Thursday

“Now ya jest open the loading gate here, like that….” Hoss looked up and gazed at Miss Juliet’s concentrated face. Her eyes firmly set on the Colt in his hand, she seemed to take inner notes on every word he said.

“…an’ now ya see if there’s a cartridge in the chamber or not.”

“I see.” Juliet took the Colt in her hand and, testing, opened and closed the gate until finally she peered into the cylinder. “You really have to know what you’re doing, Hoss. It doesn’t look as if you can open it at all.”

“I never thought about that, ma’am. I jest do it.”

“I suppose you do, Hoss.” Juliet smiled at him disarmingly. “And I have to admit, now in the light of day, it doesn’t seem as enigmatic as it did the other day. I assume, I was a bit, um, stressed back then.”

Before Hoss could stop himself he nudged her upper arm, and, surprisingly, she didn’t admonish him for that, but merely looked fondly surprised.

“Ya was great, ma’am,” Hoss said with emphasis. “Adam told me ya was very brave with them scoundrels.”

“Oh, did he?” Juliet face lit up even more.

“Yes, he sure did, Miss Juliet. He said ya was like a Greek Ama— Amaze…” Hoss trailed off.

“Amazon?”

“Yes, like a Greek Amazon.”

“Well, I hope not.” Juliet gave him a dark half smile. “Since they’ve got only one—” She cut herself off, looked at him as if she had woken up from a dream, and then, with a blush, lowered her face and added a muted, “Never mind.”

While Hoss was still puzzling about her strange behaviour, she returned her attention to the gun, opened the gate once again, and, revolving the cylinder checked every chamber.

“So the gun is loaded and ready to shoot. What do I do now?”

“Jest a moment, Miss Juliet.” Hoss allowed himself to look smug. “There’re cartridges in there all right, but are there bullets, too?”

Now it was Miss Juliet’s turn to look puzzled. “What?”

Hoss took the gun from her hand. “The bullets are in the cartridges, Miss Juliet. With gunpowder and fuse. When ya shoot the gun, the bullet come out an’ the cartridge stay in. See here, when ya can see the primer here, then the bullet’s still in. When ya jest see a hole in the cartridge, ya hafta reload.”

“Oh. All right. I understand. A little technical marvel.” Miss Juliet pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. For a moment she seemed to contemplate Hoss, and then her face melted into a wide approving smile. “And now I have made sure I saw a primer in every cartridge, I…?” she prompted him.

Hoss lifted the gun. “Ya draw back the hammer, like so, aim, and pull the trigger.”

Miss Juliet flinched when the shot exploded right next to her, but nevertheless looked expectantly over at the row of tins, bottles and a bucket on the fence next to the well in Mrs. Hawkins’ front yard. She even gave a tiny whoop when one of the tins was whipped off the fence by the force of the bullet.

“Wal, now ya try, ma’am!”

Juliet seized the Colt, made a show of checking if the gun was loaded, shot Hoss a sarcastic smirk, drew back the hammer, took aim and shot. The bullet went astray, somewhere in the hydrangea bushes.

Juliet looked at Hoss as if this was his fault. “It doesn’t work.”

“Ya jest hafta try again, Miss Juliet. Ya hafta practise.”

She pressed her lips into a grim line, lifted the gun, drew back the hammer, pulled the trigger—hydrangeas, again.

She glared at Hoss.

Hoss opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Practise, I know.”

In the next twenty minutes she emptied cylinder after cylinder into the hydrangeas, the rose beds and, for a change, into the barn door.

Eventually Miss Juliet handed over the gun, crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes at Hoss and said, “Well…” Somehow it sounded like a threat.

Hoss was at a loss. He had tried to hold Miss Juliet’s hand while she shot, he had told her everything he knew about front and rear sights, he had advised her to stand sideways—nothing seemed to help. He tried to remember how he had learned to shoot. A chubby eight year old boy, watching his elder brother practising with his new gun…then asking if he could try…his brother teaching him…. What had Adam said back then? The barrel is your finger….

“Miss Juliet, now I got it…” Hoss held the weapon out to her with new hope. “When ya aim, jest try ta imagine the barrel is yer index finger, an’ ya point it ta the target.” He nodded to her, encouragingly.

Taking the gun, Juliet shot him a doubting glance, but she stood sideways, as taught, draw the hammer, aimed and—shot the bucket into pieces.

Lesser men than Hoss would have been disappointed by Juliet’s lack of exaltation about her accomplishment. But if Hoss had already learned anything about Miss Juliet, then it was this: expect the unexpected, and be sure it will be even different from that. And, of course, if she’d been whooping and cheering about her success she couldn’t have done what she did. And Hoss wouldn’t have wanted to miss that for the world.

Juliet had watched the forceful destruction of the wooden bucket with a rather amazed expression. Now she turned to Hoss, smiled at him in complete admiration, and said, “We’ve done it.”

She laughed silently, as if they were sharing a private joke. “We’ve done it, Hoss. You’re a wonderful teacher, thank you so much.”

“Err, yes, wal…” He took off his hat and, looking down, he scratched at the back of his head. “Ya welcome, Miss Juliet. Ya weren’t bad either, um…” He swung his hat back and forth and shuffled a bit with his feet. He didn’t dare to look up for fear she would notice his blushing. “An’ I jest told ya what Adam taught me.”

Praising his big brother was much more common for Hoss than being lauded himself; and so he finally was able to look Juliet in the eye again. “Adam’s the teacher in our fam’ly, Miss Juliet. I ain’t not sa smart.”

“What makes you say that, Hoss? That you’re not smart?” She sounded nearly—vexed.

“Ya know, ma’am, I don’ know much about books an’ pictures an’ op’ras an’ stuff. Adam, he’s been ta college, an’ he know all kinda things, them poems an’ that Shakespeare fella, an’ about machines an’, an’ almost ev’rything.”

“And not being as much informed about certain things as your brother makes you less smart, Hoss?” She looked inquiring at him, then lifted a quizzical eyebrow. “Do you think I’m stupid, Hoss?”

“No, ma’am, no, I’d never think that,” Hoss hurried to affirm. “I reckon ya the smartest gal I’ve ever met.”

“Well, I doubt that, but thank you anyway.” Miss Juliet flashed him a short smile. “What I was about to say is, that I didn’t attend college either; and I don’t consider myself less educated than others. And there are some things I know, that the others might not.” She gazed at him intently and held his eyes. “There are a great many things you know that I don’t, do you realise that, Hoss? And this doesn’t make either of us more or less smart.”

He shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Yeah, but most of the things I know I learned from Adam.”

She laughed brightly at that. “But that’s just the way education works, Hoss. Someone knows, and he tells you. You keep it in mind, and that makes it yours! Someone told Adam all these things, too. He wasn’t born with them.”

Now Hoss laughed, too. “Wal, fer times he sure acts as if he was.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean, Hoss!” He hadn’t been aware that Miss Juliet was capable of one, but there was no other way to describe what was displayed on her face: it was a big, fat grin. “He can be an insufferable wiseacre.”

They exchanged a conspiratorial smile, that evolved into a rather hysterical giggle. And at just this exact moment, Miss Abigail Jones, local schoolmarm and self-proclaimed custodian of public morals and decency, passed Mrs. Hawkins’ front yard. She paused and looked disapprovingly at the good-humoured couple. Hoss sobered immediately.

“Howdy, Miss Abigail,” he greeted his former teacher.

“Hoss.” Miss Jones nodded in acknowledgment.

Miss Juliet looked expectantly at Miss Abigail. Miss Abigail stared back. Neither of them said a word. Hoss looked from one to the other and wondered what was going on. Why didn’t they say hello? Surely they knew each other. Hoss squinted at Miss Juliet. There was something in her face…. And while the two ladies stood there, fixing each other with stares, Hoss saw Miss Juliet grow. Her back straightened, her chin rose, and she peered down at Miss Abigail with a plain Queen glance. Miss Abigail held her own, Hoss had to grant her that. She gazed back with a nearly comically obstinate expression. And then Miss Juliet lifted her right eyebrow the fraction of an inch.

Miss Abigail’s resistance faltered. “Good morning, Miss Heatherstone.”

“Miss Jones.” A curt nod accompanied Juliet’s regal tone.

Hoss still didn’t know what was going on, when Miss Abigail spoke up, “I’m so glad for you, dear Miss Heatherstone, that you found yourself a substitute escort so promptly.”

Miss Abigail’s smile was as sweet as her voice, only the hard glint in her eye giving her away. Hoss involuntarily took a protective step closer to Miss Juliet, but apparently she felt the need to protect him, too.

“Thank you, Miss Jones, for your concern. I’m sure it is born out of a pure and honest care for my wellbeing.” She smiled her most amiable smile. “But most fortunately I’m not in a position to have to remain unwantedly unescorted for long, so you may return your attention to those in need.”

The slight emphasis Juliet put on ‘I’m’ didn’t go unnoticed by Miss Abigail, whose face acquired a certain sour expression; but Juliet hadn’t finished yet.

“And certainly I wouldn’t discredit such a fine young man as Mr. Cartwright by calling him a substitute.” She took Hoss’ arm and gave him a brilliant smile. “Shall we take a lunch break now at the International House, and then come back and continue our affairs, Hoss?”

Without waiting for an answer she proceeded to the street, bidding a sulky Miss Abigail good bye with a short nod, and somehow dragging Hoss with her. Hoss tipped his hat to Miss Abigail with a muttered goodbye, and saw to it that he kept up with Miss Juliet’s quick strides.

He was looking forward to showcase his new status as the Queen’s escort for everyone in Virginia City to see. It felt incredibly good.

***

Hoss’ mood had changed entirely by the time, later that day, he was sitting in the great room waiting once again for the doctor to come down the stairs. He studied his fingers, fiddled with the buttons on his vest, did anything he could so as not to meet his father’s scolding eyes.

Joe remained wisely silent, but sat very close to Pa, as if to show which side he was on.

Finally, the doctor came down and took his seat in the blue chair. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table and supported his head in his hands. No one dared to say a word while Paul Martin shook his head, emitting silent groans. Eventually he looked up.

“I don’t know which part of ‘quiet and peace’ this family doesn’t seem to understand. Or why,” he stated tiredly. “First you,” he looked accusingly at Ben, “Then you, of all people.” Now his gaze wandered to Hoss. “Would you care to tell me what made you rile your brother up like that?”

Hoss flinched. “It was…. Wal, he riled me up all right, an’ I jest…. He shouldn’t have….” He looked at the disapproving faces of his father, that hypocrite, and his little brother. “It was all Miss Abigail’s fault.”

“Miss Abigail? As in Abigail Jones?” Joe sounded more excited than he should, Hoss thought. Sensationalist.

Had it been Miss Abigail’s fault? Well, her arrival had altered the events of the day somehow. Hoss still couldn’t figure it out completely, but he had felt immensely good after this day with Miss Juliet, and when he told Adam the whole story about Juliet’s progress in handling a revolver, her quick defence against Miss Abigail, and their pleasant meal at the International House, he had relived all that and enjoyed it a second time. Adam hadn’t seem too enthusiastic about all this, but Hoss had understood that being confirmed to bed and not being able to have a rendezvous himself, might make Adam a mite moping. And since his big brother was his most intimate friend and counsellor, Hoss had asked him, if, hearing all this, Adam thought Miss Juliet was expecting Hoss to court her now. And if she was, how on earth Hoss should accomplish that. Adam’s answer had been very blunt. Juliet, so he had said, had made it very clear that she wasn’t interested in any romantic affairs. Hoss hadn’t believed that, not with Miss Juliet being the way she had been today, and Adam had called him a simpleton.

Hoss didn’t remember much after that, only that he had accused Adam of being a swellhead, that Adam had a few choice words for him in return, and that at some point they both had started to laugh.

Eventually Adam had held his aching side and had asked, “Are you even sure Juliet is the kind of woman you want, Hoss?”

“Adam, Miss Juliet is mighty nice iffn ya look behind her highfalutin’ words. I know, she ain’t very pretty, but I ain’t pretty either, so I figure that’s jest okay. And I kinda like her freckles.” He had blushed and looked down at his hands, and had been very surprised at his brother’s next words.

“I think Juliet is very attractive, Hoss. A woman doesn’t have to be pretty to be beautiful.”

Yeah, that had been just like Adam. “What’cha mean, Adam? That sure sound loco. How can she be beautiful when she ain’t pretty? It’s pretty much the same, ainnit?”

“There’s a significant difference, Hoss. The prettiest girl can’t be beautiful when there’s nothing more to her than pretty looks.”

“And ya think there’s more ta Miss Juliet?”

Adam’s face had lit up. “Oh, yes, there is more. Have a close look at her. She’s got more layers than a puff pastry.”

Hoss had watched his brother closely and asked, “Are ya sure yadon’ wanna court Miss Juliet?”

“I am absolutely sure.”

“Then why don’cha want me courtin’ her?”

“I never said I don’t want you courting Juliet. All I say is that she isn’t looking for a husband. And even if she were, I’d say you are not a very good match.”

At that point the argument had become heated again, especially when Adam had pointed out what kind of man would be a good match for Miss Juliet and Hoss had accused his brother of talking about himself. Adam, naturally, had contradicted him and Hoss had retorted that Adam was just being jealous that Miss Juliet had been kind to him and hadn’t argued with him at all. Hoss had emphasised his every word by stabbing his finger at Adam’s shoulder, something he knew riled his brother up no end, when he had ranted about how all that Adam and Miss Juliet were doing was fighting anyway or Miss Juliet would fall asleep out of boredom. That had been the moment when Adam, beads of sweat on his forehead and a flushed complexion showing that he had already aggravated himself considerably, had lashed out at Hoss and overbalanced when Hoss had ducked. As a result Adam had fallen out off his bed, once again jarring his injured side, opening the newly set stitches and bleeding all over the floor.

The call for Joe to ride and get the doctor had become merely routine by now, as had getting Adam back into his bed and cleaning him up.

So that was what had happened, but Hoss wasn’t willing to share any of this with his family or the doctor. And so he just said, “I teased him with…Miss Abigail an’…things, an’…he got mad an’ fell off his bed, an’ that’s all.”

Doctor Martin frowned at him, shook his head resignedly and heaved a deep sigh. “What are you planning now? Are you taking turns, and Joe will have his go at delaying my patient’s recovery tomorrow?” He warded off the rising complaints with a hand gesture. “No, I don’t want to hear anything. Just make sure your son stays put for the rest of the week, Ben. Or next time I will charge you double for the stitches.”

Hoss looked down at his hands again. The voices of the doctor and his father faded in the background. He thought of Miss Juliet’s silvery laugh, and how she had said, “You’re a wonderful teacher.” Well, he would never understand women. Or big brothers. And it was all Miss Abigail’s fault!