A Father's Love
"You invited her to dinner next Sunday?" Ben asked.
Adam looked up from the dinner of roast pork and stared across the table questioningly. "Yes. Is there anything wrong with that?"
"Oh, you're just parading her in front of me, aren't you?" Joe said, obviously annoyed. That would be just like Adam.
Ben leaned one elbow on the table and rested his forehead-he didn't want another argument about Cecile Turpin.
"I'm not doing anything of the sort," Adam said with obvious disgust. "I just like her and I get the feeling that she's been sheltered too much and needs to get out more-she was happy to be invited."
"Maybe it's so she can see Joe again," Hoss offered with a sly grin.
Adam and Joe had to grin as well. "Maybe it is," Adam said, "but I thought she had better taste."
"If she's seeing you, she can't have much taste." Joe grinned at Adam and Adam smiled back. Peace had been restored.
Ben cleared his throat to draw his sons' attention. "I don't think Cecile's parents will allow her to come," Ben said going back to his meal. "As you said, she's been sheltered and it may be that the gossip is true, that her parents have higher aspirations for her." Ben was sure that Cecile wouldn't be at their table next weekend, not if her parents had anything to do with it. He was still surprised that Cecile had been allowed to go off alone with Adam for a few hours. If what people had said years ago was true, Ben was very surprised.
"Well, thank you for that, Pa. I'm glad that you think so highly of me." Adam knew that his father wasn't being insulting but he felt such a sense of loss after he had taken Cecile home that he wanted an argument, some way to work off this emptiness he felt.
"Now, Adam, you know that's not what I mean," Ben said. "But parents do have a say in their daughters' lives-legally-it's not the same with sons. Daughters, well, there's more to worry about with a girl and you are-more worldly, Adam, that's all. More practiced in relationships than she is. After all, she's spent all those years in girls' schools." Ben looked from Hoss to Adam and then Joe. "Now look, boys, all three of you have at one time or another faced an angry father or at least a disapproving one."
"I think ol' Joe here has even bobbed and weaved avoiding a few shotgun shells," Hoss said. "All them dancin' lessons Adam gave 'im helped him avoid gettin' an ass-load of pellets." All of them laughed, even Joe, except for Ben.
"I don't see anything funny about that," Ben said and the three brothers looked to one another, barely suppressing their amusement. "You three know that fathers have a say in who their daughters see and although I HOPE," Ben emphasized, "that no father would reject any of you for a bad reputation with women," and Ben, Adam and Hoss looked directly at Joe, "some fathers are careful and feel that they should basically choose who their daughters see."
Adam moved the food around on his plate with his fork. "I've already asked Mr. Turpin and he agreed that Cecile could spend the whole afternoon with me and have dinner with us so tell Hop Sing to set another place."
Ben stopped eating again. "George said that she could come here?"
"Yes," Adam said. "Why are you so surprised? Turpin agreed that I could take her out to see the boulder carvings and then here for dinner."
"Well," Ben said, going back to his meal, "I'm surprised it was that easy."
It hadn't been that easy but Adam didn't want to reveal how difficult it had been.
When Adam had pulled the carriage up to the Turpin's place that afternoon, George Turpin was sitting on the front porch, rocking and smoking his pipe. Adam's horse was still hitched loosely to the rail so that it could crop the nearby grass. Mr. Turpin stood up and watched as Adam lifted down Cecile.
"Did you have a nice time," George Turpin asked his daughter who ran to him and hugged him.
"Oh, father, I had a wonderful time! Adam took me to their lake that stretches out almost forever and showed me these huge boulders that look as if some giant stacked them in great piles. And I saw a deer and her two fauns and Adam taught me about the different types of trees and what their lumber is best used for."
Mr. Turpin smiled broadly-he liked seeing his daughter happy. He was glad about Adam Cartwright taking an interest in his daughter, especially if Adam could provide such happy times for Cecile. He put his arm around his daughter and Adam stood, waiting to ask about next Sunday.
"Well, I'm glad you had a nice time, pumpkin. I see that you took some sun-your cheeks are pink." Mr. Turpin chucked his daughter under her chin.
Mrs. Turpin came to the door and Adam pulled off his hat. Mrs. Turpin stared at Adam and he smiled but she just remained stone-faced. "It's about time you brought her home, Adam. Dinner is ready, Cecile."
"Good evening, Mrs. Turpin," Adam said. "I have Cecile back by dinner-as I promised." He smiled at Mrs. Turpin who did not respond in kind.
"Cecile," Mrs. Turpin said sharply, "come in and get ready for dinner. Good day, Mr. Cartwright."
"May Adam stay for dinner?" Cecile eagerly looked back and forth between her parents.
"Cecile," Mrs. Turpin answered, "I don't think that it would…"
"Cecile, I can't" Adam broke in. "I'm expected home. But thank you." Adam nodded to Mrs. Turpin and tried not to notice Cecile's disappointed face-he didn't want to make her feel anything but happiness and here he had disappointed her already by declining before the invitation was properly proffered. "But I was wondering if Cecile," Adam turned to her parents, "with your permission, could have dinner at the Ponderosa this coming Sunday." Adam noticed how Cecile's face softened as she looked at him-he was keeping true to his word. "I thought that after services I could show her the boulders on the Truckee River-the ones with the carvings-and then to the Ponderosa for dinner. I promise to have her home before dark."
Cecile turned to her parents. "I want to go," she said. "Adam feels he needs to ask your permission so please give it."
"Now you listen here, young lady," Mrs. Turpin began. "Don't get so high and mighty that you think…"
"Edwina," Mr. Turpin interrupted, "We have company." Mrs. Turpin stopped and clasped her hands together, her mouth pursed but she remained silent. "I think that Cecile might go with Adam next Sunday," Mr. Turpin added more to his wife than to anyone else.
Cecile smiled and stood on her tip-toes to kiss her father on the cheek. "Oh, thank you." She then turned to Adam and touched his arm looking up at him. Adam caught his breath at her expression; the love she had for him shone in her eyes. "I'll be ready to go right after church, Adam. I can't wait." Then she turned and swept past her mother who still glowered at Adam and then she too turned and went into the house, closing the door behind her.
"Thank you for trusting me," Adam said to Mr. Turpin.
"Sit down for a moment, Adam, won't you?" Mr. Turpin sat back down and Adam took another chair on the porch.
"I don't put much credence in gossip," George Turpin said as he looked out into the dusk. Night fell quickly in Nevada territory, the sky reflecting the colors yellow and orange as the sun began to fall below the horizon.
Adam took a deep breath; he was sure that Mr. Turpin was going to bring up what Mavis Green had said about him-the gossip she had spread. To Adam, this explained everything. "Well, I'm glad to hear that. My father always told my brothers and me not to put too much stock in gossip so I've made a point to avoid it."
"Good." Mr. Turpin took a puff on his pipe as if considering what Adam had said. "My wife and I always kept more or less to ourselves about private things and when a person does that, people contrive facts, use their imagination and often that's dangerous. Even if the facts are correct, the interpretation of those facts make something innocent into something malignant." Mr. Turpin took another drag on his pipe. Then he continued. "I'm not a good man in many ways-that I know. I'm proud and I'm vain and tend to hold grudges but there is one thing that might redeem some of those faults-I love my daughter and I only want what's best for her."
Adam looked down at his hat and turned it in his hands. "Why are you telling me this?" Adam wondered when Mr. Turpin was going to bring up Mavis or if he even was.
"Because I'm trusting you with my daughter."
"Is this a subtle threat? Am I going to feel a shotgun in my back any time soon?"
Mr. Turpin chuckled and glanced over at the man who had spent the last few hours with his daughter. This man had an intelligent face but he too looked as if he kept his feelings hidden, didn't share much of himself with others, a characteristic of a man who has known great pain. Adam probably is an excellent poker player, Turpin thought. But Mr. Turpin had been worried about Adam and his daughter together. In his wife's mind, Adam was too old for Cecile and her past fears for her beautiful daughter came rushing upon her when she saw how taken Cecile was with Adam. But then Cecile seemed to have always been taken with Adam. Even as a child, whenever Adam was around, whether at church, in the street or in their home, Cecile was in awe of the man with the dark hair and the mischievous eyes and the deep, hearty laugh. And so Mrs. Turpin was afraid for Cecile.
"No, Adam. At least I hope it never comes to that although I do keep my shotgun loaded and right where I can get at it-for emergencies. Cecile is…vulnerable. That's the only word I know to describe her-if she cares for someone, she trusts them too much. Her mother feels that you have ulterior motives, that you might take advantage of someone as unsophisticated as Cecile is; I don't think you'd be that cruel. But I've misjudged men before. I hope this isn't one of those times."
Adam stood up and put his hat on. "Mr. Turpin, I know that Cecile is, as you say, vulnerable-I can sense it. But she's also lovely and endearing and it hasn't taken long for me to care for her. And she is a woman despite what you and your wife may want to think-she's not a child anymore and she has a mind of her own. And I do think Cecile returns my feelings." Adam started down the porch steps and then he turned back. "If you would rather, by the time next Sunday comes around, that Cecile not come with me, I'll understand. But I don't think Cecile will." Adam untied his horse and mounted and rode back home to his family and Sunday dinner.