Summary: Adam falls head over heels in love, but it’s Joe who may well have embroiled the Cartwrights in a family feud. Will Adam be able to woo and win his lady before the shooting begins?
Rated: T WC 55,900
Blame It On The Moon, The Meeting
The laundry was under attack.
“It’s all your fault, India Montague!”
“Oh, and I haven’t heard that before?”
“But this time it is!” the slightly plump, sweet faced young woman said as she kept folding freshly ironed linens on the table in the large kitchen. Both young women were dressed in plain house dresses, the taller of the two in dark green, the short one, who had hurled the accusation, in mauve. “You just had to go open your big mouth.”
“Actually, it was being silent that did it this time,” India fought to keep a straight face. She held up a stray handkerchief, looked at it as though it were a bug, and folded it neatly. She had thought they were done with handkerchiefs an hour ago.
“Uncle is fit to be tied,” the smaller woman carried on, her hands busier than her mouth. “Simply fit. And now we have to go to this godforsaken place and put up with Cousin Reginald.” Her tone managed to drip slime on the name. “And get married. I’ve been trying to get married; hasn’t anyone noticed?”
“Patience, I think the fact that your suitors have acquired rigor mortis has something to do with it,” India said dryly. She moved the stack of tea towels aside for the day maid to put away. The girl in servant’s clothes and cap gave her a glance and bobbed a curtsey before taking the folded linens away. The look was full of curiosity and scandalous interest. India ignored it.
“I cannot help it if I favor men with experience,” Patience Montague said as though put upon by this fate. “A man with years, with knowledge—”
“Money,” India giggled.
“Oh, and you’re such a saint on that?” Patience shot back at her cousin. A year younger, the taller woman had blundered through her fair share of offers, not all of them concerning marriage.
“I will keep my liberty,” India said firmly. “The suffragettes have a point. A woman gives up everything when she marries. Nothing is hers after marriage, even if it was before. Why is that? And what man could be trusted to think of a woman as a woman, not just a wife as though she is some sort of third arm?”
“Either way, we’re being packed up like so much cheap luggage and sent off to the wilderness under the care of the ever-vigilant Cousin Reggie,” Patience flapped an antimacassar out before folding it in a neat series of triangles. “Loaded with no doubt gauche men, loaded with silver and no doubt loaded with bugs and dirt and Lord knows what else!”
India sighed and looked out the window at the rose garden. She was going to miss that. It was lush and just coming into bloom and when she left in a week’s time the best reds would just be opening. She was willing to bet there were no roses in Nevada, newly made a state. “I’m not surprised, in a way, Paish.” She fell somber. “Uncle hasn’t been too happy to have us around since Auntie passed on.”
Patience turned to her cousin and saw her fallen spirits. “Now, now, Indy,” she comforted her cousin, “Uncle was thrilled to have us. We’re just…” she shrugged, “…needing husbands. Uncle won’t be around forever. Your parents weren’t, mine weren’t. So we need to put our smiles on and mind our manners and show Uncle that we will be just fine!”
India folded her arms, still regarding the buds on the climbing rose just outside the window of their Philadelphia home. “I’ll miss it here, Paish,” she sighed. But India knew she had to go; Patience was a dear, and a devil for manners and propriety, but she was also too shy to make the trip alone.
A week later, the cousins boarded a train for the first leg of their journey to Virginia City to stay with Cousin Reggie in this wild place where he was a rather successful surveyor to the mines and projects of the newly burgeoning state. Cousin Reggie, with his precise little ways of making sure you knew every flaw about yourself, the hopelessness of ever being as good at things as he was, and, most of all, with his perpetually shedding scalp. And somehow, staying with him was going to net them husbands.
India and Patience might be very different people, but both were bright enough to see a potential flaw with this plan. They still boarded the train with lovely smiles and waved goodbye to Uncle and then clung to each other rather desperately as the engine pulled its line of passenger cars out of the station.
The train only went partway and not nearly part enough, in their minds. After that, it was the stage coach. Posterior thumping, dusty, grab your meal while you can, and try to sleep in a cheap bed travel by stage coach. Even India tired of this quite quickly, and Patience was, as her name said…Patient. Well, mostly. Each night they knocked the dust out of their modest and well-made travel clothes and hoped the next day would fare better, no matter the long odds on that.
“Oh, no, don’t look now,” Patience pulled India’s elbow. “Two mucky cowboys are going to be riding with us. I hope they don’t smell.”India promptly looked, met the men’s eyes across the boardwalk and nodded pleasantly. She saw two hardworking men in very dusty clothes, one suffering a torn shoulder seam on his black shirt. He was holding it up and looking quite vexed. The men nodded back. India half jumped and turned away at her cousin’s sharp pinch.“Don’t encourage them!” Patience hissed as they approached the stage that would take them out of Dodge City. “India, how silly! They are ruffians! We could be,” she dropped her voice and stood on her toes to whisper, “molested.” The sweet blonde looked around as though men were rushing them right as she spoke.“I don’t think so,” India whispered back, keeping an eye on the two trunks being loaded. “From the looks of them, they could fall asleep standing up.”
“Shhh!” Patience hushed her cousin in no uncertain terms and guided her along as though she were an imbecile. “We must get on first!”
India knew this was an obsession with Patience. Be first on the train, to the theater, on the stagecoach, or even to quilting bees. She tolerated this obsession for the trip, but swore she was going to be late for the first possible thing after arriving in this new city in the wilderness. She found herself pushed forward and had to suffer Patience’s second pinch when the tall, older man of the pair offered his hand rather gallantly. “Ma’am,” he said in a voice that you could build a city on.
India nearly swatted her cousin while she accepted that big, calloused, work worn hand and was helped up with an ease that said he had a great deal of muscle under that dusty linen shirt and scuffed leather vest. “Thank you,” she replied and moved over as far as possible. Patience looked furious as the older fellow helped her up, too. She minded her manners and thanked him, then had to mind the look on her face as the men slid up and into the opposite seat. It appeared they were the only other passengers.
India pulled out her book from her carry-bag and set it on her lap. She was looking out the window when she saw the younger of the pair, but still well into adulthood, tilt his head ever so slightly and read the cover. His dark eyebrows leapt nearly up to his hatband. He went to open his mouth but somehow Patience shot him a look that settled him right back in his seat, his hand still holding up the torn sleeve. His open expression turned almost sour. India looked back out the window and bit her tongue.
A few moments later the stagecoach lurched and they got underway down the bumpy road. No one spoke. Patience took out her tatting and went back to work on her gloves or doily or whatever it was: India had no idea.
The imposing title, “Organic Compounds, or, the Use of Oil and Kerosene in Gas Production,” shielded India from any enquiries, from cousin or stranger.
The cowboys tipped their hats forward and fell asleep quite quickly. India dared to drop her book enough to peek over the top. She felt sorry for the one with the torn sleeve and wondered how that had happened. The older one simply looked completely worn out. She re-established her eyes on the page and hoped no one would grill her on these organic compounds. After all, she’d tossed those pages out long ago and pasted in the latest torrid romance novel by that New York writer, and was hoping to get to the part where the hero came to his senses about the governess and called out the sham marriage to his cousin. Surely that was coming!
“You know, Pa, I’ve never seen a woman so interested in chemistry,” Adam said as he tossed his valise on the bed.
“Quiet pair,” Ben admitted as he stretched. They had acquired a room for the night in the small hotel in the name of the town he could not recall, but the bed looked damn good after all he’d been through. Adam was dead tired, too, and that scuffle at the end hadn’t helped things. They looked a fright. “No wonder they’d have nothing to do with us, all beat up and filthy,” Ben commented as he looked in the mirror.
Adam was sliding his shirt off to do the least damage both to shirt seam and his aching arm. That had been quite a bit of force to drive him into the post that hard. He looked at the ugly purplish bruise and sighed. “Too bad neither one offered to fix my shirt. I must be losing my charm.” He grinned. Frankly he’d been quite fine with the silence from the two. They had “upper class finishing school” written all over them, which was all well and good, but the looks from the smaller one had half killed his interest. But that book title had kept drawing his eye. And the way the dark haired one read it intrigued him. She was fascinated, her expressions changing while she read as though she were truly caught up in the subject matter.
Then a raised feminine, pure New England voice came through the wall. “India Montague! You, you, you,” a purely outraged sound came from the speaker. “You are incorrigible!”
“Only sometimes, Paish,” the other traveler laughed. “But the poor man, have some pity. He might not have another shirt. Why not offer to help?”
“Because we do not offer to sew up strange ruffian’s shirts. That’s why!”
“Patience, what on earth is wrong with wanting to help?”
“Oh, because the last time you tried to help some strange fellow he sent you a tiger. A tiger! With a diamond necklace and a dark fellow with a turban!”
“Collar. Diamond collar. And I sent everything back and it all worked out fine.” This time the voice was assured and full of laughter. “You worry too much.”
Adam’s smile started. It had been missing all day, but now it progressed along from a little lift of his lips to full blown dimples and twinkling eyes. Ben looked sideways at his eldest. “I think your charm is still holding,” he said in a low undertone. Clearly the walls were thin. The voices continued.
“He’s a cow hand, a ruffian. And from the looks of it, probably a womanizing scallywag. I won’t have you go near him. Neither of them.”
“Do you want to look at that ripped seam all day tomorrow, Paish?”
There was a long pause. Ben and Adam both held their breath.
“Fine. But I’ll do it myself, you have terribly uneven work,” the vexed speaker said. “Come with me. I’ll not knock on the door by myself and ruin my reputation. It’s good Christian charity, I suppose.” Her tone warmed a bit. At least it was less glacial.
“Yes, Paish,” the droll tone carried right through the wall.
Ben and Adam raced to finish getting Adam out of the torn shirt and into his spare one, this one a faded red and showing signs of wear and tear. They were almost counting the moments until the door down from theirs opened, footsteps sounded, and then a hesitant knock at their own door. Ben answered it with a carefully calm face.
“That wasn’t so bad.” India let her hair down and started to brush it. It looked darker when it was up, the gold highlights less obvious when wound around in a chignon. India did not have a face that benefitted from ringlets, although Patience looked superb in them. In any case, the cousins stayed with simpler hairstyles for travel. They had changed for bed, glad to be out of dusty travel clothes and corsets.Patience was sewing neat stitches along the longer basting set already holding the sleeve onto the body of the shirt. It was good fabric, she had to admit. And well made. And the pair did look a little more respectable with the dust off their faces. But the smell from the shirt made her nose wrinkle. No cologne or anything else hid the smell of a man who’d been in a fight and then sweated in a hot, dusty stage coach all day.“If it wasn’t so bad why don’t you finish it?” Patience pushed the half-sewn seam to her cousin.“You sew better than I do. And you just can’t bear to have rips and tears around you…”
“India Montague, you, you!” Patience started to get riled but burst out laughing. “You’re right. It was driving me mad. But it stinks to high heaven.”
“I’ll do the other half,” India sighed and put her silver-backed brush down on the bed. She picked up the needle and started to work in stitches that were almost indistinguishable from her cousin’s tidy needlework. “It’s quite torn, isn’t it,” she said with a frown. A strong tug between her hands revealed the quality of the cloth. “It’s good twill, so that must have been quite an incident.”
“As I said,” Patience pulled her nightgown into better order. “Ruffians.”
“Scallywags,” India giggled. “Didn’t you say they’d molest us? I rather recall snoring. Not the most exciting molesting I’ve had in my life, I’d say,” she said rather archly and then giggled again. “Oh, don’t look like that, Paish. You always think you’re about to be molested.”
“Just because I understand the base nature of men does not mean you should laugh at me!” the prettier girl huffed. “Besides, you never know what will happen when they aren’t so tired!”
“Nothing a well-placed hat pin won’t end rather quickly,” India said without thinking. She looked up and swore she could hear a low, merry chuckle through the wall. Her suspicions rising, she went back to work on the dusty, rather manly smelling shirt that the older fellow, Ben something, had promised he’d come get in the morning.
“Tidy work,” Adam commented as he examined the stitching on the shoulder seam. His upper arm still hurt to move and the bruise was turning a nasty black with yellow rings. He slid into the shirt with a grin. Smelly? He’d been worse.“Count yourself lucky,” Ben chuckled and kept his voice low. “I was waiting for a sermon from the smaller one about reforming my wicked ways.”Nimble fingers did up black buttons with effort. Adam’s knuckles hurt from the pounding he’d given in return. His jaw was only slightly sore. “I heard,” he replied just as quietly. “Quite the pair. Chemistry and tatting.”“But they did repair your shirt, and don’t you forget it,” Ben grinned and hefted his valise. “Best get some breakfast so we don’t miss the stage.”
The food was quick, half burned, and the coffee black. The ladies sat well apart from Ben and Adam, their eyes on their food while they tried to eat quickly but not hurriedly.
“The shorter one,” Ben leaned forward, “is Patience, the taller one is India, if you were wondering.”
Adam was systematically demolishing his scrambled eggs. “A tiger,” he mused and tossed a quick look at the women. “Of the two I’d say India was the wide eyed innocent. Goes to show about books and covers.”
“Looks like we have company today,” Ben looked up at the fellow in a decent brown suit of about thirty years of age who had come into the dining room of the small hotel. He had a ticket in his hand.
Meals complete, bills paid, the passengers loaded up after double checking the presence of their luggage. Adam kept trying to get a better look at India to see why a man would send her a tiger and its keeper. And why would she read a chemistry textbook as if it held the greatest interest? But she was too busy lowering her head to speak with her cousin in a constant undertone as they waited to board.
The man in the suit pushed forward to offer his arm to India, then to Patience, and dared to shoot a look of low assessment at the Cartwrights. He didn’t wait but pulled himself up and in, settling beside Patience and leaving the opposite seats for the men he found beneath his standards.
“Morning,” Ben said pleasantly to the other passengers as he pushed over for Adam to slide in. He nodded, and was nodded at in return.
“Morning,” India replied with a raised eyebrow at her cousin.
After a breath, Patience replied, “Good morning.”
“And what a good morning it is to be accompanying you lovely young ladies,” the new fellow gushed. He turned to dismiss the still-somewhat-dusty cowboys from his vision, particularly the big one in black with the bruise coming out on his jaw. That one had a gaze that assessed a little too much for a man who clearly was no gentleman.
India had her book out in a flash. She held it up like a shield, her eyes the sword that pierced the pages and threatened to also pierce anyone who disturbed her. She had a tiny twinge about her lack of manners but it passed as the pompous fellow droned on and on. A glance showed two tipped western hats and two men who looked out to the world. She highly doubted that and had to fight back the urge to prod the older one to see just how asleep he was.
Patience had long ago acquired the ability to tune out a bore. She could nod, smile, look interested, and even comment intelligently enough that it quelled any suspicion her mind was elsewhere, even if it was. It was a skill that had earned her three proposals from elderly, kind, talkative men with significant estates. Sadly, each had been taken by health problems before the weddings. Patience thought of those dear men and said prayers for their souls as she tatted and nodded appropriately.
A bit of rain fell just past noon, but other than that there was nothing to comment on. India took to looking out at the passing scenery to save on her book. The fool hero still was no closer to sorting out his mess of a sham marriage, the gardener was appearing to be a blackguard and the heroine was still moping around and letting the gossips get the better of her. It was becoming a chore to keep slogging through the lack of action that seemed to comprise the last few chapters she’d worked through. Better to see if she could spot an interesting landmark. Even an interesting rock would do.
Meals were rushed, the small hotel uncomfortable, and morning came too soon.
Enjoyed this romantic story about Adam and Indy.
What a wonderful story! Loved it from beginning to end. Would love to see much more of this. I know it’s been awhile but could you please do a sequel. Thank you for this feel good read!
Bit late finding this but absolutely loved it – good to be able to read all the way through in one go. Ever the romantic myself and an Adam fan, just so enjoyed the growing relationship with India. Just brilliant, thanks.
Did you ever finish the sequel? I read this so long ago and it was wonderful and you had started a sequel, but I don’t see it here.
I haven’t been on here in literal YEARS. I opened my own business and have almost no time!!
It’s the third time Ive read this, it’s terrific. It makes me smile and laugh every time.
India is the perfect companion for Adam. A happy ending for him after all his bad luck.
Excellent story! Poor old Joe, woman trouble again & Adam finally sorting his love life. Nicely humorous & just the right touch of romance. Loved it!
I absolutely loved this story. I could not put it down. It made me laugh so much. Loved the humor and most of all, the romance. Have you considered writing a sequel? The wedding or a story of their lives together married? I absolutely loved India’s character as well as Parience. They were so funny together and made a terrific team. I can’t say enough about this one. Thank you so much. I had fun reading this.