NOW:
Dinner at the house on Kay Street was an uncomfortable affair. The meal was yet another prepared for the family by Lil, one more contribution to the household that was destined to remain overlooked by her daughter. Adam, for his part, did his best to help his mother-in-law. First, he offered his assistance with cooking, and then, when that was inevitably declined, he shifted his focus to teaching Noah how to set the table for dinner. It was a task the little boy took more joy in completing than either his father or grandmother expected him to. This chore quickly led to another, and, with both Adam and Lil patiently prompting and helping, the tot was able to clear the table after dinner. But setting the table and clearing it was as much help as Lil was willing to tolerate from the pair. Much to Noah's dismay, as soon as she rolled up her dress-sleeves and submerged her hands into the water basin overflowing with white, airy suds, she shooed both father and son out of the kitchen.
Leaving Lil to the dishes and Eddie at her post in the rocking chair in the sitting room, Adam and Noah settled upon the front stoop to take in the evening air as the last remnants of the sun were slowly chased away by the light of the moon. Lil joined them after a while, sneaking glances of her grandson, sleepy and content on his father's lap. It was only when the boy's droopy eyelids finally closed and did not reopen, his body becoming slightly lax within Adam's sturdy grip, that Lil ventured a word.
"Adam," she softly said. "I think it's time you and I had a talk."
"What kind of talk?" Adam asked. It was spoken as more of a statement than a question—a dull, rhetorical inquiry meant to diffuse the sudden serious undertone of the moment and implore Lil to abandon whatever ill-fated intention had dictated her presence beside him.
Lil would not be so easily swayed. "A serious one."
"About?"
"About you, Eddie, Peggy, and the decision your father has put in front of you."
"I don't want to talk about any of that."
"I know. These days you don't seem to want to talk about anything, but there's a difference between the things we want to do and the things that we must do."
"Don't lecture me about choices, Lil. I know the difference between what one wants and needs; I am intimately acquainted with both."
"Oh, honey, I wouldn't dare. I know you know the difference. Just like I know that you aren't the kind of man to take much of anything lightly." Casting her gaze upon the quickly darkening thoroughfare, she seemed to look at everything and nothing at the same time. "Tell me you've at least been giving your father's proposition some thought."
Adam did not answer the question.
"Eddie's been talking about San Francisco again," Lil said. "She's anxious for a decision, I think."
"I didn't tell Eddie about my father's proposition."
"That doesn't mean she isn't waiting for a decision to be made. She's asked you about San Francisco."
"And I've told her that's not an option."
"Did you at least think about it?" she asked, yet another question destined to be left ignored and unanswered. "Well," she continued after a time, "if you won't think about your father's proposal and you won't think about what Eddie wants, then what do you spend your time thinking about?"
She looked at him, her blue eyes narrow and appraising, and Adam looked away from her. Feeling a chill creep into the evening air, he carefully adjusted Noah's gray security blanket, freeing it from the boy's slack grip and leaning the tot slightly forward to skillfully wrap the blanket around his shoulders from behind. Lil watched the motions, her expression contorting sorrowfully.
"It's awful the way he clings to that blanket," she whispered. "Of course, it's awful the way Eddie clings to the notion of returning to San Francisco, the way you cling to the idea that doing nothing will absolve you of the guilt you feel over the things you have done, and the way Peggy has..." She faltered momentarily, only continuing once she had taken a breath to steady her words. "It's terrible that Peggy has decided to distance herself from you and Eddie; it's downright shameful that you've allowed her to."
"You say that like I had a choice in the matter."
"You had a choice. You always have a choice, Adam. Even if those around you don't. You, Eddie, Peggy, Noah, Ellie, and Little Sam, you're a family, and you are the head of it. If you suffer, your whole family suffers. We're all heartbroken by the loss of Charlie, disappointed and stung by recent events that cannot be changed. You need to find the strength to snap yourself out of your indecision; you need to choose to move forward. Not just for yourself but for your family, too."
"And what is so wrong with staying here?" Adam asked, his quiet voice carrying an indignant edge. "You and my father, you both act as though I don't have any resources at my disposal, as though I've left my family destitute on the street somewhere. I have a house, Lil, the front stairs of which you are sitting upon right now."
"This may be a house, but you and I both know it will never be a home."
"Why? Because Peggy and Eddie don't want it to be."
"No. Because you don't want it to be."
"What are you talking about?"
"If you would have wanted to remain in this house, then you would have challenged Billy Buckley's bid for Sheriff."
"Oh, come on."
"Don't do that. Don't pretend you didn't understand what relinquishing that post would mean or what it would do. If you wanted to root your family in Virginia City, if you really wanted Eddie and your children to view this house as a home, then you would have made it one."
"It'll never be home to Eddie," Adam deflected. "She hates this house."
"Only because she knows who it belonged to first. She knows how it came to be in your possession. Again, Adam, if you wanted to build your family a sustainable future in this town, then you should have gone about it a different way."
In all the conversations they had shared over the years and as of late, this was the first occasion Lil had ever dared push him to acknowledge something he was not willing to. It was the first time she had sat next to him and voiced anything other than support and validation. Although she was not overtly criticizing his past decisions, her disapproval was apparent, and that was a stinging and troublesome thing. He hadn't realized his mother-in-law was aware of how he had come to be in possession of the house on Kay Street. Foolishly, he had believed that the details of the development would remain a mystery to everyone but him. Well, him and Amelia Terry. And Billy Buckley, too, he supposed. He knew he had not told a still-living soul about the events, and he knew that Ameila Terry had not either.
Goddamn it. Billy.
Adam's frustration over the younger man's inability to keep such sensitive matters private was immediate. Given Buckley's fondness for having a drink in his hand and a bar stool beneath his behind, it was easy to glean that Lil had come upon the truth via her new husband, Sam, or Big Sam, as the family had taken to referring to him since Ellie and Sam's birth.
Goddamn it, Billy.
"You need to talk to Eddie," Lil said. "You need to make her understand the truth."
"And just what exactly do you think that is?"
"That your possession of this house isn't the result of—"
He lifted a silencing hand, his gaze settling on something in the alleyway between two buildings across the street. Someone was lurking in the shadows; he was almost certain he could make out a figure of a man watching them. Though he was too far away, too disguised by the darkness surrounding him, there was something troublesome about the man's outline. Something familiar and wrong.
"What is it?" Lil asked, visibly unnerved by his sudden movement.
"Here," Adam said, passing his slumbering son into her open arms. "Take Noah and go inside."
"I don't understand."
"Just go. Now."
He did not wait to ensure she adhered to his order. Storming away from the house, he exited the front gate and strode purposefully toward the alleyway. The figure moved as he got closer, seeming to turn around and run away, only to vanish in the darkness between the two buildings. Stopping in the space where he had seen the figure, Adam frowned, his right hand clenching the grip of his gun. He did not pull it from its holster, suddenly a little too uncertain of what had prompted him to approach the alley in the first place.
The corridor between the two buildings was dark and empty. There were no boot marks etched into the dirt-covered ground. There was nothing obviously disrupted to make one believe someone had fled during his approach. Had he seen someone? Or had the figure been yet another ghost of the past—the same fictitious apparition he had seen before—rising to unsettle him at the most inopportune time? He thought of how he was tortured by the vision of his cousin's lifeless body each time he walked past the gallows on the edge of town. Had Will been the man on horseback watching him from a distance while he spoke to Peggy Leopards Pond? Had he been the figure leering in the window of the farmhouse at the Running D? Was it Will he had seen lurking in the alley just moments ago? No. Of course not. He had no memory of Will ever doing such a thing for his imagination to draw from, and besides, he couldn't be seeing Will because Will was dead. Unless, of course, he was only seeing Will because he was dead.
I think I might finally be losing it.
Or maybe he had been losing it for quite some time, each occasion he saw a figment of a person whom a second or third glance had proven was never truly there chipping away at his sanity. But admitting to seeing things that weren't there didn't explain the underlying cause of why he was seeing them in the first place.
This isn't going to go away, Will's voice whispered, rising from the depths of his memory to taunt him. You can keep me hidden, hold me captive for all eternity if you want to, but it isn't going to change what's already been done. Holding me responsible for my sins isn't going to absolve you of your own. You can keep running away from difficult conversations and the pain that will arise from them, but you can't cast blame on me for the way things were or are without acknowledging your part in all of it.
Was that what he was doing? Imagining distractions that would impede and silence difficult conversations. When someone in his company seemed intent on forcing him to consider or speak of things he wanted to ignore, he escaped by chasing after imaginary ghosts. Lord, he did not want Will to be right. But Will was right. He was still running away. Although he was no longer running away from people or places, he was still very much avoiding the issues and complications of both. He looked back at the house and found that Lil had not gone in as he had directed her to. Holding Noah close to her chest, her expression was decidedly concerned. She was worried, he realized, not about whatever threat he had instructed her to shield herself and his son from but by the notion that he had perceived a threat at all. Because there was no threat. No figure lurking in the shadow. No ghost. Just his inability to properly acknowledge and shoulder the responsibility of his sins. His sins. Not Will's. His own.
Hand falling away from his gun, he shook his head. Peggy was right; he was a little too much like his father. Lil was right, too; his suffering was leading his family to suffer. His guilt and pain had paralyzed him, and they were paralyzing others, too. He couldn't help Peggy by remaining stuck himself. He couldn't hold on to or let go of Eddie without first acknowledging the issues that had brought them to this dismal point. He cast the empty alleyway one last glance before rejoining Lil and Noah in front of the house.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" Lil asked.
"No." Adam shook his head. "There was nothing over there."
"Oh, honey, I never thought there was."
But there could have been.
Assessing the sleeping little boy in his mother-in-law's arms, Adam could not help but feel betrayed by the woman's disregard for his order to seek refuge inside.
And what if there had been?
What if Billy Buckley had been hiding in the shadows, waiting for the most inappropriate time to spring forth and entice him into a fight? What if it had been someone else seeking the same? What would Lil have done then? Stood dumbly outside with his child and watched the interaction unfold. Or, comforted by her own newly found standing as the wife of a saloonkeeper, did she think difficulty could no longer befall him?
"You're too comfortable in this town," he accused, making his displeasure known. "You shouldn't be so trusting, so eager to ignore what's asked of you."
"Adam," Lil said evenly. "The alleyway was empty."
"I don't care if the whole damn street is empty. I give you an order, one that directly affects the safety of my son, you follow it without question. You don't hang around to assess the validity of my concern."
"There was nothing there. Do you really think I would do something that would jeopardize the safety of one of my grandchildren?"
Didn't she remember the difficulties the folks of this town once caused him? Didn't she recall the bullet that had almost left him dead? Why should she be allowed the luxury of pretending things weren't the way they were? Billy Buckley was sheriff, after all, the unavoidable result of Roy Coffee's short-sided nature and faltering faith.
"I don't know!" Adam snapped. Captive to frustration, he was no longer thinking about his words before allowing them to escape his mouth. "I think we could both agree that history would prove otherwise!"
Lil gasped, her blue eyes etched with pain. Adam closed his mouth, stunned by his own cruelty. He hadn't meant to allude that the woman was responsible for his oldest son's death. He didn't fault Lil for Charlie's fall. It had been an accident. Nothing more than a tragic fluke.
"Lil, I—"
"Adam!" a familiar voice called out from the thoroughfare. Adam and Lil looked at the street in unison and found Hoss and Joe standing just outside of the white, picket fence surrounding the small property.
"Heya, brother," Hoss greeted. Grabbing the brim of his hat, he nodded at Lil. "Ma'am."
Clearing her throat to steady her voice, Lil seemed a little too relieved by their sudden arrival. "Boys," she greeted with forced enthusiasm. "What brings you this way?"
"We were hoping to take our brother out for a drink," Joe answered. "That is, if it's okay with you."
"Is it okay?" Lil repeated. "Well, I think it's a grand idea."
Adam did not think it was a grand idea. He wanted to tell his brothers no. That now was not a good time to run away from yet another difficult conversation—especially one his furious impetuousness had caused. He had wounded her; that much was clear. What was not clear, however, was what he would have to do or say to make things right again.
"Lil—" he tried, desperately wanting to make things right. Lil didn't deserve to become the focus of his irrational fury, falling helpless victim to his irregular, unkind words.
"You should go," Lil said curtly. She didn't look at him when she spoke, choosing instead to keep her focus on Hoss and Joe. The detail was clear proof of the damage he had done. "Don't worry about Noah; I'll put him to bed."
"Come on, Adam," Hoss urged. "It'll be great. The three of us sharing a drink at the saloon at the end of a particularly long week, just like the old days."
"Just like the old days, huh?" Adam repeated blandly. "And this proposition wouldn't have anything to do with the other proposition on the table, would it?"
"Now, I don't know anything about any other propositions." Feigning innocence, Joe looked at Hoss. "Do you, brother?"
"No, sir," Hoss said. "I don't reckon I have any knowledge of anything that's been placed on any table."
"I'm pretty sure I don't even know where such a table would be," Joe said. "Or who would do the setting."
"The only thing I'm after is a nice, gay evening shared among the Cartwright brothers," Hoss said. "Well, those of us who are old enough to set foot in a saloon. Jamie's time will come. Eventually."
"So, how about it, Lil?" Joe asked, his brilliant green eyes gleaming. "Can our older brother come out and play?"
"Boys," she said. "I would not dare dream of withholding him from such eager company. If you're headed over to the Silver Dollar, you tell Sam the drinks are on us tonight."
Xx
The Silver Dollar was packed full—a gregarious crowd for the evening. The Cartwright brothers obtained their drinks and a table in the back of the room. Adam's gaze was nomadic as he swiftly and covertly appraised the room. He wondered if a day would ever come when he entered a room without automatically evaluating the men in it, taking silent stock of their appearance, the formability of their physicality, and the weapons they wore. Then he wondered when the habit had developed. Had his life as a marshal left him with an inability to ignore his surroundings and the potential threats of the men in it? Or had growing up rough and tumble in the west done that?
"Hiya boys," Big Sam, the barkeep, greeted. Smiling warmly, he placed three mugs of beer on the table and divvied them up among the brothers. "It's nice to see the three of you. It's been awhile." He looked at Adam. "Especially for you."
Guilt sitting heavily in the pit of his stomach, Adam was too consumed by shame over how his conversation with Lil ended to formulate a reply. If Sam was happy to see him now, given time, he would not be. Not with the way he loved Lil. Not with the way Adam's tactless accusation had so obviously wounded her. What was he thinking, allowing himself to say something like that? What kind of man was he for allowing such a terrible statement to pass his lips? Not the kind he thought he was or wanted to be—that was for sure.
"It took some convincing," Joe said. "But we were able to get our older brother here to take the evening away from his family."
"Am I wrong to think my wife had something to do with that?" Sam asked.
"You are not," Hoss said. "But don't you worry, Sam. I reckon she won't be spending the whole night sittin' with Eddie and the children. The three of us won't be parking our behinds here all night. We ain't as wild as we used to be." Tilting his head, he indicated at Joe. "Well, some of us aren't."
Beer in hand, Joe leaned back in his chair, his expression rife with feigned outrage. "Hey now," he said, casually propping his leg on the side of Adam's chair. "I like to think I've calmed down in my old age."
Adam's eyes narrowed with slight annoyance as he eyed the boot invading his personal space.
"Old age," Hoss snorted. "Little Brother, where exactly did you happen upon the knowledge that you might be old?"
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Joe, you're practically still a kid compared to the rest of us."
"Now don't go that far," Hoss said. "He might be young, but he ain't that young, not with the hints of gray that are popping up on the curly-haired head of his."
Lifting his free hand, Joe rested his palm on the top of his head, self-consciously burrowing his fingers into his thick hair. "It isn't that gray," he muttered.
Sam and Hoss shared a glance, each aware the conversation was beginning to touch a nerve.
"It isn't that gray at all," Sam assured amiably. "Don't you worry, none, Joe. You still have some years to get through before anyone around here will have the gall to view you as old. Given the way your father carries his years, that ain't nothing to be concerned about anyhow. Gray is bound to look dang good on you. I mean, just look at how it suits your brothers here."
"Hey, now!" Hoss exclaimed as, chuckling, Sam strode away from the table. "Adam, are you really gonna let your father-in-law talk to us like that?" The question was more quip than genuine inquiry. Finally reaching for the mug of beer Sam had placed in front of him, he drank deeply.
Eying his own untouched drink, Adam shook his head. "I reckon that's something that doesn't exactly fall into my purview anymore." He didn't care if Sam drew attention to the obvious. He wasn't self-conscious; he harbored no shame about the sporadic gray hairs embedded in his scalp. "Besides, I think I've earned the years my appearance reflects." And he had, even if sometimes it seemed as though the change had not seemed to bestow upon him any additional wisdom as was so often claimed.
"Yeah. Well, me too, I suppose," Hoss said. "But that don't mean it's seemly for someone to comment on it."
"Taken to feeling particularly old, have you, brother?" Adam asked.
"I reckon living beneath the same roof as two moody teenagers has gotten everyone feeling particularly old these days."
Adam flinched, oddly stung by Joe's casual proclamation. Peggy's presence at the Ponderosa was not something he, Joe, and Hoss had ever discussed. He hadn't expected the detail to be alluded to so directly. He wasn't certain how to deal with it now that it had been. His frustration was immediate, his rush of anger palpable.
Two moody teenagers.
There were two moody teenagers in his father's care. One belonged there and the other didn't—even so, such glaring facts didn't change the current arrangements.
Joe closed his mouth as Hoss cast him a chastising glance. Removing his foot from Adam's chair, he leaned forward in his seat and placed his beer on the table. "I'm sorry, Adam," he said, tenting his hands around his mug. "I didn't mean to..." Shaking his head, he did not complete the sentence.
"What he meant to say is…" Hoss began and then faltered, unable to retract what had already been said and unwilling to draw attention to it again.
Two moody teenagers. Two.
Seething, Adam reached for his beer. If it had been liquor, he would have avoided it altogether and ventured some odd excuse as to why he didn't want it. As it was, he regarded the opaque liquid in his mug as something akin to water. Still, it went down a little more easily and quickly than he would have liked. He drained the glass in a few long, steady gulps and placed it on the table.
"What you both mean to say is that that youngest brother of ours has come into our lives for the soul purpose of making us all feel a little too old," he said, his voice low, his tone thickened by the frothy beverage he had rapidly consumed. Unable to fully relinquish his anger, he was unwilling to expand on topics that would intensify rather than abate the volatility of his mood.
Joe and Hoss glanced at each other, both momentarily uncertain of how to reply. Allowing himself a small, relieved smile, Joe eventually began to nod. "Yeah," he agreed.
The trio fell into an affable silence as Sam came and went, trading their empty mugs for full ones.
Determined to consume his second drink at a much slower pace than his first, Adam leaned back in his chair. Holding his drink in between the thumb and index fingers of both of his hands, he propped an ankle over his knee and looked around the room. He tried his best not to think about Peggy, but it was a difficult thing to avoid.
Two teenagers…
Brows furrowing, he frowned. There were two teenagers living at the Ponderosa, when there should only have been one. And maybe there should not have even been that.
I hate you, Peggy's voice whispered, rising from his memory to taunt him. I hate you, and I…
"Tell me something, Adam," Joe said. "Have you given Pa's offer any real thought?"
Looking at his brother, Adam found Joe's expression as expectant as his question. "You said this was a social call," he said, his tone slightly accusing. "That the only thing you and Hoss were after was a nice evening shared among brothers."
"It is," Joe said.
"Then why are you trying to turn it into something else?"
Hoss cast Joe a loaded glance, prompting him to finish his beer. Pushing his chair back, he reached for Hoss's empty mug and momentarily assessed the nearly full one Adam held before making his way to the bar.
"The two of you are drinking too quickly for the evening to remain nice," Adam warned.
"Well, I reckon that maybe the conversation we're embarking on is gonna do that anyhow," Hoss said.
Adam's frown deepened as he placed his drink on the table. If Hoss really thought his younger brother's absence would make his older brother more forthcoming, he had another thing coming. "I'm not doing this," he said.
"It seems to me you're not inclined to do much of anything these days," Hoss said. "Now, I know you have never been the kind of man who acts before he really considers things, and I know that the majority of mistakes you've made in your life happened when you didn't take the time to properly think. Now, I don't know all the events that led you to the place where you currently are, but I think I understand the feelings that are keeping you stuck there. I think, if you just took a moment or two to really consider why Pa would allow Peggy to remain at the Ponderosa or why he would ask you to come back yourself, that you would find that he understands, too."
"So, that's what this is about. You didn't bring me here to probe. You came to sell me on Pa's idea."
"It ain't such a bad one."
"It isn't a good one either. Besides, I already declined the offer."
"Yes, but then he presented another one. Just think about it, Adam." Hoss smiled, hopefully. "Your span of land and Peggy's combined to make a brand-new spread."
"I don't have to think about it. I'm not a rancher anymore, Hoss."
"You ain't a lawman either."
"No. I am not."
"Then what are you?"
"What?"
"If you ain't a rancher or a lawman, then what are you gonna be?"
"I don't know."
"You better figure it out right quick," Hoss said. "You're not the kind that does well when he don't have a goal to work toward or a direction to head in."
"Brother, do you happen to be worried about my goals or direction?"
"Only because you don't seem to have any. Like Joe said, we ain't kids anymore. We're older now. I know you can't look to Pa to solve all your problems. I know that you wouldn't want to do that even if you could, because you are a pa now. You got youngin's at home to look after, and a wife who's just a... whole dang mess."
Adam bristled at the mention of Eddie. "What do you know about it?"
Hoss shook his head. "Only the little bit Peggy's talked about, and even then, it ain't altogether that much. I reckon that little gal is the only one in this family that talks less about her feelings than you do."
"But she's talked about Eddie?"
"Not really. It's more about what she don't say, I reckon. I suppose it's more about what you don't say, too, and Pa, he just wants to know that you're going to be okay. We all want you to be okay."
Adam thought of Will. The troublesome, illusory figure he had become prone to seeing. "I'm fine," he lied, lifting a finger to rub it unconsciously over the scar on his upper lip.
"Like hell you are, and I suppose not a single soul on this fine earth could blame you for that."
The statement hung between them. Neither willing to expand upon or dispute it.
Returning to the table, Joe held three beers precariously in his hands. He sat, dispersed two of the drinks to his two brothers, and then took a sip of the third. When Adam did not reach for his nearly empty mug or the newly provided full one, Hoss pushed the former closer, prompting his older brother to lift it to his lips. Adam drank meagerly, his stomach turning as the trio sat in silence. He pretended not to notice the glances Hoss and Joe sporadically shared or the concerned manner in which they regarded him.
Setting his attention on the batwing doors, he absentmindedly watched as patrons entered and exited, not fully registering who was coming or going until Billy Buckley swung open the doors. Adam's eyes found Sam, who was standing behind the bar top, pouring a glass of whiskey for an unnamed man. A newcomer from the looks of it, a trail-haggard stranger whose tattered outfit still hung onto the dust of an endless road. Buckley nodded curtly at the stranger, a silent greeting that declared they had already met. Then, turning his gaze upon the room, Virginia City's sheriff appraised it slowly, taking his sweet time to look every man and saloon gal directly in the eyes. When he finally took note of Adam's presence, he grinned, his eyes gleaming wickedly as he refused to break their locked gaze.
"Adam Cartwright," he declared as he approached the table where the brothers sat. "I should have known this is the kind of place I'd find you. It bein' so damn sleazy and all."
Adam scoffed. There was nothing unreputable about the Silver Dollar. It was about as mild of an establishment as they came. "What do you want, Billy?" he asked.
Smirking, Buckley shoved his thumbs between the top of his gun-belt and the waist of his pants, drawing attention to the weapon nestled in its holster. "Oh, just to take a moment or two to remind you of who I am and who you're not."
Adam rolled his eyes. "Why don't you tell me what you really want?"
"I just told you. Man, you are deaf or just plain stupid."
"He's neither," Joe said darkly. "Buckley, why don't you leave my brother be and just move along?"
Buckley ignored the interjection. "I know," he said to Adam. "Maybe you're just dumb, like that boy of yours."
Though Adam could sit in place and trade barbarous quips for as long as Buckley sat fit to, he couldn't abide the man speaking about his son. He pushed his chair back and stood, his right-hand ready and looming over his gun. "Take it back," he said.
"Take what back?" Buckley chuckled.
"Sit back down, brother," Hoss urged. "You're just givin' him what he wants."
Buckley evaluated Adam bluntly, his eyes running the distance between his boots and the top of his hat as he measured him up. Their bad blood had originated years ago. This, combined with more recent events and Roy Coffee's sudden, seemingly unexpected retraction of his support of one of them in favor of the other, had sullied whatever forced good graces could have existed between them. On his breast, Buckley had prominently pinned the badge that declared his authority over this situation and any others he wished to inject himself into. The power that came with his position was not for everybody, and it was obvious it was not for him. It had exaggerated his already inflated ego and gone to his head.
"Take it back," Adam repeated.
"No." Buckley's grin endured. "I don't believe I will."
"Take it back," Adam demanded.
"Nope," Buckley said. "And you best do what your brother's convincing you to. Given your history in this town and more recent events, it wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination to think that something awful might befall you, and then what will happen to your dumb boy then? Left in the world without a pa to defend him against the truth."
And that did it for Joe. Pushing back his chair, he stood next to his brother and stared at Buckley with fire in his eyes. "Take it back," he said, repeating his eldest brother's demand.
"Joe," Hoss tried. "Adam."
Glancing at Joe, Buckley scoffed. "No," he said. "Sit down, Joe; this has nothing to do with you."
"It has everything to do with me," Joe said. "That's my brother you're taking to, and I'm not going to stand by and listen to your—"
"My what?" Buckley asked. "My assessment of your brother? You don't know it yet, but I know him better than most in this town. I know him better than you can or ever will. This ain't your fight, Joe."
"I'm not gonna stand here and—!"
"Joe, sit down," Adam instructed firmly. "He's right. This doesn't have anything to do with you."
And it didn't. There was absolutely nothing about this interaction that had anything to do with the present. The events that led to it were firmly rooted in the past. There would be no changing them now.
"But Adam—" Joe tried.
"But nothing," Adam said, the gruff tone of his voice leaving no room for dispute. "This is between him and me and nobody else."
Joe looked at Buckley, then at Adam, and then he seemed to decide upon something unspoken to the rest of them. His hand did not stray from the butt of his gun as it remained safely nestled in its holster, and he did not sit back down. But he did take a step back, allowing Adam to finish what Buckley had begun.
"The way I see it, you and I have a score to settle," Buckley said.
The pair stubbornly stared at each other, each not willing to break the other's gaze. The tone between them was firmly set, the challenge lurking in Buckley's aggressive stance was clearly displayed for all to see. Adam would not be frightened away. He would not be dissuaded. If Buckley wanted to bait him into a fight, then he was all too eager to give him what he was asking for.
"We do," Adam said.
"If I call you out in the street, will you come? Or are you too yellow to face what you know has been coming for you all along?"
"Oh, I'll come," Adam assured. "And you better be damn ready for me when I do."
Buckley stood in place for a beat longer before nodding and walking away. As he pushed through the batwing doors, Hoss, Joe, Sam seemed to expel a collective sigh of relief.
Adam didn't breathe easily. Settling back into his seat, he couldn't silence the ethereal voice that sprung forth to resound in his head.
It's not too late. But pretty soon it will be.
TBC