"Are we expecting company, Pa?" Hoss asked, rolling up his sleeves and sitting down to breakfast. He gestured to the fourth plate at the table.

"It's for Adam, he got in late last night."

"You don't sound none too happy about it."

"I'm always pleased to have all of my sons home," Ben said pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"But Adam ain't hisself," Hoss said, eyeing his father. It was a subject they'd been sidestepping for a long while and he wanted to come right out and say something about it.

"No."

"Seems like something's eatin' him up inside."

"Yes."

There was a pause.

"You reckon it's Blythe, don't you, Pa?"

Ben took a contemplative sip of his coffee. Upstairs, a door opened and closed.

"We'll say no more about it," he said quietly, but his middle son knew he'd guessed correctly.

Adam appeared on the stairs.

"Good morning," his father greeted him heartily.

Adam took a seat at the chair that had customarily been his when he'd lived at home. He looked around the familiar room, a room he had designed. The books, many of which were still his. The impressive stone fireplace he had overseen the construction of. He looked at his father and his brother, just as Little Joe came rushing down the stairs, still buttoning his shirt. He looked at all that he held dear and his heart nearly broke in two, realizing that his wife and his own home brought him no joy.

He put on a false smile, all of his smiles were false these days it seemed, and responded to his father in kind.

Later that day, out in one of the far pastures, Adam pushed all thoughts of his domestic troubles from his mind and picked up the heavy maul used for splitting fence rails. It was a task usually left to Hoss, but today he wanted to work himself into absolute exhaustion.

He swung again and again, until his shirt soaked through with sweat and the muscles in his back and arms burned with the exertion. By the time the sun was beginning to set, Ben had grown fretful at watching his eldest son torment himself and ordered everyone back to the house under the guise of not making Hop Sing hold supper for them.

Afterwards, settled around the fire, which was burning low and crackling merrily, Ben turned his cup of coffee around and around on his saucer.

"I was thinking," he said at last, glancing at Adam, who was staring at a book of poetry but hadn't turned a page.

Adam glanced up and caught his father's eye. Hoss and Little Joe waited expectantly.

"I was thinking, it's been a long while since we've had a party. Adam, your birthday is coming up, why don't we celebrate?"

"That's a great idea, Pa," Little Joe exclaimed.

"Pa, I don't know..." Adam said uncertainly.

"It's just the thing we need," Ben said. "I'll make all the arrangements. All you boys need do is enjoy the food, drink, and company."

"Shall I send for Blythe?" Adam asked quietly.

An awkward silence settled over the room.

Ben cleared his throat. "Well, she is your wife, son. Of course she must come."

Adam closed his book and slid it back into its place on the shelf. He made for the stairs, an uncharacteristic slump to his shoulders which Ben had watched developed over the past couple of years.

"Perhaps I'll send Jim over to fetch her," Adam said. "We ought to get that fencing finished."

He climbed the stairs, undressed, and slipped under the blankets on his bed. He stared at the ceiling and waited for sleep to overtake him. He waited a long time.