Chapter 24

What a Man’s Got to Do

“What happened?” These were Juliet’s first words when he met her on the church yard.

“Nothing. I’m late, ’m sorry. Horse acted up, that’s why,” Adam answered, irritated.

Juliet laid a hand on his arm. “That’s not what I meant, Adam. Is everything all right at the ranch? I didn’t see your family at church, not even your father; are they well?”

“They’re fine. It was a long night yesterday, and Pa came home from Carson even later than we did. They needed some more sleep, that’s all.”

“Then why are you so agitated? Are you all right?” She squeezed his arm and jiggled it a bit.

“I’m not agitated.” Adam yanked his arm out of her grip. “I’m not—and I’m fine.”

Juliet smiled and raised her left eyebrow a fraction of an inch. “You are fuming, Adam. You’re trying to hide it, but I can see it in your eyes. And I can tell from the way you speak.” She linked her arm with his, and pulled him from the churchyard, out of hearing distance from any bystander. “What happened?” she repeated her initial words.

“Nothing. I told you, everything is all right.”

“Well, it was a lie the first time, and it doesn’t get any truer by repeating it,” Juliet chuckled, but after a glance at Adam’s face she sobered immediately. “Is it…have I done something wrong? At the dance? I’m sorry if I have…”

Adam stood still. He studied her anxious face, and felt the anger slowly simmering down. Funny, how she did this to him. The need to protect her seemed to outweigh everything: his agitation, his reservations, his disappointment. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Juliet. This is not your fault….” Really? Was it not basically her fault? “And yesterday…the dance was…more than I hoped for. I enjoyed myself very much.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Apparently a barn dance is only one step from Sodom and Gomorrah, at least in the eye of Reverend Billings. You missed some very drastic comparisons, Adam.” She shook her head. “It’s about time Reverend Oldman gets back from his pilgrimage and we can send his substitute home. I’ve had enough fire-and-brimstone-sermons for the next couple of years.”

Adam laughed silently. He remembered the last time he had sat through one of the Reverend’s campaigns against the sinners with Juliet at his side, and he still heard her hissed “Hell? What do you know about hell, Reverend, when you never had to hear yourself talking,” and their lengthy discussion afterwards about whether Billings’ sermon represented the third or the fourth circle of hell.

“However, you haven’t answered my question, Adam.” How could he have thought she would let it go? “Is it…this duel-thing?” She spoke low, haltingly, as if she was afraid to ask.

He was amazed about her ability to read him. For a moment he considered arguing against it, but somehow he knew she wouldn’t believe him anyway. He sighed. “Poole…he doesn’t give up.”

Juliet waited. Her gaze was on his face, and she waited. When he didn’t offer more, she tried, “I know you took him on some years ago, and you beat him.”

“Yes.”

She gave him some more minutes, but still he didn’t know what to tell her.

“Adam, why did you do it?”

“What, fight him? He threatened my father.”

“And you stepped in. Why?”

“Pa was no match for him.” Adam snorted. “I couldn’t stand there and watch Poole kill my father, could I?”

“But you didn’t know you were faster than he?”

What the heck was she on about? “No, of course not.”

“Is your father’s life worth more than yours?”

Oh, that. “He didn’t stand a chance; I did.”

“What if Poole had killed you?”

“I’d be dead.”

“This is not funny, Adam!” She looked angry and a bit hurt. She was right, this wasn’t funny; and he owed her more than a lame joke.

“Juliet, I didn’t think about that. All I wanted to do was to keep my father alive.”

“At the cost of your own life.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, at the cost of my own life, if necessary. I couldn’t let Pa die; my brothers need him, I need him, he deserves to live…. God, I don’t have to explain the worth of a life to you, do I?”

She seemed unimpressed by his impatient tone. “I know the worth of a life; and contrary to you, I know the worth of your life, too. Some people might need you too, Adam. Did you ever consider this? Why do you always put others’ needs before yours?”

“I want to do the right thing, Juliet.” He looked at her, nearly pleadingly. “I couldn’t look into my mirror in the morning if I knew I’ve done something…dishonourable.”

“Adam, I don’t think you are even capable of doing something dishonourable.” She laughed at his incredulous glance. “No, you aren’t. You never do something you think is wrong. At the cost of your life, at the cost of your reputation—whatever it takes.”

“Well, my reputation seems to be in more danger than my life lately.” At least until tomorrow. And suddenly he understood that no matter how he’d decided, tomorrow could change everything. He could lose his life, Juliet could lose her honour. Was there a way to keep both? There was, of course there was. But was it the right thing to do? Say something, he pled inwardly, say something that helps me to judge this.

“Your reputation will survive. People will come to see your point; just give them time. And whatever happens, at least I’ll always be loyal to you.”

He stared at her in sudden realisation. Loyal. Yes. She never judged him, she never doubted him, she never demanded things he wasn’t ready to give. She had hurt him, but never deliberately, and from the moment he had actually shown her his limits she had accepted them. He trusted her, and she trusted him. He cleared his throat. “I know you’re loyal. I heard you the other day, defending my honour at Barnes’. I thought you were the most loyal person in my life—and I still think so.”

“Adam—”

“No. Just take it as I said it. You are. And I will be just as loyal to you.” And he would. Juliet might not realise it, but it was a vow.

They didn’t make it to the International House that day. Neither of them seemed in the mood for witty conversation; Adam escorted Juliet home to Widow Hawkins’, bid her goodbye and made his way home. And so Juliet didn’t know about the scheduled duel until she went to work the next morning.

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A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval. ~ Mark Twain