?" Adam faced Max and the other man shifted, trying to appear confident.
Max began to sweat. "Well, it's in good shape, the wagon is and you'll be taking it over some rough territory, putting a lot of wear and tear on it…"
"You said you won't be using it again so the wear and tear is negligible."
"Now I might want to sell it and iffen you break it down…"
"How much do you want, Mr. Brooklyn?" Adam was impatient to start with and now he became annoyed. He knew that Max Brooklyn was considering how much money he could squeeze from him.
"Um…half dollar a day?" Max stated it as a question, expecting Adam Cartwright to become angry and then counteroffer at less.
"How about this—two bits a day for the first five days and a dollar a day after that?" Adam waited. He could see that Max was struggling trying to calculate if he would make more money with Adam's proposition or less; Adam Cartwright was a conniving individual when it came to business dealings and contracts so Max decided that since Adam Cartwright kept the books for the Ponderosa and had a head for numbers, he was probably stacking the odds in his favor.
"Um…no, Adam, I say half dollar a day and that's it. Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it then seeing as how Ambrose doesn't have one at the livery to rent. I guess you have me over a barrel." Adam put out his hand. "Deal?"
Max grinned and shook Adam's hand. "Deal." It wasn't until later that afternoon, after he had helped Adam put on the bonnet and hitch up the two horses Adam had brought over, that Max West told the story of his bargain to his wife and she explained that he was "a dang stupid fool. Even when you think you're getting the best in a deal, you get cheated by an honest man."
"What do you mean, woman? I made a good deal?" He sat at the table waiting for her to put food in front of him and their three children.
She slammed a bowl of stew down in front of him. "What if the wagon breaks down seeing as that it's probable or the weather turns and he has to stop and wait it out? And it takes Cartwright what? Two weeks? Or if nothing happens and it takes him 8 days. You're only getting fifty cents a day—4 dollars. If you'd gone with his deal, you'd make a whole quarter more."
"But Adam Cartwright wouldn't propose a deal where he'd come out with the short end." Max was puzzled and he tried to add numbers in his head but became confused and because he was confused, he became angry and since his wife was nearby, he became angry with her, "Just shut your mouth, woman. Serve the food and shut your mouth. I know what I'm doing." But with each bite of chicken stew he became angrier. i Those goddamn Cartwrights—always winning—always. /i
The wagon served its intended purpose, for Adam and Fiona to arrive at Placerville and fetch Ezra. When they arrived at Cassie's small, neat house after picking up the feeding bottles in town as they had passed through, Mamie came running out, smiling at Adam but yet remaining shy. When Cassie stepped out holding Ezra on her hip, Mamie ran back to Cassie and hid behind her skirts but flirtatiously peeked out at Adam.
Adam lifted Fiona down and then opened the jockey box and pulled out a rag doll. "Mamie," he said kneeling down at the bottom of the porch steps. "Look what I have for you? You want her?"
Mamie looked up at her mother and Cassie nodded and said, "Go ahead and get your baby." Mamie ran off the porch and shyly took the proffered doll and then rushed back to her mother, holding the doll next to her and hugging it.
"I see you're really going to take Ezra back," Cassie said watching Fiona. "I wasn't so certain but I packed his gowns and such. I have no feeding bottles—you brought some I assume."
"Yes," Adam said. "Cassie, this is Fiona. She's going to help me with him."
Cassie appraised Fiona and made a scoffing noise. "This is who you've chosen—a child?"
Fiona started to speak but Adam hushed her. "She'll be fine, Cassie. I have a milk goat in the wagon. Can she go in the back yard?"
Cassie agreed and Adam lifted out the goat which cried out in its harsh voice and tried to buck and kick its way out of Adam's arms. Initially, Adam had tried tying it to the back of the wagon for the journey but the goat couldn't seem to walk as fast as the horses so it was just better to tie it up in the wagon during the day, stake it out at night close to the wagon so the wolves and cougars wouldn't get it and not feed it or water it during the day while they traveled. Nevertheless, every night, Fiona had to clean out the wagon to rid it of the smell of the goat and its urine before she bed down for the night. Adam slept under the wagon, his rifle and six-shooter his bedmates.
"It won't do for the child, for Ezra," Fiona had told Adam one evening after she had scrubbed the floor of the wagon. "I won't be able to do both—watch the child, feed him and then clean up after the goat. I say you should trade her for a nice milk cow. We could tie 'er on the back and not be bothered."
"Cassie, the woman who's nursing him, she said that goat's milk is better for babies than cow's milk so I bought the goat."
"Oh, faddle," Fiona said as she took the plate of beans and bacon he offered her. "A year old child can take cow's milk just fine. Besides, I myself never cared too much for goats—evil animals, they are, always lookin' for a way to cause mischief and eatin' whatever they can find. What other kind of animal does that? None. It's no coincidence that pictures of the devil often cast him with the face of a goat and the cloven hooves."
'That just happens to be an ignorant reference to satyrs of Greek mythology. They were characterized as having great appetites for both drink and…"Adam wondered how to put it delicately…"women. And actually, Satan was once the most beautiful angel in heaven. His name, Lucifer, means 'Light-bearer' or 'Morning Star'."
"Now what's this you're tellin' me? What child's story is this that I'm to believe?" Fiona's brow furrowed.
"Satan was a fallen angel, correct?" Adam was beginning to enjoy this conversation with Fiona. For once she wasn't so damnably self-assured in her viewpoint.
"Well…yes."
"In heaven he was beautiful and then, once he was thrown from heaven, he became as horrid as he had once been beautiful. Satan is the antithesis of Lucifer." Adam took a forkful of beans and waited while Fiona considered what he had said.
"I think you're just havin' a bit of fun with me, Mr. Cartwright. You think I'm an ignorant girl but I learned the lessons of my faith well. I attended church every week, even if I had to drag my little brothers and sisters with me, and I went to confession regularly. In case you haven't noticed, I say my rosary every night. I love the Virgin Mary."
"Yes, I'm sure you do, Fiona. Far be it from me to try to say that your learning was wrong; it wasn't. It was just limited." Adam continued to eat and refilled his coffee cup.
"Mr. Cartwright, if the name Lucifer means…what you said it did, is there a meaning to Satan? Does the name mean anything special?"
"Yes. Adversary. In Greek, he's called Diabolos—the slanderer because he tells lies about the benefits of evil and slanders God. The Mexicans call him Diablo." He waited knowing that Fiona wasn't quite finished with asking questions. She had an eager mind and Adam admired that.
"You've given me much to think on, Mr. Cartwright. But I do have to say that it does seem a bit of vindication to know that so many are aware of the evils of temptation." She paused for a moment. "Let me ask you, Mr. Cartwright—are you one to believe in the consequences of evil?"
"I believe in the consequences of one's actions. The only problem is that no man knows what consequences will follow. The only thing that man can do with his limited knowledge is attempt to predict consequences for his actions and act accordingly. But the fact that we're traveling to pick up a son I never predicted, well, it just shows how fallible humans are. More beans?" Adam put down his plate and scraped the fry pan to serve himself.
"No, sir. I think not." Fiona stood up and Adam looked up at her. "I think I'll clean the plates and pans and then prepare my bed."
Adam nodded and glanced at Fiona as she went about her self-proclaimed duties. It was a waxing moon and he looked up into the sky; the stars were always brighter when the moon hid away. i The same moon I looked at the last time I saw Sylvia, /i The wolves were beginning to howl. Adam sighed as he held another fork-full of beans. He was weary and tomorrow they would be in Placerville and then he knew his worries would really begin.