I have been accused twice of hating the Irish-I don't. Actually, Fiona is my favorite character; I feel I know her best. Nevertheless, the claim that I have written in stereotypes is false as many of the traits are based on Frank McCourt's novel Angela's Ashes where he describes his family and friends in a boy's life in Ireland (assumed to be semi-autobiographical.) I also saw a movie on HBO where Tommy Lee Jones plays an Irish mad bomber. That doesn't mean the writer, director or Jones hate the Irish. Pernell Roberts played two grand Irish villains, O'Hara in Cimarron City, and the megalomaniac O'Reilly in The Wild Wild West but that doesn't mean he or anyone else in the show hated the Irish. He also played Pardraic Madigan on The Big Valley-a man who was a confused mixture of hate and compassion.

Sylvia is weak and jealous of Fiona and her ability to handle situations. Everyone in the story-including our darling boy, Adam, has faults and weaknesses. Please, as you read, examine all the characters, all of them as I have tried to make their motivations clear. I must not have been obvious enough.

Chapter 21

Fiona waited. She fed and bathed Ezra early as she usually did and then she went upstairs and rocked him to sleep with a bottle. He rubbed one ear as he nursed at the bottle. "You are a handsome boy," Fiona said smiling down at him. "Such a beauty." In just the three months that she had cared for him, Ezra had grown so much and endeared himself to her far beyond what she would have expected. He moved one small, round leg back and forth as he lay in her arms. "You'll be a handsome heartbreaker like you da. But I suppose that I had best be sure the Missus not hear me. She'll be tellin' me again that I'm too familiar. I say she's not familiar enough." Fiona was still smarting about being treated like a mere servant and being ordered about by the Missus.

There was a slight rap on the nursery door and then it opened and Fiona smiled when Adam Cartwright stuck his head through. She put a finger to her lips to indicate that Ezra was nearly asleep. Adam quietly walked in so as not to disturb Ezra.

"I wanted to see my boy before he's put down for the night." At Adam's voice, Ezra turned his head and opened his heavy eyes. Still sucking on the nipple, he sleepily reached out for his father. Adam took the child's small hand in his and kissed it. Ezra closed his eyes again. "I suppose he's had a busy day,' Adam said as he laid the child's hand back down.

Fiona wondered if Mrs. Cartwright had told him about Fiona being out of line in her opinion, but he didn't seem upset about anything. "Oh, yes," Fiona said. "He's become a chicken wrangler, catchin' 'em with his bare hands. I had to pull the tail feathers from between his fingers." Adam chuckled, never looking up from Ezra's peaceful face. He bent down and kissed the fine, curly black hair that swept about the child's head, caressing it with one hand. Fiona smelled Adam's skin, he was so close. It was obvious he had come straight from the washhouse as his hair was damp. He smells like a man, like the fresh air and the pines and the ground and of a man's honest work.

Adam stood up. "Goodnight, Fiona." He smiled down again at the child. "He's growing so fast—one year old tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," she said.

"Goodnight, Fiona."

"Oh, sir," Fiona quickly said, "I was wonderin' if you could see to loaning me that book about which you talked the other day—the one about the man on that island all alone except for the heathen. You know, he was visited by cannibals and such."

"Oh, Robinson Crusoe."

"Yes, sir, that's the one. Unless of course, the Missus wants to be readin' it; she seemed interested as well." Fiona considered that she would have quite a bit to confess the next time she made it to the mission in Carson City but even with all she had endured in her young life, she was still young and for the very first time, had fallen in love with a man. Being so enamored, although she tried to repress it, she felt that if only she could get Sylvia out of the way—at least in Adam's affections, perhaps he would love her. What she would do if the situation would change in that manner and Adam Cartwright should turn his eye on her, she didn't know—chose not to think that far ahead-but she could still fantasize about him sweeping her up and carrying her to his bed where he would ravish her with his hot mouth and overwhelm her with his strong, muscled body.

Adam laughed. "No, the Missus doesn't care to read it—at least she never expressed that wish to me. It's on the shelf in what used to be my room—down the hall at the end." Adam pointed with his hand in the direction. "After you put Ezra down, help yourself. You're also welcome to any other book you care to read. After you finish, I'd be interested in knowing what you think. There's really no one to talk about books with; Sylvia hasn't read much lately."

Smiling at Fiona and the picture of his handsome son falling asleep, Adam left the room.

Fiona had turned 18 a month ago and hadn't said anything to anyone, but now she was of age and her brother was right. She was old enough to have her own husband and children but after having been around Adam Cartwright, Fiona knew she would have to go far to find a man about whom she would feel the same way. She had initially looked at Joe Cartwright with an eye toward romance-he was handsome and his curly brown hair delighted her along with his ready smile-but although he was Adam Cartwright's brother—half-brother she later found out, they weren't the least alike.

Joe had a volatile temper and his dark moods went deep and yet he was capable of great moods of joy. He laughed often and over what Fiona thought were silly things. Her Mr. Cartwright was a man of deep moods as well and yet, he was calculating and didn't react—he planned. Fiona respected his intelligence but she knew that she was no Sylvia, no Mrs. Cartwright with her seductive ways toward her husband, how she teased him before she went upstairs at night, at least it seemed that way to Fiona the few times she had been downstairs. Fiona knew what it meant when the Missus lightly bit her husband's lower lip on occasion when he kissed her. As far as Fiona was concerned, Sylvia Cartwright was another Whore of Babylon with her swinging hips and silk wraps.

Later, after Ezra had fallen sound asleep and Fiona had put him down in his crib, she decided to get the book. It wasn't that she enjoyed reading, she actually struggled with many words as she never had the luxury of going consistently to school, but Adam held learning at great value so Fiona wanted to appear educated and she was determined to read far better than she did. She took the lamp from the nursery and went down the hall to the room that Adam said was his.

Fiona's heart thumped wildly as she opened the door and stepped inside. She placed the lamp on a desk and then looked around. It was obviously a man's room—a room that had once been a boy's. She looked at the framed paintings on the walls. One was of a clipper ship on the waves and another was of Greek ruins. There was a bronze of a man—who he was supposed to be, she didn't know—on the bookcase.

Fiona raised the wick on the lamp and it illumined the whole room. She ran her hand over the foot board of the bed. Adam Cartwright had slept on it and Fiona shook slightly. She felt as if she was doing something illicit but he had told her to help herself, given her permission to go into the room. Her fingers felt something carved into the wood of the footboard and she looked closer and smiled. The initials, ASC were carved into the wood. "Just like a boy—leavin' his mark on everything."

Fiona walked over to the desk and slowly opened a drawer making as little noise as possible. Inside were papers, some with writing and others typed. She picked up a sheet and tried to read it. It looked like some sort of contract so she put it back. She closed the drawer and picked up one the large pieces of rolled paper. She held it up and unrolled it as if it was an ancient scroll and saw that they were plans for a building. There was something beautiful about it—it was so elegantly drawn and orderly. Suddenly there was a hand on the doorknob and the door opened. Sylvia Cartwright stood in the doorway. Fiona let the paper reroll itself and froze, holding it.

"I saw a light under the door. What are you doing in here, Fiona?" Sylvia pulled herself as tall as she could. She didn't feel formidable but tried to appear so but was disappointed that her voice quavered.

"The Mister said that I could borrow that book he was talkin' about the other day—that Robinson Crusoe. He told me to help myself to it and any other book that struck my fancy." Fiona put the blueprints back with the other rolls of paper standing by the desk.

"Well, that wasn't it," Sylvia said motioning with her head to the rolls of paper. The place to look is in the bookcase—here." Sylvia stepped further in the room and stood before the bookcase. Allow me to find it for you." Sylvia turned and bent to see the titles. The lit lamp in the hall gave more light through the open bedroom door. She pulled the book out and turned to Fiona who had stepped closer. "Here." Sylvia held out the leather-bound volume.

"Thank you, I'm sure," Fiona said. "I look forward to readin' it. The Mister said that he wants to know what I think of the thing after I'm finished."

Sylvia said nothing, just stood with her hands clasped before her but inside, she was shaking. She wanted to rage and throw things and tell Fiona to leave, to get out of her house—but it wasn't her house and once Adam had told Sylvia when she had voiced a criticism of Fiona that it had been he who hired Fiona and that if circumstances warranted, he would fire her and for Sylvia not to worry about it. Sylvia wanted to tell Adam that she suspected that Fiona was in love with him but she didn't want to make Adam aware; he might be flattered and although he had once laughed when Sylvia had hinted that Fiona probably found him attractive, he had responded that Fiona was a mere child. Sylvia had replied that she was only three years older than Fiona and that he never had any qualms about bedding her. Adam had looked surprised but her comment had heated him and she soon found herself on her back on the bed with her skirts raised and her bare legs spread for his pleasure.

"Thank you for findin' it for me," Fiona said. "I'll be gettin' back to the nursery." Fiona started to leave and then turned back. "My lamp," she said to Sylvia and tucking the book under her arm, Fiona went out holding the lamp she had brought.

Sylvia stood in the darkness of the room breathing the air. She flushed. She had once come in here one afternoon and gone through Adam's things, had seen how as a child he had carved his initials in the bedstead, looked in the half-empty drawers and run her hands though the flannel shirts that were still there. She had opened the drawers of the desk and looked through the items, looked though the scrolls of his blueprints, some of which were for the Ponderosa, handled his pens and rulers because he had used them. All the items seemed to be imbued with his spirit. She had also lain on the bed, being sure to smooth it after she stood up, in order to see what Adam had seen as a young man as he had lain there.

And what stunned Sylvia the most as she recalled what she had done and the reason she had done it, is that Fiona was more than likely doing the same thing for the same reason—she loved Adam.

Fiona was braced, sure she should be dismissed in the morning, going over and over in her mind what she would do, how she would support herself—and how she would despair to be removed form Adam Cartwright. She barely slept, waking many times with an uneasy feeling until she remembered why she was upset. And then she would toss and turn and sleep fitfully for an hour or so until finally, the early morning light came through the window.

Fiona was changing Ezra who pointed at items in the room as he lay on Fiona's bed being diapered, and Fiona said the names of the items. One was lamp and Ezra would babble in his attempts to imitate the words. He said "lamp" reasonably well and as he would be carried along or staggered about in the great room, he would point at every lamp and say the word, or what passed as it. He also pointed to his eye when asked and his nose and his mouth. He often grabbed other people's ears and said the word.

Ben in particular enjoyed the naming game and would take Ezra to the barn and name all the items—a saddle, a bucket, bridle, cow and horse. Ben would let Ezra pet the horses but would shy away at feeding them, hiding his face in his grandfather's shoulder. 'He's a smart child," Ben would say proudly—smart and handsome! What a Cartwright!"

"Yup," Joe had said the first time Ben had bragged on the boy, "a true Cartwright. Just like his uncle Joe, smart and handsome—and charming. You forgot that, Pa."

"Well," Hoss had replied, "if charmin's a requirement to bein' a Cartwright, then you got no right to the name, Joe." Joe had good-naturedly taken the ribbing and gave as good as he got; he told Hoss that if handsome was a requirement, Hoss should forfeit the name Cartwright immediately.

There was a slight knock on the door and then Sylvia walked in; she was dressed with her hair in its usual modest chignon at the nape of her neck. But this morning, she looked careworn with dark circles under her eyes.

"You're up early, Missus," Fiona said as she pinned the napkin closed.

"Yes. I want to feed Ezra his breakfast." Sylvia stood by the bed and smiled down at the boy who pointed at her.

"That's Mrs. Cartwright," Fiona told the child. She turned to Sylvia. "He points at things and I tell him the names." Fiona knew that the insult had hit its mark. "You've never said how you want the babe to address you and I would make no assumption lest it be an insult to you, ma'am."

"Yes, well…" Sylvia bent down and picked up Ezra. He seened heavier, more solid each time she held him and she quickly shifted him to her hip. "I want Ezra to call me Mother as that's what I am. Please refer to me as his mother from now on."

"Whatever you say, ma'am." Fiona stood quietly. "Are you sure you're well?"

"Yes," Sylvia said at the door. "I just didn't sleep well but thank you for asking." Then talking softly to Ezra, Sylvia left the bedroom and Fiona listened until the footsteps disappeared. She wondered if Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright had had an argument last night and that was why she hadn't slept well. Unless he had kept her awake with his desires—but Fiona quickly put that thought from her mind.

Fiona cleaned up the wet diaper and placed it in the bucket of soapy water with the others from the evening before; she would have to wash them and hang them out to dry. Then she sighed; she didn't look forward to Darby coming by and she knew she had to make a point of seeing him alone out of sight of Hoss and Joe who would be hanging the strings of Chinese lanterns. Hop Sing would be busy in the kitchen cooking for the few close friends who had been invited so she didn't have to worry about him and Adam would be out on the property making certain that everything was in order. Fiona checked her appearance in the mirror and then satisfied with her reflection, she went down to breakfast.