The Plot Thickens

Sibella rolled over in bed, squeezing shut her eyes. She wanted to sleep longer but the rush of water through the pipes woke her. Maybe an outhouse was better after all; at least it was quiet. Last night had been a late one. Usually, Sibella and Adam were home from Sunday dinner at the Ponderosa by 8:00, but while she had half-heartedly watched Joe and Hoss play a quarrelsome game of cribbage, having declined their offer to play a three-man game, Ben and Adam sat at the cleared table sipping coffee laced with whiskey and then just whiskey, and talked in low tones. Sibella, often glancing their way, tried to decipher Adam's expression but all she could tell was that the subject was serious, and from Ben's furrowed brow, distressing. When they finally arrived home, it was past 10:00. Moss had come out to put the horse and buggy away, explaining he had been relegated to play solitaire as Chauncey was fast asleep. Once inside, Adam went to his study, telling Sibella to go on up to bed; he had some work to do and needed to get to the office early in the morning, or so he told her before closing the door. Sibella stared at it, resenting Adam could shut her out by simply shutting a door.

What time Adam had come up to bed, Sibella didn't know as he hadn't woken her for a goodnight kiss or pulled her into an embrace. While still annoyed by being woken early, the thought struck that maybe Adam hadn't come up at all, had slept in his study or even left the house at some point and she quickly sat up to look at his side. She was relieved his pillow held the indentation of his head and the covers had been tossed aside, so she lay back down. The smell of ham floated upstairs, that and biscuits. And coffee. Sibella disliked ham but Adam and all the Cartwrights liked it. Hop Sing often served it at the Ponderosa, fresh from their own smokehouse. She learned by Hoss' example, that if she drowned the slice in maple syrup, it was tolerable.

But, Sibella recalled, she had looked lovely last night. All the Cartwright men, including Hop Sing, complimented her on her new dress. It was only a simple blue brocade with a modest, self-ruffled neckline but she knew the color flattered her eyes and complexion while the V-shaped waist emphasized her curves. Noticing Sibella's large sapphire ring, Hoss asked if it was only a glass gee-gaw or was Adam embezzling from the business. Adam had told Hoss to take on the ledger books himself anytime and find out. "Dang, Adam," Hoss had replied, "when it comes to numbers, they don't mean nothin' to me 'cept when Hop Sing tells me I've had one too many servin's of somethin'."

Sibella stretched under the warmth of the coverlet. Tonight was Adam's arranged dinner and although she was happy Alan would be staying the night as she did worry about him, she didn't look forward to hosting Thorne and Betty Mae Wood or even the Grahams. Esther Graham was always nice to her but she felt it was only due to her husband and Adam being so close. At least Morgan was genuinely friendly. And as for Thorne, Sibella knew she didn't love him anymore, wondered if she ever really had, but it irked her that he was squiring about Betty Mae, that she should have enchanted the man Sibella had once been set to marry.

"Get up, lazy bones," Adam said as he came shirtless into the room. "Breakfast is ready and everyone's eaten but you." He opened a drawer of the highboy and pulled out a folded, white shirt, crisply starched.

Sibella languidly sat up. "It's ham. I can smell it. You know I don't care for ham."

Adam leaned down and kissed her mussed hair. "Get up anyway. Mrs. George wants to go over details about tonight."

"It's your dinner party," Sibella said crossly. "You go over them with her."

Adam, his shirt on but not yet buttoned, sat on the bed. "Sibella, you can pout and whine, even claim a headache this evening and not show downstairs at all if that's what you want, but I'd appreciate if you'd help me with this dinner. And please be gracious tonight."

"I'm always gracious. When wasn't I? Tell me that!" Sibella pushed loose curls off her face. She had only run a brush through it before bed and not taken the time to braid it.

"Forgive me, Sibella-I concede. You are the quintessence of graciousness. But do one more thing for me and choose a conservative dress for tonight. Matter of fact, wear last night's dress. It's pretty and would be perfect. My whole family complimented you on it." Adam waited.

"You didn't." Sibella knew Adam never noticed such things and often wished he'd realize she was wearing a new hat or done her hair a new manner, but that wasn't him. "Besides, it's not a dinner dress, just a nice dress to wear casually. Why the neckline is so modest I could teach Sunday school wearing it."

"Well, then hide your light-or, in this case, your bosom-under a bushel, would you? You don't need to outshine Betty Mae and Esther in your own home."

"Oh, all right." Sibella knew she was being gumpy and unpleasant but gave into it; if she couldn't show her bad side to Adam, there was no one. "I'm not in the mood for guests, but I'll force myself." Adam leaned over and kissed her quickly. Then he stood up and began to button his shirt. Sibella pushed aside the covers and reached for her robe noting he wasn't even looking at her wearing only her thin, lawn sleeping gown, her body and hardened nipples obvious. He didn't even display any desire for her, pull her closer and run his hands over her buttocks. He had absolutely no sexual interest in her. "It's chilly," she said as she slipped on the robe and knotted the tie.

"It's warmer downstairs and the bath's still warm and steamy from the hot water. You won't freeze your sweet little ass on the commode." Adam grinned while Sibella glowered and putting on her slippers, left the bedroom.

Adam finished buttoning his shirt, attached the cufflinks and went to the vanity mirror to put on his tie. Sibella's hair combs and pins from last night were on the vanity top and the sapphire ring sat in a small porcelain dish among the jars, pots and perfume bottles. Adam picked up the ring, remembering Hoss' comment. He hadn't really looked at it nor the rest of the set trusting it was what Sibella said. Adam held the ring up to the light from the window and noted something odd: the stone was either a perfect sapphire or a fake. He was intrigued, thinking he had to be wrong. Adam lit the vanity lamp and turned the wick up high to examine the ring, to check the cuts of the diamonds as well as the large sapphire. Adam looked for any natural flaws, even the slightest, as a stone that large would surely have at least one. His reading glasses were downstairs but he was certain the sapphire was clean. But what was most telling was that the diamonds and sapphire couldn't have been cut and set 200 years ago, the cut was too modern as antique stones wouldn't have a culet and therefore, no pavilion or the multiple facets. No, Adam decided, these weren't the original stones and the closer he looked, he determined the stones, especially the sapphire, were mere paste.

"Oh, my love," Adam said to the empty room. "Something happened somewhere, but by whom? And why?" He turned the wick down and slipped the ring in his pants' pocket, finished his tie and headed downstairs.

As Sibella ate a biscuit and honey along with her coffee while Mrs. George chatted about Moss driving her into Virgina City to the green grocers as their kitchen garden was finished until spring. She could serve the canned green beans and carrots, she said as she washed and dried the dishes, but fresh would be better, that is if she could find them. And she needed to check the potatoes. She'd serve mashed potatoes with gravy made with the juices and scrapings from the roasting pan. Didn't the Missus think that would be tasty? And perhaps she'd start the meal with onion soup and a slice of crusty sourdough. And, Mrs. George said, she was still planning on rum tarts, that is, if the mister would unlock the cabinet and choose a nice bottle of Jamaican or Medford rum. "Oh, Mr. Cartwright," Mrs. George said, smiling as Adam came into the kitchen, "I was just talking about you choosing a rum. I'll need some for the rum tarts, if you don't mind. And would you prefer they be with raisins or pecans?"

"Let's go with raisins. I'll take out a bottle of Medford before I leave. And I think I'll have one more cup of coffee with Sibella before I head out." Adam sat down and Mrs. George, smiling, gave him a freshly washed cup. He reached for the coffee pot on the trivet, but Mrs. George quickly picked it up.

"Here, let me. You're heading out for a day of hard work and so you deserve a little spoiling. How's that?" she asked while pouring the coffee. Mrs. George had come to be immensely fond of the Mister as he was handsome and educated but most of all, thoughtful. She had yet to decide if Sibella Cartwright was worthy of the man as she did seem a selfish kind. But then people chose to love who they did and the Mister was no fool, so Sibella either was a talented whore in their bed or he saw something else about her to love. Nevertheless, Mrs. George was determined to make certain his meals were cooked to perfection and that the cookie jar was always full.

The jangle of buggy tracings was heard outside the kitchen door. Mrs. George untied her apron, placing it on the counter and said that Moss was waiting. She rushed to get her bonnet, string bags and cloak and hurried out the door, obviously excited about the trip to town and the dinner that evening.

"Well, how nice of you to keep me company a bit longer, but why?" Sibella asked, scrutinizing his face. "Something is going on and I want to know what. You and your father had your heads together all night, you barely spoke to me the whole ride home and then after locking yourself in your study, you came to bed without waking me. You always wake me. Always!" She stopped; a horrid thought came to her. "You want to be rid of me, don't know? That's what you and your father were discussing, isn't it?

Adam shook his head, sighing. "Angels and ministers of grace defend me. No, Sibella, if I wanted to be rid of you, you'd be gone already. What I was discussing with my father has nothing to do with you except in a peripheral manner."

Sibella stared at Adam. She wasn't sure she believed him. "You're a very poor liar, Adam. I guess that's a drawback to being an honorable man; you hate to tell a cruel truth. I know you're troubled by something or someone but won't say anything to me. Is it Thorne? Alan?"

He decided to just ask her. "Sibella, listen, do you know if your parents were ever in financial straits?"

"What?" Sibella was taken by surprise; she hadn't expected a question like that. "No…I mean they…I have the money they gave me, well, gave to you when we married and you gave back to me. If they were struggling, my father wouldn't have been able to part with it, so, no, they aren't in financial trouble."

"But were they at some time past? Was there ever a problem paying your tuition, talk about you coming home?" Adam watched her face, admiring her beauty and the graceful shape of her profile, her neck.

"No. I was never aware of anything like that. Why are you asking me?" Sibella looked directly at him, her heart pounding in fear. Adam stood, pulled out the ring and placed it on the table. Sibella reached for it. "How is this about my ring?"

Adam sat back down. "I think it's a paste, even the diamonds, and although it's a good copy, the cuts aren't antique. They're not the cuts of 200 years or older gems."

"You think my parents sold the originals and replaced them with paste replicas, don't you?"

"No, not anymore, but I had to ask and it may be that only the ring was replaced, but if the whole set is paste, well, first, the set was your parents and they could have sold pieces or the whole thing anytime they liked and would have no need for replicas. Second, if your parents knew the set was paste, why send it to you? They could gift you with so many other things."

"Well, if my parents didn't switch out the pieces then…" Sibella's eyes opened widely as it dawned on her what Adam was thinking. "Oh, Adam, you think Alan did it, don't you? You think sometime on the trip here, he sold the original gems and had them replaced. But I can't believe that of Alan. He would never betray my family, betray me."

"Not even if Thorne seduced him into it?"

~ 0 ~

Sibella sat alone in the bright kitchen, the sun streaming in, birdsong floating through the open window as she mulled over what Adam had said. Thorne seducing Alan. No, Adam had to be mistaken…but what other answer could there be? Sibella didn't know what to think. And later that night, after all the guests had left, she was to talk alone with Alan to discover if he and Thorne had anything to do with switching out the diamonds and sapphires. And, although Sibella didn't know how to broach the subject, had Thorne talked him into being devious, or as Adam suggested, "seduced" him into crime.

As Adam had explained, Alan confessing to the whole matter, that is if he even knew about a switch of gems, would allow Sheriff Coffee to arrest Thorne if he had any part in it. But what if it was all Alan's idea and Thorne knew nothing about the matter, was completely innocent? Adam had replied that was up to the law to sort out. Sibella's head spun; she had told Adam, she would talk to Alan, see what he said but yet, Sibella felt Adam suspected Thorne of something else, something far more personal. And then she suddenly knew that with Morgan coming over, it had something to do with the war. It had to, but what?