There have been my things over the years I've wanted, yearned for, and other than my first horse which opened the door to many things, everything else has been a disappointment. That is, except for Charity as every moment I spent in her company made me only love her more. It shouldn't work that way, at least not to my experience. The more I courted a woman, the more I saw of her, the less convinced I became that she was the correct woman for me; perhaps it was just fear or cowardice but all the woman's bad habits—or what I saw as bad habits-would begin to annoy me and I would become unpleasant—okay, I would become a sarcastic, snide SOB and we would part ways. But I knew in the depths of my soul that Charity was the one woman who the more I was with, the more I would desire. I know it's a contradiction; it's like eating more and more but instead of the hunger being sated, it only made it d greater. Every experience with Charity was different from those with any other woman I'd ever met—or ever will meet. She caused me to see the world in a new way—to see myself in a new way and the future. I saw joy ahead and a happiness that I always coveted in others.

If I had told that to my brothers, that except for owning a horse, Charity was the only other desire that when fulfilled, didn't disappoint, they would have made some comment about my enjoying riding both of them hard. But it wasn't that way; I never went further than urgent kisses and running my hands over Charity's rounded body even after she accepted my proposal. I could hold myself back because I knew that we would soon be married. Therefore, I could contain my lust for her until then, until she came to me as a blushing bride, as my wife. I had envisioned it all but it hadn't yet happened-not for a few weeks yet and I still had to deal with my family and with Mariette before our happiness, Charity's and mine, became complete.

That evening when I arrived at Mariette's after my dinner with Charity, she was again in a frenzied state. Mariette threw her arms about me as soon as I walked in. "Oh, Adam. I was so worried. You're so late. I was afraid something had happened to you."

I took both her hands and held them in mine. "I'm sorry, Mariette. I'm sorry I caused you worry, it's just that dinner lasted longer than I'd expected."

"Why? What happened? Did that woman tell you about Jason? Is she going to return our money?"

"I'll tell you on the ride to the Ponderosa. Now let's get your coat and hat and your valise." I picked up her bag and escorted her to the buggy. I helped Mariette in and then unfolded the buggy blanket over her lap. She smiled at me—that sad little smile she had and I saw her as the young girl she once was—so pure and innocent and my feelings of protectiveness rose to the surface again.

It was a cold ride to the Ponderosa and it was a bitter night. My guilt at feeling the way I did about Charity—completely enamored-while Mariette saw her as the instrument of Jason's destruction made things even more difficult. And when I told her that Jason had borrowed money from Mrs. Freestone and that under "duress"—I chose my words carefully-he wanted to repay the money as quickly as possible, I noticed how she remained still—almost as if she was cataleptic. That was Mariette. She reminded me of those small prey animals who freeze hoping not to be noticed by the slithering snake or the hawk that flies overhead. I emphasized that paying the debt was the only reason for Jason's many visits to Mrs. Freestone.

"But Jason could have explained it to me," Mariette said after my explanation, "if what Mrs. Freestone said was true. Maybe she lied to you, Adam. Even if she's not a whore—and I still think she is—she is cruel and demanding. I know that's why Jason drank that day. He was upset about having to give her all our money. I'm sure he didn't know how we were going to live and so he stopped by the saloon. She killed him, Adam. It wasn't the horse shying as people said or the icy street that caused the horse to slip and Jason to fall—it all comes down to her. She's responsible. My Jason is dead because of her."

"Mariette, even if that is the reason that Jason was drunk, and we don't know that it was, a man is responsible for his own actions. Charity couldn't make Jason drink. She didn't hold him down and pour the whiskey down his throat. He drank because he wanted to and he didn't tell you about the loan because he didn't want to. You can't blame her because she wanted back what was hers in the first place—the money. Jason borrowed it with the promise of repayment and when she needed her money—and her needing it is beside the point since it was her money and it's been five years since Jason begged her for it, well, he should have long earlier repaid it. The only recourse Charity had was to threaten him with telling you about it. I think he couldn't bear the thought of your disapproval, Mariette. Jason did love you and you have to stop blaming Charity for his death. It'll be better for you to stop assigning blame."

I had stood up for Charity Freestone and felt I had done the right thing. What I wanted to tell Mariette was that her "beloved" Jason was a thief and a liar and that once I had caught him pocketing a nugget from the samples a miner had brought into his office. But I couldn't break Mariette's heart like that. After all, Jason was dead and couldn't defend himself and he had later apologized when I mentioned what I had witnessed.

I had stopped by Jason's office with a silver sample for him to assay and admired the good-sized gold nuggets the miner had on the counter; they must have been worth at least $2,000. The miner grinned when Jason told him that they were indeed excellent quality gold and gave him the weight and value per ounce. When the miner left, I told Jason what I had seen, that I had watched while he palmed the nugget. Jason blushed deeply and pulled the nugget out of his pocket and said that he was thinking only of their baby Benjamin. Jason claimed he wasn't a thief and it wasn't a large nugget. Their child was ill, seemed to have episodes where he couldn't breathe and struggled desperately for every gasp of air; it was destroying Mariette. Jason wanted to take Benjamin to a specialist in San Francisco but they needed money to do so. If he weren't so desperate, he never would have considered stealing it, he said and I swear he began to cry. He dropped into a chair and held his face in his hands and cried. I felt like a cold-hearted bastard so I told Jason that I would give him the money for the doctor and the fare for the stage and the cost of a hotel. Jason thanked me and said he would pay me back as soon as he could. I took the nugget from him—decided I would tell the miner he had dropped it on the floor and Jason asked me to return it. I couldn't say that Jason Blaine, the trusted assayer, had tried to filch it; Jason would never work again in Virginia City and where would that leave Mariette?

So I gave Jason the money—five hundred dollars from my personal account. Needless to say, Jason never paid me back for the loan and Mariette never knew it transpired but there was more. The day before Mariette, baby Benjamin and Jason were to leave for San Francisco, I stopped by to see them. Jason wasn't home. Benjamin was a sweet baby but he was unusually small and it was easy to see he was sickly. His chest seemed almost concave—it dished in. Mariette hugged me and effused over what a wonderful father I had. I told her I already knew that but what had happened? She told me that he had paid for their trip. She had tried to refuse, she said, but my father had insisted and so they accepted. "And, Adam, your father said that it wasn't a loan—it was a gift." She had stood smiling, tears brimming in her eyes and it was all I could do to not tell her what a conniving bastard she had married, that Jason had already taken the money to cover the trip and more from me. Instead I asked her what Jason had said about the taking the money from my father. "He didn't say anything," she had replied, "but then you know how Jason is about me and your family—he never really feels as if he's a part of it, as if he's truly welcome. I tell him it's ridiculous but Jason, well, he only really trusts me. In that way, Adam, he reminds me of you; you never really trust anyone either."

I said nothing more at the time but remembering the money and that trip, I began to seethe while Mariette continued to blame Charity for Jason's death. I loved Mariette and I know I should have taken her side if for no other reason than to let her know I was behind her, but I couldn't.

Mariette looked at me in wonderment. "Are you defending that woman, Adam? And are you on a first name basis after just one meeting?"

"Mariette, she's not that woman. Her name is Charity Freestone and she seems to be…."

"What? To be what?" Mariette asked almost in a whisper. She shivered and pulled the lap blanket up around her neck letting it fall open to its full length. "She's bewitched you too, Adam, just as she did Jason." Mariette pulled the blanket up higher and bent her head to cry into the plaid fabric.

"Mariette…" I didn't know what to say. I was disloyal—I had abandoned Mariette and her problems for Charity and her kisses. Perhaps I had been bewitched…bewitched by Charity's allure and her small white hands, delicate and agile; oh, I imagined how they would feel fluttering gently over my body, touching me lightly, teasing me and toying with me, caressing my face. It makes me groan just to think about it. And then there was her rounded bosom and her rosy lips. Perhaps it was the promise of what was hidden from sight, the possibility of lavishing in her bed that had won me to Charity's side. I am weak and lustful as I confessed early on and I am a fool for a woman who needs me and if she's beautiful, well, I'm as easy to manipulate as clay.

But Mariette couldn't see Charity as I did-that was a given. I put my arm around Mariette and gently pulled her to me and she dropped her head on my shoulder, quietly sobbing. I considered telling her that I had invited Mrs. Freestone for dinner the following evening but reconsidered. Mariette was having a hard enough time with my calling Mrs. Freestone by her first name—Charity. "And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity." That Bible verse had been running through my head all evening as I felt that Charity fulfilled her name. She had been generous with her money, helping out the ungrateful Jason Blaine and the fact that she had also been generous with her body in the past, well, that was the past and soon I would ask her to marry me. I had made up my mind. And I was sure the she would show "charity" toward Mariette and forgive her for any pejorative opinions Mariette held of her.