by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
It took a moment for Adam’s words to sink in. Before all this began, David reflected, he would never have credited Gregory Miller with such duplicity.
“He was the one who told you about Stephen and me?” he asked at last, rubbing his chin. “Well, that’s interesting. But what did he stand to gain from it? If he had decided to blackmail Stephen, what good would it do him to have you know about the affair?”
“We’re not sure that Miller is the blackmailer,” Adam reminded him. “But it does look like he played you and me against each other. Now we just have to find out why.”
“Well, I still want a look at his bank accounts,” David said, frowning.
Adam nodded. “Monday—we have to wait until then. In the meantime, let’s think this through. Did Gregory Miller benefit somehow if Ed Niles disinherited his son?”
He shrugged. “I can’t think how. I can’t imagine that Niles would have made Miller his heir—he was just an employee, after all.”
Adam leaned up against a wall and folded his arms over his chest. “And Niles had no other children—no daughter that Miller could marry. Well, we know that he caused trouble between you and me—”
“No,” David said suddenly, interrupting him. “That was only a by-product, at least at first. Try this: Gregory Miller finds out that his employer’s only son is engaging in a distasteful affair with me. First he begins to blackmail Stephen—but he purposely makes his demands too high. Next, he makes sure that you discover the affair, knowing that you’ll confront me. That puts additional pressure on Stephen.”
“Stephen then decides that it’s better to confront his father,” Adam put in, “then to give into any more blackmail.”
“Right,” David agreed. “He even makes up some story about how he and I have had a falling out in a misguided attempt to protect me.”
“He confronts his father,” Adam continued. “Ed Niles disowns him and sometime afterwards Stephen commits suicide.”
“Prompting Niles to cover up his son’s death and the scandals surrounding it,” David finished. “Only then does Miller decide to lie to me about you forcing the boy to confess. That's just an insurance policy to set us at odds and make sure we don't compare notes. It’s a neat little story, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Adam admitted, “if only we could prove that Gregory Miller somehow benefits from the fact that Ed Niles disinherited Stephen. If he doesn’t benefit, we’re left without any motive. He might still be the blackmailer—but why orchestrate the disinheritance?”
“Of course, why orchestrate any of it to begin with?” David asked. “Why not just tell Niles flat-out that his son was having an affair with me?”
“Oh, that wouldn’t have nearly the affect of Stephen tearfully confessing the scandal,” Adam ventured. “You know how Niles is—nothing could have made him angrier. Besides, if Miller told him directly, Niles might have found a way to blame the messenger.”
David considered that. “That makes sense,” he agreed. “I wonder if Marty will know who Ed Niles is leaving his fortune to now?”
“It’s worth asking her,” Adam assured him.
David opened his mouth to agree, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door. He went to answer it, forgetting that he wasn’t in his own suite.
It was a porter and, as it turned out, he was looking for David after all. An old bearded gentleman—Rabbi something or other—was downstairs in the lobby, hoping to pay a call on him.
David thanked him for the information and asked him to wait a moment for a tip. Then he slammed the door shut.
He could feel his blood starting to boil. “Can you believe this?” he asked Adam. “That damned rabbi is here wanting to see me. You must have mentioned where we were staying. I knew we should have gotten out of that synagogue straight after services.”
Adam raised his eyebrows at him. “The sun hasn't set yet, so it’s still the Sabbath,” he commented. “He must have walked here—that’s quite a distance for an old man.”
“Well, he wasted his efforts,” David said bluntly. “Would you mind tipping the porter? I don’t want to handle money.”
Adam stared at him for a long moment and then suddenly started laughing. “How can you worry about handling money on the Sabbath while you’re refusing to see an old man—a rabbi, no less—who came all this way to talk with you?” he asked.
David had the grace to blush at that. “You’re right,” he owned. “I’ll tip the fellow.”
Adam sighed. “David, go downstairs and talk to the man. It’s the least you can do.”
David’s temper was getting hotter each moment. He narrowed his eyes at Adam. “Don’t presume to give me an order like that. You’ve no right to question my judgment on this—not unless we have something considerably deeper than a friendship.”
‘That goes without saying,” Adam agreed softly.
The words hung between them for a long moment. David stared at Adam as he took in their significance.
He turned away in some confusion. Damn—he hadn’t realized that Adam would be able to disconcert him this way.
“Your father won’t understand,” he managed at last, still looking away from him.
Adam sighed again. “I know,” he said. “But my father doesn’t have to be privy to all aspects of my life.”
David pulled himself together and nodded. “Right. Well, I suppose I’ll go downstairs and see what the old man wants.”
“Good,” Adam responded with a wry smile in his voice. “I’ll tip the porter.”
LINK TO PART THIRTY-THREE
Monday, March 31, 2008
The Eyes of the Wind, Part Ten
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG
LINK TO PART ONE
~
I had plenty of time to sulk after Adam left. I was of less use than a woman or a child in these circumstances. And that’s precisely how Adam had treated me when he refused to strike me back--as a woman or a child. The more I thought about that, the more it infuriated me. I didn’t need his bloody chivalry. I’d rather he had returned my punch.
He knew that--he had to know it. But he didn’t see me as his equal, damn him. My blindness made me a dependent.
Somewhere in all that sulking I managed to get water to the lips of the injured men. I had to give them just a trickle at a time and massage their throats to make sure they swallowed it. I wasn’t sure what else to do for them, however. Fortunately, I didn’t have long to wait before Brian came panting back to me.
“Mr. Clayton!” he called out. “Are you all right, sir? I heard a gun shot!”
“Adam went to investigate it,” I called back. Then I waited--I could tell by his pounding gait that he was almost by my side.
He embraced me again when he reached me. I stiffened at that--this was becoming a tedious habit on his part. Nonetheless, I held my tongue and half-heartedly returned his hug.
“I’m glad you’re not harmed sir,” he told me as he released me. “Have you watered these poor devils?” he added, noting, I supposed, the patients nearby and the canteens I held.
“Yes,” I answered, handing him one of the canteens. I waited until I heard him drink deeply from it and then I began questioning him. “Did you find the driver?”
“Aye, sir,” he said. “His neck was broken. I covered him up best as I could so he wouldn’t bake in the sun--I suppose we’ll have to come back for him.”
“Good,” I said. “That’s the best we can do for now.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “Do you want me to go after Mr. Cartwright and Peter to see what the shot was about?”
I considered that. In truth, I wanted to keep Brian at my side. He could keep better watch over the two strangers. But for all I knew, Adam was lying in a ditch somewhere, done in by his leg. And God only knew if Peter had found the horses.
“Yes,” I said at last. “Report back here as soon as you can.”
~
I think an hour or more passed before the three men returned. I couldn’t look at a clock to confirm my reckoning, but I’ve gotten fairly good at approximating the time. At any event, it was long enough so that one of the strangers--the one who was worse off--died from his injuries. That made three dead from this wreck.
I didn’t want to leave the fellow exposed, so I crawled around, looking for some shelter for his remains. I didn’t find much, so I ended up piling dead branches and such on top of him. His companion, meanwhile, had yet to regain consciousness. That didn’t bode well.
Not long after that I heard the approach of horses followed by Brian calling out to me. Peter had found the horses, it seemed. One of them had broken a leg--he had fired a shot to put the creature out of its misery. But the others were sound enough. It took some doing though, to untangle them from their harness.
Someone was approaching me. From the sound of his uneven gait, I knew it was Adam. And unless I was much mistaken, his leg had gotten worse. I could tell how heavily he was favoring his other one.
He collapsed by my side when he reached me and even took the liberty of slouching up against me. I tried not to show my discomfort at his familiarity.
“You were right,” he gasped, panting hard. “I had no business stomping off on this leg.”
“Is it worse now?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “And I wasn’t much help to Peter with the horses--it’s a good thing Brian came along.”
I can’t pretend that I wasn’t gratified to know that Adam, too, was useless. That seemed to even the score between us, somehow. But I hadn’t forgotten his damned chivalry.
“The next time I punch you,” I said, “have the goodness to punch me back.”
I think he rolled his eyes in response to that. “I can’t punch you--you know that.”
“Damn it,” I spat, “I’m not a child! You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves.”
He gave me a short, ironic laugh. “I’m tempted to treat you exactly as I'd treat Little Joe if he were behaving this way,” he said.
I clenched my fist at that, wondering just what he was threatening, but he spoke again before I could respond.
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice suddenly soothing. “I respect you as an equal. The fact that you can’t stand against me in fisticuffs doesn’t change that--nor does it affect your measure as a man. Now will you let this drop?”
But I didn't trust that soothing tone of his. “Are you wearing your smirk?” I demanded.
That took him aback. “What?”
I curled my lips at him. “Jack tells me that you have an infuriating smirk. Are you smirking at me now?”
He laughed again--a genuine laugh this time. “I have no idea,” he confessed. “You’ll have to feel my face for yourself.”
I took him up on that. He kept still as I ran my hand over his face again, feeling the curve of his lips and the set of his jaw. I noticed the warmth of his cheeks, so I felt his forehead as well.
“Yes, you’re smirking at me,” I said at length. “You’re also burning up--did you realize that? You have a fever.”
He sighed. “No, I didn’t realize that. Well, let’s figure some way to get all of us to the old way station. You and Brian can walk. Hopefully we can use the horses for me and the stranger--the one who survived, I mean. We'll send Peter to ride for help.”
I frowned. “These are carriage horses,” I pointed out. “And we don’t have saddles.”
“I know,” he returned. “But they’re all we've got.”
LINK TO PART ELEVEN
Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG
LINK TO PART ONE
~
I had plenty of time to sulk after Adam left. I was of less use than a woman or a child in these circumstances. And that’s precisely how Adam had treated me when he refused to strike me back--as a woman or a child. The more I thought about that, the more it infuriated me. I didn’t need his bloody chivalry. I’d rather he had returned my punch.
He knew that--he had to know it. But he didn’t see me as his equal, damn him. My blindness made me a dependent.
Somewhere in all that sulking I managed to get water to the lips of the injured men. I had to give them just a trickle at a time and massage their throats to make sure they swallowed it. I wasn’t sure what else to do for them, however. Fortunately, I didn’t have long to wait before Brian came panting back to me.
“Mr. Clayton!” he called out. “Are you all right, sir? I heard a gun shot!”
“Adam went to investigate it,” I called back. Then I waited--I could tell by his pounding gait that he was almost by my side.
He embraced me again when he reached me. I stiffened at that--this was becoming a tedious habit on his part. Nonetheless, I held my tongue and half-heartedly returned his hug.
“I’m glad you’re not harmed sir,” he told me as he released me. “Have you watered these poor devils?” he added, noting, I supposed, the patients nearby and the canteens I held.
“Yes,” I answered, handing him one of the canteens. I waited until I heard him drink deeply from it and then I began questioning him. “Did you find the driver?”
“Aye, sir,” he said. “His neck was broken. I covered him up best as I could so he wouldn’t bake in the sun--I suppose we’ll have to come back for him.”
“Good,” I said. “That’s the best we can do for now.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “Do you want me to go after Mr. Cartwright and Peter to see what the shot was about?”
I considered that. In truth, I wanted to keep Brian at my side. He could keep better watch over the two strangers. But for all I knew, Adam was lying in a ditch somewhere, done in by his leg. And God only knew if Peter had found the horses.
“Yes,” I said at last. “Report back here as soon as you can.”
~
I think an hour or more passed before the three men returned. I couldn’t look at a clock to confirm my reckoning, but I’ve gotten fairly good at approximating the time. At any event, it was long enough so that one of the strangers--the one who was worse off--died from his injuries. That made three dead from this wreck.
I didn’t want to leave the fellow exposed, so I crawled around, looking for some shelter for his remains. I didn’t find much, so I ended up piling dead branches and such on top of him. His companion, meanwhile, had yet to regain consciousness. That didn’t bode well.
Not long after that I heard the approach of horses followed by Brian calling out to me. Peter had found the horses, it seemed. One of them had broken a leg--he had fired a shot to put the creature out of its misery. But the others were sound enough. It took some doing though, to untangle them from their harness.
Someone was approaching me. From the sound of his uneven gait, I knew it was Adam. And unless I was much mistaken, his leg had gotten worse. I could tell how heavily he was favoring his other one.
He collapsed by my side when he reached me and even took the liberty of slouching up against me. I tried not to show my discomfort at his familiarity.
“You were right,” he gasped, panting hard. “I had no business stomping off on this leg.”
“Is it worse now?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “And I wasn’t much help to Peter with the horses--it’s a good thing Brian came along.”
I can’t pretend that I wasn’t gratified to know that Adam, too, was useless. That seemed to even the score between us, somehow. But I hadn’t forgotten his damned chivalry.
“The next time I punch you,” I said, “have the goodness to punch me back.”
I think he rolled his eyes in response to that. “I can’t punch you--you know that.”
“Damn it,” I spat, “I’m not a child! You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves.”
He gave me a short, ironic laugh. “I’m tempted to treat you exactly as I'd treat Little Joe if he were behaving this way,” he said.
I clenched my fist at that, wondering just what he was threatening, but he spoke again before I could respond.
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice suddenly soothing. “I respect you as an equal. The fact that you can’t stand against me in fisticuffs doesn’t change that--nor does it affect your measure as a man. Now will you let this drop?”
But I didn't trust that soothing tone of his. “Are you wearing your smirk?” I demanded.
That took him aback. “What?”
I curled my lips at him. “Jack tells me that you have an infuriating smirk. Are you smirking at me now?”
He laughed again--a genuine laugh this time. “I have no idea,” he confessed. “You’ll have to feel my face for yourself.”
I took him up on that. He kept still as I ran my hand over his face again, feeling the curve of his lips and the set of his jaw. I noticed the warmth of his cheeks, so I felt his forehead as well.
“Yes, you’re smirking at me,” I said at length. “You’re also burning up--did you realize that? You have a fever.”
He sighed. “No, I didn’t realize that. Well, let’s figure some way to get all of us to the old way station. You and Brian can walk. Hopefully we can use the horses for me and the stranger--the one who survived, I mean. We'll send Peter to ride for help.”
I frowned. “These are carriage horses,” I pointed out. “And we don’t have saddles.”
“I know,” he returned. “But they’re all we've got.”
LINK TO PART ELEVEN
Friday, March 28, 2008
~Away for the Weekend~
Hi folks,
Well, I'm off to a retreat for the weekend. I won't have internet access again until Sunday evening. (I'm hoping to have a chance to write more of Sons of Obsidian while I'm gone.) I'll see you Sunday night!
~J. Rosemary
Well, I'm off to a retreat for the weekend. I won't have internet access again until Sunday evening. (I'm hoping to have a chance to write more of Sons of Obsidian while I'm gone.) I'll see you Sunday night!
~J. Rosemary
The Eyes of the Wind, Part Nine
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Somehow Adam and I managed to climb back up the rest of the slope. He had to lean on me yet again—who would have guessed that I'd become so familiar with the hardness of Adam's back and the feel of his shirt? A shirt that was soaked with sweat, by the by. And small wonder: we were both panting and doubled over by the time we reached the top.
But where had that gunshot come from? Brian had probably carried a pistol onto the stage—he usually traveled with one. Perhaps he had fired a warning shot at a rattler.
Still, not knowing was sheer hell. And my nerves were fraught enough from the accident. I was almost glad that Adam was there at my side. That fact forced me to keep calm. It would be unthinkable to panic in front of him.
“Now what?” I demanded, forcing myself to stand up straight. “Can you see who fired that shot?”
I felt Adam straighten up beside me as he answered. “No,” he said. “But it came from that direction.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re pointing,” I said. “You know I can’t see you.”
There was an awkward silence, followed by a self-mocking laugh on Adam’s part. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was idiotic of me.”
I was somewhat mollified by the humor in voice. “Not to worry,” I said. “My brother does things like that all the time.”
Adam chuckled at that and then got back to business. “The shot came from the west--but whoever fired it isn’t in sight. Are your servants armed?”
“Brian is,” I confirmed. “But he couldn’t have fired that shot—you sent him in the opposite direction to look for the driver."
I'm not sure why I specified that. I think I wanted to let Adam know that I hadn't forgotten his presumption in giving orders to my servants.
"I’m not sure if Peter was carrying a weapon," I continued. "I suppose he might have been.”
“And Peter went after the horses?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Well, let’s hope that he’s responsible for the shot and that he has everything under control,” Adam said with a sigh. “Let’s get some water into our patients, and then we’ll go after him.”
But I put my foot down at that. “Adam, you’re in no condition to walk any further on that leg. I refuse to support you all the way down that road. God knows how much of a distance we’re talking about.”
I felt him stiffen at that. He still had an arm around me and he was still leaning against me for support, so I had no problem judging his reaction. He was angry and annoyed.
“I’m still capable of walking,” he said in a taut voice. “And I’m not about to abandon your servant, even if you don’t give a damn about him.”
My blood boiled at that. “What I give a damn about is getting all of us—you, me and my servants—out of this mess alive! You won’t help matters by exacerbating your injuries and incapacitating yourself.”
Adam responded by taking his arm off my shoulders. “I’ll lead you to the two injured men,” he told me, his voice deathly calm. “Stay with them and give them water—you should be able to manage that. I’ll go after Peter on my own.”
He took hold of my arm, but I had no intention of meekly obeying his orders. I had a fairly good notion of where he stood in relationship to me, so I jabbed at his face.
I felt my fist make contact with his jaw—and I felt him stumble backward from the impact of it. But he didn't say anything. He didn't even grunt or groan. There was just a stark silence between us.
I had taken him by surprise. I would never have managed to hit him otherwise. And he couldn’t retaliate—not against a blind man. That infuriated me, for since we couldn’t fight it out I’d have to apologize.
I swallowed hard. Best to get this over with.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll live,” he said.
I sighed. “Don’t go after Peter,” I said. “We can’t leave these injured men alone—and I’m not going to be much use to them if something goes wrong. Besides, you’ll never make it on that leg of yours.”
I heard him inhale sharply at that. I could have bit off my own tongue—why had I brought up his leg again? He might have listened to me for the sake of our patients, but now he something to prove.
“Just do your best,” he ordered. “I don’t expect to be gone long. If I can’t find Peter within a short distance I’ll turn back. Now will you let me guide you to our patients?"
I swore under my breath. “It doesn’t look like I have much choice.”
LINK TO PART TEN
Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Somehow Adam and I managed to climb back up the rest of the slope. He had to lean on me yet again—who would have guessed that I'd become so familiar with the hardness of Adam's back and the feel of his shirt? A shirt that was soaked with sweat, by the by. And small wonder: we were both panting and doubled over by the time we reached the top.
But where had that gunshot come from? Brian had probably carried a pistol onto the stage—he usually traveled with one. Perhaps he had fired a warning shot at a rattler.
Still, not knowing was sheer hell. And my nerves were fraught enough from the accident. I was almost glad that Adam was there at my side. That fact forced me to keep calm. It would be unthinkable to panic in front of him.
“Now what?” I demanded, forcing myself to stand up straight. “Can you see who fired that shot?”
I felt Adam straighten up beside me as he answered. “No,” he said. “But it came from that direction.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re pointing,” I said. “You know I can’t see you.”
There was an awkward silence, followed by a self-mocking laugh on Adam’s part. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was idiotic of me.”
I was somewhat mollified by the humor in voice. “Not to worry,” I said. “My brother does things like that all the time.”
Adam chuckled at that and then got back to business. “The shot came from the west--but whoever fired it isn’t in sight. Are your servants armed?”
“Brian is,” I confirmed. “But he couldn’t have fired that shot—you sent him in the opposite direction to look for the driver."
I'm not sure why I specified that. I think I wanted to let Adam know that I hadn't forgotten his presumption in giving orders to my servants.
"I’m not sure if Peter was carrying a weapon," I continued. "I suppose he might have been.”
“And Peter went after the horses?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Well, let’s hope that he’s responsible for the shot and that he has everything under control,” Adam said with a sigh. “Let’s get some water into our patients, and then we’ll go after him.”
But I put my foot down at that. “Adam, you’re in no condition to walk any further on that leg. I refuse to support you all the way down that road. God knows how much of a distance we’re talking about.”
I felt him stiffen at that. He still had an arm around me and he was still leaning against me for support, so I had no problem judging his reaction. He was angry and annoyed.
“I’m still capable of walking,” he said in a taut voice. “And I’m not about to abandon your servant, even if you don’t give a damn about him.”
My blood boiled at that. “What I give a damn about is getting all of us—you, me and my servants—out of this mess alive! You won’t help matters by exacerbating your injuries and incapacitating yourself.”
Adam responded by taking his arm off my shoulders. “I’ll lead you to the two injured men,” he told me, his voice deathly calm. “Stay with them and give them water—you should be able to manage that. I’ll go after Peter on my own.”
He took hold of my arm, but I had no intention of meekly obeying his orders. I had a fairly good notion of where he stood in relationship to me, so I jabbed at his face.
I felt my fist make contact with his jaw—and I felt him stumble backward from the impact of it. But he didn't say anything. He didn't even grunt or groan. There was just a stark silence between us.
I had taken him by surprise. I would never have managed to hit him otherwise. And he couldn’t retaliate—not against a blind man. That infuriated me, for since we couldn’t fight it out I’d have to apologize.
I swallowed hard. Best to get this over with.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll live,” he said.
I sighed. “Don’t go after Peter,” I said. “We can’t leave these injured men alone—and I’m not going to be much use to them if something goes wrong. Besides, you’ll never make it on that leg of yours.”
I heard him inhale sharply at that. I could have bit off my own tongue—why had I brought up his leg again? He might have listened to me for the sake of our patients, but now he something to prove.
“Just do your best,” he ordered. “I don’t expect to be gone long. If I can’t find Peter within a short distance I’ll turn back. Now will you let me guide you to our patients?"
I swore under my breath. “It doesn’t look like I have much choice.”
LINK TO PART TEN
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The New Hand, Part Thirty-One
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
David took a straight-backed chair, turned it around and sat on it backward. Then he watched as Adam followed suit, so that the two men were facing each other—eye to eye.
He looked away from Adam for a moment, struggling for the words he wanted. “Engaging in that affair with Stephen might be the worse thing I’ve ever done,” he said at length. “Not because of the affair itself, but because of the way I used the kid.”
Adam nodded, but kept silent.
David took a deep breath. “When I met you, Adam, I recognized you as a challenge. A challenge I wanted to take on.”
Adam raised his eyebrows at that. “I couldn’t have made that much of an impression on you,” he said wryly. “You went straight after Stephen.”
But David shook his head. “No, you have the timing wrong. I met Stephen first, a full week before I met you. And I met the other two bidders at about the same time.”
He waited for Adam to nod his understanding and then resumed the narrative. “Those other two bidders were hardly worth the effort of opposing them,” he explained. “I knew I could win the bid without a problem. That’s why I decided to use Stephen. I found him attractive enough and I knew that he could make my life even easier.”
Adam narrowed his eyes at him. “You had Stephen start giving you information even though you knew that you could have beaten out the other two bidders without a problem?”
David nodded and leaned forward a bit. “Imagine that you’re sitting down to a game of whist. You and your partner are quite good—but your opponents barely know the rules of the game. There’s no way for you to lose and it’s almost excruciating to play against such rank amateurs. So you and your partner employ a few hand signals. You’re opponents will never notice and, in the end, all you’re doing is hastening the game to its inevitable conclusion.”
He paused and cocked his head at Adam. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes,” he answered with a slow, reluctant smile. “When I told Abby that you could use a good talking to, I didn’t know the half of it.”
David laughed. “That’s probably true, but you’ll have to content yourself with the right hook you gave me earlier.”
Adam’s face softened. “I am sorry about that.”
“It doesn’t matter,” David assured him with a wink. “Now let’s go back to that whist table. Suppose you and your partner get two new opponents—only this pair know what they’re doing. Playing against them is a challenge and a pleasure. You wouldn’t think of cheating—firstly, because they would recognize the hand signals and secondly, because you wouldn’t want to spoil the game. You’d want a real, hard-fought victory.”
Adam nodded. David noticed that he even managed another small smile.
“I think I can understand what happened now,” Adam told him. “You saw me as a worthy challenge—and therefore you began to regret the fact that Stephen was giving you inside information.”
“Exactly,” David agreed. “I never took any information about the Ponderosa or your bid from Stephen. I did my own research, of course, but everything was on the up and up.”
He paused for a moment, bringing Stephen’s features to mind. “I liked the kid well enough, Adam. But after I met you, I was looking to end things. I didn’t think he’d be devastated. In all likelihood, he would have married eventually to suit his father—though heaven knows how he would have handled a wife.”
He took another deep breath before continuing. “Meanwhile, I was sure that you were a, ah, fairly broad minded individual. My instincts are usually reliable. But I wasn’t sure if you’d ever crossed that line before and I didn’t know how you’d react to my advances.”
He sighed and cocked his head at Adam. “And then you found out about the information Stephen had procured for me. I knew then that I had lost any respect you had for me. So all I could do at that point was ask you not to reveal anything—to let me find a respectable way to withdraw my bid. That way at least Stephen wouldn’t suffer.”
David paused yet again. These last words were the hardest to get out. “I thought losing your respect was the worst of it—but then Gregory Miller told me that you had forced Stephen to confess to his father. And then I found Stephen slumped over his desk with his brains blown out and—well, you know the rest.”
Adam got up from his chair abruptly and began pacing the room. David stood up as well. “What is it?” he asked.
Adam stopped pacing. When he turned back to David, there was an odd, strangled expression on his face.
“Did you know that Gregory Miller was the man who hinted at your affair with Stephen?”
LINK TO PART THIRTY-TWO
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
David took a straight-backed chair, turned it around and sat on it backward. Then he watched as Adam followed suit, so that the two men were facing each other—eye to eye.
He looked away from Adam for a moment, struggling for the words he wanted. “Engaging in that affair with Stephen might be the worse thing I’ve ever done,” he said at length. “Not because of the affair itself, but because of the way I used the kid.”
Adam nodded, but kept silent.
David took a deep breath. “When I met you, Adam, I recognized you as a challenge. A challenge I wanted to take on.”
Adam raised his eyebrows at that. “I couldn’t have made that much of an impression on you,” he said wryly. “You went straight after Stephen.”
But David shook his head. “No, you have the timing wrong. I met Stephen first, a full week before I met you. And I met the other two bidders at about the same time.”
He waited for Adam to nod his understanding and then resumed the narrative. “Those other two bidders were hardly worth the effort of opposing them,” he explained. “I knew I could win the bid without a problem. That’s why I decided to use Stephen. I found him attractive enough and I knew that he could make my life even easier.”
Adam narrowed his eyes at him. “You had Stephen start giving you information even though you knew that you could have beaten out the other two bidders without a problem?”
David nodded and leaned forward a bit. “Imagine that you’re sitting down to a game of whist. You and your partner are quite good—but your opponents barely know the rules of the game. There’s no way for you to lose and it’s almost excruciating to play against such rank amateurs. So you and your partner employ a few hand signals. You’re opponents will never notice and, in the end, all you’re doing is hastening the game to its inevitable conclusion.”
He paused and cocked his head at Adam. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes,” he answered with a slow, reluctant smile. “When I told Abby that you could use a good talking to, I didn’t know the half of it.”
David laughed. “That’s probably true, but you’ll have to content yourself with the right hook you gave me earlier.”
Adam’s face softened. “I am sorry about that.”
“It doesn’t matter,” David assured him with a wink. “Now let’s go back to that whist table. Suppose you and your partner get two new opponents—only this pair know what they’re doing. Playing against them is a challenge and a pleasure. You wouldn’t think of cheating—firstly, because they would recognize the hand signals and secondly, because you wouldn’t want to spoil the game. You’d want a real, hard-fought victory.”
Adam nodded. David noticed that he even managed another small smile.
“I think I can understand what happened now,” Adam told him. “You saw me as a worthy challenge—and therefore you began to regret the fact that Stephen was giving you inside information.”
“Exactly,” David agreed. “I never took any information about the Ponderosa or your bid from Stephen. I did my own research, of course, but everything was on the up and up.”
He paused for a moment, bringing Stephen’s features to mind. “I liked the kid well enough, Adam. But after I met you, I was looking to end things. I didn’t think he’d be devastated. In all likelihood, he would have married eventually to suit his father—though heaven knows how he would have handled a wife.”
He took another deep breath before continuing. “Meanwhile, I was sure that you were a, ah, fairly broad minded individual. My instincts are usually reliable. But I wasn’t sure if you’d ever crossed that line before and I didn’t know how you’d react to my advances.”
He sighed and cocked his head at Adam. “And then you found out about the information Stephen had procured for me. I knew then that I had lost any respect you had for me. So all I could do at that point was ask you not to reveal anything—to let me find a respectable way to withdraw my bid. That way at least Stephen wouldn’t suffer.”
David paused yet again. These last words were the hardest to get out. “I thought losing your respect was the worst of it—but then Gregory Miller told me that you had forced Stephen to confess to his father. And then I found Stephen slumped over his desk with his brains blown out and—well, you know the rest.”
Adam got up from his chair abruptly and began pacing the room. David stood up as well. “What is it?” he asked.
Adam stopped pacing. When he turned back to David, there was an odd, strangled expression on his face.
“Did you know that Gregory Miller was the man who hinted at your affair with Stephen?”
LINK TO PART THIRTY-TWO
The New Hand, Part Thirty
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Josephine smiled at Ben Cartwright and continued to tell one of her theatre stories with great animation. She was seated opposite him in the great room of the Ponderosa, with Little Joe to her right and Avigail to her left.
She hadn’t considered the fact that there would be an attractive gentleman of her own age on the ranch. Oh, Adam had mentioned his father, but she’d been so caught up in puzzling out the relationship between Adam and her son that she hadn’t paid much heed.
Her eyes shifted to Avigail. A plain girl, poor thing, and that vicious scar didn’t help matters. Still, she was intelligent and well-spoken. Josephine could understand why her son had formed a friendship with her—and why he wanted to give her the protection of his name.
She would do well for David, Josephine decided. She would never allow him to patronize her or ride roughshod over her. She would keep a good house and, if David were willing to adopt, she would make a good mother.
A far better mother than Josephine herself had been, she thought wryly. Josephine had no illusions on that score. Still, she had done the best she could for David, keeping him by her side even if it meant that he grew up in the shocking and scandalous world of the theatre. His father didn’t want him, so her only other choice would have been to send him off to a boarding school—and she couldn’t bring herself to do that.
His education had been skewered, to say the least. It wasn’t easy to keep him in a school when they were constantly traveling. But he picked up what he could here and there. He also played endless games of chess with various cast and crewmembers and he certainly learned his share of Shakespeare.
What a pity he didn’t want a life on the stage! He belonged among people who wouldn’t judge him for his romantic inclinations. But she couldn’t force his hand, so she put the matter out of her mind—at least for the time being.
Right now she had Ben Cartwright to think of, she reminded herself as she flashed the widower her most charming smile. He was sure to keep her stay in Virginia City interesting.
LINK TO PART THIRTY-ONE
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Josephine smiled at Ben Cartwright and continued to tell one of her theatre stories with great animation. She was seated opposite him in the great room of the Ponderosa, with Little Joe to her right and Avigail to her left.
She hadn’t considered the fact that there would be an attractive gentleman of her own age on the ranch. Oh, Adam had mentioned his father, but she’d been so caught up in puzzling out the relationship between Adam and her son that she hadn’t paid much heed.
Her eyes shifted to Avigail. A plain girl, poor thing, and that vicious scar didn’t help matters. Still, she was intelligent and well-spoken. Josephine could understand why her son had formed a friendship with her—and why he wanted to give her the protection of his name.
She would do well for David, Josephine decided. She would never allow him to patronize her or ride roughshod over her. She would keep a good house and, if David were willing to adopt, she would make a good mother.
A far better mother than Josephine herself had been, she thought wryly. Josephine had no illusions on that score. Still, she had done the best she could for David, keeping him by her side even if it meant that he grew up in the shocking and scandalous world of the theatre. His father didn’t want him, so her only other choice would have been to send him off to a boarding school—and she couldn’t bring herself to do that.
His education had been skewered, to say the least. It wasn’t easy to keep him in a school when they were constantly traveling. But he picked up what he could here and there. He also played endless games of chess with various cast and crewmembers and he certainly learned his share of Shakespeare.
What a pity he didn’t want a life on the stage! He belonged among people who wouldn’t judge him for his romantic inclinations. But she couldn’t force his hand, so she put the matter out of her mind—at least for the time being.
Right now she had Ben Cartwright to think of, she reminded herself as she flashed the widower her most charming smile. He was sure to keep her stay in Virginia City interesting.
LINK TO PART THIRTY-ONE
The New Hand, Part Twenty-Nine
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam and David opted to walk back to the hotel after services—neither had more than an hour’s worth of sleep last night. They spoke little on the way back, lapsing into a thoughtful, companionable silence.
One thing puzzled Adam: David had seemed anxious to leave the synagogue as soon as the services were over. That was surprising, for he was quite charismatic when he chose to be and the other congregants were friendly enough.
The elderly rabbi was especially friendly. He had greeted Adam personally and engaged him in conversation. He wasn’t put off when Adam told him that he was a gentile; he just seemed interested to know what had brought him to the synagogue. And he would have spoken at length with David as well—if David hadn’t already been out the door.
But Adam decided not to question his friend about leaving so soon. However essential Judaism was to him, David still had an ambiguous relationship with his faith.
“You’re from a Sephardic Jewish family?” he asked instead, breaking the comfortable silence.
David smiled. “You could tell that from my accent in Hebrew? Very good.”
Adam grinned. “I learned quite a bit about Judaism when I courted Rebecca.”
“I suppose you would, wouldn’t you?” David mused. “You don’t seem to do things by half measures.”
He paused and then returned to Adam’s question. “Half of my family is Sephardic. My father’s people are Welsh Protestants, but my mother’s family is from Portugal. They’ve been here for a while, though. They were part of the Spanish and Portuguese synagogue in New York City that was founded back in the 1650’s.”
“Is your father alive?” Adam asked curiously.
He nodded. “Yes—but he and my mother are divorced. Scandalous, isn’t it? Divorce runs in my family. He was husband number two for my mother. She gave up on marriage after she divorced husband number three. Now she contents herself with discreet—and a few not-so-discreet—liaisons.”
Adam smiled and shrugged liberally. “Well, I don’t think anyone holds theatre folk to the same, ah, conventions that the rest of us are supposed to follow. Are you on speaking terms with your father?”
“More or less,” David answered. “I scarcely know him, to be honest. He lives in New York. We write each other on occasion—but I tend to edit out anything that’s of real importance in my life.”
They had reached the hotel by now and were soon trudging up to their rooms. Adam noticed that David stayed behind him as he opened his door and then followed him into his suite.
Adam turned to face him. The bruise on his jaw was blatant now. Without thinking, Adam raised his fingers to it.
The casual touch sent a jolt through both men. David backed away and turned abruptly. But by the time he turned back again, he seemed perfectly composed.
“That’s going to be a problem for us, isn’t it?” he asked, smiling a little. “Neither of us would consider striking a woman, but there’s no need for chivalry between us.”
Adam didn’t feel equal to responding to the assumption implicit in that statement. “That won’t happen again,” he managed.
Even as he spoke Adam wasn’t sure if he was referring to the right hook or to the casual touch.
David took him to mean the right hook. Or at least he pretended to.
“Yes it will,” he said, grinning outright now. “I’ve seen the way you and your brothers rough-house and brawl amongst yourselves. You’ll resort to your fists again. But it doesn’t matter—I can defend myself.”
He paused and leaned back against the door. “There’s no point in me going back to my own suite, is there?” he asked. “Not that it signifies now, considering that we’re both too tired to do anything.”
Adam gave him a level, measuring look. “What makes you think that something between us is inevitable?” he asked.
David shrugged. “You’re right—maybe it’s not. But if there was no chance, Adam, you would have made that clear back when we were drinking scotch on the porch of the Ponderosa. You knew that ruining you wasn’t my only motivation. I’ve been—I’ve been conscious of you since I met you in that wretched brothel that Ed Niles owns.”
Adam narrowed his eyes at him. Then he folded his arms across his chest and leaned sideways against the wall. “Is that so?” he asked.
“Yes,” David answered, meeting his gaze.
“Then why did you take up with Stephen?” Adam demanded.
He had the satisfaction of watching David’s mouth drop open. In fact, it took David a long moment to respond.
“Touché,” he managed at last, with an appreciative nod of his head. “That caught me more off guard than your right hook did.”
“Well?” Adam persisted.
David raised his eyebrows at him. “I don’t suppose we could postpone this chat until after we’ve each had a few hours sleep?”
Adam shook his head. “No. I'd like this out in the open now.”
David sighed. “All right,” he said with a shrug. “Let me tell you about Stephen.”
LINK TO PART THIRTY
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam and David opted to walk back to the hotel after services—neither had more than an hour’s worth of sleep last night. They spoke little on the way back, lapsing into a thoughtful, companionable silence.
One thing puzzled Adam: David had seemed anxious to leave the synagogue as soon as the services were over. That was surprising, for he was quite charismatic when he chose to be and the other congregants were friendly enough.
The elderly rabbi was especially friendly. He had greeted Adam personally and engaged him in conversation. He wasn’t put off when Adam told him that he was a gentile; he just seemed interested to know what had brought him to the synagogue. And he would have spoken at length with David as well—if David hadn’t already been out the door.
But Adam decided not to question his friend about leaving so soon. However essential Judaism was to him, David still had an ambiguous relationship with his faith.
“You’re from a Sephardic Jewish family?” he asked instead, breaking the comfortable silence.
David smiled. “You could tell that from my accent in Hebrew? Very good.”
Adam grinned. “I learned quite a bit about Judaism when I courted Rebecca.”
“I suppose you would, wouldn’t you?” David mused. “You don’t seem to do things by half measures.”
He paused and then returned to Adam’s question. “Half of my family is Sephardic. My father’s people are Welsh Protestants, but my mother’s family is from Portugal. They’ve been here for a while, though. They were part of the Spanish and Portuguese synagogue in New York City that was founded back in the 1650’s.”
“Is your father alive?” Adam asked curiously.
He nodded. “Yes—but he and my mother are divorced. Scandalous, isn’t it? Divorce runs in my family. He was husband number two for my mother. She gave up on marriage after she divorced husband number three. Now she contents herself with discreet—and a few not-so-discreet—liaisons.”
Adam smiled and shrugged liberally. “Well, I don’t think anyone holds theatre folk to the same, ah, conventions that the rest of us are supposed to follow. Are you on speaking terms with your father?”
“More or less,” David answered. “I scarcely know him, to be honest. He lives in New York. We write each other on occasion—but I tend to edit out anything that’s of real importance in my life.”
They had reached the hotel by now and were soon trudging up to their rooms. Adam noticed that David stayed behind him as he opened his door and then followed him into his suite.
Adam turned to face him. The bruise on his jaw was blatant now. Without thinking, Adam raised his fingers to it.
The casual touch sent a jolt through both men. David backed away and turned abruptly. But by the time he turned back again, he seemed perfectly composed.
“That’s going to be a problem for us, isn’t it?” he asked, smiling a little. “Neither of us would consider striking a woman, but there’s no need for chivalry between us.”
Adam didn’t feel equal to responding to the assumption implicit in that statement. “That won’t happen again,” he managed.
Even as he spoke Adam wasn’t sure if he was referring to the right hook or to the casual touch.
David took him to mean the right hook. Or at least he pretended to.
“Yes it will,” he said, grinning outright now. “I’ve seen the way you and your brothers rough-house and brawl amongst yourselves. You’ll resort to your fists again. But it doesn’t matter—I can defend myself.”
He paused and leaned back against the door. “There’s no point in me going back to my own suite, is there?” he asked. “Not that it signifies now, considering that we’re both too tired to do anything.”
Adam gave him a level, measuring look. “What makes you think that something between us is inevitable?” he asked.
David shrugged. “You’re right—maybe it’s not. But if there was no chance, Adam, you would have made that clear back when we were drinking scotch on the porch of the Ponderosa. You knew that ruining you wasn’t my only motivation. I’ve been—I’ve been conscious of you since I met you in that wretched brothel that Ed Niles owns.”
Adam narrowed his eyes at him. Then he folded his arms across his chest and leaned sideways against the wall. “Is that so?” he asked.
“Yes,” David answered, meeting his gaze.
“Then why did you take up with Stephen?” Adam demanded.
He had the satisfaction of watching David’s mouth drop open. In fact, it took David a long moment to respond.
“Touché,” he managed at last, with an appreciative nod of his head. “That caught me more off guard than your right hook did.”
“Well?” Adam persisted.
David raised his eyebrows at him. “I don’t suppose we could postpone this chat until after we’ve each had a few hours sleep?”
Adam shook his head. “No. I'd like this out in the open now.”
David sighed. “All right,” he said with a shrug. “Let me tell you about Stephen.”
LINK TO PART THIRTY
The New Hand, Part Twenty-Eight
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
“Hey Pa!”
Ben sighed as he heard Joe’s shouts. That boy was supposed to be in the Northern pasture by now. Even though it was Saturday, it was still a work day as far as the Ponderosa was concerned. The ranch didn’t run itself.
The front door burst open as Little Joe came running inside. “Pa, didn’t you hear me?” he asked.
Ben put down the accounts he’d been adding up and glared at his son. “Why aren’t you working?” he demanded.
“I’ll get to the fences in a little while, Pa,” Joe assured him, flashing that smile that always put Ben in mind of Marie.
Ben felt his gaze soften despite himself. “Well, what is it?” he asked his youngest.
Joe winked. “There’s a beautiful woman coming our way, Pa,” he informed him. “If you move quick, you’ll be on time to help her out of the buggy.”
Ben raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised you’re not waiting to help her down yourself.”
“Oh, she’s a bit old for me, Pa, so I thought I’d give you first crack,” he answered with a face full of good-natured mischief. “But, if you feel you’re too far past your prime, I’ve never been averse to older women—”
“Stay here,” Ben grumbled, smarting at the ‘past your prime’ comment. “I don’t want our guest to be frightened off by your attentions.”
Little Joe laughed, but followed him out anyway. Ben sighed, wondering why his words carried such little weight around here.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-NINE
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
“Hey Pa!”
Ben sighed as he heard Joe’s shouts. That boy was supposed to be in the Northern pasture by now. Even though it was Saturday, it was still a work day as far as the Ponderosa was concerned. The ranch didn’t run itself.
The front door burst open as Little Joe came running inside. “Pa, didn’t you hear me?” he asked.
Ben put down the accounts he’d been adding up and glared at his son. “Why aren’t you working?” he demanded.
“I’ll get to the fences in a little while, Pa,” Joe assured him, flashing that smile that always put Ben in mind of Marie.
Ben felt his gaze soften despite himself. “Well, what is it?” he asked his youngest.
Joe winked. “There’s a beautiful woman coming our way, Pa,” he informed him. “If you move quick, you’ll be on time to help her out of the buggy.”
Ben raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised you’re not waiting to help her down yourself.”
“Oh, she’s a bit old for me, Pa, so I thought I’d give you first crack,” he answered with a face full of good-natured mischief. “But, if you feel you’re too far past your prime, I’ve never been averse to older women—”
“Stay here,” Ben grumbled, smarting at the ‘past your prime’ comment. “I don’t want our guest to be frightened off by your attentions.”
Little Joe laughed, but followed him out anyway. Ben sighed, wondering why his words carried such little weight around here.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-NINE
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Picture of the Day
I love this pic of Adam and Little Joe. Joe looks just like a kid--doesn't he?--as he seeks solace and advice from his older brother. I found this screen shot at Bonanza World.
The New Hand, Part Twenty-Seven
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam and David slipped into a back pew of the synagogue. Adam watched his friend stand up and put on his prayer shawl, twisting and swaying to make it fold properly before sitting down again.
The Hebrew services were not as foreign to Adam as David had supposed. He had sat through services in a synagogue before with Aaron Kaufman, back when he was courting Rebecca. And although he understood very little Hebrew, he could sound out the alphabet well enough to follow the prayer book along.
Like the other synagogue he had attended, this one was slightly disorganized. But that just gave it an informal, down-to-earth feeling.
Adam raised his eyebrows as David began to chant the prayers and responses. He spoke Hebrew with a Sephardic accent. That probably meant that the Jewish side of his family came from Spain or Portugal. This was an Ashkenazi synagogue, so most of the Jews here were from places like Germany or Eastern Europe. David’s crisp yet melodic accent stood out, despite the fact that he kept his voice soft.
There was a bruise forming on David’s jaw, Adam noticed. He cringed at the way he had lost his temper earlier. What had set him off? He had always known that Marty was ungovernable. He should have guessed that she would tumble headlong into a dangerous lifestyle as soon as she got a taste of freedom.
Maybe it was the fact that she had managed to hide it from him. He had visited her a few times—and each time she had played the part of the perfect innocent.
The trouble was, he felt that he had a responsibility to protect the girl. Apart from the fact that she was like a little sister to him, he had promised her grandfather that no harm would come to her. Besides, he couldn’t stand the thought of even a pseudo-sister serving as Ed Niles’ mistress.
He closed his eyes for a moment and set thoughts of Marty aside. There was nothing he could do for her at present—he would have to wait until he saw her and then see if he could talk some sense into her.
He opened his eyes again as the congregation began to chant the Sh’ma—the central proclamation of Judaism. “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is one,” is how it translated. Adam even knew the Hebrew well enough to chant along.
He remembered when Rebecca had taught him the Sh’ma. She had claimed that it was the first Hebrew a Jew learned and, ideally, the last words he ever spoke.
Adam glanced at David again. Whatever arguments or issues David might have with his religion, he was obviously at home here. Adam could see that he belonged, even if he wasn’t strictly observant—and even if his love affairs were considered abominations.
Adam had never felt that way in a house of worship. Oh, he was never uncomfortable. He didn’t mind going to his Pa’s Protestant church or to a Catholic Mass with Little Joe. And he hadn’t minded going to synagogue with Rebecca’s father or sitting through a silent, meditative Quaker service with Regina.
But although he had never felt uncomfortable at those services, he’d never belonged in any one of them either. He had his own moral code and his own view of the Almighty—but where organized religion was concerned, he would always be an outsider looking in.
Strange then, that he should be attracted to people who belonged so deeply in their religious traditions. He had loved Regina more than he had ever loved anyone, but he knew that he couldn’t separate her from her faith—or from the pacifist ideals which were an extension of that faith.
Rebecca could never have left her religion either. She wasn’t as devout as Regina, but Judaism still formed the framework of her life.
Even Ruth, whom Adam seldom thought about anymore, had her own strange brand of religion. She was a medicine woman first and last—there’d been no time for her to be a wife.
And now there was David, who was equally embedded in his tradition. David might struggle to live up to the moral code of Judaism—and he might wrestle against one particular prohibition. But his wrestling with both the God of Israel and the people Israel was what gave meaning and color to his life.
Adam envied that, but he knew that he couldn’t duplicate it. He saw something of value in each tradition he encountered—but none would ever form the framework of his existence. Perhaps it was better that way, he reflected. It left him free to appreciate all of them.
He paused to shake himself. That was enough deep ponderings for one morning. He glanced at David’s prayer book to find his place and decided to put his mind back on the service.
It wasn’t until much later that Adam noticed a mental slip. While his mind had rambled, he had unintentionally grouped David with Regina, Rebecca and Ruth in his thoughts. But he shrugged it off, determined not to make too much of it.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-EIGHT
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam and David slipped into a back pew of the synagogue. Adam watched his friend stand up and put on his prayer shawl, twisting and swaying to make it fold properly before sitting down again.
The Hebrew services were not as foreign to Adam as David had supposed. He had sat through services in a synagogue before with Aaron Kaufman, back when he was courting Rebecca. And although he understood very little Hebrew, he could sound out the alphabet well enough to follow the prayer book along.
Like the other synagogue he had attended, this one was slightly disorganized. But that just gave it an informal, down-to-earth feeling.
Adam raised his eyebrows as David began to chant the prayers and responses. He spoke Hebrew with a Sephardic accent. That probably meant that the Jewish side of his family came from Spain or Portugal. This was an Ashkenazi synagogue, so most of the Jews here were from places like Germany or Eastern Europe. David’s crisp yet melodic accent stood out, despite the fact that he kept his voice soft.
There was a bruise forming on David’s jaw, Adam noticed. He cringed at the way he had lost his temper earlier. What had set him off? He had always known that Marty was ungovernable. He should have guessed that she would tumble headlong into a dangerous lifestyle as soon as she got a taste of freedom.
Maybe it was the fact that she had managed to hide it from him. He had visited her a few times—and each time she had played the part of the perfect innocent.
The trouble was, he felt that he had a responsibility to protect the girl. Apart from the fact that she was like a little sister to him, he had promised her grandfather that no harm would come to her. Besides, he couldn’t stand the thought of even a pseudo-sister serving as Ed Niles’ mistress.
He closed his eyes for a moment and set thoughts of Marty aside. There was nothing he could do for her at present—he would have to wait until he saw her and then see if he could talk some sense into her.
He opened his eyes again as the congregation began to chant the Sh’ma—the central proclamation of Judaism. “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is one,” is how it translated. Adam even knew the Hebrew well enough to chant along.
He remembered when Rebecca had taught him the Sh’ma. She had claimed that it was the first Hebrew a Jew learned and, ideally, the last words he ever spoke.
Adam glanced at David again. Whatever arguments or issues David might have with his religion, he was obviously at home here. Adam could see that he belonged, even if he wasn’t strictly observant—and even if his love affairs were considered abominations.
Adam had never felt that way in a house of worship. Oh, he was never uncomfortable. He didn’t mind going to his Pa’s Protestant church or to a Catholic Mass with Little Joe. And he hadn’t minded going to synagogue with Rebecca’s father or sitting through a silent, meditative Quaker service with Regina.
But although he had never felt uncomfortable at those services, he’d never belonged in any one of them either. He had his own moral code and his own view of the Almighty—but where organized religion was concerned, he would always be an outsider looking in.
Strange then, that he should be attracted to people who belonged so deeply in their religious traditions. He had loved Regina more than he had ever loved anyone, but he knew that he couldn’t separate her from her faith—or from the pacifist ideals which were an extension of that faith.
Rebecca could never have left her religion either. She wasn’t as devout as Regina, but Judaism still formed the framework of her life.
Even Ruth, whom Adam seldom thought about anymore, had her own strange brand of religion. She was a medicine woman first and last—there’d been no time for her to be a wife.
And now there was David, who was equally embedded in his tradition. David might struggle to live up to the moral code of Judaism—and he might wrestle against one particular prohibition. But his wrestling with both the God of Israel and the people Israel was what gave meaning and color to his life.
Adam envied that, but he knew that he couldn’t duplicate it. He saw something of value in each tradition he encountered—but none would ever form the framework of his existence. Perhaps it was better that way, he reflected. It left him free to appreciate all of them.
He paused to shake himself. That was enough deep ponderings for one morning. He glanced at David’s prayer book to find his place and decided to put his mind back on the service.
It wasn’t until much later that Adam noticed a mental slip. While his mind had rambled, he had unintentionally grouped David with Regina, Rebecca and Ruth in his thoughts. But he shrugged it off, determined not to make too much of it.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-EIGHT
The New Hand, Part Twenty-Six
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Josephine Levine stared at her reflection. She was sitting at a vanity table in her suite in Virginia City, trying to determine whether she should dress modestly for her first visit to the Ponderosa, or whether she should simply be herself.
She decided on a compromise. The shocking day dresses she owned would have set off her bosom to the best advantage, but she avoided them in favor of a dashing new riding habit. Not quite the thing to wear for a morning call—but no one could call it immodest.
She wondered again what she would make of this fiancée of David’s. She remembered all too well what a disaster her son’s first marriage had been. On the other hand, at least this new girl was marrying him with her eyes wide open. That might make all the difference.
At any event, she was determined to get along with this Avigail. Josephine had to admit that she’d been rather brutal to David’s first wife—she wouldn’t make that mistake again.
No, this time she would play the part of the benign mother-in-law to perfection. It was not a role she looked forward to, but she was a consummate actress. She knew she would be able to pull it off.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-SEVEN
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Josephine Levine stared at her reflection. She was sitting at a vanity table in her suite in Virginia City, trying to determine whether she should dress modestly for her first visit to the Ponderosa, or whether she should simply be herself.
She decided on a compromise. The shocking day dresses she owned would have set off her bosom to the best advantage, but she avoided them in favor of a dashing new riding habit. Not quite the thing to wear for a morning call—but no one could call it immodest.
She wondered again what she would make of this fiancée of David’s. She remembered all too well what a disaster her son’s first marriage had been. On the other hand, at least this new girl was marrying him with her eyes wide open. That might make all the difference.
At any event, she was determined to get along with this Avigail. Josephine had to admit that she’d been rather brutal to David’s first wife—she wouldn’t make that mistake again.
No, this time she would play the part of the benign mother-in-law to perfection. It was not a role she looked forward to, but she was a consummate actress. She knew she would be able to pull it off.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-SEVEN
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Picture of the Day
Now that's a slash pic! Ok, it's not really. But it should be! That's Christian Bale and Rupert Everett in A Midsummer Night's Dream. I found this screen shot at the best Christian Bale site I know of...
The Eyes of the Wind, Part Eight
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG
LINK TO PART ONE
~
I don’t know how long we sat there on the rock. I was still thinking of the feel of Adam’s face. Little things about it stood out--his cleft chin and what I suspect were dimples from his grin. But even having read his face that way, I still found myself puzzling over him. I couldn’t quite weave the bits and pieces I knew of him into a coherent picture.
Adam must have been absorbed in his own thoughts, for he kept quiet as we sat there. He was probably wishing that anyone but me had been there with him--for just about anyone else would have been more useful. I felt my face burn in anger at that. But it was an impotent anger. Expressing it would only have made matters worse.
At length I felt him stir beside me. “We need to get down to the wreckage,” he said. “We have to find the canteens. Those two injured men need water--and so will we, soon enough.”
The thought of us scrambling down that steep slope didn’t entice me--but neither did the thought of proving myself useless. So I nodded and put my arm around his back and helped him to his feet. Then I allowed him to lean against me and guide me as we started down the gulley.
It was slow going, for we had to navigate not only the usual rocks and such but the debris as well. Still, Adam proved to be an able guide. We slipped up only once--but that was enough to send both of us crashing to the ground. I sliced my arm open against a piece of splintered wood from the wreck.
I swore out loud at the sudden, biting pain.
“Damn it,” Adam said. Then I heard him settle himself into a seated position beside me. “Here," he continued. "Let me see your arm.”
I shifted myself to a seated position as well and held out the offending limb. He tore off the remainder of my sleeve and used it for a bandage. I’ll wager that stopped the bleeding, but the slice still hurt like the devil.
“That’s the best I can do for now,” Adam said grimly. “Let’s try again.”
“No,” I said. “You’re staying put--it was that leg of yours that caused us to stumble.”
“We need the water, Drew,” Adam snapped. “We don’t have a choice.”
“I’ll go find the water,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “You stay here and do your best to guide me down.”
I think Adam must have raised his eyebrows at that. “How do you expect to find the canteens on your own?” he demanded.
I shrugged. “I’m not helpless, Adam. I can feel for them. But I’m not bringing you--we’ll both break our necks if I try to get you down there.”
I heard him inhale sharply at that. He was longing to object--and he probably wanted to box my ears as well--but he knew that I was speaking the truth. I had to stop myself from grinning in triumph. It pleased me to no end that Adam was now feeling helpless and useless.
“Very well,” he said at length. His voice was taut, as if he were forcing himself to give in to common sense. “Start down now. And you’d best use your hands and make your way down backwards if you don’t want to fall and break your neck.”
I gritted my teeth. Adam would have the pleasure, once again, of seeing me crawl. And he was still determined to give orders. But I had invited that, I suppose, by admitting that I needed his guidance.
Between his instructions and my own careful progress I made it to the wreckage without any serious mishap. But my hands were cut up and full of splinters by the time I found the canteens. But at least I did find them--or four of them, at any event. I slung them over my shoulders.
I was just making my way back through the wreckage so that I could crawl back to Adam when my hands felt a sticky, coagulating liquid and something like pasty flesh beneath it. I cringed and forced myself to explore it with my fingers. It was a man’s bloodied face--there was no mistaking that. I ran my hands down his neck and felt for the shirt he was wearing. It was a heavy linen with fringes.
“Drew, what’s wrong?” Adam called down. “Did you find more canteens?”
“No,” I called back. “I’ve found a corpse. It’s part buried in the wreckage--was the driver wearing an old hunting frock?”
“No, but his companion was,” Adam said.
“Well, then I’ve found his companion. There’s no stench, but I imagine he’s been dead for a while.”
“There’ll be a stench soon enough in this heat,” Adam remarked. “We’ll have to leave him there for now. We’ll worry about burying him or getting his body back to Virginia City later.”
I frowned at that. “Some scavengers might get to him first,” I called up.
“I know,” he returned. “But there’s no helping that. If you can cover him up at all, do so--otherwise just get back up here.”
“Yes, sir,” I muttered under my breath, still resenting his orders. But I did exactly as he said.
It took some doing to reach him again. I almost slid backward just before I got to him, but he reached out and caught me by my good arm. Then he helped haul me up beside him.
“Good job,” he said as he took one of the canteens from me. There was, I think, a certain grudging admiration in his voice. “Let me see your hands.”
I held out my hands and allowed him to wash them off with a bit of water from the canteen. Then I kept still as he did his best to force out the splinters, lest they fester. He couldn’t get all of them by hand, but fortunately he had a pen knife in his pocket. I did my best to keep still as he dug into my skin with it.
That’s when a gun shot rang out. It wasn’t too far off by the sound of it. I jumped at it, but fortunately Adam kept cool and managed not to slice may palm apart with the knife.
I heard him sigh, though, as he put the knife away. “We’d better find out what that was for,” he said.
LINK TO PART NINE
Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG
LINK TO PART ONE
~
I don’t know how long we sat there on the rock. I was still thinking of the feel of Adam’s face. Little things about it stood out--his cleft chin and what I suspect were dimples from his grin. But even having read his face that way, I still found myself puzzling over him. I couldn’t quite weave the bits and pieces I knew of him into a coherent picture.
Adam must have been absorbed in his own thoughts, for he kept quiet as we sat there. He was probably wishing that anyone but me had been there with him--for just about anyone else would have been more useful. I felt my face burn in anger at that. But it was an impotent anger. Expressing it would only have made matters worse.
At length I felt him stir beside me. “We need to get down to the wreckage,” he said. “We have to find the canteens. Those two injured men need water--and so will we, soon enough.”
The thought of us scrambling down that steep slope didn’t entice me--but neither did the thought of proving myself useless. So I nodded and put my arm around his back and helped him to his feet. Then I allowed him to lean against me and guide me as we started down the gulley.
It was slow going, for we had to navigate not only the usual rocks and such but the debris as well. Still, Adam proved to be an able guide. We slipped up only once--but that was enough to send both of us crashing to the ground. I sliced my arm open against a piece of splintered wood from the wreck.
I swore out loud at the sudden, biting pain.
“Damn it,” Adam said. Then I heard him settle himself into a seated position beside me. “Here," he continued. "Let me see your arm.”
I shifted myself to a seated position as well and held out the offending limb. He tore off the remainder of my sleeve and used it for a bandage. I’ll wager that stopped the bleeding, but the slice still hurt like the devil.
“That’s the best I can do for now,” Adam said grimly. “Let’s try again.”
“No,” I said. “You’re staying put--it was that leg of yours that caused us to stumble.”
“We need the water, Drew,” Adam snapped. “We don’t have a choice.”
“I’ll go find the water,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “You stay here and do your best to guide me down.”
I think Adam must have raised his eyebrows at that. “How do you expect to find the canteens on your own?” he demanded.
I shrugged. “I’m not helpless, Adam. I can feel for them. But I’m not bringing you--we’ll both break our necks if I try to get you down there.”
I heard him inhale sharply at that. He was longing to object--and he probably wanted to box my ears as well--but he knew that I was speaking the truth. I had to stop myself from grinning in triumph. It pleased me to no end that Adam was now feeling helpless and useless.
“Very well,” he said at length. His voice was taut, as if he were forcing himself to give in to common sense. “Start down now. And you’d best use your hands and make your way down backwards if you don’t want to fall and break your neck.”
I gritted my teeth. Adam would have the pleasure, once again, of seeing me crawl. And he was still determined to give orders. But I had invited that, I suppose, by admitting that I needed his guidance.
Between his instructions and my own careful progress I made it to the wreckage without any serious mishap. But my hands were cut up and full of splinters by the time I found the canteens. But at least I did find them--or four of them, at any event. I slung them over my shoulders.
I was just making my way back through the wreckage so that I could crawl back to Adam when my hands felt a sticky, coagulating liquid and something like pasty flesh beneath it. I cringed and forced myself to explore it with my fingers. It was a man’s bloodied face--there was no mistaking that. I ran my hands down his neck and felt for the shirt he was wearing. It was a heavy linen with fringes.
“Drew, what’s wrong?” Adam called down. “Did you find more canteens?”
“No,” I called back. “I’ve found a corpse. It’s part buried in the wreckage--was the driver wearing an old hunting frock?”
“No, but his companion was,” Adam said.
“Well, then I’ve found his companion. There’s no stench, but I imagine he’s been dead for a while.”
“There’ll be a stench soon enough in this heat,” Adam remarked. “We’ll have to leave him there for now. We’ll worry about burying him or getting his body back to Virginia City later.”
I frowned at that. “Some scavengers might get to him first,” I called up.
“I know,” he returned. “But there’s no helping that. If you can cover him up at all, do so--otherwise just get back up here.”
“Yes, sir,” I muttered under my breath, still resenting his orders. But I did exactly as he said.
It took some doing to reach him again. I almost slid backward just before I got to him, but he reached out and caught me by my good arm. Then he helped haul me up beside him.
“Good job,” he said as he took one of the canteens from me. There was, I think, a certain grudging admiration in his voice. “Let me see your hands.”
I held out my hands and allowed him to wash them off with a bit of water from the canteen. Then I kept still as he did his best to force out the splinters, lest they fester. He couldn’t get all of them by hand, but fortunately he had a pen knife in his pocket. I did my best to keep still as he dug into my skin with it.
That’s when a gun shot rang out. It wasn’t too far off by the sound of it. I jumped at it, but fortunately Adam kept cool and managed not to slice may palm apart with the knife.
I heard him sigh, though, as he put the knife away. “We’d better find out what that was for,” he said.
LINK TO PART NINE
Picture of....Yesterday!
The thing about vacations is that time ceases to have meaning. That's my excuse for being late with the picture. This one is of George Washington, in order to highlight the new blog my father and I have started in his honour: A Kind of Destiny. Charles Wilson Peale painted the portrait in 1772. It's the earliest portrait of Washington.
Monday, March 24, 2008
The New Hand, Part Twenty-Five
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam hadn’t even bothered to get undressed when he crashed on his bed after the chess game. He had only closed his eyes for about an hour, however, when they shot open again as a memory surged through him. Suddenly he realized why that painting in Stephen’s flat had seemed so familiar.
He stood up abruptly and, without bothering to knock, barged through the door that separated his suite from David’s.
There was plenty of daylight now, so he could see that David hadn’t bothered to undress either. He was dozing on top of his covers. Adam marched over to him and shook him awake.
“What is it?” David asked through a yawn as he opened his eyes and sat up.
“There was a painting in Stephen’s apartment that looked familiar. I should have guessed why—I know the artist.”
David yawned again and then got himself to a standing position. “Which painting?”
“The one of the woman casting a seductive glance over her shoulder,” Adam answered as he silently cursed his own stupidity. “It’s by a girl named Marty.”
To his surprise, David nodded. “Oh, yes. I know her. She’s one of Niles’ mistresses.”
Adam felt the blood drain from his face. “What?” he demanded. “Do you mean Ed Niles?”
David cocked his head at him. “Of course I mean Ed Niles. Stephen wouldn’t have known what to do with her.”
“She can’t be Niles’ mistress,” Adam insisted.
“Well, he pays for her flat, her jewelry and her clothes—and I doubt that’s out of the goodness of his heart,” David retorted. “But, if you want my opinion, I think she plays Ed false. I’ve seen her with two or three young bucks. One of them—”
He didn’t get any further describing her other lovers. Adam’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling back across the bed.
But he didn’t stay down. He was up quicker than Adam would have thought possible, with both fists raised and ready. He was no stranger to boxing, then.
David stared at Adam for a long moment and then slowly lowered his fists. “Would you mind telling me what that was about?” he asked as he rubbed his jaw.
Adam felt his face flush with embarrassment as he realized that David’s mouth was full of blood. “I’m sorry,” he managed, knowing that he had no right to blame the messenger. “You’re welcome to a free shot.”
To his astonishment, David grinned. “I wouldn’t need a free shot,” he assured him. “I know how to use my fists. But I’m not about to fight with you—not on the Sabbath, anyway. Why did you try to break my jaw?”
Adam sighed and put his hand on his forehead. “I met Marty in a way station,” he explained. “She was trying hard to escape her over-protective grandfather. I recognized her talent and eventually convinced the man to let her go away to school. I’ve even paid money toward her education.”
He paused and shook his head. “Her grandfather wanted to protect her from men like Ed Niles. I convinced him that she would be fine—I said I’d look after her myself, when I could. But I should never have encouraged him to let her go off on her own.”
David turned to the basin on top of his bureau and spit out the blood in his mouth. When he was done, he gave Adam a look of sympathy.
“You could never have protected someone like Marty from the ways of the world,” he said frankly. “She’s too determined to explore them for herself. But she’s no fool, Adam. She cares much more about her art than about the men in her life. She’s just using them to ensure that she doesn’t end up a starving artist. There’s no reason to blame her for that.”
Adam sighed again as he took a seat on the bed. “I can’t imagine what her grandfather would say if he knew.”
“Well, he’s not likely to find out,” David reminded him. “She knows how to play the innocent, as I'm sure you've discovered first hand. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if Marty catches herself a rich, respectable husband who will devote himself to furthering her career.”
Adam managed to grin at that. “I hope so. Perhaps we should talk to her—she might know something more about Stephen.”
David shrugged. “It’s all right with me, if you think we can trust her.”
He was tucking in his shirt as he spoke and reaching for his waistcoat. Adam frowned at him. “Where are you off to?”
“Since I’m now wide awake, I might as well go to synagogue,” he answered. “I think there’s a traditional one on Stockton Street.”
“Would you like company?” Adam asked. “After all, it’s my fault that you’re wide awake.”
He shrugged again. “I wouldn’t mind it,” he answered, “but I feel obliged to warn you that it’s not a very accessible service. You’ll have to sit through about three hours of Hebrew. There might be some good chanting and singing, but I doubt you’ll understand a word of it.”
“I’ll consider it a penance,” Adam assured him. “Just let me wash up.”
LINK TO PART TWENTY-SIX
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam hadn’t even bothered to get undressed when he crashed on his bed after the chess game. He had only closed his eyes for about an hour, however, when they shot open again as a memory surged through him. Suddenly he realized why that painting in Stephen’s flat had seemed so familiar.
He stood up abruptly and, without bothering to knock, barged through the door that separated his suite from David’s.
There was plenty of daylight now, so he could see that David hadn’t bothered to undress either. He was dozing on top of his covers. Adam marched over to him and shook him awake.
“What is it?” David asked through a yawn as he opened his eyes and sat up.
“There was a painting in Stephen’s apartment that looked familiar. I should have guessed why—I know the artist.”
David yawned again and then got himself to a standing position. “Which painting?”
“The one of the woman casting a seductive glance over her shoulder,” Adam answered as he silently cursed his own stupidity. “It’s by a girl named Marty.”
To his surprise, David nodded. “Oh, yes. I know her. She’s one of Niles’ mistresses.”
Adam felt the blood drain from his face. “What?” he demanded. “Do you mean Ed Niles?”
David cocked his head at him. “Of course I mean Ed Niles. Stephen wouldn’t have known what to do with her.”
“She can’t be Niles’ mistress,” Adam insisted.
“Well, he pays for her flat, her jewelry and her clothes—and I doubt that’s out of the goodness of his heart,” David retorted. “But, if you want my opinion, I think she plays Ed false. I’ve seen her with two or three young bucks. One of them—”
He didn’t get any further describing her other lovers. Adam’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling back across the bed.
But he didn’t stay down. He was up quicker than Adam would have thought possible, with both fists raised and ready. He was no stranger to boxing, then.
David stared at Adam for a long moment and then slowly lowered his fists. “Would you mind telling me what that was about?” he asked as he rubbed his jaw.
Adam felt his face flush with embarrassment as he realized that David’s mouth was full of blood. “I’m sorry,” he managed, knowing that he had no right to blame the messenger. “You’re welcome to a free shot.”
To his astonishment, David grinned. “I wouldn’t need a free shot,” he assured him. “I know how to use my fists. But I’m not about to fight with you—not on the Sabbath, anyway. Why did you try to break my jaw?”
Adam sighed and put his hand on his forehead. “I met Marty in a way station,” he explained. “She was trying hard to escape her over-protective grandfather. I recognized her talent and eventually convinced the man to let her go away to school. I’ve even paid money toward her education.”
He paused and shook his head. “Her grandfather wanted to protect her from men like Ed Niles. I convinced him that she would be fine—I said I’d look after her myself, when I could. But I should never have encouraged him to let her go off on her own.”
David turned to the basin on top of his bureau and spit out the blood in his mouth. When he was done, he gave Adam a look of sympathy.
“You could never have protected someone like Marty from the ways of the world,” he said frankly. “She’s too determined to explore them for herself. But she’s no fool, Adam. She cares much more about her art than about the men in her life. She’s just using them to ensure that she doesn’t end up a starving artist. There’s no reason to blame her for that.”
Adam sighed again as he took a seat on the bed. “I can’t imagine what her grandfather would say if he knew.”
“Well, he’s not likely to find out,” David reminded him. “She knows how to play the innocent, as I'm sure you've discovered first hand. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if Marty catches herself a rich, respectable husband who will devote himself to furthering her career.”
Adam managed to grin at that. “I hope so. Perhaps we should talk to her—she might know something more about Stephen.”
David shrugged. “It’s all right with me, if you think we can trust her.”
He was tucking in his shirt as he spoke and reaching for his waistcoat. Adam frowned at him. “Where are you off to?”
“Since I’m now wide awake, I might as well go to synagogue,” he answered. “I think there’s a traditional one on Stockton Street.”
“Would you like company?” Adam asked. “After all, it’s my fault that you’re wide awake.”
He shrugged again. “I wouldn’t mind it,” he answered, “but I feel obliged to warn you that it’s not a very accessible service. You’ll have to sit through about three hours of Hebrew. There might be some good chanting and singing, but I doubt you’ll understand a word of it.”
“I’ll consider it a penance,” Adam assured him. “Just let me wash up.”
LINK TO PART TWENTY-SIX
The New Hand, Part Twenty-Four
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Katie sank down into a chair. It was early morning now, thank God. The Silver Dollar should have a few hours of quiet before the men started pouring in again.
She pulled out the cash that she had tucked into the top of her stays. That stranger had given her a bundle—all for a few tidbits about Abby.
Katie frowned, reminding herself not to feel guilty. Abby had landed in clover, after all. All the gossips said that David Griffin, that new hand on the Ponderosa, was going to marry her. Katie shook her head in disbelief. She was a hundred times more attractive than Abby, yet David hadn’t given her a second glance. What on earth did he see in that girl?
Abby was even staying at the Ponderosa for the time being. No doubt the Cartwrights were treating her with far more respect than she deserved. But she was still only a saloon girl, same as Katie.
So what did it matter if Katie had told the stranger exactly when Abby had shown up in Virginia City? Or relayed the rumor that some man had given her that ugly scar? Or mentioned that Abby sometimes received letters from San Diego?
Katie didn’t bother telling him that Abby’s last name probably wasn’t Johnson, as she claimed. The stranger ought to be able to figure out that much on his own.
No, Katie had no reason to feel guilty. Money was money, after all—and it was that much sweeter when you could earn it just by sharing some harmless gossip.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-FIVE
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Katie sank down into a chair. It was early morning now, thank God. The Silver Dollar should have a few hours of quiet before the men started pouring in again.
She pulled out the cash that she had tucked into the top of her stays. That stranger had given her a bundle—all for a few tidbits about Abby.
Katie frowned, reminding herself not to feel guilty. Abby had landed in clover, after all. All the gossips said that David Griffin, that new hand on the Ponderosa, was going to marry her. Katie shook her head in disbelief. She was a hundred times more attractive than Abby, yet David hadn’t given her a second glance. What on earth did he see in that girl?
Abby was even staying at the Ponderosa for the time being. No doubt the Cartwrights were treating her with far more respect than she deserved. But she was still only a saloon girl, same as Katie.
So what did it matter if Katie had told the stranger exactly when Abby had shown up in Virginia City? Or relayed the rumor that some man had given her that ugly scar? Or mentioned that Abby sometimes received letters from San Diego?
Katie didn’t bother telling him that Abby’s last name probably wasn’t Johnson, as she claimed. The stranger ought to be able to figure out that much on his own.
No, Katie had no reason to feel guilty. Money was money, after all—and it was that much sweeter when you could earn it just by sharing some harmless gossip.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-FIVE
The New Hand, Part Twenty-Three
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
David stepped into his room, closed the door behind him and then leaned back against it. There were no lamps lit, so it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the low light that was creeping in from the early dawn.
That had been one hell of a chess game. He and Adam were evenly matched. David was going to enjoy taking him on again.
His mother was right, however. If his relationship with Adam deepened into something more than the tentative friendship they shared now—well, it would be a constant power struggle between them. But that made the thought of something deeper even more enticing.
He no longer planned to ruin Adam, but he was still arrogant enough to think that Adam was interested in him—or at least intrigued by him. Adam might seem straight-laced, but all David’s instincts screamed that he was broad minded enough to, ah, engage in a non-traditional relationship.
Adam lived up to a high moral code—there was no doubt of that—but David didn’t think that such a relationship would violate that code. Especially since both men were free. David had an understanding with Avigail and, at the moment, Adam wasn’t married or even courting anyone.
Of course, Adam would marry eventually. That was inevitable. And that would put an end to any relationship deeper than friendship between the two men. Still, David was willing to live for the moment. He would just have to remind himself not to carry on like some scorned Shakespearian lover when Adam ended things. In all likelihood he would want to retain the friendship.
On the other hand, while that high moral code of Adam’s was admirable, it might turn out to be inconvenient. David was used to dealing underhandedly now and again. He didn't want to find himself constantly worrying about Adam's disapproval.
Perhaps he should distance himself from Adam now, he thought as he loosened his cravat and then removed his shoes. He could keep everything strictly business between them and avoid sharing any more scotch or engaging in any more chess matches.
But it was too late for that—David knew that already. He'd never bring himself to back off now.
He walked over to his bed and flopped down on it, smiling wryly at his own foolishness. That damned high-minded moral code of Adam's was likely to prove contagious.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-FOUR
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
David stepped into his room, closed the door behind him and then leaned back against it. There were no lamps lit, so it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the low light that was creeping in from the early dawn.
That had been one hell of a chess game. He and Adam were evenly matched. David was going to enjoy taking him on again.
His mother was right, however. If his relationship with Adam deepened into something more than the tentative friendship they shared now—well, it would be a constant power struggle between them. But that made the thought of something deeper even more enticing.
He no longer planned to ruin Adam, but he was still arrogant enough to think that Adam was interested in him—or at least intrigued by him. Adam might seem straight-laced, but all David’s instincts screamed that he was broad minded enough to, ah, engage in a non-traditional relationship.
Adam lived up to a high moral code—there was no doubt of that—but David didn’t think that such a relationship would violate that code. Especially since both men were free. David had an understanding with Avigail and, at the moment, Adam wasn’t married or even courting anyone.
Of course, Adam would marry eventually. That was inevitable. And that would put an end to any relationship deeper than friendship between the two men. Still, David was willing to live for the moment. He would just have to remind himself not to carry on like some scorned Shakespearian lover when Adam ended things. In all likelihood he would want to retain the friendship.
On the other hand, while that high moral code of Adam’s was admirable, it might turn out to be inconvenient. David was used to dealing underhandedly now and again. He didn't want to find himself constantly worrying about Adam's disapproval.
Perhaps he should distance himself from Adam now, he thought as he loosened his cravat and then removed his shoes. He could keep everything strictly business between them and avoid sharing any more scotch or engaging in any more chess matches.
But it was too late for that—David knew that already. He'd never bring himself to back off now.
He walked over to his bed and flopped down on it, smiling wryly at his own foolishness. That damned high-minded moral code of Adam's was likely to prove contagious.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-FOUR
Sunday, March 23, 2008
The Old Deringer, Part Fourteen
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Liam started feeling guilty about the figurine later that afternoon. He was sitting on the bed next to Adam, puzzling out the words in a child’s book that Adam had purchased for him. Adam helped him with some words and let him figure out others.
Liam leaned up against Adam as they continued to work their way through the book. He wasn’t going to be happy about the figurine, Liam thought. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Mr. Harris deserved to have his figurine stolen and Adam—well, Adam should have been angrier with Mr. Harris.
He had a really good plan. Just before bed, he was going to place the figurine on the night table—right where Adam couldn’t miss it. Then Adam would get his message, loud and clear.
Liam carried out his plan that evening. While Adam was absorbed with paperwork at his desk, Liam reached over to his coat, which was hanging from the bedpost, and pulled out the figurine. He placed it right on the table.
Then he crept into his cot, closed his eyes and snuggled up with his pillow. He had a brief pang of conscience as he thought about Adam's reaction to the figurine. Would Adam still want him for a valet? Or would he fire him?
But Liam hadn’t forgotten the way that Adam just accepted Mr. Harris’s ‘apology.’ His face burned in anger as he thought about it. At length he rolled over and let out a frustrated sigh. Then he closed his eyes and drifted off into a half sleep.
LINK TO PART FIFTEEN
Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Liam started feeling guilty about the figurine later that afternoon. He was sitting on the bed next to Adam, puzzling out the words in a child’s book that Adam had purchased for him. Adam helped him with some words and let him figure out others.
Liam leaned up against Adam as they continued to work their way through the book. He wasn’t going to be happy about the figurine, Liam thought. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Mr. Harris deserved to have his figurine stolen and Adam—well, Adam should have been angrier with Mr. Harris.
He had a really good plan. Just before bed, he was going to place the figurine on the night table—right where Adam couldn’t miss it. Then Adam would get his message, loud and clear.
Liam carried out his plan that evening. While Adam was absorbed with paperwork at his desk, Liam reached over to his coat, which was hanging from the bedpost, and pulled out the figurine. He placed it right on the table.
Then he crept into his cot, closed his eyes and snuggled up with his pillow. He had a brief pang of conscience as he thought about Adam's reaction to the figurine. Would Adam still want him for a valet? Or would he fire him?
But Liam hadn’t forgotten the way that Adam just accepted Mr. Harris’s ‘apology.’ His face burned in anger as he thought about it. At length he rolled over and let out a frustrated sigh. Then he closed his eyes and drifted off into a half sleep.
LINK TO PART FIFTEEN
Picture of the Day
Yes--it's Anne Boleyn again. Right now I'm captivated by her, which is odd considering that I've never been a fan of the Tudors. But she wasn't a Tudor herself, she just had the misfortune to marry one! At any event, I thought I'd post this picture of her, which was painted by an unkown artist circa 1525...
HAPPY EASTER
Happy Easter to my family and friends who celebrate!
Mary Magdalene at the Empty Tomb
Giovanni Girolamo Savoldo, circa 1535The New Hand, Part Twenty-Two
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam and David had their heads bent over the chess board for almost five hours. They spoke very little during that time—each man was too wrapped up in his strategy. It was one of the toughest games Adam could remember playing.
Adam won, but it was a near thing. He had to rely on some high risks moves in the endgame to secure the victory—and he was pretty sure those risks wouldn’t pay off a second time.
David had an appreciative gleam in his eye when he shook Adam’s hand and congratulated him. But Adam knew that his mind was already at work. He was figuring out where he had made his mistakes and what he could do to beat Adam in the inevitable rematch.
They remained at the board when the game was over. Now it was time to discuss each other’s moves and motivations, starting all the way back at the openings. And then all the what-ifs began: What if you had brought your queen out later? What if you’d been able to promote that pawn? And, of course, each what-if required the two men to go back to that point of the game and play it out from there.
They didn’t head back to their rooms until early in the morning. Not that it mattered—Adam knew that it would be impossible to put his plan into action until Monday anyway. David could rehearse his role in the meanwhile, but that was all.
That left plenty of time for more chess games, Adam thought as he entered his room and loosened his cravat. Moreover, it left plenty of time to figure out just what he thought of David—and just how deep of a friendship he was willing to form with him.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-THREE
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam and David had their heads bent over the chess board for almost five hours. They spoke very little during that time—each man was too wrapped up in his strategy. It was one of the toughest games Adam could remember playing.
Adam won, but it was a near thing. He had to rely on some high risks moves in the endgame to secure the victory—and he was pretty sure those risks wouldn’t pay off a second time.
David had an appreciative gleam in his eye when he shook Adam’s hand and congratulated him. But Adam knew that his mind was already at work. He was figuring out where he had made his mistakes and what he could do to beat Adam in the inevitable rematch.
They remained at the board when the game was over. Now it was time to discuss each other’s moves and motivations, starting all the way back at the openings. And then all the what-ifs began: What if you had brought your queen out later? What if you’d been able to promote that pawn? And, of course, each what-if required the two men to go back to that point of the game and play it out from there.
They didn’t head back to their rooms until early in the morning. Not that it mattered—Adam knew that it would be impossible to put his plan into action until Monday anyway. David could rehearse his role in the meanwhile, but that was all.
That left plenty of time for more chess games, Adam thought as he entered his room and loosened his cravat. Moreover, it left plenty of time to figure out just what he thought of David—and just how deep of a friendship he was willing to form with him.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-THREE
Saturday, March 22, 2008
The New Hand, Part Twenty-One
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Todd Burton gulped down another shot of whiskey at The Bucket of Blood. He’d found a saloon girl who was willing to listen to him complain about the cruel mistreatment he’d received at the hands of the Cartwrights. Well, she was willing to listen with half an ear, at any event—as long as he kept giving her tips.
But at length a well-dressed gentleman took the seat next to Todd and nodded at the girl, sending her off. Then he placed a fresh bottle of whiskey on the table and poured some into Todd’s glass.
“Did I hear you mention a David Griffin?” the stranger asked.
Todd narrowed his eyes at the stranger. It didn’t surprise him that someone might be interested in Griffin—there was something about that man that just screamed ‘trouble.’ And that being the case, he could probably get more than free whiskey off this gentleman.
“I might have,” he answered, rubbing his chin.
The stranger didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a number of bills. “Would you mind repeating the story?” he asked.
Todd grinned as he accepted the cash and tucked it into his pocket. “It was on account of David Griffin that I lost my job at the Ponderosa,” he explained. “He’s got himself a fiancée up there—a girl named Abby with an ugly scar on her face. She used to work over at The Silver Dollar.”
“Griffin is engaged?” the stranger said, raising his eyebrows.
Todd nodded.
“What did his fiancée have to do with you losing your job?” he persisted.
Todd took a gulp of the fresh whiskey before proceeding. “She don’t match David for looks—that scar is vicious. I made a few comments on how, uh, talented she must be in other respects to entice someone like Griffin. Hoss Cartwright took exception to that and fired me on the spot.”
“I see,” said the stranger. “What did Griffin himself have to say?”
“Oh, he don’t know anything about it,” Todd assured him. “He and Adam Cartwright are in San Francisco on business.”
The stranger seemed disconcerted by that news. “Griffin and Adam Cartwright?” he repeated. “They’re both back in San Francisco?”
Todd nodded.
“Do you know what sort of business brought them there?”
“No,” Todd answered, shaking his head as he took another sip of whiskey. “Can’t say that I do.”
The stranger stood up and tipped his hat at Todd. “Thank you. You’re information has been most helpful all the same.”
Todd grinned as he poured out more whiskey for himself. “Happy to oblige, stranger.”
~
The stranger wore a puzzled frown as he left The Bucket of Blood. Ed Niles had hired him to come to Virginia City and find out what David Griffin was up to. He would not be happy to learn that the young man had made an ally of Adam Cartwright—much less that both men were back in San Francisco.
And Griffin had a fiancée now—and that fiancée was staying on the Ponderosa, presumably under the protection of the Cartwrights. But she had been a common saloon girl before she became so elevated.
Someone would know where to dig up any dirt on her, he told himself. Perhaps he’d have some useful information on the girl by the time he reported to Niles. It seemed likely that Griffin was aiming to cause trouble for Niles, so Niles would be anxious for anything he could use as leverage against him.
The stranger smiled as he thought about what Niles would be willing to pay him for some truly useful information. He paused to straighten out his coat and then headed straight for The Silver Dollar.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-TWO
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Todd Burton gulped down another shot of whiskey at The Bucket of Blood. He’d found a saloon girl who was willing to listen to him complain about the cruel mistreatment he’d received at the hands of the Cartwrights. Well, she was willing to listen with half an ear, at any event—as long as he kept giving her tips.
But at length a well-dressed gentleman took the seat next to Todd and nodded at the girl, sending her off. Then he placed a fresh bottle of whiskey on the table and poured some into Todd’s glass.
“Did I hear you mention a David Griffin?” the stranger asked.
Todd narrowed his eyes at the stranger. It didn’t surprise him that someone might be interested in Griffin—there was something about that man that just screamed ‘trouble.’ And that being the case, he could probably get more than free whiskey off this gentleman.
“I might have,” he answered, rubbing his chin.
The stranger didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a number of bills. “Would you mind repeating the story?” he asked.
Todd grinned as he accepted the cash and tucked it into his pocket. “It was on account of David Griffin that I lost my job at the Ponderosa,” he explained. “He’s got himself a fiancée up there—a girl named Abby with an ugly scar on her face. She used to work over at The Silver Dollar.”
“Griffin is engaged?” the stranger said, raising his eyebrows.
Todd nodded.
“What did his fiancée have to do with you losing your job?” he persisted.
Todd took a gulp of the fresh whiskey before proceeding. “She don’t match David for looks—that scar is vicious. I made a few comments on how, uh, talented she must be in other respects to entice someone like Griffin. Hoss Cartwright took exception to that and fired me on the spot.”
“I see,” said the stranger. “What did Griffin himself have to say?”
“Oh, he don’t know anything about it,” Todd assured him. “He and Adam Cartwright are in San Francisco on business.”
The stranger seemed disconcerted by that news. “Griffin and Adam Cartwright?” he repeated. “They’re both back in San Francisco?”
Todd nodded.
“Do you know what sort of business brought them there?”
“No,” Todd answered, shaking his head as he took another sip of whiskey. “Can’t say that I do.”
The stranger stood up and tipped his hat at Todd. “Thank you. You’re information has been most helpful all the same.”
Todd grinned as he poured out more whiskey for himself. “Happy to oblige, stranger.”
~
The stranger wore a puzzled frown as he left The Bucket of Blood. Ed Niles had hired him to come to Virginia City and find out what David Griffin was up to. He would not be happy to learn that the young man had made an ally of Adam Cartwright—much less that both men were back in San Francisco.
And Griffin had a fiancée now—and that fiancée was staying on the Ponderosa, presumably under the protection of the Cartwrights. But she had been a common saloon girl before she became so elevated.
Someone would know where to dig up any dirt on her, he told himself. Perhaps he’d have some useful information on the girl by the time he reported to Niles. It seemed likely that Griffin was aiming to cause trouble for Niles, so Niles would be anxious for anything he could use as leverage against him.
The stranger smiled as he thought about what Niles would be willing to pay him for some truly useful information. He paused to straighten out his coat and then headed straight for The Silver Dollar.
LINK TO PART TWENTY-TWO
The New Hand, Part Twenty
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam was sitting on top of his bed, reading, when David walked into the room. Once again, he didn’t bother to knock.
“Did you find everything?” Adam asked, glancing up from his book.
“I think so,” he answered. “All the theatrical make up I’ll need is in this bag. I already have the clothes.”
He set the bag down as he spoke. Then he took out his wallet and placed it on the bureau. Next he emptied his pockets of change.
Adam smiled. “I can remember watching Rebecca’s father—Aaron Kaufman—emptying his pockets before the Sabbath.”
David grinned. “I’m still mildly observant—I don’t like handling money on the Sabbath if I can help it. Who’s Rebecca?”
“A girl I courted for a short while.”
“Is that so?” David asked, raising his eyebrows. “Did your religious differences drive you apart?”
Adam shook his head. “Not really. I imagine I would have had to convert to marry her, but we both realized that we were better off as friends than as husband and wife.”
“You two must have had all the neighbors talking while you were courting.”
Adam nodded. “We did.” Then he paused and smiled as a memory came flooding back. “I can remember when my father married Marie, Joe’s mother. The neighbors were shocked just because she was a Catholic!”
David laughed. “Is Joe a Catholic?”
“In theory,” Adam answered. “Marie had him christened Catholic and he did manage to get confirmed. He attends Mass on special occasions. The rest of the time he attends Pa’s church."
He paused and gave David an intent look. "What about your mother? Why is she so hostile to observant Judaism?”
“Oh, my mother sees Judaism as all rules and regulations,” he answered with a shrug. “She doesn’t realize that embedded in all our observances is a celebration of the love between God and the people Israel.”
Adam cocked his head at him. “You’re deeply religious, aren’t you?”
“In some ways,” David agreed. “It’s amazing that I’m not a better person, isn’t it?”
“Not necessarily,” Adam answered, grinning. “Think how much worse you’d be if you weren’t religious.”
David laughed. “That’s true.”
Adam set his book aside and stood up from the bed. “There’s a chess board in the lobby. Can you play on the Sabbath?”
“Oh, I do lots of things on the Sabbath that I shouldn’t,” David assured him. “I worked Saturdays on the Ponderosa, remember? But I think chess is permitted anyway.”
He paused and gave Adam a challenging smile. “But a game of chess between the two of us—you know we’ll both be out for blood.”
Adam returned the smile. “I know. That’s what will keep it interesting.”
LINK TO PART TWENTY-ONE
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam was sitting on top of his bed, reading, when David walked into the room. Once again, he didn’t bother to knock.
“Did you find everything?” Adam asked, glancing up from his book.
“I think so,” he answered. “All the theatrical make up I’ll need is in this bag. I already have the clothes.”
He set the bag down as he spoke. Then he took out his wallet and placed it on the bureau. Next he emptied his pockets of change.
Adam smiled. “I can remember watching Rebecca’s father—Aaron Kaufman—emptying his pockets before the Sabbath.”
David grinned. “I’m still mildly observant—I don’t like handling money on the Sabbath if I can help it. Who’s Rebecca?”
“A girl I courted for a short while.”
“Is that so?” David asked, raising his eyebrows. “Did your religious differences drive you apart?”
Adam shook his head. “Not really. I imagine I would have had to convert to marry her, but we both realized that we were better off as friends than as husband and wife.”
“You two must have had all the neighbors talking while you were courting.”
Adam nodded. “We did.” Then he paused and smiled as a memory came flooding back. “I can remember when my father married Marie, Joe’s mother. The neighbors were shocked just because she was a Catholic!”
David laughed. “Is Joe a Catholic?”
“In theory,” Adam answered. “Marie had him christened Catholic and he did manage to get confirmed. He attends Mass on special occasions. The rest of the time he attends Pa’s church."
He paused and gave David an intent look. "What about your mother? Why is she so hostile to observant Judaism?”
“Oh, my mother sees Judaism as all rules and regulations,” he answered with a shrug. “She doesn’t realize that embedded in all our observances is a celebration of the love between God and the people Israel.”
Adam cocked his head at him. “You’re deeply religious, aren’t you?”
“In some ways,” David agreed. “It’s amazing that I’m not a better person, isn’t it?”
“Not necessarily,” Adam answered, grinning. “Think how much worse you’d be if you weren’t religious.”
David laughed. “That’s true.”
Adam set his book aside and stood up from the bed. “There’s a chess board in the lobby. Can you play on the Sabbath?”
“Oh, I do lots of things on the Sabbath that I shouldn’t,” David assured him. “I worked Saturdays on the Ponderosa, remember? But I think chess is permitted anyway.”
He paused and gave Adam a challenging smile. “But a game of chess between the two of us—you know we’ll both be out for blood.”
Adam returned the smile. “I know. That’s what will keep it interesting.”
LINK TO PART TWENTY-ONE
Picture of the Day
Joe (Michael Landon) and Adam (Pernell Roberts) in one of my favorite Bonanza episodes: The Crucible.The Eyes of the Wind, Part Seven
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG
LINK TO PART ONE
~
With Peter running after the horses and Brian searching for the driver and his companion, I was left alone with Adam. Well, not quite alone. The two unconscious strangers were still with us--but they weren't worth counting.
There was nothing for me to do but crouch at Adam’s side and listen to him bandage his leg. I despised Adam at that moment. I despised him because his sight allowed him to take charge, I despised him for casually usurping my authority over my servants and I despised him because our present circumstances made it impossible for me to take him to task for his presumption.
“What’s wrong?”
Adam’s words broke into my thoughts. I cocked my head at him and curled my lips.
“We’re sitting here in the wake of a coach wreck with two unconscious strangers--one of whom, you've assured me, is likely to die soon.,” I reminded him. “As of this moment, we have no horses and no means of transporting you and the other injured parties to shelter. And no means of seeking help. What could be possibly be wrong?”
I don’t know how he reacted to that little speech, for he made no sound. That angered me so much that I spoke without thinking. “How the devil do you look right now?” I demanded.
That took him aback. “How do I look now?” he repeated blankly.
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Never mind,” I said. “I just--I didn’t know how you reacted just now.”
There was a long pause. I could feel him staring at me, still wondering what to make of my outburst.
“Oh, I was amused at your irony,” he said at last. “You know what I meant. I wanted to know what was troubling you this minute--not what’s troubling you about our situation.”
I forced myself to shrug. “There’s nothing else,” I lied. "It's just that. Our situation, I mean."
I could still feel him regarding me. But I suppose he decided to let it go, for at length I heard him turn back to his bandages.
We sat there without speaking for some time. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, so I decided to break it. “How’s your leg?” I asked.
“Not much better,” he answered, “but at least it’s bandaged now. Would you help me up again?”
I nodded and moved to his side. He put his arm around my shoulder as I put my arm around his back. I hoisted him back to his feet and then I felt him tug me toward our left.
“There’s a good spot to sit a couple of yards from here,” he said.
I nodded and we made our way over there. I could feel Adam breathing heavily as we walked--he was in far more pain than he would let on. I bit my lip, wondering just how much of a problem his leg would be.
He led us to a large rock that, at a guess, overlooked the wreck. I helped him down onto it and then took a seat beside him.
Adam sighed. “We’ll need water,” he said. “There were canteens on the coach--we’ll have to sort through the wreckage and see what we can find.
I smiled a little. It was hard to imagine the two of us struggling down the slope, with all its steepness and all the debris--me without my sight, and Adam without the proper use of his leg. But if I knew Adam, that’s just what he intended us to do. I tried to imagine the determined expression he was wearing.
“Would you mind if I touched your face?” I asked him.
“What?” he asked.
I could tell that he had turned toward me. He was probably giving me an incredulous look.
I felt myself redden. I had spoken without thinking. To touch someone’s face was the only way I had of truly seeing it--but I seldom made that request. It required far too much intimacy for my taste.
“I--I’m sorry,” I managed. “I spoke out of turn. I just wanted to feel your expression--and to know what you look like. But I forgot that you’re not my brother or one of my servants.”
I think he smiled at that. “Do you want me to describe myself? I’m an inch or two shorter than you, I have black hair--”
“Stop,” I ordered, shaking my head. “Colors don’t mean anything to me. I've been blind since birth.”
That seemed to startle him--not that I’d been blind since birth, but the fact that I had no concept of colors.
“Colors have no meaning to you?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I know what they are symbolically, I suppose. I know that orange, red and yellow are like fire.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “They’re the colors of warmth and heat. But there are cold colors too. Blue is like the cool water of Lake Tahoe. And grey is the color of rain and storms.”
“And black is the color of death,” I said.
He chuckled at that. “For us, yes. For others--including the Chinese, I think--white represents death.”
I nodded and fell silent, wondering if black was as cold as death.
Adam was silent for a moment too, but then he spoke up again. “I keep my hair cropped short and I’m clean shaven--are those more useful descriptions?”
“Yes,” I said, smiling again. “I know what short hair and a clean-shaven face feel like. I’m always after Jack to describe how high a person’s cheekbones are and such.”
In response, Adam took hold of my hand. My first instinct was to pull back, but I fought that and allowed him to guide my hand to his face. Then he released me and left my hand there, free to explore.
Despite my reliance on my sense of touch, I’m not a tactile person. I don’t mind Jack’s touch and I’ve learned to accept Brian’s, but I don’t make a habit of touching faces. Yet I couldn’t resist this chance to get a real feel for Adam--this man was chief among my opponents, after all.
As I suspected, there was a hard, determined feel to the set of his jaw. But there was humor written in his face as well--as I brushed past his lips, I could tell that he was grinning. That, no doubt, was due to a combination of amusement and embarrassment on his part. He must have found it strange to have my hand exploring him this way.
His face was shaped differently than I had expected. His brow was not as lofty as I had imagined, his cheekbones were too low to have any sort of grandeur to them and his nose was neither aristocratic nor aquiline. But it was a strong face regardless. And I liked the combination of humor and determination in it. And when you combined his face with the sonorous bass of his voice--well, it was no wonder that men looked up to him and obeyed him.
His sight, it seemed, was not the only reason he had taken charge today.
I let my hand drop. We looked nothing alike, Adam and I. I had high cheekbones and an aquiline nose to match. True, I had the same determined look that Adam wore, but I didn’t have his good humor to temper it. Perhaps I should work on that, for I knew how well Adam used that good humor to his advantage.
But I couldn’t muster that good humor at the moment. I was too conscious of the liberty I had just taken with Adam’s person. Nonetheless, I forced myself to smile at him.
“Thank you,” I said. “I have a better idea of you now.”
He didn’t answer that--not with words. He put his arm back around my shoulders instead.
He meant it as a casual gesture of friendship--or at least of camaraderie. I knew that. I didn’t know if he was aware of my discomfort. I suspected that he was, but I bit back any complaint regardless. Under the circumstances, I could allow him such ruthless familiarity.
LINK TO PART EIGHT
Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG
LINK TO PART ONE
~
With Peter running after the horses and Brian searching for the driver and his companion, I was left alone with Adam. Well, not quite alone. The two unconscious strangers were still with us--but they weren't worth counting.
There was nothing for me to do but crouch at Adam’s side and listen to him bandage his leg. I despised Adam at that moment. I despised him because his sight allowed him to take charge, I despised him for casually usurping my authority over my servants and I despised him because our present circumstances made it impossible for me to take him to task for his presumption.
“What’s wrong?”
Adam’s words broke into my thoughts. I cocked my head at him and curled my lips.
“We’re sitting here in the wake of a coach wreck with two unconscious strangers--one of whom, you've assured me, is likely to die soon.,” I reminded him. “As of this moment, we have no horses and no means of transporting you and the other injured parties to shelter. And no means of seeking help. What could be possibly be wrong?”
I don’t know how he reacted to that little speech, for he made no sound. That angered me so much that I spoke without thinking. “How the devil do you look right now?” I demanded.
That took him aback. “How do I look now?” he repeated blankly.
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Never mind,” I said. “I just--I didn’t know how you reacted just now.”
There was a long pause. I could feel him staring at me, still wondering what to make of my outburst.
“Oh, I was amused at your irony,” he said at last. “You know what I meant. I wanted to know what was troubling you this minute--not what’s troubling you about our situation.”
I forced myself to shrug. “There’s nothing else,” I lied. "It's just that. Our situation, I mean."
I could still feel him regarding me. But I suppose he decided to let it go, for at length I heard him turn back to his bandages.
We sat there without speaking for some time. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, so I decided to break it. “How’s your leg?” I asked.
“Not much better,” he answered, “but at least it’s bandaged now. Would you help me up again?”
I nodded and moved to his side. He put his arm around my shoulder as I put my arm around his back. I hoisted him back to his feet and then I felt him tug me toward our left.
“There’s a good spot to sit a couple of yards from here,” he said.
I nodded and we made our way over there. I could feel Adam breathing heavily as we walked--he was in far more pain than he would let on. I bit my lip, wondering just how much of a problem his leg would be.
He led us to a large rock that, at a guess, overlooked the wreck. I helped him down onto it and then took a seat beside him.
Adam sighed. “We’ll need water,” he said. “There were canteens on the coach--we’ll have to sort through the wreckage and see what we can find.
I smiled a little. It was hard to imagine the two of us struggling down the slope, with all its steepness and all the debris--me without my sight, and Adam without the proper use of his leg. But if I knew Adam, that’s just what he intended us to do. I tried to imagine the determined expression he was wearing.
“Would you mind if I touched your face?” I asked him.
“What?” he asked.
I could tell that he had turned toward me. He was probably giving me an incredulous look.
I felt myself redden. I had spoken without thinking. To touch someone’s face was the only way I had of truly seeing it--but I seldom made that request. It required far too much intimacy for my taste.
“I--I’m sorry,” I managed. “I spoke out of turn. I just wanted to feel your expression--and to know what you look like. But I forgot that you’re not my brother or one of my servants.”
I think he smiled at that. “Do you want me to describe myself? I’m an inch or two shorter than you, I have black hair--”
“Stop,” I ordered, shaking my head. “Colors don’t mean anything to me. I've been blind since birth.”
That seemed to startle him--not that I’d been blind since birth, but the fact that I had no concept of colors.
“Colors have no meaning to you?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I know what they are symbolically, I suppose. I know that orange, red and yellow are like fire.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “They’re the colors of warmth and heat. But there are cold colors too. Blue is like the cool water of Lake Tahoe. And grey is the color of rain and storms.”
“And black is the color of death,” I said.
He chuckled at that. “For us, yes. For others--including the Chinese, I think--white represents death.”
I nodded and fell silent, wondering if black was as cold as death.
Adam was silent for a moment too, but then he spoke up again. “I keep my hair cropped short and I’m clean shaven--are those more useful descriptions?”
“Yes,” I said, smiling again. “I know what short hair and a clean-shaven face feel like. I’m always after Jack to describe how high a person’s cheekbones are and such.”
In response, Adam took hold of my hand. My first instinct was to pull back, but I fought that and allowed him to guide my hand to his face. Then he released me and left my hand there, free to explore.
Despite my reliance on my sense of touch, I’m not a tactile person. I don’t mind Jack’s touch and I’ve learned to accept Brian’s, but I don’t make a habit of touching faces. Yet I couldn’t resist this chance to get a real feel for Adam--this man was chief among my opponents, after all.
As I suspected, there was a hard, determined feel to the set of his jaw. But there was humor written in his face as well--as I brushed past his lips, I could tell that he was grinning. That, no doubt, was due to a combination of amusement and embarrassment on his part. He must have found it strange to have my hand exploring him this way.
His face was shaped differently than I had expected. His brow was not as lofty as I had imagined, his cheekbones were too low to have any sort of grandeur to them and his nose was neither aristocratic nor aquiline. But it was a strong face regardless. And I liked the combination of humor and determination in it. And when you combined his face with the sonorous bass of his voice--well, it was no wonder that men looked up to him and obeyed him.
His sight, it seemed, was not the only reason he had taken charge today.
I let my hand drop. We looked nothing alike, Adam and I. I had high cheekbones and an aquiline nose to match. True, I had the same determined look that Adam wore, but I didn’t have his good humor to temper it. Perhaps I should work on that, for I knew how well Adam used that good humor to his advantage.
But I couldn’t muster that good humor at the moment. I was too conscious of the liberty I had just taken with Adam’s person. Nonetheless, I forced myself to smile at him.
“Thank you,” I said. “I have a better idea of you now.”
He didn’t answer that--not with words. He put his arm back around my shoulders instead.
He meant it as a casual gesture of friendship--or at least of camaraderie. I knew that. I didn’t know if he was aware of my discomfort. I suspected that he was, but I bit back any complaint regardless. Under the circumstances, I could allow him such ruthless familiarity.
LINK TO PART EIGHT
Friday, March 21, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
The New Hand, Part Nineteen
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Ben watched his middle son take another chunk of bread and smile with satisfaction. He couldn’t help but grin at Hoss’s appetite.
“Miss Abby,” Hoss asked, “What did you call this again? It’s delicious.”
She smiled. “Challah bread,” she told him. “It’s traditional to have it at the Sabbath meal. That’s why I decided to bake it this morning.”
“I wouldn’t mind having this every Friday night,” Hoss assured her.
“I saw you braiding the dough earlier,” Joe put in from across the table. “I couldn’t figure out what you were doing—but I sure like the result.”
“Me too,” Hoss reiterated. “Tell you what, Miss Abby. If David don’t get back here soon to marry you, I might just beat him to it.”
Everyone laughed at that, Ben included. But as he looked at Abby, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to San Francisco. Just what kind of scandal were Adam and David embroiled in?
She knew the whole story. Ben was fairly certain of that. Should he ask her for it? Should he demand it from her? No, that wouldn’t be fair. Besides, she would be loyal to her fiancé—and rightly so.
No, he would have to bite back his curiosity. Adam was a grown man, he reminded himself. He could take care of himself.
It was just hard to remember that as a father.
LINK TO PART TWENTY
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Ben watched his middle son take another chunk of bread and smile with satisfaction. He couldn’t help but grin at Hoss’s appetite.
“Miss Abby,” Hoss asked, “What did you call this again? It’s delicious.”
She smiled. “Challah bread,” she told him. “It’s traditional to have it at the Sabbath meal. That’s why I decided to bake it this morning.”
“I wouldn’t mind having this every Friday night,” Hoss assured her.
“I saw you braiding the dough earlier,” Joe put in from across the table. “I couldn’t figure out what you were doing—but I sure like the result.”
“Me too,” Hoss reiterated. “Tell you what, Miss Abby. If David don’t get back here soon to marry you, I might just beat him to it.”
Everyone laughed at that, Ben included. But as he looked at Abby, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to San Francisco. Just what kind of scandal were Adam and David embroiled in?
She knew the whole story. Ben was fairly certain of that. Should he ask her for it? Should he demand it from her? No, that wouldn’t be fair. Besides, she would be loyal to her fiancé—and rightly so.
No, he would have to bite back his curiosity. Adam was a grown man, he reminded himself. He could take care of himself.
It was just hard to remember that as a father.
LINK TO PART TWENTY
The New Hand, Part Eighteen
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Hoss took in a deep gulp of air and then made his way into the barn. His father was standing in the center of it, rubbing down Buck. He could hear him whispering gently to the horse, thanking him for the hard day at work and promising him an extra treat that evening.
“Ah, Pa?” he said, interrupting the monologue.
Pa glanced over his shoulder at him. “Hello Hoss,” he said, smiling. “How’d the work on the fences go?”
“Fine Pa, just fine,” Hoss assured him. “But I ought to tell you one thing. You know Todd Burton?”
“Of course,” he answered, raising his eyebrows at him. “He’s been reliable enough as a hand this year.”
“Yeah, I suppose he was,” Hoss said as he stared down at his feet. “But I just fired him.”
Pa stopped rubbing down Buck. He stared at Hoss for a long moment and then turned back to his horse. After settling the animal into its stall, he walked over to his son and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Would you care to tell me what this is about?” he asked.
Hoss swallowed hard again. “Well Pa, Todd was mouthing off again. Some of the other hands were speculating about Miss Abby. They were wondering why David wants to marry her. They didn’t mean no harm, Pa—it’s just that David’s such a good looking devil and, well, Miss Abby has that scar.”
He paused and reached up for his hat. He took it off of his head and began fiddling with it as he continued. “Most of the talk didn’t get out of line. But then Todd started commenting about what Miss Abby must be doing for David to make up for her looks and—well, I won’t get into details, but I couldn’t stand what he was saying.”
Pa sighed. “So you fired him.”
Hoss nodded. “She’s our guest, Pa. We can’t let folks speak so disrespectfully about her. Besides, Todd’s always had a mean streak. You remember the fight he caused in the bunk house before Adam ever hired David?”
“Yes, I remember,” Pa owned. “I don’t blame you for firing him—but we’ll have to replace him as soon as possible. We’ve already lost Adam and David for a few weeks.”
“Yes, sir. If you’d like, I’ll ride into town tomorrow and start asking around.”
Pa frowned. “Joe’s in town today—it’s a shame we didn’t know about this sooner.” He paused and looked up at Hoss with what almost seemed to be a pleading look. “Son, I’m worried about Adam. Just why did he hire David Griffin in the first place? I know he doesn’t trust him completely.”
Hoss had been afraid that Pa would ask that. He and Joe had agreed to keep silent on the topic of David when they were around him, because Adam had seemed determined to handle the young man in his own way. But it was hard to deflect a direction question.
“I don’t know the whole story, Pa,” he said at length. “Adam and David were rival bidders on Ed Niles’ timber contract. They started out as friends, but that friendship turned sour when David tried to win the bid by an underhanded method. Adam found out about it and stopped him.”
He peered anxiously at his Pa to see how he was taking this. Unfortunately, Pa’s face was inscrutable. He could be pretty hard to read at times.
“When David asked for a job here he was, uh, issuing Adam a challenge,” Hoss continued. “Adam decided it would be best to hire him so that he could keep an eye on him.”
Pa shut his eyes for a moment. “I see,” he said at last. “And now Adam wants to keep an eye on him in San Francisco?”
“Well, not exactly, Pa,” Hoss explained. “I’m not sure how it happened, but Adam and David resolved their differences. Can’t say I’m surprised, to tell you the truth. For a pair of enemies, those two sure got on well. It was almost as if they got along despite themselves.”
Pa just nodded. He’d seen the two of them working together—he must have noticed it too.
“I don’t know what those two are up to in San Francisco,” Hoss continued. “But I reckon that they’ll look out for each other.”
Pa nodded again and placed a hand on his son’s back. “We’ll just have to pray that Adam knows what he’s doing,” he told Hoss as he headed out of the barn. “Let’s go find out what’s for dinner.”
LINK TO PART NINETEEN
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Hoss took in a deep gulp of air and then made his way into the barn. His father was standing in the center of it, rubbing down Buck. He could hear him whispering gently to the horse, thanking him for the hard day at work and promising him an extra treat that evening.
“Ah, Pa?” he said, interrupting the monologue.
Pa glanced over his shoulder at him. “Hello Hoss,” he said, smiling. “How’d the work on the fences go?”
“Fine Pa, just fine,” Hoss assured him. “But I ought to tell you one thing. You know Todd Burton?”
“Of course,” he answered, raising his eyebrows at him. “He’s been reliable enough as a hand this year.”
“Yeah, I suppose he was,” Hoss said as he stared down at his feet. “But I just fired him.”
Pa stopped rubbing down Buck. He stared at Hoss for a long moment and then turned back to his horse. After settling the animal into its stall, he walked over to his son and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Would you care to tell me what this is about?” he asked.
Hoss swallowed hard again. “Well Pa, Todd was mouthing off again. Some of the other hands were speculating about Miss Abby. They were wondering why David wants to marry her. They didn’t mean no harm, Pa—it’s just that David’s such a good looking devil and, well, Miss Abby has that scar.”
He paused and reached up for his hat. He took it off of his head and began fiddling with it as he continued. “Most of the talk didn’t get out of line. But then Todd started commenting about what Miss Abby must be doing for David to make up for her looks and—well, I won’t get into details, but I couldn’t stand what he was saying.”
Pa sighed. “So you fired him.”
Hoss nodded. “She’s our guest, Pa. We can’t let folks speak so disrespectfully about her. Besides, Todd’s always had a mean streak. You remember the fight he caused in the bunk house before Adam ever hired David?”
“Yes, I remember,” Pa owned. “I don’t blame you for firing him—but we’ll have to replace him as soon as possible. We’ve already lost Adam and David for a few weeks.”
“Yes, sir. If you’d like, I’ll ride into town tomorrow and start asking around.”
Pa frowned. “Joe’s in town today—it’s a shame we didn’t know about this sooner.” He paused and looked up at Hoss with what almost seemed to be a pleading look. “Son, I’m worried about Adam. Just why did he hire David Griffin in the first place? I know he doesn’t trust him completely.”
Hoss had been afraid that Pa would ask that. He and Joe had agreed to keep silent on the topic of David when they were around him, because Adam had seemed determined to handle the young man in his own way. But it was hard to deflect a direction question.
“I don’t know the whole story, Pa,” he said at length. “Adam and David were rival bidders on Ed Niles’ timber contract. They started out as friends, but that friendship turned sour when David tried to win the bid by an underhanded method. Adam found out about it and stopped him.”
He peered anxiously at his Pa to see how he was taking this. Unfortunately, Pa’s face was inscrutable. He could be pretty hard to read at times.
“When David asked for a job here he was, uh, issuing Adam a challenge,” Hoss continued. “Adam decided it would be best to hire him so that he could keep an eye on him.”
Pa shut his eyes for a moment. “I see,” he said at last. “And now Adam wants to keep an eye on him in San Francisco?”
“Well, not exactly, Pa,” Hoss explained. “I’m not sure how it happened, but Adam and David resolved their differences. Can’t say I’m surprised, to tell you the truth. For a pair of enemies, those two sure got on well. It was almost as if they got along despite themselves.”
Pa just nodded. He’d seen the two of them working together—he must have noticed it too.
“I don’t know what those two are up to in San Francisco,” Hoss continued. “But I reckon that they’ll look out for each other.”
Pa nodded again and placed a hand on his son’s back. “We’ll just have to pray that Adam knows what he’s doing,” he told Hoss as he headed out of the barn. “Let’s go find out what’s for dinner.”
LINK TO PART NINETEEN
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
The New Hand, Part Seventeen
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam folded his arms across his chest and stared down at David, who was crouched by the door to Stephen’s flat. David had tried his old key on the off hand chance that it still worked, but someone had thought to change the lock. Now he was fiddling with various pins, attempting to pick it.
David had been right about the waistcoats and cravats, Adam reflected. No one raised an eyebrow when two well-dressed men entered the building and proceeded to one of the upstairs apartments.
“How’s it going?” Adam asked quietly.
“I almost have it—there we are.”
The lock clicked and David opened the door. Then he stood aside and favored Adam with a bow, allowing him to precede him.
Adam stepped inside and glanced around. Stephen’s flat was spacious and comfortable—no doubt it commanded a high rent in this part of San Francisco. The furnishings were tasteful but also quite expensive. Most of it had probably been shipped from back east.
There were paintings as well. Nothing famous—Stephen seemed to prefer local artists. Most were mediocre, but one caught Adam’s eye. It was the image of a young woman casting a seductive glance over her shoulder. The artist had given the woman an extraordinary pair of expressive eyes, making her come to life.
Adam narrowed his eyes at the picture. There was something familiar about it—as if he’d seen the painting before. Or perhaps he’d seen something else by the same artist. He peered at the signature, but it was a mere scrawl. The name began with an ‘M,’ but that’s all he could make out.
He tore his eyes off of the picture and walked over to the mahogany desk. Someone had scoured it clean, but the remnants of dark stains were still evident. Blood, no doubt—but that would be impossible to prove.
He looked up at David, whose face had gone pale. He seemed to be remembering the last time he had seen this room—when Stephen was slumped over the desk after blowing his brains out.
Adam knew that David had never loved the kid—Stephen had just been an enjoyable interlude for him and someone he could use to advance his career. But that didn’t mean that he hadn’t cared for the boy. And it didn’t mean that he wasn’t torn up and wracked with guilt over the boy’s death.
”Are you all right?” Adam asked softly.
David shook himself and then nodded. “Yes,” he managed. “I just checked the bookshelves and other surfaces. There’s no dust—someone must come in and clean periodically. We’d best be quick.”
Adam nodded. “Let’s start with the desk.”
They began a systematic search of the flat that lasted about an hour. They found nothing of interest, however, except for bank statements.
“Look at this,” Adam said as he read over the statement. “Stephen withdrew five hundred dollars from his account one week before he confronted his father. Then he withdrew another five hundred two days before he confronted his father.”
David sighed. “Well, that supports our theory that someone was blackmailing him. When the demands got too high, he might have decided to confess to his father and get himself off the hook with the blackmailer.”
Adam nodded. “But that doesn’t explain why he told me that the two of you had a falling out—or why Niles' assistant, Gregory Miller, told you that I had forced the kid to confess.”
“I know,” David said as he tapped his fingers against the rim of a chair. “We’re going to have to confront Miller sooner or later—but I would love a look at his bank account first. I’d like to make sure that there are no five hundred dollar deposits.”
Adam raised his eyebrows at that and then peered at his friend intently. “That’s not a bad idea,” he said at length.
David cocked his head at Adam and then grinned. “Well, I’m more than willing, if you have a scheme in mind.”
“Yes, I’ve got a scheme in mind,” he owned. “We’ll have to be careful though—I did promise Abby to look after you.”
“What are you thinking?”
Adam returned his grin. ”You did say that you’re a decent actor, didn’t you?”
LINK TO PART EIGHTEEN
Genre: Slash Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam folded his arms across his chest and stared down at David, who was crouched by the door to Stephen’s flat. David had tried his old key on the off hand chance that it still worked, but someone had thought to change the lock. Now he was fiddling with various pins, attempting to pick it.
David had been right about the waistcoats and cravats, Adam reflected. No one raised an eyebrow when two well-dressed men entered the building and proceeded to one of the upstairs apartments.
“How’s it going?” Adam asked quietly.
“I almost have it—there we are.”
The lock clicked and David opened the door. Then he stood aside and favored Adam with a bow, allowing him to precede him.
Adam stepped inside and glanced around. Stephen’s flat was spacious and comfortable—no doubt it commanded a high rent in this part of San Francisco. The furnishings were tasteful but also quite expensive. Most of it had probably been shipped from back east.
There were paintings as well. Nothing famous—Stephen seemed to prefer local artists. Most were mediocre, but one caught Adam’s eye. It was the image of a young woman casting a seductive glance over her shoulder. The artist had given the woman an extraordinary pair of expressive eyes, making her come to life.
Adam narrowed his eyes at the picture. There was something familiar about it—as if he’d seen the painting before. Or perhaps he’d seen something else by the same artist. He peered at the signature, but it was a mere scrawl. The name began with an ‘M,’ but that’s all he could make out.
He tore his eyes off of the picture and walked over to the mahogany desk. Someone had scoured it clean, but the remnants of dark stains were still evident. Blood, no doubt—but that would be impossible to prove.
He looked up at David, whose face had gone pale. He seemed to be remembering the last time he had seen this room—when Stephen was slumped over the desk after blowing his brains out.
Adam knew that David had never loved the kid—Stephen had just been an enjoyable interlude for him and someone he could use to advance his career. But that didn’t mean that he hadn’t cared for the boy. And it didn’t mean that he wasn’t torn up and wracked with guilt over the boy’s death.
”Are you all right?” Adam asked softly.
David shook himself and then nodded. “Yes,” he managed. “I just checked the bookshelves and other surfaces. There’s no dust—someone must come in and clean periodically. We’d best be quick.”
Adam nodded. “Let’s start with the desk.”
They began a systematic search of the flat that lasted about an hour. They found nothing of interest, however, except for bank statements.
“Look at this,” Adam said as he read over the statement. “Stephen withdrew five hundred dollars from his account one week before he confronted his father. Then he withdrew another five hundred two days before he confronted his father.”
David sighed. “Well, that supports our theory that someone was blackmailing him. When the demands got too high, he might have decided to confess to his father and get himself off the hook with the blackmailer.”
Adam nodded. “But that doesn’t explain why he told me that the two of you had a falling out—or why Niles' assistant, Gregory Miller, told you that I had forced the kid to confess.”
“I know,” David said as he tapped his fingers against the rim of a chair. “We’re going to have to confront Miller sooner or later—but I would love a look at his bank account first. I’d like to make sure that there are no five hundred dollar deposits.”
Adam raised his eyebrows at that and then peered at his friend intently. “That’s not a bad idea,” he said at length.
David cocked his head at Adam and then grinned. “Well, I’m more than willing, if you have a scheme in mind.”
“Yes, I’ve got a scheme in mind,” he owned. “We’ll have to be careful though—I did promise Abby to look after you.”
“What are you thinking?”
Adam returned his grin. ”You did say that you’re a decent actor, didn’t you?”
LINK TO PART EIGHTEEN
The Old Deringer, Part Thirteen
by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam didn’t dress like a cowboy for his business meeting, so Liam got his first practice as a valet shining Adam’s shoes. Then Adam let him pick out the waistcoat that he should wear.
Unfortunately, Adam wouldn’t let Liam tie his cravat, but he showed Liam how it was done. Liam frowned as he watched him—tying cravats seemed like a complicated business.
Once he had tied his cravat and buttoned up his waistcoat, Adam allowed Liam to help him into his frock coat. Then Adam put on his hat, picked up Liam and carried him out to a waiting carriage.
Liam was thrilled by the carriage ride to Adam’s meeting. He had been in a carriage with Adam the night that he was shot, but he had passed out so he didn’t remember it. That was the only other time he'd ever been inside one.
Too bad he couldn’t convince Adam to have the carriage go near the Barbary Coast part of town! Liam wanted Donovan and Conner to see him living so high. He wanted to rub their faces in the fact that even though he’d taken a bullet, he’d ended up with a rich benefactor.
Donovan and Conner still had Adam’s gun, come to think of it. Hopefully one of them had shot the other by now.
At length the carriage halted outside of a large, shiny-new building. Adam reminded Liam to be on his best behavior as he hoisted him up and carried him inside.
Liam wished he could have walked in himself, even if he had to hobble. But he knew Adam wanted him to keep off his leg, so he didn’t bother asking. He clung to Adam’s side instead.
Liam just hoped that he’d be allowed to ask questions—he didn’t have any notion about business meetings. He only knew that Adam and Mathew Harris were going to talk about lumber.
Everyone was polite to Adam as he walked to the correct office. Some of the men in the building almost sputtered at the sight of Liam, but others smiled at him and patted his head. No one asked Adam for an explanation, though, until they reached Matthew Harris himself.
Mr. Harris was about Adam’s age, as far as Liam could tell. He was good looking, in a blue-blooded Protestant way—he had dark blonde hair, keen blue eyes and what even Liam could recognize as aristocratic features.
And he must be rich too, because his office was almost as big as Adam’s hotel suite.
“Who is this?” Mr. Harris asked with a grin when Adam entered the office.
“Matthew, meet Liam. Liam, this is Mr. Harris,” Adam said as he set Liam down in a chair. “The boy has an injured leg, so forgive him for not standing.”
Mr. Harris regarded Liam critically. “An Irisher?” he asked. “Adam, who is this child?”
“My valet,” Adam explained as he smiled and tousled Liam’s hair.
Mr. Harris laughed and then rolled his eyes. “He’s a bit young for a valet, isn’t he? I don’t know how much use he’ll be to you, Adam.”
“He’s doing just fine,” Adam assured him.
Mr. Harris shrugged. “Well, that’s one thing I’ll say for all these papist Micks pouring into our shores,” he commented. “At least we’ve no shortage of servants or railroad workers—and Lincoln’s armies have no shortage of cannon fodder. At the rate the war is dragging on, you’ll be able to send this little Paddy off soon. I’m sure he’d already make a good drummer.”
Liam felt his hands curl into fists. He had listened to the other Irish in his neighborhood—they were always saying that the Yankee blue-bloods had no use for the Irish except to serve in their houses, break their backs in their factories or take bullets in their war. Now he knew that it was all true.
Well, maybe it wasn’t true of all of them. Adam was a blue-blooded Yankee Protestant, after all. But it was true of this man.
“Matthew, I’ll ask you to take that back,” Adam said softly. “You’ve no cause to insult this boy or his countrymen.”
Mr. Harris looked at Adam in surprise while Liam stewed in anger. Liam could see that the man didn’t want to offend Adam, at least.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Mr. Harris acknowledged with a faint nod of his head at Liam. “Sorry, lad. Now, Adam, let’s get straight to business.”
Liam glanced up at Adam. He looked like he was trying to come to a decision. At length he seemed to decide that the fake apology was acceptable.
That made Liam stew all the more—he’d bet everything he owned Adam would never have accepted an apology like that from him if he’d said something bad about Mr. Harris.
While the two men were talking, Liam rested his hand on the nearest table. There was a figurine of some sort resting on it which, to his untrained eye, looked expensive. He slipped it into his pocket.
He had promised Adam that he’d never steal from him again—and he meant to keep that promise. But Mr. Harris’s figurine was fair game.
LINK TO PART FOURTEEN
Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG
LINK TO PART ONE
~
Adam didn’t dress like a cowboy for his business meeting, so Liam got his first practice as a valet shining Adam’s shoes. Then Adam let him pick out the waistcoat that he should wear.
Unfortunately, Adam wouldn’t let Liam tie his cravat, but he showed Liam how it was done. Liam frowned as he watched him—tying cravats seemed like a complicated business.
Once he had tied his cravat and buttoned up his waistcoat, Adam allowed Liam to help him into his frock coat. Then Adam put on his hat, picked up Liam and carried him out to a waiting carriage.
Liam was thrilled by the carriage ride to Adam’s meeting. He had been in a carriage with Adam the night that he was shot, but he had passed out so he didn’t remember it. That was the only other time he'd ever been inside one.
Too bad he couldn’t convince Adam to have the carriage go near the Barbary Coast part of town! Liam wanted Donovan and Conner to see him living so high. He wanted to rub their faces in the fact that even though he’d taken a bullet, he’d ended up with a rich benefactor.
Donovan and Conner still had Adam’s gun, come to think of it. Hopefully one of them had shot the other by now.
At length the carriage halted outside of a large, shiny-new building. Adam reminded Liam to be on his best behavior as he hoisted him up and carried him inside.
Liam wished he could have walked in himself, even if he had to hobble. But he knew Adam wanted him to keep off his leg, so he didn’t bother asking. He clung to Adam’s side instead.
Liam just hoped that he’d be allowed to ask questions—he didn’t have any notion about business meetings. He only knew that Adam and Mathew Harris were going to talk about lumber.
Everyone was polite to Adam as he walked to the correct office. Some of the men in the building almost sputtered at the sight of Liam, but others smiled at him and patted his head. No one asked Adam for an explanation, though, until they reached Matthew Harris himself.
Mr. Harris was about Adam’s age, as far as Liam could tell. He was good looking, in a blue-blooded Protestant way—he had dark blonde hair, keen blue eyes and what even Liam could recognize as aristocratic features.
And he must be rich too, because his office was almost as big as Adam’s hotel suite.
“Who is this?” Mr. Harris asked with a grin when Adam entered the office.
“Matthew, meet Liam. Liam, this is Mr. Harris,” Adam said as he set Liam down in a chair. “The boy has an injured leg, so forgive him for not standing.”
Mr. Harris regarded Liam critically. “An Irisher?” he asked. “Adam, who is this child?”
“My valet,” Adam explained as he smiled and tousled Liam’s hair.
Mr. Harris laughed and then rolled his eyes. “He’s a bit young for a valet, isn’t he? I don’t know how much use he’ll be to you, Adam.”
“He’s doing just fine,” Adam assured him.
Mr. Harris shrugged. “Well, that’s one thing I’ll say for all these papist Micks pouring into our shores,” he commented. “At least we’ve no shortage of servants or railroad workers—and Lincoln’s armies have no shortage of cannon fodder. At the rate the war is dragging on, you’ll be able to send this little Paddy off soon. I’m sure he’d already make a good drummer.”
Liam felt his hands curl into fists. He had listened to the other Irish in his neighborhood—they were always saying that the Yankee blue-bloods had no use for the Irish except to serve in their houses, break their backs in their factories or take bullets in their war. Now he knew that it was all true.
Well, maybe it wasn’t true of all of them. Adam was a blue-blooded Yankee Protestant, after all. But it was true of this man.
“Matthew, I’ll ask you to take that back,” Adam said softly. “You’ve no cause to insult this boy or his countrymen.”
Mr. Harris looked at Adam in surprise while Liam stewed in anger. Liam could see that the man didn’t want to offend Adam, at least.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” Mr. Harris acknowledged with a faint nod of his head at Liam. “Sorry, lad. Now, Adam, let’s get straight to business.”
Liam glanced up at Adam. He looked like he was trying to come to a decision. At length he seemed to decide that the fake apology was acceptable.
That made Liam stew all the more—he’d bet everything he owned Adam would never have accepted an apology like that from him if he’d said something bad about Mr. Harris.
While the two men were talking, Liam rested his hand on the nearest table. There was a figurine of some sort resting on it which, to his untrained eye, looked expensive. He slipped it into his pocket.
He had promised Adam that he’d never steal from him again—and he meant to keep that promise. But Mr. Harris’s figurine was fair game.
LINK TO PART FOURTEEN
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