Friday

“You three just look menacing. Let me do the talking.” Adam shot his cronies brief glares. While his brothers lowered their eyes and mumbled, “Yes, Sir,” the lady merely glared back.

“What makes you think you can order me around?” she demanded.

“I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I’m the boss of this little gang?” He smirked at her. “If you have a problem with this, Miss Heatherstone, you can go back to that stinky prison cell where we found you.”

She held her hand up in a defensive gesture. “All right, all right. No need to bite my head off, Cartwright!”

“Don’t know why we got her out anyway,” Joe muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’, Sir.”

Adam narrowed his eyes at Hoss. “And do you have anything to say concerning that matter?”

“Nah, Adam. Jest that I wonder why that gal is ridin’ with us now.”

Adam joined the fingertips of his hands together. “That Lady is the fastest draw north of Texas. And since you two haven’t exactly covered yourself with glory lately, you should be mighty glad she agreed to beef up The Cartwright Bros. Corporation.”

“Adam,” Joe barged in. “There’s somethin’ I always wanted to ask you. Why do we have to go with such a boring name? Why can’t we be The Black Riders. Or The Three Terrors?”

“Well, for one, we are not three anymore but four, and since I’m the only one you can rightly call ‘black’ that other name would be just as ridiculous, wouldn’t it?”

He peered around the corner of the building they were hiding behind for what must be the hundredth time. He squinted his eye at the sight of a woman leaving the bank on the opposite side of the street.

“Okay, that was the last one. Let’s go!”

It was a short and well organized raid. The Cartwright Bros. Corporation, neckerchiefs wound around the lower halves of their faces, went into the bank, Boss Adam asked the cashier in some well chosen and very polite words to open the safe and, please, present them with all the money stored in there. There was a short moment of confusion, when the bank manager left his bureau and tried to intervene, but The Lady stepped forward and wordlessly waved her gun. At one glance at her trademark flowing golden mane, he gasped, “Dear God, Gungirl Heatherstone!” and very eagerly helped the cashier to stack dozens of neatly bundled banknotes into the large carpetbag the gang had handed them. As usual Adam politely thanked both the cashier and the bank manager and wished them good business for the future, and then the gang headed outside and to their horses.

Adam helped The Lady into the side saddle. She took a second to lean down to him. “Thank you, Cartwright.” Her voice was soft and as seductive as her eyes. He moved his face closer to hers, and she didn’t pull back, but leaned to him. Their lips touched, and—

“Wake up, sleepyhead, I got’cha some breakfast.”

A friendly hand shook his shoulder, pulling him out of the scene gently but yet much too abruptly. Adam jolted up, grabbed at his new-stitched wound and looked around the room, still dazed with sleep. His brother Hoss stood next to his bed, a small bowl in his hands, and a goofy grin on his face.

“Boy, Adam,” he said. “That sure wasn’t a bad dream ya jest had, with that smile on your face!”

Adam wiped the sleep from his eyes and yawned heartily. “Well, it was rather weird. We were robbing a bank, and there was Juliet, too, and she was a crack shot, and then…well, then you woke me.”

“A bank robbery? An’ that made ya smile?” Hoss chuckled. “Sorry, I hadda wake ya, but ya breakfast is gettin’ cold.”

Adam peered into the bowl Hoss held out to him and screwed up his face. “What on earth is that?”

“Um, ya know,” Hoss gave the bowl an apologetic glance. “That’s milk-soaked bread an’ eggs.”

“That’s disgusting, Hoss. Take it away.”

“Sorry, big brother,” Hoss looked very contrite, but this didn’t make things any better for Adam. “Pa said ya hafta eat some’in’ and I hafta make sure—“

“Pa? Pa made you a vanguard?”

Hoss gave him a crooked smile. “Wal, he knew why, didn’ he?”

“Isn’t there anything of that broth left?” Adam knew he sounded pathetic, but in the face of milk-soaked bread keeping his dignity wouldn’t get him anything.

“Nope.” Hoss looked even more apologetic than before. “I ate the rest last night fer supper. A mighty good broth. Miss Juliet sure is a good cook.”

“Mrs. Hawkins, Hoss. She made it. Juliet can’t cook at all.”

Hoss mouth fell open. “She can’t—” He stopped himself and looked nearly relieved. “Wal, then it’s good that I….” He trailed off, gazed down at the bowl, put it on the night stand; and sat down at the bedside, looking helplessly at his brother.

“That you what, Hoss?” Adam prompted.

“Wal, Adam, I wanna apolergise fer last night. I shouldn’ have…. Wal, I made ya mighty mad, an’ I shouldn’ have boasted like I did….”

“There’s nothing to apologise for, Hoss. In fact, I should apologise. I was very, um, unfair, I guess.” Adam laid his hand on Hoss arm. “Hoss, if you want to court Juliet, you don’t need my advice. Just be yourself. Juliet seems to like you the way you are.”

“But that’s jest it, Adam.” Hoss shifted uneasily on his seat. “I don’…. I mean, I was thinkin’ about what’cha said last night, Adam, an’ ya was right, ya know. Miss Juliet is mighty nice an’ all, an’ I like her all right, but she’s jest not the gal I want fer a…ya know, fer a…wal, ya know.” Hoss looked at Adam like he was begging for absolution. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and then he burst out, “An’ she can’t even cook!”

Adam pursed his lips in a futile attempt to stifle a snicker. He looked at Hoss for a short moment under raised brows, and then they both exploded with laughter.

“No, the lady can’t cook,” Adam struggled to choke out. “And we surely don’t want to tie you up with a woman that can’t provide you with three hearty meals a day.”

***

Despite the fact that the lady couldn’t cook, Juliet brought another food basket along when she arrived at the Ponderosa later that day. Adam greeted her with the air of a long starved prisoner, and dug into the dish of steaming stew she had taken to his room with more enthusiasm than one would have expected from a convalescent.

“Well, you do seem to like the stew, Adam.” Juliet sounded amused and curious, Adam thought, and he couldn’t fathom why.

“It’s very good, and I didn’t have anything solid today.” He smiled at her. “Give Mrs. Hawkins my best, Juliet, she has outdone herself.”

Juliet laughed and nodded, and watched him eating. Eventually she leaned forward, took the now empty plate from him and deposited it on the desk behind her. She gazed at him, obviously assessing something, until she seemed to come to a decision.

She harrumphed, and finally announced, “I helped with the stew.” She looked at Adam almost challengingly.

“You helped cooking the stew?” Well, it had been a good stew. And Adam didn’t feel any ill side effects. Not until now, anyway. But maybe that would come later. He tried to get a look at the empty plate, but Juliet had cleared it away, and, really, what could be found on an empty dish anyway? And honestly, he had to get a grip on himself. What harm could someone do to a stew? Wrong question, Adam, wrong question! He didn’t want to think of that now, most certainly everything was just fine with the stew, it had tasted good, and Mrs. Hawkins had been involved, supervising at least—he had never considered himself the ranting type, but ranting was what he did, and he did it without even saying it out loud, and all because of—

“I cut the carrots,” Juliet pronounced the sentence.

“You cut the carrots.”

“Yes.” Royally, there was no other word, royally.

“You did it…very well.”

“Thank you.” Even more royally.

An awkward pause. Then Juliet, almost annoyed, “I’m not completely incapable,” and far more subdued, “I wanted to…do something for you.”

“Oh.” Adam looked at her. Which had cost her more, he wondered, to make herself useful in the kitchen or to give away that tiny confession? He gave her a smile for her efforts.

“Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” Well, royally again.

Another awkward pause. Juliet stood and went to the open window. She seemed very intrigued by something, fumbling on the windowsill and muttering soft noises. When she turned and came back to sit in the rocker again, she held something in her hand.

“Look, Adam,” she chuckled and held her hand out to him. “A ladybird!”

“A ladybug, Juliet.” Adam watched the beetle slowly crawling on Juliet’s ink stained hand. “We say ladybug.”

“Yes, and you say ‘ee-ther’ instead of ‘i-ther’. But that doesn’t mean I have to, n’est-ce pas?” She waved her hand emphasising her words, and the ladybug or ladybird, fluttered up, went for a spin in the room and landed on Adam’s shoulder. Adam tried to chase it away, but the beetle stubbornly came back time and again. Adam looked at Juliet in comical despair.

Juliet sniggered. “Leave her, Adam. Of course, she wants you for a harbour – she’s a ladybird.”

“Well, I don’t see you sitting on my shoulder, and you are a lady-bird, too!” Now Adam chuckled.

“You call me a beetle?”

“I would never dream of it, Mylady.”

“Well, you better not!”

She glared at him mockingly and he ducked playfully, and they shared a knowing smile and a soft ripple of laughter.

Juliet leaned back in the rocker, arranging her skirt and smoothing non-existent wrinkles in the fabric. Her fumbling betrayed her mocking tone, but she smiled when she said, “I’m glad you look so much better, Adam. Although I heard you didn’t do yourself very good, lately.”

Adam looked up, alarmed. “What did you hear? You don’t…. Did Hoss…?” He searched Juliet’s face for a telltale smirk, but her smile was guileless and—caring. “What did you hear?” he nevertheless demanded again.

Juliet smiled even wider. “Relax, Adam. All I know is that you wanted to get up, against the doctors orders, I may add, that your body didn’t like that very much and so it decided to put you in your place by giving you a relapse. And that both you and your body didn’t get tired of that game for the last couple of days.”

“That’s all they told you?”

“Why, yes.”

“Good.”

Juliet all but rubbed her hands. She looked as excited as a little girl with a very large gift box in her hands. Adam usually liked her being so eagerly interested in things—but not this time. If she noticed his discomfort she chose to ignore it, though.

“Well, now I’m intrigued,” and then she did rub her hands. “There’s obviously more to know. Tell me.”

“Juliet…”

“Or shall I ask Hoss? Pry it out of Joe? Make your father talk?” Her attempt at looking menacing was a bit pathetic, considering the grin she couldn’t seem to suppress.

Adam squinted at her. “Are you here to make fun of me?”

“Maybe a bit,” she chuckled, her eyes sparkling in that way he liked so much, and Adam knew perfectly well what she was referring to and rewarded her with an acknowledging smile.

“But I’m also here to give you this most wonderful…” She bent down and picked up a book she must have had with her when she entered his room, but Adam didn’t have noticed because he had been too focused on the steaming, heavenly smelling dish in her other hand. Thank goodness, his brothers hadn’t witnessed this uncharacteristic shift of attention – or Adam would never hear the end of it.

Juliet held the book out to him. “It’s brand new, Adam, I had it sent from England.” She beamed at him. “Charles Dickens’ newest: Great Expectations. Three volumes, I have the others downstairs in the basket.”

Adam took the book with almost awestruck reverence. He smoothed his hand over the cover, smelled at the leather, and ever so slowly opened it at the first page.

“I don’t know what to say, Juliet. You said you’d bring me something to read but I never assumed….” He closed the book, and stroked his thumb over the cover. “You haven’t even read it – are you sure you want to lend it?”

“I suppose you are in more need of entertainment than I am, Adam. I gladly give you the honour of ravishing the books.”

“You have my eternal thanks, Juliet. This will save me from death through boredom.” He gazed at her. “An affliction you don’t seem to suffer from lately.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Hoss told me you bagged your first bucket yesterday?”

“Oh, I actually brought down two buckets.” Now she was smiling again. “One on purpose, and the other one when I was aiming for the well.”

Adam gaped at her with a deadpan expression. “Holy cow, just guess what would have happened if you’d aimed for the barn!”

“I would have shot Hoss, since he stood only five yards from the barn. And that would have been a poor way to pay him back for all his troubles, don’t you think?” She let her ringing laughter flow through the room, and Adam thought that it would be nice to have it like this forever.

“Yeah, Hoss deserves better. He had a great day, though. He was very impressed by how you dealt with Miss Abigail….”

“Miss Ab—oh, the teacher. Did Hoss tell you what she said?” The look Juliet fixed Adam with could only be described as scandalised. Adam had a hard time keeping his face straight. He knew Miss Abigail had a sharp tongue, but Juliet habitually used her voice as a weapon too, and the sword she bore was edged and unerring.

“Well, he said she tried to offend you and—”

“Offend me? No. She…tried to imply things; and she most certainly insulted Hoss.” Juliet put on her best royalty-face when she proclaimed, “And I don’t bear it very well when someone bad-mouths my companion. So I kindly suggested that she mind her own affairs.” She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “A schoolmarm should know better than to address people in such an impertinent and pretentious way.”

Oh yeah, Adam thought, pot, call the kettle black. “Especially not the Queen of England, huh?” He winked at her, and couldn’t help but chuckle.

Juliet said—nothing. She stared at him, stunned, her mouth slowly, very slowly opening, and then closing again. She swallowed whatever had been on her tongue and rose from her seat.

“I…have to go now, Adam. Thank you for your hospitality.”

Adam watched her rush out of the room in blank astonishment. What the heck…?

And then it struck him. Oh, darn it!

***

Juliet made it to the top of the stairs. She stopped dead, when she heard Ben Cartwright’s carrying voice from downstairs. Holding at the banister with a firm grip, she lowered herself to the floor, and sat there, arms around her legs, looking devastated into the nowhere.

She wouldn’t go down into the great room, she wouldn’t let Ben and his sons see her like this, and she would not cry. Roughly she wiped a single tear from her cheek. How does he dare, she thought, how does he dare! She knew about the ridiculous nickname the townspeople had given her, and even though she understood what had made them do so, she despised the name. She knew she was intimidating to some people, she knew she seemed imperious to others, she knew her accent and diction separated her from the locals, but she also believed that in time they would see that she was more than fancy speech and elegant clothes. She had never expected Adam to use that abhorrent title. She had thought…well, she didn’t know anymore what she had thought; she just knew that he had hurt her when she had trusted him.

She would not cry.

“Juliet.” Adam’s voice from the bedroom.

She clenched her teeth. No.

“Juliet, I’m sorry.”

So what?

“Juliet, I know you’re out there. I can smell you fuming.”

She held a hand over her mouth to stifle the snort, but she was sure he had heard her.

“Come back, Juliet. I apologise.”

Juliet envisioned him making puppy eyes. She just knew he must be good at that. She gingerly got up.

“I’m an idiot.”

Now, that was something new. Self-flagellation. She made her way back along the hall.

“Honestly, I didn’t mean it. I’m an idiot, and I—”

He stopped when she looked around the doorframe.

“Where are the ear witnesses when you need one?” Juliet’s attempt at a joke was a bit forced but, Adam noted, at least she smiled.

“Juliet, I apologise. I…really, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….” He looked into her hurt face, and he knew this wasn’t good enough. “I’d never consider you that way; you know that, don’t you?”

“I thought so.”

“You can be absolutely sure about that.”

She studied his face, puppy eyes, indeed. But honest puppy eyes. He didn’t lie. She sat down on the abandoned rocker, absent-mindedly playing with a lose strand of hair. She smiled at him. “Well, maybe I overreacted a bit. I should have known you meant no hurt.”

“It was a joke. A thoughtless joke; and I apologise.” He heaved a deep breath. “I guess I’m a bit out of practise at being courteous. You know, with being confined to the house while others go out and do things, and then Hoss having you a whole day—”

“Hoss didn’t have me.”

“Pardon?”

“Hoss didn’t have me. No one has me.”

God, she wouldn’t run away again, would she? What was the matter with her today? Or was it him? Adam sighed inwardly. Why was it that the most interesting women always were the most irritating ones as well? On his non-existent list of trying and demanding, yet interesting and worthwhile women Juliet surely ranked on top position.

“Juliet, I didn’t mean—”

“No, listen to me, Adam, and listen good,” she cut him short. “I do not belong to someone. I’m tired of people who try to meddle with my life. I’m tired of men who try to decide for me.” She bit her lips, as if she had said too much, looked down and smoothed her skirt in that already so very familiar gesture.

Adam watched her fingers follow the complicated pattern of the skirt’s fabric, long, slender fingers, delicately manicured but marred with tiny ink spots – she must have been working earlier. Working, because she chose to support herself. A young lady on her own. Surely that gave some men ideas. Some men—not him. He reached out and stopped her hand from roaming.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he said softly.

She looked up at him. “You wouldn’t.”

This time she didn’t pull out of his hold. She studied his face for what seemed like an eternity, until finally she relaxed and allowed a smile to slowly conquer her tense features.

“No,” she repeated, very slowly. “No, you wouldn’t do that to me, would you.”