Chapter 11

Pride and Honour

Hours later, Adam blew out the lamp on his bedside table and lay back into his pillows. The cozy evening at the Ponderosa had taken a rather dramatic turn at his announcement of Langford Poole’s return. After that, his banter or not-banter with Juliet, her wellbeing and the amount of trips to town he would take to inquire after her had been of no further interest to his family.

Joe’s opinion on Poole had been quite clear. “You beat him once, you’ll beat him again,” he had said, with excitement in his voice and a sparkle in his green eyes that had reminded Adam amazingly of Juliet’s childlike enthusiasm about much less serious things. He had been flattered by Joe’s apparent trust in his abilities and at the same time shaken his head over Joe’s lack of perception.

“He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t think he can beat me. He’ll have…practised, or otherwise improved, Joe.”

Joe grinned and shook his head. “You’re still quicker, Adam. I bet you are. I’ve seen you, several times, and boy, you’re getting quicker ev’ry time you draw!”

His excited younger brother looked around, obviously trying to find support from Pa and Hoss, but Hoss silently stared at his hands, and Pa delivered, “This is not only a question of being quicker, Joe, and you should know that. The outcome of a duel also depends on luck to a certain amount. You can’t plan to win.”

“But Adam was much quicker than Poole the last time, Pa, and Poole can’t have improved that much.” Joe’s tone was comforting and encouraging, and suddenly Adam understood that Joe didn’t even see the option of refusing the fight.

“Joe, I won’t fight Poole, if I can help it.”

He heard Pa’s release of breath at that, and saw his father’s relieved face. “That’s right, Adam. Why don’t you stay at home for a few days? That way you won’t get cross with him, and he’ll have no reason to call you out.”

“He already called me out.”

“He—what? Why? What did you do?”

Adam looked at his father, stunned. He closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. Funny, for once he had spent hours with Juliet without being prompted to count inwardly, only to come home and have his father push him into it. He took a deep breath and forced himself to stay calm.

“I did nothing. I told you, he’s here to rebuild his reputation.”

That was when Hoss spoke up. “So whatcha mean, yer not gonna fight him? He called you out, how can ya not fight him?”

“I told him I wouldn’t.”

The look Hoss and Joe exchanged spoke louder than if they both had yelled at him. Coward. Was that what they were thinking? And even Pa looked…surprised. Let’s say surprised. Surprised sounded much better than disappointed. But maybe a disappointed look from Pa would have hurt less than his strained tone when he said, “That was very reasonable, Adam.”

After that Adam listened to the ticking of the grandfather clock, to the choked breathing of Hoss, to the cry of a coyote somewhere outside and to the murmur of blood in his ears. His eyes followed the pattern of the red and white checked tablecloth. There was an interesting flaw in the weaving—a thick knot poking out of a much thinner patch of fabric, and it looked just as if something was entangled in the linen, something that might have lived before it found its unfortunate end in the loom.

“Yeah, well,” Joe finally broke the silence. “At least you won’t get hurt.”

And then Adam exploded.

“Why are you all so interested in me shooting a man for no other reason than to find out who’s the faster draw?” he demanded in a voice that matched his heartfelt fury. “Do you really want me to kill a man just to prove that I can?”

“He called you out!” Joe shouted back. “It’s his own fault if he’s idiot enough to challenge a better man. He practically begs to be beaten—well then, beat him!”

Adam shook his head and gaped at Joe for a moment, amazed by his little brother’s impetuosity; but as usual Joe’s rage simmered Adam’s temper down. He gave Joe a lopsided smile. “You don’t kill a man for being a loudmouth. If it were so, you’d be long dead, Joe.”

Of course, after that remark Pa had to reinstall a certain order. Joe brooded for the rest of the evening, but Adam didn’t mind that. Brooding Joe meant thinking Joe, and Adam was sure that all Joe needed was to think. The kid wasn’t stupid. He was rash and impulsive, but eventually he would come around.

At least Pa seemed to understand Adam’s point. “I surely don’t want you to kill anyone for no reason, Adam. And much less I want you to get hurt. But if Poole is determined to fight you, he might find one way or another to trick you into a duel, and you have to be prepared. It seems to be a question of honour for him.”

“Should be a question of honour for older brother, too,” Joe said, suspending his sulks for a few seconds. “Or we can’t show our faces in town for the next few months.”

“Honour, or pride, little brother?” Adam asked. “Do you really want me to kill or to die in the name of family pride?”

Joe stared at him for a full minute, and then looked down and whispered, “I don’t know.” And then he looked into Adam’s face and said, “I honestly don’t know, Adam. I’m sorry, I know you’re not a chicken…I just…I don’t know.”

Pa stood up and walked round the table to stand behind Adam’s chair. He placed both his hands on Adam’s shoulders, and squeezed him so hard it hurt. “Adam, this is your decision. I know you’ll do the right thing. Whatever you decide, the family will stand behind you.”

And when Adam looked up into his brothers’ faces, Joe nodded silently and Hoss looked into his eyes and said, “You know ya don’t hafta ask fer that, Adam.”

After that the conversation turned back to safer waters, and quickly faded out when Joe and Hoss settled at the coffee table for a game of checkers. Pa started to read the Territorial Enterprise, and Adam soon retired to his room. He tried to read, but tonight Mr. Dickens’ works seemed to have no appeal to him, and so he finally decided to sleep.

While he was floating in the fuzzy world of half awareness between sleeping and waking, snippets of the day’s events whirled through his mind, mixing and mingling, keeping him from relaxing into sleep. Langford Poole’s long features; Raymond’s overly friendly smile; the thin rivulet of blood on Juliet’s pale face; the look Hoss and Joe had exchanged; “Are you a coward, Cartwright?”; the crying stable boy in Juliet’s arms; the ticking of the clock; the smell of Mrs. Hawkins’ tea; Juliet’s head on his chest; “Adam, this is your decision…the family will stand behind you”; Joe Goodman’s red face; “Would you marry me?”; “Are you a coward, Cartwright?”; Juliet’s warm body in his arms; “Are you a coward, Cartwright?”; Juliet’s genuine smile….

Juliet.

Every other image was replaced by Juliet, a calm, gentle, smiling Juliet, and while Adam slipped into the world of calm and peace, he heard himself ask, “Am I a coward?” and Juliet’s smile changed into that well-known expression of rebuke, and she said, “Adam, a gentleman wouldn’t….”

And he finally fell asleep.

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The family – that dear octopus from whose tentacles
we never quite escape, nor, in our inmost hearts,
ever quite wish to. ~ Dodie Smith