Visiting an Old Friend

The two friends sat in rocking chairs on the front porch, smoking Morgan's hand-rolled cigarettes and gazing at the distant buildings of Virginia City while chickens scratched about in the yard. The wind was calm and the house's front door was open, the geraniums hanging from the porch keeping away most of the flies.

"Riding up, I noticed the roof needs some repairing," Adam said. "I'll be over next Saturday to patch."

"There's lots of things need repairing around here but, Adam," Morgan said, "I can afford to pay someone to do them. We're doing pretty well with my pension, carpentry work and leather tooling; Austin sends me all his special orders. And Esther can make a penny go a long way."

Behind them, they heard Esther say, "So now you're bragging I'm a pinch-penny." She handed each man a mug of coffee. "Don't worry, Adam, the coffee isn't reused breakfast grounds." Adam smiled as he took the mug.

"Going to have to put a bell around your neck so I can hear you coming," Morgan said, looking up at his wife.

Adam laughed. "Now, Esther, frugality is a good thing. A wife who can manage household accounts is a treasure indeed." Adam took a sip. "And that's damn good coffee, reused grounds or not."

Esther waited. "Well, Morgan? Are you going to say it's good coffee? And be careful—there's still dinner to make and I may just boil up yesterday's chicken neck and backbones from the slop pot to make soup." Adam smiled as the couple sparred with one another.

"If things are that bad, I'll chop off my other leg to double my pension." An awkward silence fell. Although Morgan's amputated limb and the collateral losses were always silently acknowledged by the ever-present crutch, it was rarely mentioned outright. The Union Army $20.00 pension could never compensate for the loss of a leg at the hip, nor could it recompense Esther for the loss of a husband in the true sense. Of course, there were other ways to find sexual satisfaction besides copulation, but Esther felt robbed of true intimacy. Yet she never looked elsewhere although some nights when she couldn't sleep, her mind went back to her youthful decision to marry Morgan. She had so loved Morgan; he was handsome and kind and truly loved her, said so many times, and she loved him. They had married for better or worse. But she often wondered how different her life would be had she and Adam been more seriously involved back then. But Esther knew Adam didn't loved her, not like Morgan did. So, when Morgan began to seriously court her, the two men being such good friends, Adam quietly stepped aside.

"That's not funny," Esther said, and turned to leave, but Adam called her back. "What is it?" Esther snapped. "I hope you're not going to attempt a poor joke too."

"No, I came by to invite the two of you to dinner Monday night. You've only been over that once, when the house was first livable. We're also having a few others over, two old friends of Sibella's and hopefully, Betty Mae. It'll be nice. What do you say?" Adam nervously waited; he needed Morgan to be there, that is if Thorne attended but if Esther said no, that was it.

Morgan shifted in the chair, sitting up straighter. "Why that does sound good; we don't socialize much except through church and that's mainly Esther. What time?"

"Now wait a minute," Esther said. "I don't…" She looked at Adam and then to her husband; she had to choose her words carefully so as not to injure Morgan's pride. "Adam, actually, I haven't had the time to shop for any new dresses for quite a while and I wore my best…I know it sounds vain but I already wore my best dress the time we were there, and, well, as I said, I know it makes me sound vain but I don't want to wear the same dress twice." Esther could tell she wasn't fooling Adam as he knew her too well, knew she was worried Sibella would remember her dress. But if she went, Esther had no choice but to don the only good dress she owned. It wasn't even fashionable anymore and up close, showed signs of wear with the lace about the bodice and the end of the sleeves having been amateurishly repaired with her own needle and thread.

"Esther," Adam said, looking at her with honest affection, "not to sound insulting, but I don't even remember what you wore and I doubt Sibella will; she's more concerned how she looks. Please don't let a silly matter like that stop you."

Morgan spoke up, "Go buy yourself a new one Monday. Surely, we can afford it and if you're worried about a dent in the budget, I'm starting on a new saddle this coming week. Go on, honey. Treat yourself."

"Men! You know nothing! Occasion dresses aren't sold off the rack in the mercantile like a day dress is." She touched the faded, blue calico dress she wore. "I can't just walk into Miss Irene's and come home with a dinner dress. Those have to be special-made, the fabric chosen, a pattern picked, then sewn and fitted. It takes weeks."

Adam and Morgan looked at one another. "Well, Esther," Adam said, "a new pair of gloves or wrap is almost as good as a new dress, at least according to Sibella, but I'd really like you and Morgan to come to dinner, new dress, new gloves notwithstanding. I really wish you would. Dinner's at 7:00 and it won't be a late night and what excuse would I give for your absence? Esther didn't have anything to wear?"

Esther looked at Adam's earnest face; she knew he wanted them there, that he truly enjoyed their company, but women always noticed clothes. And even though Esther was still considered pretty by most, Sibella was lovely and had the most glorious gowns; she would outshine both her Betty Mae should she be there. Besides, Esther really didn't want to see Sibella again, didn't care for her. But Adam still had and always would have a soft spot in her heart. "All right, Adam, for you and Morgan's friendship, I'll come…wearing my old dress." Adam grinned and tossing his cigarette in the dirt, stood and kissed Esther's cheek. She pointed a finger at her husband before going inside, "And I'll be wearing a new pair of gloves and maybe carrying a new handbag!"

~ 0 ~

Adam sipped at his coffee while Morgan Graham used his one leg to move the rocker while he held his mug.

"Okay, Adam, why are you so insistent we come to dinner? I appreciate the invitation, mainly for Esther's sake, but what's going on?" Morgan waited; Adam couldn't be rushed, especially if the matter was of importance.

Adam sighed. "I need you to see if someone looks familiar."

"Well, I hope it's a beautiful woman."

Adam chuckled. "Actually, it's an old love of Sibella's, Thorne Culhane, an ex-fiancé of hers. He's about our age, a few years younger."

Morgan stopped rocking and set his mug down on the porch planks. "Adam, you don't think she's still in love with him, do you? I mean you aren't testing her, wanting me to notice if she gazes at him with longing or such?"

"No—it has nothing to do with that type of thing, but when I met him the other day, I could have sworn I knew him from somewhere, but then I've met so many people over the years I can't be sure. And then he's a gambler and they get around. It could be I had dealings with him in some saloon on a trail drive or…I don't know. I kept trying to place him. And if it had just been me, I could pass it off as him reminding me of someone, but he seemed to recognize me. It was just a moment, a split-second but later that night, I knew. Or thought I knew. Now I'm not so sure. I want you to see him, tell me if you recognize him."

"Do you think he may have been in Andersonville or in our battalion? Or someone who was just passing through Virginia City before the war. Or is he from our misspent youth?"

Adam smiled. "I don't want to unduly influence you. But I want you to see him."

"All right, I'll look at him and let you know. More coffee?"

Adam pulled out his watch. "No thanks." He slipped the watch back into his pocket. "I promised Sibella I'd be home by 4:00."

"I never thought you'd have to answer to a bitty girl, but then I never thought you'd marry. Can't blame you though for hurrying home to Sibella. You know, I think domestication has done you good, curbed those wild, don't-give-a-goddamn tendencies." Morgan called into the house, "Esther, Adam's leaving."

"Morgan," Adam said, rising from his chair, "kiss my ass." And Morgan just smiled.

~ 0 ~

Chauncey and Moss were playing checkers on an upturned barrel, waiting to head to town when Adam rode into the yard. They had been paid at breakfast and mucked the stalls, the cow fed and milked and Mrs. George, driven home. Chauncey usually stayed put on a Saturday night but Moss said he needed an "ambassador" to Virginia City to point out all the places of "sin" so he'd know to go straight there and not waste time. Chauncey had laughed heartily; he and Moss were going to get along just fine. Now that the Mister was home, once Chauncey put away his horse for the night, he and Moss were leaving.

Sibella, sitting on the front porch, was relieved Adam was there. She watched Adam with the two men, looking up from her magazine. She wondered how he kept the right balance between being their employer and yet breaking bread with them as if he was one of them when it was obvious he wasn't. Still smiling, Adam stepped up on the porch and bent down, his hands on the arms of the rocker, to kiss her.

"Hello, beautiful." He took the chair beside her. "Please note that it's…" Adam pulled out his pocket watch, "4:06. Rode in before 4:00. Kept my promise."

"So, you have. I'll have to mark it on the calendar. It's certainly a red-letter day." Sibella pulled her shawl closer about her.

Adam smiled, refusing to be baited. "What've you been up to?" He stretched his legs out and sighed heavily.

"Just looking at Godey's and waiting for my husband to come home. Look at this, Adam." She held open the magazine for him to see. "The prediction is for the focus to be on the back of the dress with overskirts, a bustle and a fitted waist."

" , I like to focus on the back too," Adam said with a smile. "Especially yours."

"Oh, Adam." Sibella flipped the page. "And then there are these two-piece dresses; a basque to be worn with different skirts and all these draping overskirts. But I don't know about this bustle and such; I'll drown in fabric! But there are some beautiful dinner dresses. Look, Adam…" Sibella leaned over again to show a picture to Adam who reached out and took the magazine from her.

"Put this aside for a while; I've heard enough about dresses for one day. I want to talk about dinner Monday and…."

"Yes," Sibella said, sitting up straighter, "so do I. Why, all of a sudden, do you want all these people over? It's thoughtful to invite Alan and Thorne but…"

Adam cut her off. "Let me finish a goddamn sentence, would you? Alan was packing to leave town. Seems he's short on money, or so he said. Nevertheless, I invited him, asked him to stay with us Monday night, and he was more than happy to."

"I wonder why Alan is short of money. I had the distinct impression…"

"Sibella, listen. Thorne wasn't there and I never found him. Apparently, he's staying around to dine with the woods, but Alan said he'd pass on the invitation if he saw him in time. I also asked Betty Mae to dinner and suggested she ask Thorne to accompany her; I'm hoping he will. Morgan and Esther are also coming. You can play hostess and I'll do my damn best to be a cordial host."

"Who's going to serve?" Sibella asked. Addam looked at her quizzically. "Well, you can't expect me to serve the dishes and run back and forth from the kitchen and clear the table, serve the coffee."

"All right. I didn't think of all that so I'll pay Mrs. George extra to stay later. Is that acceptable?"

Sibella looked away. "Yes. That's acceptable."

Adam noticed the jutting of her jaw. "Then what is it?"

Sibella turned. "Why is it you want Thorne here? What is so vital that he be present that you probably sweet-talked Betty Mae to invite him as her escort?"

Adam paused and then said, "So I don't have to hunt him down."

"Why would you…" Adam's jaw muscles were working and a chill ran down her spine. "Adam, tell me the truth."

"I will when I have something to tell you. Now, let's go in. It's getting chilly." Adam took Sibella's hand to help her up and led her to the door where she stopped. "What?" he asked.

"Do you think Thorne is interested in Betty Mae due to her father's money and reputation?" Sibella waited while Adam weighed his response.

"It's a possibility, but Betty Mae is a lovely woman, kind, educated, gracious."

"Do you agree with my father that Thorne's only interest in me was my inheritance?"

"Only interest? No." He moved closer and Sibella had to look up. "He probably imagined tasting the honey between your legs, sliding into that stickiness and stirring you to heights you never before experienced just like I'm fantasizing now. And, my sweet, with only us in the house, you can be as loud as you like." Adam slipped an arm about her waist. "Let's go upstairs."

"But dinner is on the stove-beef stew." Sibella's heart was pounding; she felt Adam's hardness against her as he held her close.

"One appetite at a time," he replied, smiling.