A/N: For some reason, there were several reviews I couldn't respond to on the last chapter. I do appreciate hearing from each one of you!
The next morning, when I woke up, there were several packages on the foot of my bed. Blinking sleepily, I pushed myself forward to pick up the first one. It was a moderate weight and flexed in the paper package. All trace of sleep fled as I guessed what was inside. Hastily, I tore through the paper.
A pink dress fell into my lap. Awed, I ran my fingers over the clean fabric. When I lifted my gaze, I spotted even more paper forms on the floor near the door, far more than I could count.
With a laugh, I pulled the ones on my bed closer to me and opened them, revealing all manner of clothes, under clothes, and everything a young lady could wish for. I scrambled out of bed and took my time in dressing. There was a silver handled brush for me to tame my hair.
Finally, I presented myself in front of the small mirror over the wash basin. For the first time in a long time, I looked like a proper young lady. Twisting and turning, I tried to take in every angle. The skirt swished around my legs, making me smile.
Unable to remain unseen a moment longer, I hurried to the door leading into the house. To my disappointment, all was silent as I went in search of someone to see me. Finally, I went into the kitchen and found Hop-Sing, hard at work for the day's meals. His face broke into a broad grin as his eyes landed on me.
"Missy look much better!" He declared.
"I feel much better," I said, hurrying forward. I grabbed onto his hands, ignoring the flour that covered them. "Thank you, Hop-Sing."
The cook dropped his eyes in embarrassment. "Missy vely welcome," he said. He pulled his hands from my grasp and shooed me out. "I bring breakfast to table. Go! Sit."
As before, it was impossible for me to eat everything set before me. When he cleared away my plate, Hop-Sing beamed when he saw how much I had eaten. And then, I was left to amuse myself.
A search of the bookshelf yielded a volume of Shakespeare's poetry. I carried it off to my room to read. In between poems, I opened and sorted through the other packages. The amount of clothes Hop-Sing had provided was staggering: five dresses in total, with underclothes, stockings, and two pairs of boots.
All the while, I kept my ears open for sounds of the Cartwright men returning. Finally, mid-afternoon, I heard horses ride up and then, moments later, the front door, opening and closing.
Closing the book, I got to my feet and smoothed any wrinkles I saw in my skirt. A few steps took me to the mirror and I checked my hair. My eyes sparkled with excitement, and my cheeks were rosy. With a nod, I spun on my heel and hurried to the door. I pulled it open and crossed to the front door.
I could hear all four voices of the family as I put my hand on the doorknob. Something seemed to have agitated them. Carefully, I opened the door and slipped inside. The Cartwrights were gathered around a map, Adam sitting back from pointing out a detail for his father, who looked graver than I had ever seen a person be. Whatever had happened must have been serious.
"I wouldn't put it past the ol' scallywag," Hoss said forcefully.
Taking a chance that a distraction wouldn't be amiss, I spoke up. "Is anything wrong?"
All four turned their heads and amazement showed on all faces. "Hey, Adam! Take a look at what happened to that little boy you found," Joe said with a laugh.
Giggling, I held the sides of my dress and walked to where they were gathered. "Well!" Mr. Cartwright said as I spun to display how well I looked. After so long in men's clothing, I was certain my new appearance was much improved.
"You sure look pretty," Joe said, appreciation in his voice. I had already pegged him as one who had an eye for the ladies, though he couldn't have been much older than I.
"Thank you!" I responded, smiling happily.
"You know," Adam said with a laugh, glancing over his shoulder at Joe. "I don't understand how I could make such a big mistake."
Everyone laughed along with him. "You know, that Hop-Sing is a pretty good outfitter," Mr. Cartwright said.
I couldn't agree more. "Oh, he bought a lot more than I need. I don't know how to thank all of you."
Mr. Cartwright patted my arm as the front door swung open. Hop-Sing hurried in, looking amused. "Somebody come here. Ride up on mule!" he announced, pointing back the way he'd come.
Immediately, Adam hurried for the front door with Joe right on his heels. "That's all we need. Another scientific expedition!" Mr. Cartwright said, getting to his feet. He reached out to take my arm. "Rosemary, let's find out who this is."
He guided me out the front door, and Hoss trailed along behind us with a rifle in his hand. Once we were all out in the open, I spotted a man in a suit, riding a mule, just as Hop-Sing had said. "It's that newspaper reporter," Adam said, glancing back at his father.
"Afternoon," the man greeted as he brought his mule to a stop in front of us. He dismounted and faced Adam. Clearly they had met before. "We, uh, we printed a retraction about the wildman."
"So we noticed," Adam responded. He kept his face still, but his eyes and voice held amusement. "Would you care to meet him?"
"Wouldn't that be a little hard to do?" the man asked with a slight laugh. "After all, it was just sort of something I dreamed up."
So this was the man who wrote the story about the wildman. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing. "Well, Mr. Clemens," Mr. Cartwright said from where he stood beside me. "I think you should be given the opportunity to meet the wildman." He moved aside a bit and gestured to me. "Here she is!"
Mr. Clemens face became dumbfounded. "You mean, she's—?"
"That's right, Mr. Clemens. There's your wildman," Hoss said, his voice booming over me. "Twenty foot tall, with a manzanita bush in each hand and a wagon tongue in her mouth."
His words made everyone around me laugh as I blushed in embarrassment. "Well, I don't know what they're talking about, miss, but you are the prettiest wildman I ever did see," Mr. Clemens said, taking his hat off.
"Thank you," I managed to say.
"Now, Mr. Clemens, to what do we owe this visit?" Mr. Cartwright said, suddenly serious.
Mr. Clemens also straightened, losing all mirth in his demeanor. "Well, for one thing, I thought you ought to know there are warrants out for your arrest," he announced.
The mood changed in an instant and I look from one to the other in confusion. "Warrants for our arrest?" Mr. Cartwright repeated, glancing at his sons. "Well, I think we ought to talk about this inside." He turned to me. "Rosemary, tell Hop-Sing we'll have a guest for dinner."
Nodding, I hurried to do as he asked. "Here, I'll take your mule," I heard Joe say as I rushed for the front door. Something terrible must have happened.
The meal was lively and Mr. Cartwright kept the conversation away from whatever troubles had found the family. Between Mr. Clemens and Joe, I never failed to have someone seeking my attention. The newspaperman was a charming, well-educated man, and could go from flattering me to debating with Adam easily.
At the end of the meal, I helped Hop-Sing clear the table, despite the cook's protest. I wanted to do something useful, though. The Cartwrights joined Mr. Clemens in the great room with coffee and brandy.
"Mr. Clemens, I homesteaded the Ponderosa, fought Indians, and drove off outlaws. I'm not going to let Lash or anybody else grab my land," I heard Mr. Cartwright say as I stacked dishes in the kitchen. Curious, I drew closer to the door, unashamed to eavesdrop.
"Well, if the railroad got a legal right of way, and checkerboarded the Ponderosa with land holdings, what would you do then?" Mr. Clemens asked in response.
"Fight. We've got guns, ammunition, and friends."
The idea of my new friends, or anyone, being involved in a gunfight sent a streak of fear into my heart. Was this territory only a place where people died? I couldn't keep from shuddering as I continued listening.
Mr. Clemens gave a disbelieving laugh. "You can't fight the law with guns."
"I don't think you have the proper respect for guns, Mr. Clemens," Joe said in his cocky way that I had become so familiar with. "But you'd be surprised how many people have."
"Oh, I've got a lot of respect for guns," Mr. Clemens objected. There was a pause, and then he said, "Good balance. The thing is that sometimes you get right smackdab in a fight that you can't settle with guns."
"Or with fists," Adam added vaguely.
The newspaperman chuckled. "That's right. Now, if our hunch is right, everything depends on defeating Billington in the election so that he won't sell out to the railroad."
"Looks to me like we need to get started then before the election," Hoss spoke up.
"You can't defeat a politician with guns, but you might be able to with...laughter."
Joe gave a slight laugh. :You mean laugh him out of town?"
"Something like that. Sometimes the pen is mightier than the sword."
There was a brief pause as the Cartwrights thought that over. I could remember my father saying words of that sort, but they hadn't helped him when he was gunned down. "Well, I don't know, Mr. Clemens," Hoss said slowly. "I think I'd have to put my money on a sword."
"If I was up against a crowd, I think I'd count on my guns," Adam remarked.
"Now, wait a minute, boys," Mr. Cartwright said. "Sam, if you want to fight this thing out with your pen, well that's up to you. But we'll be around with our guns to help you if you need us."
Leaning against the wall, I breathed out. From what I understood of the matter, taking on a judge was not going to be an easy matter. "Fair enough," Mr. Clemens said, getting my attention, sounding not in the least bit perturbed about the task in front of him. He was braver than I had given him credit for.
"You know, I sure would like to know how you're going to go about it," Joe said.
"Just keep reading the Territorial Enterprise."
Soon after that, Mr. Clemens took his leave and I joined the family to watch him ride off. "You think he has a chance, Pa?" Hoss asked.
"I hope so. For his sake," Mr. Cartwright said. He turned to me. "Well, Rosemary, how would you like to spend the evening with some music. Adam will bring down his guitar and play for us."
"He's the only musical one of us, so you'll have to put up with our caterwauling," Joe added with a laugh.
"I'd like that," I said, ignoring Joe's teasing. Hoss made a mock swipe at his brother's head. "I love music."