Chapter 15

Pastor Cleary was surprised to see Adam Cartwright and Sylvia Matthews at his front door after 8:00 PM. He had been on his way up the stores to bed when there was the persistent knocking.

"Now who do you think that is?" his wife asked as stood on the step before him.

Pastor Cleary looked at his wife with impatience. "I'm a pastor—not a fortune teller. I have to go see." He sighed heavily; it had been a long day and he had been looking forward to a good night's sleep.

"You be careful, Andrew. Don't open the door to any burglars or killers."

"I'll ask them first if they're killers or robbers before I do. If they answer yes, I won't open the door." He went down the stairs while the knocking on the front door continued at regular intervals. "I'm coming," he shouted. He reached the door and pulled the bolt but his wife's words stayed with him. "Who is it this time of night?"

"Adam Cartwright, Pastor Cleary. I want to be married to Sylvia Matthews-tonight. Please open up for us."

The Pastor opened the door and the two young people stood there, their arms entwined. Her cheeks wee flushed and her lips seemed a bit redder but she was smiling; Sylvia Matthews looked genuinely happy. Adam Cartwright looked eager and exultant.

"Well, come in you two. At least you're not two young pups wanting to wed each other despite their parents' objections."

Adam and Sylvia stood in the parlor. Adam pulled off his hat. "Will you perform the wedding? Now."

"That's part of my duties, son. Let me call my wife to witness. She's probably standing at the bedroom door listening" He turned and was about to call out "Mildred," when he saw her at the top of the stairs. "Come down, Mildred. There's going to be a wedding and I need you to witness and sign the paper."

Sylvia Matthews became Mrs. Adam Cartwright after spending the whole afternoon and the early evening in his company. The minister and the witness were in weary and there were no flowers or veil or music but Sylvia didn't care. She and Adam had talked that whole afternoon and he had poured out his heart to her, telling her things that she had never known and with each thing revealed, each thing that he feared would make her turn from him, she loved him more. Adam told her his fears and his dreams and she listened with his head on her lap and stroked his hair. He kissed her hand and told her that she meant more to him than anyone else and that he loved her almost to the point of desperation. And then Sylvia had said that she never wanted to be without him—never again. It was then that Adam asked her if she would like to marry him that very night.

"Tonight? Adam, do you mean that?"

"Yes, I mean it." He pulled her down to him again on the blanket and their bodies pressed against each other. All afternoon he had subdued the fire that raged within him, his heat for Sylvia and he didn't want to have to anymore. He loved her and wanted her to be his wife. And so, Pastor Cleary in his sedate parlor of the parsonage married Adam and Sylvia.

"Adam, please," Sylvia said as their buggy pulled up to Sylvia's aunt's house, "Let me tell Aunt Pollly. And if she reacts badly, promise me you won't say anything—won't defend me or anything. I know my aunt well and it will just make her more upset."

"You expect me to just stand by if she tears into you? I'm sure she'll say something about you not having a ring yet and…"

"Adam," Sylvia said, smiling gently and then kissing him lightly. "Those things don't matter to me. You know that. Besides, you said that you want me to have your mother's ring. Let my aunt say what she will; it doesn't matter."

"Sylvia, I can't just stand there and let her say hurtful things to you."

"Adam, I know that you and she don't get along but she is my aunt and she has let me stay with her and been more than generous. If she says anything hurtful, she won't really mean it. Just remember that. Now promise me."

Adam worked his jaw. Sylvia was asking him to stand by and not say anything to defend her if her aunt was cruel-but Adam knew there was no "if." Sylvia's aunt never cared for him no matter how courteous or thoughtful he was of Sylvia. Adam wouldn't play up to Aunt Polly but he always hoped that if she could see his honest affection for Sylvia, his love for her niece, that she would, if not approve, at least not interfere. But many a time she had come out on the front porch and told Sylvia it was late and time for her to say goodnight to Mr. Cartwright; she never referred to him as "Adam." For Sylvia's sake, Adam never responded to Aunt Polly in a snide or sarcastic way, no matter how many times the words came to his lips. But once when Aunt Polly had come out and he and Sylvia were in a lovers' embrace, she had chastised her niece and ordered her in the house. Sylvia, who Adam realized was still young at 22, young enough to be cowed by her aunt's authority, ducked her head in embarrassment as she arranged her hair, pushing the loosened tendrils back. Adam had stood and Sylvia said goodnight to him and gone into the house, blushing at being caught in his arms. It was then, after Sylvia had left, that Adam told Aunt Polly that he was going to marry Sylvia and that the sooner she accepted that fact, the better off they all would be. Adam had leaned down and picked up his hat off the swing, told Aunt Polly goodnight, and stalked down the walk to his waiting horse.

"You're taking advantage of her," Polly called out. "I won't allow it."

"What do you mean by that?" Adam turned. He was already angry and it occurred to him that maybe Aunt Polly was trying to provoke him into answering cruelly or roughly; then she would have ammunition to use against him. Adam had once, while waiting on the porch to take Sylvia to a fall harvest dance, overheard her telling Sylvia that Adam Cartwright wasn't good enough for her—he was nothing more than a crude cowboy—an education didn't change anything-and that should she marry him, he would wrestle her into submission in their bed as he did a calf for branding. That same feeling, the rage that had filled him then filled him again and he fought to control himself.

"Sylvia is still grieving over the loss of her fiancé; it's only been five months. She's young and vulnerable and you with your dark looks and wealth, well, you're just dangling all that in front of her nose. But I see through you. I've noticed that at church all the women seem smitten by you, you and your charming smile and winning ways. You tip your hat to them, both young and old and the women practically wet themselves. I have to admit that I find you charming as well—or at least I used to, but I fear for my niece. You'll just use her for your pleasure and toss her aside as you would the core of an apple after you've eaten all the fruit. You'll hurt her—I know it."

Adam appraised the woman on the porch. She was stout and none too pretty. Her hair was streaked with gray and her skin was pasty but he imagined that in her youth, she was attractive. And yet she remained single and she spoke to him in a manner that no well-raised woman would. Perhaps it was her protective nature coming out or—and it suddenly dawned on him that Aunt Polly may have made a mistake, or what she considered a mistake—early in her life and she feared that Sylvia was making the same one. Aunt Polly may have been swayed to surrender herself to a charming bounder who had used her and then left her. It was a possibility and Adam found his anger with her easing somewhat.

"You don't know that," He said softly, "and besides, you're wrong. I know Sylvia is young and hasn't much experience with men or actually, much else in life except her lost love. But as I said, I'm going to marry her and then I can take care of her and make certain that nothing ever hurts her again." Aunt Polly started to speak but Adam cut her off. "Yes, I know it's quixotic of me—foolish to think that such a thing can be done and maybe it can't but I'll do my damned best to see that her life is a happy one and that she has everything she needs or wants. Please don't make us opponents—we both love Sylvia and I'm sure you want what's best for her as well and you don't think that's me and maybe I'm not, but do I love her and sometimes that's all that's needed, for a person to be treated with love."

Sylvia's aunt stood open-mouthed, saying nothing. Adam put on his hat and tipped it goodnight to her, untied his horse and mounted while she watched from the porch. He looked up and Sylvia stood at her window looking down on him. He smiled up at her and she smiled down at him. Adam sighed; he hated to leave her and it was becoming more and more difficult to do so. But after that night, Aunt Polly had remained aloof and although she often checked on them by pulling the front curtain aside and seeing them on the front porch swing, she never chastised Adam again but she was also never happy to see him at her front door.

And now Sylvia was asking him to allow her Aunt Polly to speak unhindered; for her sake, for Sylvia's sake, he agreed. Even before they reached the front door, it opened and Aunt Polly stood framed by the doorway. She was obviously upset, so upset she sputtered.

"You, you…" She couldn't get out what she wanted to call Adam. "Sylvia, come inside! I have a few things to say to your young man about bringing you home after dark and worrying me so that I almost went for the sheriff." Sylvia didn't move. "Get in, child. Can't you see that he's compromised you! He's ruined you, if not in body, in reputation! God only knows who else had seen the two of you together this late at night and I've been sick with worry! Sick! Oh," Aunt Polly grabbed the door frame and Adam rushed to her, holding her up and helping her into the house and onto the settee.

"Let me be, young man," Aunt Polly said, as she fell back against the cushions. "Take your hands off me and leave my house."

Adam stood up, determined not to respond but he didn't leave.

"I said for you to leave…"

"Aunt Polly," Sylvia said as she came from the kitchen with a wet cloth, "put this on your forehead." She placed the folded cloth on her aunt's forehead and her aunt reached up and held it there, closing her eyes.

"I've been so worried—it's so late and you left early this afternoon. I haven't seen you practically all day and then it became later and later and you didn't come home…I was afraid something had happened to you or that he…"

Sylvia sat down beside her aunt and held her free hand, chafing her wrist. "Aunt Polly, I'm sorry I worried you. I've been selfish and only thinking of myself because, well…" Sylvia looked to Adam and smiled. "Aunt Polly, Adam and I are married."

"What? What? Oh my Lord—no." Aunt Polly's head dropped back against the cushions and pillows behind her and squeezed Sylva's hand. "My salts…my salts…"

Sylvia dropped her aunt's hand and went to the side table and opened the drawer, fetching a bottle back to her aunt. She pulled out the cork and placed the bottle near her aunt's nose. Aunt Polly, with a sudden gasp and a jerk of her head, revived.

"You've married him—that…that…oh, how could you?"

"Because I love him."

Adam became self-conscious at the raw emotion in Sylvia's voice, if he had ever doubted she loved him, that simple statement to her aunt vanquished it.

"I don't know what I'll tell your parents," Aunt Polly said, sitting up and in obvious distress. "I was supposed to take care of you and this is what happened. What am I going to tell them?"

Sylvia laughed, a delighted laugh. "Oh, Aunt Polly, I'll tell them. I'll let them know how happy I am and all will be well. You'll see." Sylvia stood up. "Now I have to pack a few things—Adam and I have yet to tell his family and by the time we get there, well, it'll be so late that we'll be…well," she looked at Adam and blushed. "It'll be our wedding night." Sylvia kissed her aunt's cheek. "Be happy for me, Auntie. Oh, please! I want to be with my husband and not have to worry about anyone else. Tell me you're happy for me." Sylvia waited, her young, lovely face showing her anticipation.

Her aunt smiled and patted her hand. "Yes, I'm happy if you are." She was unconvincing.

"Oh, I am, I am." Sylvia laughed lightly. "Oh, Aunt Polly, I'm so very happy!"

"Then go pack what you need for the time. Go on, child."

Sylvia rose from the settee and smiling at Adam first, lightly took the stairs to her room leaving Adam and Aunt Polly alone. Adam shifted his stance. He felt awkward but she hadn't yet invited him to sit.

"You haven't said anything," Aunt Polly said.

"Sylvia asked me not to. She worried about what I would say if you, well, with what you said to her, I probably would have made things worse. I do love her, you know."

"Yes, I'm sure you do. What man in your situation wouldn't?"

"Exactly what do you mean by that?"

Polly noticed how tense Adam was. Like a cougar preparing to pounce. "I think you know exactly what I mean. Sylvia's young, so easy to manipulate. She's told me all about your son—but you know that. You need a mother for him and who better than Sylvia who thinks the world of you. At least she does so far."

A sardonic smile played about Adam's mouth. "You think she won't love me for long, is that it?"

"Yes, that's it and I'll welcome her back unless she chooses to return to her parents first."

"What makes you think she'll leave me?"

"Because you're a man just like all men. You'll use her to satisfy yourself and then expect her to love your child and to oversee your house and everything else while your life remains unchanged except that now you don't have to pay for a woman because you own her the same way you own your horse and your cattle. It doesn't take long for a woman with any brains to figure that out. And you'll expect her to give you more children until her beauty is ruined and her body is so beaten up by child-bearing that she finally dies and considers it an escape."

"You're wrong. Sylvia will have the happiest life I can give her. That's not how a woman's life has to be and it won't be hers."

Aunt Polly rose from the settee. "I'll go upstairs to tell her goodbye. I don't think I can bear to see you take her away, especially knowing what waits for her tonight. I don't curse, Mr. Cartwright, but I can think of nothing else to say to you but this: if you harm Sylvia, may your soul be damned to eternal hellfire." Polly turned on her heel and Adam watched her heavily trudge up the stairs.

He sighed with relief. Aunt Polly was gone and now all he had to do was wait for Sylvia and they could start their life together as husband and wife. And he thought about tonight and the reality hit him fully as he heated up; tonight he would know Sylvia. After waiting so long, he would finally be able to have his body's desire sated.