Chapter 23

No More Games

Adam rode into Virginia City accompanied by the fading chime of the church bell. He swore under his breath. Getting up early after a barn dance wasn’t the wisest idea, and he should have stayed at home and in bed as his brothers had done, but he had promised to meet Juliet at church and take her out for lunch as he did on every Sunday. He would have made it had not Sport been spooked by a snake and acted up. It had taken Adam some time to distract his horse from the supposed threat and get it back on the track, focused on carrying its rider to a lady who would be very annoyed by any tardiness; and now he was too late, scarcely, but nevertheless not in time. He didn’t want to put any more attention to his late arrival by sneaking into the already running service; and so he decided to bridge the time until he would meet Juliet at the church by having a wake-up coffee at the International House.

He immediately wished he had decided differently when at the entrance to the restaurant he ran into Langford Poole.

“Cartwright,” Poole said, apparently delighted to meet him. “Have you finally found your guts?”

Adam sighed. “Poole, don’t start this again. I’m tired of this game. You should know by now that I have no intention of—”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Poole interrupted him. “I raised the incentive.”

“I’m not interested in your incentives.”

“But I think you are, Cartwright. Because…” Poole made a dramatic pause and smiled slyly. “Because the incentive is your little lady friend.”

Adam drew a step closer. His face was only centimeters from Poole’s when he spat, “You wouldn’t shoot a woman. Not even you would shoot a woman, Poole.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t shoot her. But there are other ways to hurt a woman, aren’t there?” Poole gave him another of his sickeningly sweet smiles.

Adam felt anger rising. Hot white rage. But this couldn’t be it, it couldn’t. Was he so easily manipulated? No. “Poole, for your own sake I hope you are not insinuating that…. You can’t be so low. And you know you’d have half the town with a hangman’s noose running after you.”

“Cartwright, what a dirty imagination you have,” Poole sneered. “I’m not interested in that snobby smart mouth; wouldn’t touch her with gloves. No, I’d rather…tell.”

“Tell? Tell what?”

“What? You don’t know about the lady’s dirty little secret?” Poole literally beamed at him. “But, oh yeah, I forgot: the lady doesn’t talk about San Francisco.”

Adam felt his intestines constricting. San Francisco. Again. No, Juliet didn’t talk about San Francisco; but why did Poole know that? He hadn’t spoken to Juliet, had he? Adam swallowed down the bile that was threatening to rise. No, Poole hadn’t spoken to Juliet, but he had talked to—

“Raymond.” It sounded like a curse. “Raymond told you that.”

Poole’s grin grew even wider. “Raymond loves to talk, and at times it pays to listen to him.” He snorted. “Don’t you want to know what it is that the lady is keeping from you, Cartwright?”

“No. Not from you.”

“I bet the respectable citizens of Virginia City would love to hear it. I can only begin to imagine what they would do if they knew…. Very fortunately I can keep secrets, too—if I find the price acceptable.”

“The price.” It wasn’t a question. Adam knew the answer anyway.

“You know what the price is. Honour for honour, Cartwright. Hers for mine. You take on me, and I won’t tell about her.”

Adam said nothing. There wasn’t anything to say. His face remained impassive, but his thoughts raced. What in heaven’s name had happened in San Francisco? Would keeping it a secret be worth a duel? What was the honour of a woman worth? He didn’t know. What was Juliet worth? Everything.

Poole was getting impatient. He bared his teeth and snarled, “Listen, Cartwright: I’ll be here, tomorrow at noon at the Silver Dollar. If you don’t turn up by five past I’ll make a little announcement in the saloon.”

Adam gave Poole a last scrutinising gaze. “We’ll see about that,” he stretched, turned around and finally made his way into the restaurant, once again leaving Poole standing in the doorway.

He spotted Jarvis Raymond immediately. The editor sat at the table Adam and Juliet habitually chose, in Adam’s usual place facing the room, and smiled self-contentedly.

“You are a pig, Raymond,” Adam said by way of greeting as he seated himself in Juliet’s traditional chair.

“And a good morning to you, too,” Raymond replied. He took it like a man; Adam had to give him credit for that. “Let me guess: you are in a bad mood yet again? You really shouldn’t make a habit out of that, Cartwright. I heard it’s bad for the liver.”

Adam leaned forward and grabbed Raymond by his jacket. “Stop playing games, Raymond. You are right, I’m in a real bad mood; and if your face doesn’t want to renew acquaintance with my fist, I highly recommend you reconsider your manner of speech with me.”

Raymond wriggled free from Adam’s grip. “Hold your horses, rancher,” he said genially. “You came to this table delivering an insult.”

“Yes, and I apologise for that—to the pig.” Adam rested his elbows on the table. “Why did you do it?”

“Why…? Why did I do what?”

“Why did you tell Poole about Juliet?”

“Why did I tell Poole about—oh, that.” Raymond’s face changed in a split second. He became a picture of misery, and maybe Adam would have believed him his next words, had he not been so bad at faking an apologetic tone. “I’m so sorry that happened. It seems I had a few too many yesterday, and I apparently can’t hold my liquor as well as I used to. Be that as it may, I met Poole after I left Juliet, we talked, and somehow I must have let it slip.”

“Somehow. Without intention.”

“Without intention, exactly. Why would I—”

“Yes, why would you?” Adam sneered. “Why did you betray Juliet, Raymond, why? What good does it bring you?”

“I told you, I didn’t do it on purpose. It was an accident.” Raymond snorted. “I happen to like Juliet; I value her very much as you fully know. Why should I purposely spread such unpleasant things about her?”

“Because…I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on in your mind, Raymond. I only know I don’t like the outcome.” Adam considered his opponent. Raymond’s self-assured, content features clearly belied his words. Someone who was sorry wouldn’t look so…smug. Someone who was innocent wouldn’t—God, did this mean…? “What have you done to her?”

“I…good gracious, Cartwright! I haven’t done anything. Didn’t Poole tell you what happened?” Raymond was all indignation.

“No. And I don’t want to hear it.” Not from you, or from Poole, for that matter. But there was something he wanted to hear: “If you were not involved in this—how do you know about it?”

Raymond smiled his jovial smile. “I’m a newspaperman, Cartwright. I have…connections, and I have money. When I heard Juliet had left San Francisco to come to this cow pasture I knew something was wrong. She didn’t want to leave the Morning Call only a few months before. Why would she leave now? And to work for Goodman’s provincial gazette instead of the New York Times?” He let out a short non-comically laughter. ”Did you ever hear about Pinkertons? Brilliant men; they find out everything. If you ever want to know something about anyone, ask a Pinkerton.” Raymond leaned forward. “Can you imagine my shock when I found out what had made her leave?” He snorted again. “No, of course not. You don’t know what she had done. Are you sure you don’t want to know?”

“Raymond, I know you are eager to spill your venom, but I don’t want to hear it.” Adam emphasised. “This is Juliet’s and Juliet’s alone to tell, if and when she decides to do so.”

“Suit yourself. I’m fairly sure she will never tell. She wouldn’t want anyone to know it.”

“Then I strongly advise you not to reveal it ever again, Raymond.”

“Why would I—”

“Listen to me, Raymond, and listen good: keep that story to yourself in the future. Stop drinking, stop plotting, stop blathering. And don’t you ever tell Juliet you know about this.”

“Huh, are you threatening me, Cartwright? What are you going to do? Shoot me?”

“Not necessarily. You know, these Pinkerton men might find out something you hide in your closet. Something that would make a great headline in one of New York’s other big newspapers.”

Raymond should never play poker, Adam thought. Written all over the man’s face was how close Adam had hit home. For a brief moment he wondered what dark secret Raymond harboured, but it really didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he kept his mouth shut.

“I…have no intention to talk about Juliet’s affairs. In fact, I have a great interest in keeping them secret. I told you, I regret I told Poole about it.” He licked his lips. “But I assume you will take care of that matter, won’t you?”

Adam didn’t grace that with an answer. From outside he heard the church bells signaling the end of the service, so he got up and turned to leave the restaurant. He hesitated, looked back over his shoulder at Raymond and shook his head, disgusted. The man wasn’t worth one more word.

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Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practice to deceive. ~ Sir Walter Scott