Summary: Adam substitutes again but a sharp, sassy student with a shocking background keeps his hands full.
Rating:  PG-13  (13,690 words)

Maureen Series

Freckles & Rouge
A Real Father
Stained

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The Brandsters have included this author in our project: Preserving Their Legacy.  To preserve their legacy, we have decided to give them a home in the Bonanza Brand Fanfiction Library.  The author will always be the owner of this work of fanfiction, and should they wish us to remove their story, we will.

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Freckles and Rouge

Maureen sat at her desk and stared at her hands as the rest of the students filed out of the classroom for recess. They were all probably wondering what she was in for.

She was wondering that herself. She risked a glance at their teacher. He was seated at his own desk, skimming through the lessons for the younger children.

He wasn’t their real teacher—he was just filling in like he had once before. Maureen was amazed that he agreed to come back. It hadn’t gone so well for him last time.

He had wanted to teach them about the territory’s history. But when he did his research he uncovered a scandal. He found out that some upstanding citizens of Virginia City once massacred Indians and stole their land.

He got beat up for his efforts, but he still exposed the crime. You’d think that the whole experience would have soured him to teaching, but he was back. And she was glad, despite the trouble she was in.

He had gotten some fine learning back east, so he didn’t just teach by rote out of the Bible or the McGuffey. And, unlike their regular teacher, he didn’t mind that Maureen was left-handed. He didn’t try to force her to become a righty.

She probably had Little Joe to thank for that. Little Joe Cartwright was his youngest brother and he was a lefty too. He was also, in Maureen’s opinion, the most darling man in the world. She had talked to him once or twice and those mischievous green eyes of his had set her stomach quivering…but that was beside the point.

The point was that Adam Cartwright had watched his little brother struggle to conform to a right-handed world. He concluded that it was better to leave lefties as nature intended them.

That was all well and good, but she was still in trouble. Maureen started tapping her fingers, wondering what sort of punishment he would mete out—and how long he meant to keep her waiting for it.

“Stop fidgeting, Miss Sullivan,” he told her without looking up from the lessons.

She sighed and did her best to keep still. She hoped that he had some special affection for her, seeing as how she was a lefty just like Little Joe. Maybe he would let her off. Or maybe she could blackmail her way out of trouble.

She could threaten to tell folks that he was married to that pretty Creole girl of his. He seemed determined to keep the marriage quiet. She supposed it was to shelter his wife from the biting prejudice they’d face if people knew. After all, she was a woman of color.

But anyone with brains should know the truth. The banns were announced right at St. Mary’s. Funny how no one pays attention to details like that.

She shut her eyes and gave up her scheme. If he wasn’t afraid to expose a crime—even after he took a beating—he probably wouldn’t give into blackmail.

“Well, Miss Sullivan?”

The words startled her out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes to find him standing right in front of her. She hadn’t heard him move.

He looked awfully foreboding right now. He was leaning back against the desk in the next row with his arms folded across his chest.

“Well what, Mr. Cartwright?” she managed.

“I’m giving you a chance to explain yourself.”

She shrugged, hoping that she looked unconcerned. “What’s to explain? I cheated and you caught me.”

“Why haven’t you come to me for help with arithmetic?”

“Because I don’t care if I fail.”

To her surprise he smiled. “Then why bother cheating?”

He had her there. “I don’t know,” she owned. “I suppose I was angry that you—that you confiscated my book yesterday.”

“You shouldn’t have been reading during lessons,” he told her. “And you shouldn’t have been reading that particular book at all.”

She gave him an innocent look. “Why not? I thought you liked the classics.”

He grinned. “I do. I’m quite partial to ‘The Metamorphoses.’ And I know how engrossing it is, so I understand why you hid it under your horn book. But Apuleius is not meant for a twelve year old.”

Maureen met his eyes. “There’s nothing in there that shocks me,” she said defiantly. “It’s just a crazy mix of myth and mysticism.”

“That’s not all that’s in there,” he said dryly. “Where did you even find a copy of it?”

“One of my mother’s gentlemen friends gave it to me. I only wish he had the original Latin too.”

His eyebrows shot up at that. “You understand Latin?”

“Some,” she answered. “I can translate the Mass and all the prayers on my own.”

“Ah. Well, you’ll need more than church Latin to get through Apuleius,” he remarked.

She bit her lip, wondering if he’d be willing to help her. “C-could you teach it to me?” she ventured.

He shook his head. “Mine is too rudimentary. But tell you what. If you’ll work at your arithmetic, I’ll see if I can find a good Latin grammar and dictionary. Between the two of us we can piece it together.”

She eyed him suspiciously “And then you’ll help me translate Apuleius?”

“No,” he answered. “You’re too young for that—even if you have read it already. We’ll work our way through Caesar instead.”

She was disappointed, but she still considered his offer. “I’ll work at my arithmetic,” she agreed.

“Good,” he said. Then he paused and crouched down so that they were eye to eye. “I’m going to keep you here after class and see if I can’t tutor you a bit.”

“I can’t stay late,” she told him. “And I don’t need your help. I—I just didn’t get a chance to study last night.”

“I won’t keep you too long,” he promised. “And in the meantime, Miss Sullivan, you can write a few paragraphs explaining what kept you from studying yesterday.”

She frowned at him as she took out her paper and blotter. Then she picked up her pen with her left hand.

“Are you sure you want to know?” she asked. “The answer might shock you.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. She could tell that he was trying to decide how serious she was. Oh, would she show him.

“I’ll take that risk,” he said at length.

*

Adam looked over his classroom. He had managed to get all the different years working quietly, so he sat down at his desk with Maureen’s paper.

He read through it twice. He couldn’t bring himself to believe her words the first time. She had told him that ‘The Metamorphoses’ didn’t shock her. No wonder—not if what she wrote was true.

He set the paper down. Maureen had a talent for writing. Her words were crisp and immediate and they grabbed hold of you. But her story—which was every bit as explicit as Apuleius—sickened him.

Maureen’s mother, it seemed, allowed her ‘gentleman callers’ every conceivable liberty with her daughter. And the girl was only twelve.

Adam wasn’t naïve. He knew that such things happened. But in this case he had an obligation to put an end to it. If Maureen’s story held up he would have to remove her from her home.

He could go to the law, but that probably wouldn’t answer. Judges did little to protect children from their parents back east, let alone out here.

But maybe he didn’t need the law. If he waved enough cash in front of Maureen’s mother she might sign away the rights to her daughter. The question was what to do with Maureen afterwards.

He sighed. Well, if she had no other family he could take her in. He could always find her a good boarding school. The girl had a first-class brain; she deserved a better education than Virginia City could give her.

Perhaps she could even go on to college. It was difficult for a woman to receive higher education, but not impossible.

He sighed again, hoping that the story was just a creative piece of mischief. Lefties were known for their creativity.

But his gut told him that it was all too true.

*

Hoss led Chub into a stall at the public livery. He gave the horse a fond pat on the neck and made sure to scratch behind that left ear—Chub always appreciated that.

“How do you like that?” Hoss asked with a wide grin. “I got me a whole day off and it ain’t over yet.”

He swung the stall door shut, latched it and then strode outside, taking a deep breath as he did so. The streets of Virginia City always had a peculiar scent to them—a combination of fresh mountain air, lingering tobacco, wafting perfume, dust and manure. He relished the smell of it.

The day had been perfect thus far. Hoss had slept till nearly ten o’clock—a fine change from rising at cockcrow. Then he’d convinced Hop Sing to make an extra batch of flapjacks for him. He’d taken his time, savoring every bite.

He had even enjoyed having the breakfast table to himself. Pa and Little Joe were long since up and gone and Adam wasn’t even on the Ponderosa. He was staying in town with Charlotte as he filled in for the schoolteacher.

Now, what to do for the remainder of the afternoon? He would spend this evening at The Bucket of Blood—there was going to be quite a poker game tonight. But he still had a couple of hours to kill…

“Hoss!”

Hoss turned in surprise at the sound of someone screeching his name. Before he knew it Charlotte was rushing headlong at him, apparently intending to hurl herself into his arms.

He caught her by the forearms and looked at her face with concern. “What’s the matter, Charlotte? What happened?”

“Oh, Hoss—there’s so much to explain!”

He led her to the side of the street so that they wouldn’t block pedestrian traffic. He ignored the curious stares they were attracting—poor Charlotte, she had to deal with those stares all the time—and asked again what was wrong.

“Adam has a student named Maureen Sullivan,” Charlotte managed. “She wrote an essay for him and he found out—oh, Hoss, it’s unspeakable! Men are always calling on Maureen’s mother, you understand?”

Hoss nodded. She lowered her voice and continued.

“Mrs. Sullivan allows—she forces her daughter to entertain them as well,” she explained. “And the girl is only twelve!”

Hoss felt his blood drain as Charlotte’s words sank in. He knew full well what she was leaving unsaid. He didn’t know this Maureen—or at least, he couldn’t place her at the moment—but there was a slow anger burning in his belly at the thought of any child being used that way.

“Don’t you worry, Charlotte,” he said. “I reckon Adam will put an end to that situation.”

She nodded. “I know. But Hoss, he brought the girl to the Widow Hawkins. He introduced her to us and then he took me aside to explain what was happening. He means to go and speak with Mrs. Sullivan and bribe her to—what are the words I want? He’s going to induce her to make him Maureen’s legal guardian.”

Hoss felt his jaw drop but at length he recovered. “Well, I don’t know if that’s the best solution,” he said slowly, turning it over in his mind, “but it’ll do for now. At least it will get Maureen away from those men.”

“Oui,” Charlotte continued, nearly stamping her foot with impatience. “But what will he do with her afterwards? He thinks he can just send her to some boarding school. This girl is very bright, you see, and he wants her to have a first class education. But he can’t just tear her from her mother and then send her away!”

Hoss sighed. Sometimes his brother was like that—too intellectual for his own good. It was easier for him to nourish the girl’s brain than to see that she would need a true parent in place of the one she was losing. If Adam didn’t mean to be a real father to Maureen, he was better off finding her another home.

“No, I reckon not,” he said. “Well, we’ll explain that to Adam later. Between the two of us we can bring him around.”

Charlotte clasped his arms. “Yes, but first we have to find Maureen. Hoss, she was very quiet, so I just kept talking and talking. I told her about New Orleans and, oh, all sorts of things. She was nervous, I think—I doubt she ever spoke with a black woman before. And then the moment I turned my back she slipped out!”

Hoss swore under his breath. “Did she know what Adam intended to do?”

“No,” Charlotte answered, shaking her head. “She knew that Adam meant to speak with her mother, but that was all.”

She paused and bit her lip. “Unless she understands French. Then she would know everything. We have to find her! Mrs. Hawkins is staying at the house in case she returns.”

She released her hold on Hoss, raised her hands to her head and swore in French. “All I had to do was mind that girl for an hour. How could I be so stupid?”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Hoss advised. “You didn’t know that little filly was going to bolt. Just tell me what she looks like. Then we’ll tear this town apart if we have to—but we’ll find her.”

Charlotte nodded and began to describe the girl in detail—far more detail than Hoss could take in. Hoss felt like he would recognize the girl anywhere now, from her nut-brown hair, to her freckled nose, to the gingham pattern of her dress—even down to the tiny hole in the stocking on her left leg.

Once the picture of the girl was clear in his mind he and Charlotte set off to scour the town. He never once thought to regret the loss of his day off.

*

“¿Qué pasa, gringa?”

Maureen nearly jumped at the sound of someone whispering in her ear. She spun around and found Miguel crouched behind her.

She gave a sigh of relief. Miguel was a fellow student and one of the few friends she had made at school. They were both outcasts, albeit for different reasons, and so they tended to cling to each other.

‘Gringa’ was his pet name for her. She should probably be insulted by it, for she knew that Mexicans used ‘gringos’ to refer to whites. But Miguel always said it with a teasing tone in his voice that made it impossible for her to take offense.

But now she had to explain why she was crouched outside her house, hiding in the bushes near an open window. Well, it was only Miguel. She might as well tell him the truth.

She pulled him into the bushes next to her so that neither of them could be seen. Then she cupped her hands over her mouth and whispered in his ear. “Mr. Cartwright made me write an essay telling him why I couldn’t study for math.”

Miguel pulled his ear away and shook his head. “Is that all he did after he caught you cheating?” he whispered back. “He didn’t whip you?”

“No, he didn’t whip me!” she answered, annoyed at the disappointment in his voice. “But I—Miguel, I told him everything in that essay. About my Mam, I mean.”

He stared at her. “You told him what your mother makes you do with those men?” he demanded.

She nodded. “I wrote it all down. I—I wanted to shock him because he thought I wasn’t old enough for that book he confiscated from me. Then after class he—Miguel, he wasn’t angry at me and he didn’t act shocked, but he said that he needed to have a talk with my mother.”

Miguel looked like he was thinking that over. “Tell you what, gringa,” he said at length. “I think this is a good thing. I’ll bet Adam Cartwright can help you.”

“Miguel, he brought me to that Creole woman. He took her aside and spoke to her in French. I don’t think he knew that I could understand him. He told her that—that he means to bribe my mother into making him my guardian and then he’s going to send me away to school.”

His eyes widened at that. “You spoke with his Creole woman? Dios mío, is she not the most heavenly creature? What did her voice sound like?”

Maureen rolled her eyes. “Mother of God, Miguel! Forget about her. Look, I slipped out when she wasn’t watching so that I could come here. The point is that Mr. Cartwright wants to take me away from my Mam and then send me off to boarding school!”

Miguel shrugged. “You don’t want to stay with your mother, do you? And if Adam Cartwright becomes your guardian—Madre de Dios, think how rich he is!”

She stared down at her hands. “No, I don’t want to stay with my mother,” she answered, taking care to keep to a whisper. “But I don’t want to be sent away either.”

But he brushed that objection aside. “Mira, gringa,” he said, “it’s too late for him to send you away to school this year. And by next year you can talk him out of it, no?”

She bit her lip as she considered that. But before she could reply she caught sight of Adam walking up to her mother’s door. She clamped her hand over Miguel’s mouth to keep him quiet and then watched Adam knock.

He had papers in his hand. He must have stopped at his bank and at his lawyer’s before coming here. He was quite sure of himself, then—quite certain that her mother would agree to his terms.

Maureen couldn’t decide how to feel about that.

She was glad to see her mother looking fairly well. Apparently she hadn’t drank much today. That made it easier to bear the thought of Mr. Cartwright meeting her.

She removed her hand from Miguel’s mouth as they listened to Mr. Cartwright introduce himself. Her mother invited him in as he removed his hat. They were soon out of Maureen and Miguel’s sight, but the children could still hear them through the open window.

“Can I get you some tea, Mr. Cartwright?” her mother asked.

“No,” he answered. “I’m afraid this isn’t a social call.”

Her mother took that in good part. “I understand that you’re filling in for the schoolteacher. Is my daughter having troubles at school, then?”

“I believe the problem is at home. Maureen wrote an assignment that I’d like you to read.”

Maureen heard her mother chuckle in a self-deprecating manner. “I’m afraid my daughter is more clever at reading and writing than I am, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Very well,” he returned. “Then I’ll read it to you.”

And he did. Maureen felt her face flush and her throat catch as he gave voice to her words. She glanced at Miguel, but he was too embarrassed to meet her eyes.

She bit her lip again. She wished she could see her Mam’s reaction. Was she too dying of shame?

There was silence when Adam finished, but at length Mam broke it.

“What are you wanting to hear, Mr. Cartwright?” she asked with that faint Irish lilt that still clung to her voice. “Haven’t I got to earn my keep—and Maureen’s too? And I’ve no family to help us. No husband to go and out and work. I’m sorry to use her in my—my trade, but I protect her from the worst of it.”

Adam kept silent. Maureen wished that she could see his face.

Her mother spoke again. “Maureen won’t trouble you any longer—she won’t be returning to school. She’s all but grown now.”

“She’s not grown, Mrs. Sullivan. She’s a child. And I don’t mean her to spend another night here.”

“And how do you intend to take her away?” she demanded, her voice growing sharp. “Aren’t I her mother?”

Adam’s voice stayed even. “You’re going to give me full custody over her and make me her guardian,” he said, speaking as if the issue was already settled. “And when that’s done, you’re going to leave Virginia City.”

“And where do you expect me to go?”

“I don’t care,” he answered, “as long as you stay away from Maureen.”

Maureen sank to the ground. She felt sick to her stomach.

“My daughter still loves me,” she heard her mother insist. “I’m not a monster, Mr. Cartwright—I’ve done my best by my girl. If you part her from me she’ll hate you for it.”

“I’ll take that chance,” Adam answered. “And I’ll provide you with enough funds to start over.”

Maureen shut her eyes and tried to remember to keep breathing. The bushes felt like they were closing in on her. Suddenly she felt Miguel’s hand on her shoulder. He gave her a comforting squeeze, reminding her that she wasn’t alone.

“Have you thought about what people will say?” her mother asked. “They might think that you’re her father—if they want to think kindly of you.”

“I’m not concerned with what people think,” he said softly. “I just want to give her a decent home and a real education.”

“How charitable of you,” she said dryly. “Do you mean for that woman you keep to raise her? Or do you mean to let her live with a family of bachelors?”

“Worried about the proprieties?” Adam asked. Maureen didn’t miss the sarcasm in his voice.

“We’ve always kept up appearances,” her mother retorted.

“She’ll stay at the Ponderosa until I can find a good school for her,” he explained. “My father will be a more than respectable chaperone.”

Maureen heard her mother start pacing around the room. When she spoke again her voice was brisk and business-like. “Well, I want three thousand dollars. Then you can have my daughter.”

“Very well. I have the paperwork here. You can sign these—I presume you know how to sign your name—and I’ll write out a bank draft.”

Maureen didn’t wait to here anything more. She crept out of the bushes and went to her own front steps. She wanted Adam and her mother to have to face her when they finished this—this business transaction.

Miguel followed her. “Maybe we should head back to the Creole woman,” he said hopefully.

But she shook her head. “I’m waiting right here.”

Miguel sighed. “If you insist, gringa,” he said. “But I’d better wait with you.”

*

While Mrs. Sullivan was packing a bag for Maureen, Adam stepped outside. He started as he caught sight of Maureen herself sitting on the front steps.

Her friend Miguel was standing right in front of her, presumably to support her through this ordeal. Adam cringed as he realized that the pair of them had probably listened to his conversation with Mrs. Sullivan.

He forced himself to recover. “You two must have heard an earful,” he remarked as he took a seat next to Maureen.

Maureen answered him with a cold glare while Miguel reddened and stared down at his feet.

“Miguel, why don’t you head on home,” Adam advised. “I need some time alone with Maureen.”

The boy shuffled his feet for a moment and then sent Maureen an apologetic glance. “I’ll see you tomorrow, gringa,” he told her as he took off.

Adam turned to Maureen. “I don’t suppose Charlotte knows where you are?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I just left when she wasn’t watching,” she answered in a flat tone.

He sighed. Charlotte would be frantic, no doubt, but he couldn’t worry about her right now. He had to do his best to explain the situation to Maureen.

“I’m sorry that you overheard my conversation with your mother,” he began.

“Why?” she interrupted. “Were you going to lie about what you both said?”

“No,” he answered, keeping his voice even. “But I wouldn’t have mentioned the money.”

She shrugged. “I’m not stupid,” she informed him. “I would’ve guessed that you paid her something. She must be happy—I’ll bet she never thought that some man would be willing to give her three thousand for me.”

Adam knew that she was trying to get a rise out of him, so he kept his peace. They were both silent for a long moment.

At length Maureen spoke up again. “I’m not grateful to you,” she informed him. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

He weighed his words before he answered. In the end, he decided that brutal honesty would carry the most weight with her.

“Maureen,” he said, “you just told me that you’re not stupid. You must have known that I’d intervene once I found out about your situation here. If you didn’t want my help, you would never have written that essay.”

She had the grace to blush at that, but he could see that her embarrassment only made her angrier.

“I’m still not going to thank you for it,” she managed to retort. “In fact, I’ll hate you for this.”

She wasn’t lying—that was obvious. Adam shut his eyes for a moment and thought back to a conversation he’d had with Laura. He remembered how distraught Laura was when she believed that Peggy, her own daughter, hated her.

He remembered telling Laura that even if that were true, she still had to live up to her responsibilities as a parent. Well, now he would have to live up to his own responsibilities as Maureen’s guardian, regardless of how the girl felt about him.

“Look,” he said at last, “I’m not doing this to win your affection. You don’t have to love me or even like me, Maureen. But I’m not leaving you here.”

She stared down at her hands. “I remember what it was like when I was a stranger in town,” she said softly. “When we moved here from San Francisco, I mean. My Mam had a—a protector back there. He was a Frenchman. He was kind to both of us, but my Mam drove him away with her drinking.”

Adam kept silent, but he wondered how much French she’d picked up from her mother’s protector. It was quite possible that she had understood everything he said to Charlotte.

“Then we came here,” she continued. “I hated Virginia City when we first came. It was just as rough and rude as San Francisco, but it didn’t have a—a big city feel to compensate for it. It’s grown up since then, but I still remember how homesick I was for the first year or so. And then I had to—I had to work with my Mam so we could afford to stay here.”

“Your mother was wrong to use you that way,” Adam said quietly.

“I know,” she said as she kept staring at her hands. Her voice was strangely calm now. “But she’s still my Mam and I don’t want her to be a stranger again in a new place. She already came from Limerick to the Five Points in Manhattan, then from Manhattan to San Francisco, and then to Virginia City. I don’t want you to send her away now.”

She paused and took a deep breath. “And I don’t want you to send me away either. I won’t go to some boarding school. If you want to be my guardian you’ll have to deal with me yourself—otherwise I’ll just run off.”

Adam considered that. He didn’t appreciate being blackmailed, but he knew that he’d have to compromise if he didn’t want to spend half his life chasing after her.

“I won’t force your mother to leave town,” he said at length. “But I won’t permit you to see her alone. If you want to visit her, you’ll have to bring me, my father or one of my brothers along. Or Charlotte, I suppose.”

She shrugged, which he took as her way of conceding. “What about school?” she asked.

“You’ll never get the education you deserve here in Virginia City,” he said. “You’re a bright girl, Maureen. You may be able to go on to college eventually.”

Her eyes widened at that and she glanced up at him. “Can a woman go to college?” she demanded.

He nodded. “It’s difficult, but there are a few schools that permit women.” He paused to allow that to sink in. “At any rate, I don’t want you worrying about it now. We’ll discuss your schooling later.”

He watched her bristle at the tone of command in his voice. “I want to talk about it now.”

He shook his head at her. He wasn’t about to let her ride roughshod over him.

She made a face at him. “Charlotte says you’re a tyrant,” she told him. “She said that you punished her the first night you met her.”

Adam sighed again. Charlotte would talk to anyone about almost any topic.

“Well, she was just a child when we first met,” he explained. “She was seven and I was eighteen. She went through my valise without my permission and I caught her playing with my gun. Fortunately she couldn’t figure out how to prime and load it.”

She regarded him curiously. “Did she despise you afterwards?”

“No,” he answered, smiling as he remembered little Antoinette-Charlotte trailing after him wherever he went. “She followed me around like an adoring puppy the whole time I was in New Orleans.”

Maureen rolled her eyes in disgust. “No wonder you play the part of a tyrant.”

Adam grinned. “It works surprisingly well for me,” he admitted.

He watched her try to frown at him, but she ended up dimpling instead.

“That’s better,” he said as he stood up and offered her his hand. She accepted it and allowed him to help her to her feet.

“Let’s go inside and speak with your mother,” he suggested. “Then we’ll find Charlotte and put her mind at ease.”

She nodded, but she paused once she had her hand on the doorknob. “Does the tyrant act work on Little Joe?” she asked.

He raised his eyebrows at that. “What’s your interest in Little Joe?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

Adam cocked his head at her, but decided to leave it alone. “It works on Joe about half the time,” he told her, grinning again. “The other half we come to blows.”

She smiled outright at that and together they stepped inside.

*

Ben took his coffee and went to the window that looked out into the yard, squinting at the morning light. Once his eyes adjusted he gasped and took a step back. Then he laughed as he shook himself. He was just not accustomed to seeing a twelve-year-old girl on the Ponderosa.

Maureen was outside watching Adam and Joe wrestle each other. One glance told Ben that the boys were just roughhousing, not fighting in earnest. He smiled as he realized that Maureen was shamelessly rooting for Little Joe.

She had quite a crush on Joe, but that didn’t worry Ben. That would pass. He was more concerned for her relationship with Adam.

Maureen swore that she didn’t even like Adam, but Ben wasn’t fooled. He could see how desperately she wanted him for a real father. She went out of her way to draw his attention, sometimes by being on her best behavior but often by testing the limits of his patience. Right now Adam could bring her in line with a firm lecture, but Ben suspected that would not always be the case.

Adam, meanwhile, seemed to enjoy her company. They were learning Latin together and he was teaching her chess. But he tended to keep her at arms’ length.

Ben sighed. Adam’s distance from the girl had more to do with his own uncertainty as a guardian rather than a lack of affection for her, but how was Maureen to know that?

Ben continued staring out the window as the boys got to their feet. They were laughing and shaking hands so they must have agreed to a draw.

He decided to drink his coffee out on the porch. As he was shutting the front door behind him he heard Little Joe addressing Maureen.

“Look, you’ll never be able to shock older brother here,” he was saying. “There’s no trouble you can get into that I haven’t been in already.”

“Oh, I can think of one kind of trouble that you weren’t capable of,” Adam said dryly.

Joe laughed. “Well, yeah—but apart from that.”

Maureen snorted. “No wonder you want to send me away to an all girls’ school,” she said to Adam. “But there’s no need. Little Joe would marry me to save my face—wouldn’t you Joe?”

Ben could see Joe shaking his head now. “Can’t marry you, darlin’,” he said. “That would make Adam effectively my father-in-law—and then he’d be unbearable.”

The whole group laughed at that. Even Ben enjoyed a quiet chuckle from his chair.

“It doesn’t matter,” Maureen said at last. “I have more sense than to get into that sort of trouble. And I wouldn’t come home drunk, either,” she added, giving Joe a significant look.

“Oh, last night was nothing,” Joe assured her. “I was just a little tipsy. My real drinking days are over.”

“Since when?” Adam asked.

“Since that morning I woke up next to you, older brother,” he answered. “Before I opened my eyes I had no idea why I was curled up against some man—you can’t imagine how relieved I was when I found out that it was you!”

Adam rolled his eyes as Maureen laughed. “How’d you end up next to Adam?” she asked.

Joe grinned. “Oh, I was about three sheets to the wind. I couldn’t ride back to the Ponderosa, so Adam brought me to the International House instead. I kept him awake for the better part of the night while I succumbed to a crying jag.”

But Adam was shaking his head. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You were upset, but you weren’t crying.”

Joe shrugged. “Well, Adam finally figured out what was eating me. He did his best to comfort me and then he let me fall asleep with my head on his shoulder, as if I were still a five year old. He also held a bucket up for me in the morning while I hurled my guts out.”

Adam and Maureen both laughed at that last bit. Then Ben watched as Maureen gave Adam a tentative smile.

“You don’t sound half bad as an older brother,” she commented.

He winked at her. “I’m not always a tyrant.”

Ben smiled at that and took a long drink of his coffee. Perhaps there was hope yet.

*

The next few weeks were busy ones for Adam. He kept tutoring Maureen, he kept substituting and—finally—he and Charlotte picked out a house in town. After all, she couldn’t go on forever at the Widow Hawkins’. Adam would spend half of each week there and the other half on the Ponderosa.

Eventually Charlotte’s sister Thérèse and her husband would be joining her in the house. Adam would feel better then—he didn’t like the idea of Charlotte living alone, even for only part of the week.

Meanwhile, just when he finished off his job as a substitute teacher, a new problem cropped up. Some fellow, who, by all accounts, could have passed for Adam’s twin, borrowed a horse and money in his name.

Adam followed his double’s trail to Placerville. But he never got a chance to meet him—not alive, at any event. And so he rode back to Virginia City with a strange, empty feeling.

It was after midnight when he crept into Charlotte’s house. He managed to open the door without causing it to groan and to step inside without causing the floorboards to creak.

But he may as well have spared the effort. He was a foot into the house when over a hundred pounds of dog slammed into him, knocking him to the floor.

The dog barked and snarled as it pinned Adam to the ground. Adam cringed from the animal’s hot breath and held still, hoping not to antagonize it any further. Even in the darkness he had glimpsed its bared teeth.

He heard footsteps racing down the stairs and soon Charlotte came into view, holding up a lantern.

“Caesar!” she called out. “Get off of him! Come here, boy.”

Adam watched the dog narrow his eyes at him, but he reluctantly obeyed Charlotte’s orders.

Adam sat up and cocked his head at Charlotte, who was now kneeling by the dog’s side telling him what a good boy he was.

“New addition to the household?” he asked dryly.

She bit back a grin as her eyes danced at him. “Hoss knew that I’d be spending a lot of time alone in this new house—at least until Thérèse the Terrible arrives. So he thought I should have some companionship. And see how good Caesar is?” she continued as she kissed the dog’s nose. “Look how he defended me against the evil Adam.”

Adam rolled his eyes at that and held out his hand to the dog. Caesar regarded him with suspicion, but after an encouraging shove from his mistress he walked over and sniffed at the intruder.

His eyes softened as he allowed Adam to pet him. Then he forgot his hostility completely, even going so far as to lick Adam’s hand and face. Finally he rolled over on his back for a belly rub.

Charlotte smiled and sat on the floor beside the pair. She joined Adam in rubbing Caesar’s stomach.

“What kind of dog is this?” Adam inquired.

She frowned. “Hoss wasn’t sure. Some sort of shepherd mix—he keeps trying to herd me. Hoss told me about this double of yours,” she added. “Did you find him?”

Adam nodded. “In a manner of speaking. The man who looked so much like me was named Tom Burns. He’s dead.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Mon Dieu, I’m sorry! What happened?”

Adam relayed the story of his trip to Placerville and his discovery of Tom Burn’s murder. He didn’t leave anything out—not even his partnership with the saloon girl Anne.

Charlotte grew uncharacteristically quiet at that. “This Anne—she’s a white woman?”

Adam nodded.

“Pretty?” she persisted.

“Very,” Adam agreed. “She, ah, wanted to know if I was married.”

Charlotte’s eyes flashed. “What did you tell her?”

He sighed. “Per our agreement I told her that I wasn’t.”

“Oh,” Charlotte said in a flat tone.

Adam could see that she wasn’t happy—and that was just as well. Maybe he could finally talk some sense into her.

“Charlotte,” he began, “I don’t want to keep this secret anymore. I want people to know the truth about our marriage. I know that we’ll face prejudice because of your race, but I’m willing to chance that.”

But Charlotte’s mind was fixed on one point. “Was she a brunette?” she demanded.

“What?”

“This Anne of yours. This saloon girl. Was she a brunette?”

“No, she was a blonde. But that’s beside the point—”

“Did she make overtures toward you?” Charlotte interrupted.

Adam stared down at Caesar. At length he looked back up at his wife. He was hard-pressed not to smile—her eyes were blazing with jealousy now.

“She was in love with Tom Burns, poor girl,” he explained. “I gave her a farewell kiss, but it was Tom kissing her, not me.”

Charlotte stood up abruptly and spent the next few minutes stomping around the room. Then she swore heartily in French against white women in general and blondes in particular. That seemed to restore her temper.

At length she knelt down again. “I’m sorry for this double of yours and I’m sorry for this Anne who was in love with him,” she told him. “I don’t blame you for kissing her—especially if it was on behalf of the dead man. But I still don’t think we should announce our marriage. You have no idea how bad the prejudice will be.”

She paused and took a deep breath. “But if any other pretty blonde women ask if you’re married, you may tell them yes.”

Adam choked back a laugh and reached out to tousle her hair. “All
right,” he said. “I suppose that’s a start.”

She smiled. “Let’s get to bed.”

He nodded. He stood up and helped her to her feet and then allowed her to lead him upstairs. To his chagrin the dog followed.

“He doesn’t think he’s staying in our room, does he?” he inquired.

Charlotte looked surprised at the question. “Of course he’s staying in our room. He’s been sleeping on the bed.”

She smiled again and patted Adam’s cheek. “You’ll be spending half of your time at the Ponderosa,” she reminded him. “I can’t kick Caesar out just for the nights that you’re here.”

Adam sighed and stopped at the threshold of the bedroom. Caesar stopped as well and gave him a questioning look.

Adam knelt down so that he was eye to eye with the dog. “We’re going to have to have a talk, boy,” he told him.

*

Ben yawned and stretched and made his way downstairs. He could already smell Hop Sing’s bacon and cornbread. And he could see that Hoss, Little Joe and Maureen were seated at the table. That left only Adam unaccounted for.

Adam had returned to the Ponderosa last night, so Ben knew that his son was home. Well, the smell of breakfast would bring him down soon enough.

The threesome, meanwhile, must have been there for some time. Ben sat down to a conversation that was already in progress.

“Hey!” Little Joe was saying sharply. “My mother was a very good Catholic. As long as you didn’t expect her to go to Mass.”

Hoss put down his fork. “But Joe, she had all those—what do you call them? You know, those magic charms around.”

“Gris-gris,” Joe supplied. “Voodoo charms. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t a good Catholic.”

“How can you be a good Catholic if you don’t go to Mass?” Maureen demanded.

Ben couldn’t imagine what had started this conversation, but he judged it time to intervene. “In fairness to Marie,” he said, “St. Mary’s wasn’t built yet when she was alive. To attend Mass you had to wait for a priest to come around or travel some distance.”

Hoss grinned. “I don’t think she would have gone much even if St. Mary’s had been here. She told me once that the Creoles of New Orleans rarely went to church. Look at Charlotte—she don’t go much either. Apparently it’s the Irish who go to Mass all the time.”

“That’s because the Irish are more devout than the Creoles,” Maureen announced. “In fact, we’re more devout than just about everyone.”

Joe laughed. “Yeah, and you know why that is? Because you Irish are the only ones fool enough to believe whatever the Church tells you.”

Ben was about to reprimand his youngest, but then he realized that Maureen wasn’t offended. In fact, she was choking with laughter. But she recovered sufficiently to throw a biscuit at Little Joe, which he deflected with his bread plate.

Ben rolled his eyes. “That’s enough, you two. How did you even get on this subject?”

“Adam found some convent school near San Francisco to send Maureen to,” Hoss informed him.

Maureen made a face. “It’s run by Dominican Sisters. He must want me to become a nun.”

“I bet all fathers secretly want their daughters to become nuns,” Joe put in. “Even non-Catholics like Adam.”

“He’s not my father,” Maureen pointed out.

Hoss shrugged. “He might as well be.”

But she shook her head. “If he thought of me as his daughter he wouldn’t want to send me away.”

Ben regarded Maureen for a moment. Was it the thought of a boarding school that bothered her, or was it just the uncertain nature of her relationship with Adam?

“He doesn’t want to send you away,” he explained gently. “But he knows that you can’t get the education you deserve here in Virginia City.”

She sighed. “Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “After last night I probably won’t live long enough to go away to school.”

Joe laughed. “Adam’s not going to kill you,” he assured her. “He might tan your hide, but he’s not going to kill you.”

“What did you do?” Ben asked.

“Don’t answer that!” Joe ordered. Then he turned to his father. “Sorry, Pa, but don’t worry about it. She’s in enough trouble with Adam.”

But Adam must have overheard them. “She ransacked my room,” he said as he came down the stairs and made his way to the breakfast table. “And she managed to break a certain music box. Fortunately I think I can fix it.”

Ben almost choked on his food. “Not your mother’s box?”

“That’s the one,” Adam confirmed as he took the seat next to Maureen.

“I’m really sorry,” Maureen said. “But if you hadn’t confiscated my book I wouldn’t have had to tear apart your room looking for it.”

Adam had picked up his knife and fork, but he set them down at that. “I told you weeks ago that Apuleius is not appropriate for twelve year olds.”

“I know,” she owned as she leaned her head against his shoulder and widened her eyes until she looked like an innocent pup. “But if I tell you what a hard life I’ve had, will you spare me the hiding?”

Ben grinned despite himself. He noticed that even Adam couldn’t help but smile at the pathetic look she was giving him.

“I wasn’t planning to spank you, Maureen,” he informed her. “You can handle the laundry today instead.”

Both Hoss and Little Joe instinctively cringed.

“Oh, you poor kid,” Hoss said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I’m sorry Maureen,” Joe added with sincere sympathy. “I should have told you not to act up the night before washing day.”

“And the water pump isn’t even working!” Hoss pointed out.

“We’ll find the yoke for you,” Joe said. “At least that way you can haul two buckets of water from the well at a time.”

“`Course it takes forever to heat up enough water for the tub,” Hoss continued, looking morose.

Maureen frowned at Adam. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take the hiding.”

He laughed. “Keep it up and you’ll get both.”

Ben narrowed his eyes at his oldest boy. “Wasn’t it your turn to do laundry?” he asked.

“Yes, it was,” he admitted. “So this works out rather well for me.”

Maureen lifted her head and playfully stuck her tongue out at him. “May I be excused so I can start the water torture?”

Adam nodded, but he grabbed hold of her arm as she passed him
and pulled her back.

“Just a moment, sweetheart,” he said. “I want you to come with me next week to take a look at this school.”

“What if I hate it?” she demanded.

He shrugged. “Then you don’t have to go. But it has a good reputation and it’s close enough so that you can spend your holidays and summers here.”

She considered that. “I’ll look at it,” she said at length. “But don’t think I’m going to become a nun,” she warned him.

“Don’t worry,” he said dryly. “I wasn’t counting on it.” With that he turned her around and gave her bottom a firm swat, sending her off toward the kitchen.

Ben smiled at their antics. They might not have the ideal relationship, but they seemed to be growing on each other–and growing more at ease with one another.

Little Joe gave Adam a questioning look as soon as Maureen was out of earshot. “Out of curiosity, older brother, where did you put that book?”

Adam nodded toward the shelves. “It’s right over there, next to ‘Tristram Shandy.'”

Joe sighed and shook his head. “Hidden in plain sight. That works every time.”

*

Little Joe Cartwright strode into Charlotte’s house without bothering to knock. Knocking only got Caesar crazier. As it was the dog barked and growled until he sniffed at Joe and reluctantly decided that he was not an enemy.

Joe laughed and scratched the dog’s ears. Caesar was over a hundred pounds now—he’d probably be a hundred and fifty by the time he stopped growing.

Caesar led the way to Charlotte. She was kneeling in her workroom, putting some finishing touches on a cream-colored gown that was probably intended for some rich debutante.

She glanced up from her work and smiled as Joe kissed her on the cheek. Caesar followed suit by licking her face before settling down on a blanket in the corner.

“Very pretty,” Joe said as he nodded at the gown. “Which lucky girl will be wearing that to the dance tomorrow night?”

To his surprise Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know,” she told him. “I can’t remember her name.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. Charlotte was a serious modiste—she had made it her business to learn the names of all the wealthy wives and daughters in town. She wouldn’t forget the name of a client.

Joe grinned and crouched down at her side. “Why are you being so secretive?” he asked. “Come on, you can tell me who the girl is.”

“No, I cannot,” she informed him. “It’s bad luck for a boy to ask questions about a girl’s dress.”

“Bad luck for who?” he demanded.

“For the girl, of course.”

Joe stared at her. “What sort of superstition is that?”

“It’s an old Creole superstition,” she insisted.

“No it’s not,” Joe retorted as he stood up again.

She gave an exasperated sigh. “Why would I lie about this? And why are you asking so many questions?”

He shrugged. “I’m not asking so many questions. I’d just like to know what you’re trying to—oh no! That dress is for Maureen, isn’t it?”

Charlotte swore in French. “Yes,” she owned at last. “It’s for Maureen. She’s going to the dance tomorrow night and she’s wearing this gown.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Char, Adam told her she couldn’t go. He said no dances and no long dresses until she’s thirteen! He’s her guardian—not you.”

But she waved that objection aside. “Adam doesn’t understand these things.”

Everything fell together now. “No wonder Maureen wanted to stay with you for a couple of days. What are you going to do when he finds out?”

“Why should he find out?” she asked. “I can’t go to the dance because of my race, so he won’t go either. Besides, he’s too busy with that—how do you call it?—that wind mill project on the Ponderosa. The one he convinced your father to try.”

Joe stared down at his hands for a moment. He hated to think that Charlotte wouldn’t be welcome at the same dance he meant to attend. “Are you sorry that you can’t go?” he asked.

She shrugged. “A bit. I’ve never been to a dance. My mother and Thérèse wouldn’t let me go to the quadroon balls of New Orleans—and with good reason. Adam sent us enough money to ensure that neither Monique nor I would need to find a white man to take care of us.”

Little Joe sighed and leaned back against the wall. Charlotte was one of the free people of color from New Orleans. She was also his mother’s youngest sister, so she was technically Joe’s aunt, even though she was only a year older than he was. She was his full-blooded aunt, in fact. His mother had been a quadroon too—she’d just been light enough to pass. None of the Cartwrights had known that except for Adam.

Of course, now Charlotte was also his sister-in-law. She and Adam had married quietly at St. Mary’s.

They lived apart, but that was her choice. She preferred to have people think that she was Adam’s mistress—she felt they’d face less prejudice that way. Besides, she claimed the notoriety was good for her business.

Joe thought about the fact that he was one-eighth black. If the good folk of Virginia City knew that, they might not want him at their dances either.

Charlotte must have read his thoughts. “Don’t feel guilty, Little Joe!” she said as her eyes gleamed with amusement. “The world is what it is. If I could pass and go to the dance, believe me I would. But now you understand why I must help Maureen! I intend to live vicariously through her.”

Joe laughed at that. “All right, all right. But I know from experience that these schemes have a way of misfiring.”

“Why should it misfire?” she asked. “You’re not going to say anything to Adam, are you?”

“Hell no,” he told her. “Just understand that you’ll be in as much trouble as Maureen if Adam does find out.”

“That’s true,” she acknowledged as she turned back to the gown. “Mon Dieu, Little Joe! He forgets that I’m not a child anymore.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Joe muttered.

Charlotte gave him a sharp glance. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” he said as he gave her an expression of pure innocence.

She regarded him with suspicion but decided not to question him further. She put some pins in her mouth instead and began pinning up bits of the muslin.

“I’ll even keep an eye on Maureen at the dance,” Joe offered. That would assuage his conscious—now he had a good reason to go. “She should have a chaperone, after all. Hoss can look after her too—uh, that reminds me. What about Pa?”

“What about him?” she asked through the pins.

“He’ll be at the dance. I can convince Hoss not to say anything, but not my Pa.”

Charlotte opened her mouth and all the pins fell out. She started muttering in French. He didn’t understand her, but he gathered that she was upset.

But she finally regained her temper. “Well, this is not a disaster,” she said when she was calm enough to speak in English again. “It’s a large dance—you and Hoss will just have to steer your father away from Maureen. And even if he does see her he wouldn’t force her to leave, would he?”

Joe tried to answer her, but she cut him off.

“He might not recognize her anyway,” she mused. “I’ll have her hair pinned up and a bit of rouge on her cheeks—”

“Rouge!” Joe repeated, not bothering to hide his outrage. “You can’t put paint on her face! Do you have any idea what Adam would do to you?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes as she picked up the fallen pins. “You Americans hear ‘rouge’ and instantly you imagine a saloon girl. Perfectly respectable women can wear a hint of rouge. Besides, she needs it to disguise the freckles.”

“Respectable women, maybe,” Joe returned. “Not respectable twelve year old girls!”

She didn’t answer that—she gave him a smile of pure charm instead.

Joe knew that smile exactly. His mother had flashed it whenever she wanted to avoid awkward questions about her spending. Joe used it himself whenever he needed to convince his brothers to back him in some crazy scheme.

Good to know that it ran in the family.

“All right,” he said, returning the smile with an exact replica. “I’ll trust you about the rouge. And I’ll try to keep Pa away from Maureen. Now let’s just pray that those windmills keep older brother occupied.”

*

Maureen looked heavenly when Little Joe came to escort her to the dance. Charlotte felt a glow of pride as if Maureen were—well, not her daughter. After all, Charlotte was only ten years older than the girl. No, she felt as proud as if Maureen were her little sister.

She felt a stab of jealousy too—she wished that her own mother had let her attend one of the grand quadroon balls of New Orleans. What harm would there have been? She hadn’t wanted a white protector. No, she had just wanted to dance and flirt.

But she pushed that thought aside and reminded herself that she was happy for Maureen. Then she turned her mind to business. She had to work on an evening gown for Mrs. Lewis.

Mrs. Lewis was one of those dreadful nouveau riche women that Virginia City was churning out. Her husband—who was no doubt equally crass—was a mine baron. Charlotte shook her head as she remembered how Mrs. Lewis had paraded about her shop snapping her fingers and barking orders at her. But what did that matter? She was paying top dollar for her dress.

Charlotte almost felt guilty about the price she was asking. She had talked it over with Adam, but he had laughed and told her that she should charge as much as Mrs. Lewis was willing to pay. These women, he said, prided themselves on how much they spent on their clothes. There was nothing wrong with taking advantage of that.

She smiled as she thought back to that conversation. Adam had good business sense. No wonder—he was a hardheaded Yankee, after all.

Adam had also advised her to hire a couple of girls for the easy work. He was right about that too, but if Charlotte had to pay employees it would be that much longer before she showed a profit. She was anxious to make a success of her business—patience had never been her strong suit.

Caesar started barking wildly, pulling her out of her thoughts. She rushed to the door to see what had excited him.

Adam was making his way inside. He was kneeling by the door, laughing and petting Caesar as the dog licked his face. Charlotte smiled, happy to see her two men getting on. But Caesar would still be annoyed tonight when Adam shut him out of the bedroom.

She rushed into Adam’s arms as soon as he stood up. He kissed her soundly and then put her gently aside so that he could remove his coat, hat and gun belt.

“What are you doing here?” Charlotte asked. “I thought those miserable windmills were going to keep you away from me.”

“Those miserable windmills are proving to be more trouble than I expected,” Adam owned. “They’ll be worth it in the end, but I decided to take tonight and tomorrow off. I want to spend some time with my two girls. And this way Maureen can come back to the Ponderosa with me tomorrow evening.”

Charlotte’s eyebrows shot up at that. She’d been so wrapped up thinking about her business that she’d forgotten all about Maureen. She bit her lip in alarm. This could get awkward.

“Where is Maureen?” Adam asked as he took her hand and strode toward the couch.

Charlotte allowed him to pull her onto his lap as he sat down, but her brain was racing ahead. She had to come up with a story fast. And then she had to make sure that Adam was sound asleep before Maureen got home.

“Maureen?” she answered as she put her arms around his neck and forced a smile on her face. “She’s not here. She’s with Miguel.”

“With Miguel?” Adam repeated, frowning. “It’s a bit late, isn’t it? I’d better walk over to his house and fetch her.”

“No, don’t do that!” she ordered. Then she took a deep breath to disguise her alarm. “She’s not there. I mean, they’re not at his house. They went for a ride in the buggy.”

He stared at her. “Do you mean to tell me that Maureen and Miguel are tooling around Virginia City by themselves?”

“No, of course not,” Charlotte corrected as she gave him a reassuring smile. “Miguel’s parents are chaperoning them.”

Adam narrowed his eyes at Charlotte and then set her on her feet. She watched with dismay as he stood up himself and folded his arms across his chest.

“Miguel’s parents are chaperoning them,” he repeated.

She gave him an innocent nod, but she could feel her stomach twisting—Adam wasn’t buying this. But where had she gone wrong? Everything she had said was plausible.

Well, there was nothing for it but to soldier on and hope that she could keep Maureen out of trouble. The girl just wanted to enjoy her first dance.

“Both his parents?” Adam persisted.

She laughed, hoping that she looked more at ease than she felt. Lying to Adam was not sitting well with her.

“Yes, both his parents,” she confirmed. “What’s wrong, Adam? Why shouldn’t his parents accompany them? The children need chaperones and, besides, I’m sure that Miguel’s father doesn’t trust him with the reins yet.”

“Miguel’s father has been dead for some years,” he informed her.

Charlotte felt her mouth drop open. That’s where she had made her mistake.

She swallowed as Adam walked over to her and took her chin in his hand. He did not look pleased.

“If you’re going to lie to my face, Antoinette,” he said, using her childhood name, “at least take the trouble to invent a creditable story.”

Charlotte felt obliged to defend herself on that score. “I didn’t have enough time,” she complained. “You weren’t supposed to be here tonight.”

He ignored that. “Where is Maureen?” he demanded.

She gave him an apologetic smile. “At the dance,” she admitted.

Adam sighed as he released her chin. “The dance that I told her she was too young to attend?”

Charlotte nodded. “That would be the one,” she agreed. “I know that I shouldn’t have allowed her to go, much less have sewn the gown for her—”

“You made a gown for her?” he interrupted. “After I told her that she couldn’t wear long dresses until she’s thirteen?”

“Oh, but Adam, this is the most ravishing gown!” Charlotte gushed. “I made it from simple crème muslin but we dressed it up with tiny rosettes. Even Little Joe said—”

Adam broke in with a sour laugh. “So Joe’s in on this too, is he?”

Charlotte cringed. “Yes, but only because I dragged him into it. This is my fault, Adam. Please don’t be angry with Maureen and Joe.”

He didn’t answer that. He just walked over to the coat rack and began putting on his jacket.

“Where are you going?” Charlotte demanded.

“To fetch Maureen,” he answered.

“Wait,” she pleaded as she ran in front of him. She placed herself strategically between him and the door and gave him an imploring look as she put her hands on his shoulders.

Caesar must have sensed her urgency, for he got up from his spot by the fireplace and started dancing around the pair of them, forcing them to stay in place.

Adam spared the dog an irate glance. “Sit,” he ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.

Caesar narrowed his eyes at Adam, but he obeyed him. He gave him a sharp bark, however, making it clear that he would defend his mistress should the need arise.

Charlotte smiled at the dog and then turned back to her husband. “You can’t just storm in there and drag her out of the dance. Please don’t embarrass her that way.”

Adam hesitated. Charlotte could see that he was still furious, but at least he was willing to listen. She could coax some sense into him.

“Why don’t you wash up?” she invited. “I’ll get your good shirt and frock coat ready for you. That way you can walk in without attracting too much attention. You can watch over Maureen for a little while and then take her home. No one will wonder at that.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “You expect me to play chaperone at a dance I told her she couldn’t attend?”

She risked a smile. “Of course. Stop glowering, Adam. I know that you’re anxious to lecture Maureen and me both—

“I intend to do more than lecture you,” he interjected.

“—But that can wait a couple of hours,” she finished, dismissing his threat.

He stared at her for a moment and then laughed despite himself. “Well, that’s true,” he owned.

He paused to place his hands on Charlotte’s cheeks. “I’m doing the best I can with Maureen,” he said. “Next time you think I’m being unreasonable, send word and talk it over with me. Don’t go behind my back again.”

Charlotte bit her lip. “You weren’t being unreasonable,” she admitted. “We were just over-eager—me especially. I’ve never been to a dance. I don’t even know how to waltz properly—did you know that? So when Maureen told me how badly she wanted to go I thought it would be nice to live vicariously through her.”

Adam smiled down at her, but his eyes took on a far off look. His hands were still on her face, but Charlotte got the sense that he was looking through her.

“Your sister taught me to waltz,” he said at length. “I’d be happy to teach you.”

She cocked her head at him. “Which sister? Monique or Thérèse?”

He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Neither,” he answered. “I meant Marie.”

“Oh,” she said, a little stunned. Adam rarely mentioned Little Joe’s mother—at least not to her.

She put her hands over his. “I know that you and Marie had some vicious quarrels,” she ventured, “but Joe told me that you had a soft spot for her. Do I ever remind you of her?”

“Yes,” he answered after kissing her forehead. “Sometimes it’s hard to look at either you or Joe and not think of her.”

Charlotte felt something catch in her throat. “Is—is that why you married me?”

To her surprise, Adam smiled. “I’ll answer that if you’ll answer my question,” he told her. “You were seven when I met you and I was eighteen. I wasn’t old enough to be your father—but I was old enough to remind you of him. I was white like he was, I took you seriously like he did and I took you in hand the way he used to. Is that why you married me?”

Once again, Charlotte felt her mouth drop open. Then her eyes danced with amusement. “Touché,” she managed.

Adam laughed as he released her cheeks. “Come on upstairs and help me get ready for this dance,” he said.

*

Adam slipped into the dance without attracting much attention. His eyes found his Pa first. The Widow Hawkins had trapped the poor man in a corner. He was trying to make his escape, but she seemed to be in the middle of some elaborate story.

Adam smiled to himself. Charlotte had confessed that she and Little Joe had dragged the widow into their scheme. It was Mrs. Hawkins’ job to keep Pa distracted and make certain that he didn’t lay eyes on Maureen.

His eyes continued to search the room until he found Joe and Maureen. They were waltzing together.

He almost caught his breath at the sight of his ward. Charlotte hadn’t exaggerated—she looked lovely. Adam was still annoyed to see her in a long gown—with a hoop skirt, no less—but he had to admit that the crème muslin was appropriate for an ingénue. And if Charlotte had applied any paint to the girl’s face, it was done subtly enough to be negligible.

He turned his attention to his little brother. He was smiling down at Maureen. Adam felt his heart clutch at the sight of that smile—it reminded him painfully of Marie. Whatever her failings, she had always radiated charm.

Adam leaned back against the wall and silently thanked Joe’s mother. Without her he wouldn’t have Little Joe—and he would never have met Antoinette Charlotte.

Adam shook himself out of his reverie just as the waltz came to an end. Then he stood up straight and walked over to Joe and Maureen. It was time to claim a dance with his ward.

*

Little Joe had led Maureen off the dance floor so Adam made his way over to them. He managed to sneak up behind them and take his ward by the hand.

“May I have the next waltz?” he inquired as he raised her hand to his lips.

Maureen had the grace to blush, but Joe just gave him an innocent smile—as if he were delighted to see him. “Evening, older brother,” he said.

For a brief moment Adam contemplated strangling him, but something about that smile disarmed him. Did Joe know how much he took after Marie?

Joe must have read his thoughts, for his smile broadened as he winked at Adam. So he did know—and the wretch knew just what effect that smile had on his older brother.

Adam grinned despite himself. “In the future, Joe, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t help my wife and daughter disobey me and go behind my back,” he informed him.

“If you didn’t have such a pretty wife and daughter I wouldn’t have given in to them,” Joe assured him.

Maureen managed to give Adam a small smile. “Are you really angry?” she asked

Joe laughed. “Don’t worry, darlin’. Adam’ll let you off the hook.”

Adam raised his eyebrows at that. “Will I?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah—cause I’m going to play my corral card.”

Maureen looked puzzled. “What’s a corral card?” she asked.

“Oh, me, Adam and Pa once had a conversation down by the corral that I like to remind Adam about every now and then.”

Adam narrowed his eyes at him. “That only works if you use it sparingly,” he reminded his little brother as he gently pulled Maureen in front of him. “Are you sure you want to waste it on this minx?”

Joe grinned. “Not just on this minx—on Charlotte too. I want both of them off the hook.”

Adam sighed.

“Both of them, Adam,” Joe continued. “Or I’ll start making the puppy eyes,” he persisted, suiting his actions to his words. “Of course, if you don’t agree, I’ll understand. After all, I’m probably not—”

“All right!” Adam said, cutting him off. “They’re both off the hook. But I’m still taking Maureen home after I waltz with her.”

“That’s fine,” Joe agreed. “I would’ve brought her home soon anyway—I’m not totally lost to propriety. In fact, I’ll even come with you if you’ll let me sleep on your couch tonight.”

“Oh, you don’t have to leave the dance because of me!” Maureen said at once.

Joe winked at her. “Don’t worry,” he said, chucking her chin. “I’ve already danced with the prettiest girl here.”

*

“But what is the ‘corral card?” Maureen asked for the umpteenth time.

She was out of her gown now, wearing nothing but her chemise and a freshly scrubbed face. Charlotte, it turned out, had put rouge on her—so Adam had insisted that Maureen scrub every trace of it off once they got home.

The four of them—Adam, Charlotte, Maureen and Joe—were all sitting at a table with cards in their hands. Adam and Joe both had their jackets and cravats off while the women were already comfortable in their chemises.

Caesar was also present. He was lying by the fireplace, watching the game and instantly rising to the alert whenever someone shouted in triumph or despair.

“Corral card?” Charlotte repeated. “What is that—Joe! Why didn’t you trump that? Now they’ll take this trick too.”

Adam bit back a grin as Joe gave his cards a look of disgust.

“If I had anything remotely like a club I would’ve trumped it,” Joe retorted. “God, I hate whist!”

“Why do you always agree to play?” Adam inquired.

He laughed. “Because I always forget how much I dislike it.”

“Well, your misery is about to end,” Maureen announced as she laid down her hand. “The rest are ours.”

“Good girl!” Adam said, looking over the cards she had saved. “Now let’s count up the honors—”

“Mon Dieu, don’t bother,” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes. “You two have won again. Now what is this ‘corral card?’ Is this another game?”

Joe gave Adam a wicked grin. “Shall I tell them the story?”

Adam sighed. “Go ahead.”

“A few months after Adam returned from college,” Joe began, “he and I were down by the corral one morning. I was going out of my way to infuriate him.”

He paused, clearly enjoying the memory of what a young devil he’d been. “Adam grabbed me by the scruff of my neck while I screamed and carried on about how I wished that he wasn’t my brother. He yelled back that knowing my French-Quarter mother, we probably weren’t related at all.”

Charlotte and Maureen gasped in unison as Adam buried his head in his hands.

“That was pure malice on my part,” Adam confessed. “I knew full well that Marie never played Pa false—she just liked to flirt.”

“Well, it turns out that Pa had come up behind us,” Joe said, picking up the story again. “He heard the whole argument—and you should have seen him! My God, he was in a red-faced rage. I just stared, open-mouthed, as he spun Adam around and shouted, ‘I don’t know where you get your temper from, boy!'”

Charlotte and Maureen burst out laughing and even Adam managed a smile. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree, but you couldn’t get Pa to admit that. He always thought of himself as a placid, even-tempered man.

“What did your father do?” Charlotte demanded as she grabbed Adam’s hands so that he would have to show his face.

Adam sighed. “Let’s just say that he wasn’t happy with me. And I deserved every ounce of his wrath.”

Joe laughed. “That’s an understatement!”

Maureen narrowed her eyes at Joe. “And let me guess,” she said. “You got off scot-free.”

“Oh, better than that,” Joe informed her. Then he put his hands behind his head and gave everyone a satisfied smile before continuing.

“I got something to hold over Adam for the rest of our lives,” he explained. “I like to call it my ‘corral card.’ Whenever he refuses me something, I just have to widen my eyes, like this”—Adam shook his head as Joe made himself look like a pathetic but adorable puppy—”and say, ‘Don’t worry, Adam. I understand. Why should you help me? I’m probably not your real brother.’”

Maureen giggled. “Joe, that’s terrible! But I’ll bet it’s effective.”

“It is,” Adam said dryly. “I always give in when he uses it, which is why you and Charlotte aren’t in any trouble.”

Charlotte beamed at Joe. “You used that for our sake? How sweet!”

“It’s the least I could do for my Tante Charlotte,” Joe assured her with a wink.

*

Adam opened the door to Maureen’s room just to check on her before he turned in. To his surprise she was still awake. She was sitting up reading. Caesar was sprawled at her side, spread out on top of the covers on the far side of the bed.

Adam shook his head at the dog. But better here, he supposed, than in the master bedroom.

Maureen closed the book and smiled up at him. “Sorry, Adam. I couldn’t sleep.”

“That’s all right,” he answered as he stepped inside and took a seat on the edge of the bed. “What are you reading?”

“Um, nothing,” she answered quickly. “Just something I found in your section of the books at the Ponderosa.”

Adam narrowed his eyes at her and picked up the book. His eyes widened at the title.

“First Apuleius and now Sappho?” he asked dryly.

She bit back a grin. “What’s the matter? Don’t you like poetry?”

“Well, at least she’s not as explicit as Apuleius,” he commented, handing the slim book back to her.

She smiled outright at that. “I like Sappho. In fact, I’m very sympathetic to her—”

“Stop right there,” Adam warned her. “I won’t be able to handle that conversation for at least another four years.”

Maureen laughed. “Very well. But can I ask you something?”

“As long as it doesn’t concern Sappho.”

“It doesn’t,” she promised. “You—you called me your daughter tonight—when you were talking to Little Joe, I mean.”

“I suppose I did,” Adam owned.

“Did—did you mean that?” Maureen asked. “I mean, I know I’m not you real daughter—”

Adam laughed at the echo of Joe’s words and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Sweetheart, even if Joe were somehow not my blood brother, he would still be my real brother.”

She took a deep breath. “So you do think of me as your daughter.”

Adam regarded her steadily for a moment. “I suppose I must,” he said at length.

She gave him a tentative smile. “Then can I call you ‘Da?’ Just sometimes, I mean,” she added in a rush. “I wouldn’t use it all the time.”

“Well, that’s distressingly Irish,” he teased, “but I can live with it.”

She smiled outright at that. “And can I stay home for a year before I go off to that school?” she persisted.

Adam considered that. “Fair enough,” he said at last.

She leaned forward to throw her arms around him. “Thank you!” she said.

Adam laughed as he accepted her hug. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You don’t have to go to that school at all if you’re opposed to it. We’ll worry about it next year.”

“All right,” she agreed.

He broke apart from her. “Put out the lamp and get some sleep,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir,” she answered, moving to obey him.

He stood up and walked to the door. Then he paused and turned back to her. “Goodnight, Maureen.” he said softly.

She smiled. “Goodnight, Da.”

*

When Adam left Maureen’s room and entered the master bedroom he found Charlotte seated at her mirror. She was attempting to tame her hair with braids.

Adam paused at the threshold and leaned up against the doorframe just to watch her. Her rich mocha skin was glowing in the lamplight. Looking at her now, it was easy to forget that he’d been furious with her earlier.

He smiled to himself. She was a beautiful young woman, his Charlotte. But she was still the same little girl he’d known in New Orleans—full of mischief and the best of intentions.

Exactly like Little Joe. A family trait, he supposed.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Then he walked over to her and kissed her gently.

Her eyes twinkled at him as they parted. “So, let me make sure I understand,” she said as she went back to her hair. “You forgive me for helping Maureen attend that dance?”

He nodded. “And for lying to my face about it,” he reminded her.

Charlotte laughed. “You’ve forgiven my sins but not forgotten them,” she commented. “But as long as I’m not in trouble…I’m not surprised that Joe talked you out of your anger, by the by. He was right about you. Would you pour me a cup of water?”

“Right about what?” Adam asked as he walked over to the pitcher.

“About him being your favorite,” she answered with a wink. “He assured me that he was—that’s why he allowed me to marry you.”

Adam gave her a bemused look as he poured the water into a cup. “What?”

She schooled her expression into a serious look. “Little Joe and I had a talk the day before the wedding,” she explained, tying off a braid. “He told me that he didn’t mind me marrying you as long as I remembered that he had you first—and that I would never equal him in your affection.”

Adam laughed as he walked back over to her and handed her the cup. “And you believed him?” he asked.

Charlotte nodded. “And with good reason. He is your favorite!” Then her eyes danced with laughter as she stood up and held the cup of water in a threatening position. “Do you deny it?” she demanded.

Adam bit back a grin and raised his eyebrows at her. “Throw that water at me, my girl, and you’ll find out what it means to be in trouble,” he warned.

She shook her head sternly. “You, sir, are evading the question! Now which is it: an answer…or the water?”

Adam stood there for a moment, pretending to debate his options. But then he sprang forward and neatly disarmed her. Despite her gasp of surprise there were only a few drops spilt.

But he underestimated her. As he set down the cup she managed to wiggle out of his grasp and run for the pitcher. She grabbed hold of it before he could stop her and promptly flung the contents at him.

Her victory was short-lived. He captured her easily and kept her trapped in his arms.

They were both laughing now, but Adam managed to sober his expression and address her with mock severity. “I see that I’ll have to punish you after all,” he teased as he used one arm to pull her against him and the other to give her bottom a sharp smack. “Do you have an explanation for soaking me, young lady?”

“But of course,” she assured him as she wrapped her arms around him. “I wanted to be in a little bit of trouble tonight!”

He laughed again and kissed her soundly. She returned his embrace with fervor and they soon forgot all about the question and the water.