Chapter 12

Dealing the Cards

Jarvis Raymond was enjoying himself immensely. First, his morning trip to Widow Hawkins’ boarding house had produced the information that “Lady Juliet was just as well and stubborn as usual,” and that she, as was her habit, had already left for the office. Not to miss her again at midday, he had been determined to beat Adam Cartwright in taking Juliet out for lunch, and so he had called on her for a very early meal break. Juliet had almost too willingly accepted his invitation; and Jarvis suspected that she wasn’t as well as she claimed to be, but she was very much as stubborn as Mrs. Hawkins had declared.

As he had predicted, Adam Cartwright came to town shortly after Jarvis had ordered tea and sandwiches for two at the International House. Through the hotel’s front window he saw Cartwright riding by on his big chestnut horse; and Jarvis gloated. The moment Cartwright had glared at him the day before and told him he couldn’t see Juliet and Jarvis had answered he would check on her the next day, he had known the challenge had been picked up, and that Cartwright would come to town to inquire after Juliet, too. What he hadn’t expected was that he felt so uneasy knowing he and Cartwright were now…tussling.

Briefly Jarvis wondered if the man would come to meet them at the restaurant, but he dismissed the thought almost instantly. These westerners had their pride, and surely Cartwright understood that for this instance he had been pushed aside. Jarvis held no illusions, though; it wouldn’t be easy to repeat this success. Cartwright wouldn’t retreat without a fight, and the man was quite intimidating. Self-assured and endowed with a substantial calm and sangfroid, Adam Cartwright seemed nothing less than a man who would never leave a game before it was over. And Cartwright would determine the end of the game, of that Jarvis was sure—well, unless Poole found a chance to play his lethal trump card.

“As much as I like a man who doesn’t have to advertise his superior wisdom all the time, I certainly would appreciate it if you acknowledged my presence at least by exchanging some pleasantries.” Juliet’s petty words brought Jarvis out of his reverie.

“My dear Juliet…” he tried to pacify her.

“I’m not your Juliet, Jarvis, so would you please stop saying that. It’s rather annoying.” Juliet’s eyes shot lightning bolts at him, her voice sounded irritated and somehow cranky, and she placed her teacup on the saucer with definite emphasis.

Jarvis knew better than to aggravate her further—especially now that he had something to talk over with her. Something…delicate.

“I apologise, Juliet. I won’t do it again.” Well, at least he would try. Until the day she would be his Juliet. Which reminded him… “Um, Juliet, did you…did you think about my offer?”

“What offer, Jarvis? You didn’t make any offer.”

“I did. Back in San Francisco. I offered you a position at the Times.”

“Good gracious, Jarvis, this was ages ago. Anyway, if I recall correctly I declined the offer.”

“You said you didn’t want to leave San Francisco. This doesn’t seem to be the case anymore, since you’ve already left.”

He watched her face. She looked straight into his eyes. Her face was blank, void of any emotion.

“I guess you had your reasons,” he said before he could stop himself.

“This is none of your business, Jarvis.” Her chin rose, her shoulders squared; she was prepared to fight, Jarvis realised. He wouldn’t get anywhere if he didn’t prevent that.

“Of course, it isn’t. I just thought if you finally were willing to leave San Francisco, you might consider moving on to another place with more…options for you.”

“Am I right in assuming this ‘other place with more options’ is New York?” Now she leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed, her head slightly tilted and her right eyebrow forming a perfect arch high on her forehead.

“You are right. The original offer has undergone a re-evaluation, Juliet. I’d like to offer you the position of a head of department at the Times. Choose your desk. You’d be reporting only to the chief editor, me.”

“Jarvis, this is an incredibly generous offer. I just…” She uncrossed her arms and made an uncharacteristically helpless gesture with her hands before resting her elbows on the table and placing her chin on her interlocked fingers. “I can’t see anyone accepting a female head of department. It was hard enough to make Goodman employ a female writer.”

“Well, I’m not Joe Goodman, and the New York Times isn’t a provincial—” Jarvis stopped in midsentence when he heard Juliet’s tsk and a thud. Had she just pounded her fist on the table?

“Virginia City is hardly provincial, and the Territorial Enterprise is one of the most important newspapers in the West, as you should know, Jarvis.” Well, no one had ever asserted that Juliet was anything but loyal to her employer. A nice trait Jarvis missed in many of his own writers.

“I am talking about New York City, Juliet. One-point-two million residents. Yes, in comparison to that Virginia City is provincial, and the Enterprise is a local rag. A local rag where you’re wasting your talent. You could do better, and you know it. What’s keeping you here, Juliet, what?”

He was rather surprised at the speed this game seemed to have acquired. Juliet wasn’t as easily manipulated as Langford Poole, and Jarvis knew he should have taken a slower pace. Juliet preferred open words, but with his last bluntness he knew he had gone too far, and he prepared for the inevitable eruption. But for once the volcano remained still. In fact, Juliet seemed more amused than enraged; she just sat there, a smile slowly spreading over her face, her eyes sparkling. Jarvis had the feeling she just had made a discovery.

“Actually I happen to like the local rag; I like the province—I did tell you I grew up in the provinces, Jarvis; didn’t I—and I like the people here, somehow.”

He wouldn’t have said a word had she not smiled in that introspective way and closed her eyes for an amount of time that was too long for a mere blink. Jarvis felt a heartburn rising.

“Oh, you like the people here. Anyone special?”

The smile vanished almost instantly from her face and was replaced by a frown. “This is none—”

“—of my business, I know.” Jarvis heaved a sigh and rubbed his chin, considering her. “You are not…closely connected to anyone, though, are you?”

“This is no concern of yours, either, but no, I’m not.”

“Well, then let me explain how I plan to establish a female head of department in the New York Times.” Jarvis leaned forward and took Juliet’s hand in his. She tried to pull away, but he just held on. “There’s more in the offer than just a job, Juliet. I would like to—“

This time it wasn’t Juliet who interrupted him but a breathless, barefoot boy who, smashing the big entrance door on the wall, barged into the restaurant, right to their table, and cried, “Miss Juliet, Miss Juliet, ya gotta come! That ugly stranger wanna kill Mr. Cartwright!”

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The better the gambler, the worse the man. ~ Publius Syrus