by J. Rosemary MossGenre: Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: Mature Content
LINK TO PART ONE: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2008/02/for-want-of-brother-part-one.html
~
Hoss was standing at his window when Joe and I crept into his room. He wasn’t dressed yet—he was wearing this checkered night shirt that only he could wear without looking ridiculous. Well, maybe he looked a little ridiculous. But it would take a brave man to tell him so. He’s a big fellow, Hoss.
His mind was on the weather. “Look at that snow coming down,” he said to us, by way of greeting. “There ain’t no end in sight. I hate to think what’s going to happen to the livestock.”
Joe nodded. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “I’ll bet Pa’s worrying himself to death over it. But we’ll get through.”
I stepped up next to Hoss and stood by the window as well. But my first thought wasn’t about the livestock—it was about the roads between here and Virginia City. They wouldn’t be clear anytime soon. It looked like I had a reprieve from whatever fate awaited me. I’d have to put up with the cuffs, but not with a jail cell.
“You reckon your Pa minds me being here?” I asked. “It’s the devil of a situation for him.”
Hoss put a hand on my shoulder. “Pa don’t mind. He’ll do his best by you, Reuben--for Adam’s sake if for no better reason.”
“Speaking of Adam,” Joe said, dropping his voice to a whisper, “he’s in the guest room now with Drew. Let’s see what we can hear.”
Hoss frowned. “Not much, I reckon, unless they left their door open.”
Joe crept back to Hoss’s door. Then he peeked out at the guest room door, but it was closed. But that didn’t stop him from tip-toeing up to it and nudging it open. I held my breath, certain he’d be caught, but that door didn’t creak a lick. Joe got back to Hoss's room without incident.
Judging by their voices, Adam and Drew never noticed that the door was now open. I ought to have objected. We couldn’t even pass this off as casual eavesdropping—it was outright spying. But my curiosity was such that I was willing to make my peace with that. Especially as I caught the drift of their conversation.
“What do you want me to say?” Drew was asking Adam. “I know Jack’s faults—none better. He was arrogant, thoughtless and the worst sort of nouveau riche. God help us, he never fooled anyone with his pretensions. But he was still my brother.”
“Tilt your head back,” Adam ordered. “And stop fidgeting—I’ve got a razor near your throat.”
“And wouldn’t you love to do me in with it,” Drew commented.
He sounded as if he were smiling, at least a little. Adam chuckled, at any event.
Drew fell quiet for a while after that, but when he spoke up again there was a harshness to his voice that seemed to mingle with the grief in it. “Damn it, Adam, I always knew that Jack would get himself killed over some bit of muslin. You can add that to his faults: he was a fool where women were concerned.”
I felt myself freeze up at that—and I felt my anger start to churn. Both Hoss and Joe put their hands on my arms to keep me from doing anything stupid.
“Rosalind wasn’t just a ‘bit of muslin,’” Adam said softly. “She was someone’s sister, Drew.”
Drew snorted. “I know,” he said. “That’s been made abundantly plain.” He paused to sigh. “If Jack had asked me, I’d have told him to marry the girl. Or, at the very least, to provide for her and the child.”
“You wouldn’t have cared if he married her?" Adam asked. “Even if she had no dowry or, ah, ‘blue blood?’”
“Why should I?” Drew answered. “I never forgot what we were. Our father was just a two-bit gambler. For all Jack’s pretensions, he came from nothing. He just happened to get lucky in the Forty-nine.”
He paused again and sighed. “I’m sorry the girl is dead—and I can imagine what sort of death it was. But don’t expect me to forget what happened to my brother.”
“I’m not defending what Reuben did,” Adam said. “You know that.”
“But you don’t want him to hang for it--you're all compassion, aren't you? But if you care so much for him, why do you want him to spend his life in prison?”
Adam kept silent.
Drew seemed to sneer—or so I pictured him—as he spoke up again. “Now we come to it,” he said. “You don’t mean to see him hang or spend his life in prison. You want him sentenced to life and then you want the sentence commuted.”
“Yes,” Adam said.
"Commuted to what?” Drew asked. “Never mind—I can guess. I suppose you’re willing to let the boy take his chances as cannon fodder for Lincoln. But you don’t have the connections to pull that off, Adam. For a lesser crime, perhaps. But not for murder.”
“Between us we have the connections,” Adam pointed out.
I reckon that Drew considered that some before he answered. “Yes,” he said at length. “I suppose we do. But I’m not going to play along. Unlike that boy, I’m not your devoted slave.”
Adam sighed. “I don’t want your devotion, Drew,” he said. “Just your cooperation. Rosalind is dead; Jack is dead. Isn’t that enough?”
Drew's voice was cold and hard as he answered. “Not for me,” he said.
Hoss was standing at his window when Joe and I crept into his room. He wasn’t dressed yet—he was wearing this checkered night shirt that only he could wear without looking ridiculous. Well, maybe he looked a little ridiculous. But it would take a brave man to tell him so. He’s a big fellow, Hoss.
His mind was on the weather. “Look at that snow coming down,” he said to us, by way of greeting. “There ain’t no end in sight. I hate to think what’s going to happen to the livestock.”
Joe nodded. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “I’ll bet Pa’s worrying himself to death over it. But we’ll get through.”
I stepped up next to Hoss and stood by the window as well. But my first thought wasn’t about the livestock—it was about the roads between here and Virginia City. They wouldn’t be clear anytime soon. It looked like I had a reprieve from whatever fate awaited me. I’d have to put up with the cuffs, but not with a jail cell.
“You reckon your Pa minds me being here?” I asked. “It’s the devil of a situation for him.”
Hoss put a hand on my shoulder. “Pa don’t mind. He’ll do his best by you, Reuben--for Adam’s sake if for no better reason.”
“Speaking of Adam,” Joe said, dropping his voice to a whisper, “he’s in the guest room now with Drew. Let’s see what we can hear.”
Hoss frowned. “Not much, I reckon, unless they left their door open.”
Joe crept back to Hoss’s door. Then he peeked out at the guest room door, but it was closed. But that didn’t stop him from tip-toeing up to it and nudging it open. I held my breath, certain he’d be caught, but that door didn’t creak a lick. Joe got back to Hoss's room without incident.
Judging by their voices, Adam and Drew never noticed that the door was now open. I ought to have objected. We couldn’t even pass this off as casual eavesdropping—it was outright spying. But my curiosity was such that I was willing to make my peace with that. Especially as I caught the drift of their conversation.
“What do you want me to say?” Drew was asking Adam. “I know Jack’s faults—none better. He was arrogant, thoughtless and the worst sort of nouveau riche. God help us, he never fooled anyone with his pretensions. But he was still my brother.”
“Tilt your head back,” Adam ordered. “And stop fidgeting—I’ve got a razor near your throat.”
“And wouldn’t you love to do me in with it,” Drew commented.
He sounded as if he were smiling, at least a little. Adam chuckled, at any event.
Drew fell quiet for a while after that, but when he spoke up again there was a harshness to his voice that seemed to mingle with the grief in it. “Damn it, Adam, I always knew that Jack would get himself killed over some bit of muslin. You can add that to his faults: he was a fool where women were concerned.”
I felt myself freeze up at that—and I felt my anger start to churn. Both Hoss and Joe put their hands on my arms to keep me from doing anything stupid.
“Rosalind wasn’t just a ‘bit of muslin,’” Adam said softly. “She was someone’s sister, Drew.”
Drew snorted. “I know,” he said. “That’s been made abundantly plain.” He paused to sigh. “If Jack had asked me, I’d have told him to marry the girl. Or, at the very least, to provide for her and the child.”
“You wouldn’t have cared if he married her?" Adam asked. “Even if she had no dowry or, ah, ‘blue blood?’”
“Why should I?” Drew answered. “I never forgot what we were. Our father was just a two-bit gambler. For all Jack’s pretensions, he came from nothing. He just happened to get lucky in the Forty-nine.”
He paused again and sighed. “I’m sorry the girl is dead—and I can imagine what sort of death it was. But don’t expect me to forget what happened to my brother.”
“I’m not defending what Reuben did,” Adam said. “You know that.”
“But you don’t want him to hang for it--you're all compassion, aren't you? But if you care so much for him, why do you want him to spend his life in prison?”
Adam kept silent.
Drew seemed to sneer—or so I pictured him—as he spoke up again. “Now we come to it,” he said. “You don’t mean to see him hang or spend his life in prison. You want him sentenced to life and then you want the sentence commuted.”
“Yes,” Adam said.
"Commuted to what?” Drew asked. “Never mind—I can guess. I suppose you’re willing to let the boy take his chances as cannon fodder for Lincoln. But you don’t have the connections to pull that off, Adam. For a lesser crime, perhaps. But not for murder.”
“Between us we have the connections,” Adam pointed out.
I reckon that Drew considered that some before he answered. “Yes,” he said at length. “I suppose we do. But I’m not going to play along. Unlike that boy, I’m not your devoted slave.”
Adam sighed. “I don’t want your devotion, Drew,” he said. “Just your cooperation. Rosalind is dead; Jack is dead. Isn’t that enough?”
Drew's voice was cold and hard as he answered. “Not for me,” he said.
LINK TO PART EIGHTEEN: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2008/02/for-want-of-brother-part-eighteen.html
No comments:
Post a Comment