"I apologize for my father," Evangeline said as she stood outside with Adam and Hoss. "This has been very hard on us both but my father, well, Melora was the baby of the family. We had an older brother but he died of pneumonia about six years ago. That and my mother's passing shortly after were both difficult for my father but losing Melora, well, it was devastating—he's been melancholy beyond help. Even the doctor hasn't been able to offer anything. He says that there are no medicines for diseases of the mind, that people have to deal with them either successfully or not and that we should pray for God's mercy and assistance. But he assures me that my father's melancholia, more than likely, will pass with time. I'm glad that at least he recovered enough to express hostility." Evangeline's face changed to one of mortification. "Oh, I hope you understand my last remark, Mr. Cartwright. I didn't mean to imply that I was…"
"It's all right, Miss Rigby," Adam said with a slight smile. "I understand. Joseph is the youngest son and my father, well, he dotes on Joe and if Joe should hang, well, I don't want to think of how it would destroy my father. Goodnight." Adam stared to mount up but Evangeline put a light hand on his arm. Hoss was already seated on his horse having thanked Evangeline for his hastily-eaten bowl of antelope stew and the glass of buttermilk he was given to wash it all down, complimenting her on its flavor. "Best I ever ate," he had said and he was sincere; he had only eaten antelope stew twice before but neither had been as savory or served up in such a nice china bowl painted with roses; the other times the stew had been dumped on a tin plate and cooked on the range while traveling. Then it was considered a nice change from the ubiquitous beef stews.
Hoss watched with interest Adam's peculiar manners toward Evangeline Rigby. She was a beauty—Hoss could see that. Why she even made him hunger a bit for her, surprisingly more than for her antelope stew. But it was how polite and attentive Adam had been toward her that made Hoss notice. But then Hoss knew Adam had gauged the situation and realized that he had to present a positive front to the Rigbys, especially Mr. Rigby, if he was going to convince them that Joe came from a family that couldn't have produced a killer of innocents, have bent and twisted someone's mind to the point that another's life meant nothing but a way to feed a lust for violence.
Adam stopped, turned, and Evangeline's hand dropped way. "If there's anything I can do to…help prove your brother's innocence, please let me know. Joe was…" She smiled as she thought, "funny and charming and he made Melora happy. She always smiled around him—he would just be silly around her, teasing her and sneaking quick kisses when my father wasn't looking. Joe was so delightful that I was even a bit envious of her—they were so joyous. And yet, there was a touch of sadness about him as if he had suffered a great loss in his life and realized that now that he had found happiness, he had..." Evangeline smiled again in embarrassment. "Listen to me! I'm just babbling on, aren't I? Talking foolishly." Evangeline fingered a jet brooch at the neck of her dress.
"No, it's not foolish at all. It's good to hear they were happy together," Adam said, "only I don't know why you would be envious. I'm sure you could have your choice of suitors. What are those lines from Longfellow's poem 'Evangeline'?" Adam looked up trying to remember the lines from the poem. "Something along the line of…'Many a youth fixed his eyes upon her…happy was he who might touch her hand or the hem of her garment. Many a suitor knocked and waited to hear her footsteps and never knew which beat louder—his heart or the knocker of iron.' Something like that."
Hoss suppressed a smile. Adam was a charmer but Hoss realized that Adam was sincere. But this did seem like an odd time to carry on.
Evangeline ducked her head; she wasn't sure about this man. Then she looked into his hazel eyes. "You're very kind and far too generous in your comparison. I could never be the inspiration for a poem…my goodness, I shouldn't talk so much about myself. I do have a suitor, Mr. Cartwright, the town doctor, Dr. Frank Branson. He tends to be pious and serious though but with all that he sees, well, I suppose there's not much to be cheerful about and God's help is needed as much as the right medicine when one is ill. Nevertheless, I do wish he'd laugh more."
Hoss waited. He knew that Adam would flatter her, find a way to make Evangeline Rigby know he wanted her.
"Just thinking about you would brighten up any man, I would think. I don't know how he can keep a constant smile off his face."
Evangeline blushed; Hoss could tell even in the darkness.
"Well" she said recovering her poise, "as I said, if there's anything I can do…I mean Joe wasn't even in town when the last two women…you do know about them, don't you?"
"Yes, I've heard. Where is the creek where…the other two women were found?" Adam thought it best to leave out Melora.
"It's west of here. The women—all of them including my sister—were found along the same half mile stretch of the Agua Negro."
"Ain't that Spanish for black water?" Hoss looked at Adam who suddenly stood straighter.
"Yes," Evangeline answered. She looked at Adam. "Are you all right, Mr. Cartwright?" To her, he looked odd and as much as she wanted to think his breathing had stepped up because of her, she couldn't flatter herself to that degree.
"Yes," he answered. "I just thought it was an odd name."
"Well, apparently it was called Mules' Pass quite a long time ago—it would recede so much in the fall that it was easier for Indian traders and such to cross here. That's where the town's name comes from but apparently, some Spanish Jesuits wanted to set up a mission here. They came to the creek for water to be sanctified and when they tried to bless it, it turned black and they saw Satan's face reflected in the water. They packed up and left for elsewhere but they called the creek Aqua Negro. People passing through have even said that they've seen the devil himself dancing about the creek. My father always told my sister and me that story to keep us away from the creek but it just ended up keeping me awake many a night as a small child. I still don't like it—even more now and maybe there is something evil about it."
Adam said nothing.
"Nothing like an old legend to scare littluns," Hoss said. "In order to keep Joe in the house at night—he was always managin' to get out at night when he was little, even pullin' up a chair to unbolt the door- Pa used to tell 'im 'bout Indians crawlin' about the Ponderosa late in the night lookin' for children to raise as their own. It kept 'im in the house all right."
Evangeline laughed and then noticed how somber Adam was. The front door of the house opened and Mr. Rigby stood in the light.
"Evangeline, time to come in."
"He still treats me like a small child but I suppose that parents always see their child as the child they once were. Good night to both of you. I'm sorry your visit couldn't have been on a more pleasant topic."
Adam spoke, his throat still tight. "Thank you, Miss Rigby for you kindness and you offer to help. I hope I don't have to take you up on it but if I need you, I will." He tipped his hat and mounted and Evangeline stepped back while Adam turned his horse's head toward town.
"Oh, Mr. Cartwright, are you staying in town?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"At the hotel?"
"Yes…" Adam was going to ask Evangeline why she had asked and if she was coming into town any time soon but her father called for her again, this time more demanding.
"Good night," she said, stepping back.
Adam and Hoss rode off but Adam turned and he could see Evangeline Rigby standing in the yard watching them ride away. They had gone only a few yards when Hoss spoke as he rode abreast his brother.
"What you think 'bout the name of that creek?"
"What about it?"
"Well it's Black Water. Remember what that fortuneteller said 'bout you drowning in black water?"
"So?"
"Well ain't you afraid of drownin' in it?"
"You and Joe—I swear…why would you believe such truck? Superstitions are like those stories you talked about, the ones people tell their children to make them behave."
"Well, just the same," Hoss said, "I think you should stay away from it."
"Listen, Hoss, if my 'unavoidable fate' is to drown in black water, then I'll drown in it no matter what I do. Hell, I might just accidently fall into your used bath water and drown—that's always black. Now just drop the whole thing."
Adam kicked his horse; he didn't like the conversation as the mention of black water had chilled his bones. But Adam wanted to get back to town; he had much to consider, especially his next step.