Chapter 30

An Apple for Adam

Adam’s descent from the stairs on Saturday morning for breakfast made the whole family hold their breath. They had survived the last very turbulent forty hours, but they weren’t sure how much longer they could take his increasingly aggressive moroseness.

It all had started late on Thursday evening, when Adam came home from his lunch appointment with Juliet Heatherstone. They had known something had gone awry from the second the front door had been literally thrown into the wall, Adam had stomped into the house, smashed his hat onto the credenza as if either the hat or the credenza was a personal enemy, and bellowed, “Don’t ask!”

Of course, they hadn’t dared ask; but their faces alone seemed to have been questioning enough, because Adam had stared at them, then turned on his heel and stormed out of the house. From the sound of it, he had been kicking at the empty fodder barrels Hoss had piled at the front of the barn. At one point he must have hit something less giving, because he had yelled in pain, and when he had come back into the house he had been limping.

He hadn’t spoken a word besides “pass the potatoes” at supper and “yes, please, and make it a generous one” when offered a drink after the table had been cleared. Sulking, he had stared into the fire and then taken up the poker and picked at the embers. The fire had nearly gone out at one point, and when Adam had tried to push the wood back together, he had slipped with the poker and flipped a piece of ember onto the Indian rug in front of the fireplace. The inflamed rug had been extinguished in no time, but it had been ruined, the wooden planks beneath would have to be sanded, and Adam had blisters on his left hand. He hadn’t been allowed anywhere near the fireplace after that, and Joe had stage-whispered, “We better not let him near the chopping block tomorrow.”

As a matter of course, Adam had snapped at Joe for that, but before a bigger row had broken loose, he had excused himself and gone to bed.

So far, so bad.

The next day had begun badly enough with a heated argument about the amount of bacon each man in the house was allowed to eat for breakfast, and whether Hoss’ share had had to be so much bigger than Adam’s. Things had spiraled consistently downwards from that. The list of casualties from Adam’s encounters with men, livestock, and buildings became as long as Ben Cartwright’s forearm, and included a knocked out tooth, three spooked horses, a traumatised cow, a drowned chicken, a demolished wall in the bunkhouse, four smashed chairs, a broken pitchfork, and Adam himself, who had acquired an assortment of black and blue marks on his left thigh, and a cut from a snapping rope above his right eye.

By the end of Friday, everyone on the Ponderosa, including Hop Sing, was staying as far away from Adam as possible. He had been ordered to refrain from doing or touching anything potentially dangerous for the remainder of the day; but naturally this hadn’t done much to improve his mood. He had snapped at each and everyone; gotten irritated by Hop Sing’s simple question about whether he would prefer coffee or a nice calming tea after supper (Lapsang Souchong, Mistel Adam? ); given Hoss, who had reached for a second helping of pudding, a very detailed and not so very complimentary lecture about appetite, actual hunger, and girth; and nearly bitten Joe’s head off when his youngest brother had tried to cheer him up with the latest issue of the Territorial Enterprise. Blessedly, Adam had turned in quite early again; and the rest of the evening had been spent in winded silence. The only sentence uttered had been spoken in a low and nearly reverent voice by Hoss. “That sure must’ve been a helluva squabble with Miss Juliet this time!”

Saturday promised to be not a jot better than the days before; and the family had already discussed how to keep chores and other activities that could lead to any accidental self-injury away from Adam (so as to make sure that the oldest Cartwright brother would survive until Sunday when he would make up with Miss Juliet at their regular lunch and return to his customary calm and collected self), when said oldest brother slowly came down the stairs and took his usual seat at the breakfast table.

Hop Sing bustled out of the kitchen to provide number one son with a generously measured portion of crisp bacon. There would be no brawling about bacon or any other food today; that the cook seemed to have been determined to take care of. Adam accepted the dish with the ghost of a smile, but only pushed the bacon strips around on his plate with his fork and knife, until Hop Sing admonished him, “You not play, you eat!”

Everyone held their breath, but Adam, after a sheepish smile at the house keeper, just said, “Oh, yeah, sorry,” and took up eating.

Breakfast went on without any incident, and the family slowly started to relax. Hoss and Joe talked about their trip to the lake for some trout fishing in the afternoon, Adam silently stared out of the window, and Ben, a cup of coffee in one hand, picked up the newspaper with the other and read through the local news.

It took him two minutes to reach the bombshell. He read it twice, and then a third time, just to be sure. He put his mug down, very carefully, and then looked at Adam. “Miss Heatherstone is leaving Virginia City, it appears. Goodman writes that she’s going to be a writer for the New York Times. She’s leaving by today’s stage coach.” He shook his head, questioning, unbelieving.

No reaction from Adam.

Hoss and Joe stopped their talk and stared first at their father, then at Adam. The clatter of cutlery and cookware from the kitchen died down. Adam pulled his eyes from the fascinating view of the back garden in the window, and, with an impassive face, sipped from his coffee.

Joe mouthed, “What?” and looked around in nearly comical puzzlement.

It was Hoss who exploded this time. “Miss Juliet’s leavin’ fer good?” He stabbed an accusing finger at Adam. “Did you know that, Adam?”

Adam warded Hoss’ finger off. “Why, yes.”

“She told ya?”

“Yes. Well, she asked for my advice, actually, and I told her—“

“Ya told her to go?” Hoss nearly screamed it.

“Of course I did.”

“Now ain’t ya an idiot, Adam!”

“Hoss, you don’t understand. She’s gotten a brilliant job offer, a promotion she had always dreamed of.”

“And so ya told her to go.” Hoss blinked. Then his voice rose in volume again. “Ya told her to go!”

“I didn’t tell her to go, I advised her.”

“But why?”

“Because it was the best for her, Hoss. She’s so talented…and she will find all the support she could wish for in New York. It’s really for the best.”

Hoss shook his head. “Adam….”

Joe leaned over the table and gazed at Adam as if he were studying a rare species. “But you didn’t have to tell her that, did you?”

“Well, as I said, she had asked for my advice, and I gave it in all good conscience.” Now Adam shook his head. “What else was I supposed to do?”

Joe groaned.

“Son,” Ben started very cautiously. “Did it never occur to you that Miss Heatherstone only asked for your advice so you could tell her to stay?”

Adam frowned. “Why would she do such a thing?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Joe said and shrugged. “Maybe because she loves you?”

“She…? And just how do you know that?”

“Adam, for someone so smart you can be incredibly dumb at times. Everybody knows Miss Juliet loves you.”

Adam leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. He raised an eyebrow. “Ah. Everybody knows that, huh?”

“Yes, everybody.” Joe turned round and smiled amiably at Hoss. “Hoss, does Miss Juliet love Adam?”

His big brother grinned back. “Oh, yeah, there ain’t no doubt about that,” he said and winked at Adam.

Joe turned to his father. “Pa, does Miss Juliet love Adam?”

Ben chuckled. “Well, yes, from all I’ve seen and heard I most certainly would guess so.”

Joe stood, walked over to the settee and picked up a pillow, holding it at arm’s length. “And you, what do you think: does Miss Juliet love my dense eldest brother?” He made the pillow nod, and said in a squeaking voice, “Yeah, sure she does,” and then added in his normal tone, “Adam, believe me, everybody knows. Only you don’t.”

Adam studied his folded hands. “Well, I’ve never thought…”

“Adam,” Hoss said as if he were talking to a hurt animal. “You are the only one from Virginia City who’s allowed to call her Juliet. Or Mylady.”

“You’re the only one she ever wrote a retraction for, older brother. You are the only one she had ever asked for advice—and took it too.”

But Adam obviously wasn’t listening anymore. He had buried his face in his hands and was groaning. “Of all the daft, dim-witted, dense, dumb, dull, thick…” they heard, muffled by his hands.

Joe and Hoss exchanged a grin.

Ben touched his son’s shoulder to get his attention. “The only remaining question is: do you love her too, Adam?”

For once in his life, Adam answered without thinking it over. “Of course I love her.” He looked up at his family, apparently bewildered about his own words. “Of course I love her,” he replied softly. It sounded as if he was trying out the words.

“Then why are you still here?” Joe cried out. “The coach leaves Virginia City at ten.”

Adam was up and out of the house lightning fast, so he most certainly missed Joe’s giggling, “Oh, you don’t have to thank us, Adam, you are very welcome,” and Hoss’ roar of laughter.

The three men at the breakfast table shared knowing looks, shrugs, and headshakes, and a lot of chuckling.

Eventually Hoss asked, “Ya think he’ll make it?”

“I dunno. Elder brother can ride real fast, if he’s determined. But the coach leaves in less than two hours….” Joe shrugged.

“Aw, mebbe it’s delayed. The coach always come and leave later than scheduled.”

“Well, let’s hope it does today, boys,” Ben said, his expression only half-amused. “This ranch doesn’t stand a chance if Adam can’t find a way to reconcile with the lady.”

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A man must be big enough to admit his mistakes,
smart enough to profit from them,
and strong enough to correct them. ~ John C. Maxwell