Better Loved, Part One

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG

~Voted a Great Romance Read at Bonanza World~

(This is the second in a series that begins with A Hogshead of Whiskey, but it will stand alone.)

~

Adam downed the last of his beer and glanced over at his brother. "You about ready, Hoss?" he asked.

Hoss set his own glass down on the bar. "Yup, I’m all set."

Each left a few coins for the barkeep and made their way out of the saloon. Hoss started off for the stable but Adam paused as he caught sight of a woman struggling with packages. She was right across the street, coming out of the mercantile.

Her gloved hands were more than full. She had her parcels piled so high that Adam couldn’t make out her face. But there were plenty of men lazing about in the afternoon sun. Why were none of them offering to help her?

"I’ll be along, Hoss," Adam called out. "Looks like I’ve found a lady in distress."

He didn’t wait for Hoss to react. He just strode across and stepped up to the woman.

"Pardon, ma’am," he said. "Can I help you with those?"

"Please!" she said as she dumped several packages into his arms. "Thank you so much, sir."

He almost caught his breath as a pair of lively eyes shone at him. She was a vision.

She was also a black woman. Her creamy mocha skin was probably the reason that no other man had rendered her assistance. The men of Virginia City reserved their chivalry for women of their own race, Adam thought grimly.

But he forced himself not to think of them. "Where are you headed?" he asked her with a smile.

"I’m staying at the Widow Hawkins," she answered. "That’s a little ways—do you mind?"

"Not at all," he said. "I know the place—Clementine Hawkins runs the best boarding house in town."

"Well, I think she’s the best," his companion said with a laugh. "She’s the only one who would take me!"

Adam shook his head as they began walking toward the Widow’s house, attracting plenty of attention as they went. "You haven’t received a warm welcome in town, I see. I apologize for that."

"No need," she answered with a shrug. "I get along fine."

Her voice had a soft, cultured drawl and the hint of a French accent. "Are you from New Orleans?" he asked.

She gave him a fetching smile. "You can tell that from my voice? Very good."

"My stepmother was a French Creole," he explained.

"Ah, that accounts for it. Now please don’t think me forward, sir, but whom do I have the honor of thanking?"

He smiled at her. "Adam Cartwright, Miss…"

He let his voice trail off. He found himself hoping that she was a Miss and not spoken for.

"Miss Charlotte Corday," she answered.

He stopped walking. "Charlotte Corday?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows at her.

She stopped as well and turned to face him. "Yes," she responded with a straight face—but her eyes were dancing at him.

He grinned and started walking again. "What’s your real name?" he persisted.

She laughed as she fell into step beside him. "I see you know your French history," she said. "I’ve always admired Charlotte Corday. She had resolution!"

"I suppose it does take resolution to stab a man to death," Adam acknowledged.

Charlotte gave him a sidelong glance. "Marat was a wicked, bad man," she assured him. "He deserved what he got."

He laughed. "Probably. But you still haven’t told me your real name."

"I don’t intend to, sir. Miss Corday will do just fine for now."

Adam sighed. "Are you in trouble, Miss Corday?"

"I’m not a runaway, if that’s what you’re asking. My family is free—like many of the gens de couleur in New Orleans."

"There are other kinds of trouble," he pointed out.

"I know. Don’t worry about me, Mr. Cartwright. I’m not running from anything. I just wanted a fresh start up here, that’s all. Look, here we are!"

Adam preceded her to the door so that he could hold it open for her. Then he followed her inside and set the packages down next to a sturdy table. The table itself held the barbells of the landlady’s late husband.

Adam shook his head at the barbells as he removed his hat. Charlotte caught his look and smiled at him.

"Mrs. Hawkins is quite a character, isn’t she?" she said as she took off her gloves. "I’ve heard all about her late husband and the shows they used to do."

Adam returned her smile. "So have I. Would you like me to bring these packages upstairs for you?"

"No," she answered as she clasped his hands. "You’ve done quite enough. I do thank you."

He took one of her hands and brought it to his lips. "Would you permit me to call on you?"

He watched her hesitate. She was interested, he could see that. To his surprise, he found himself holding his breath.

But in the end she shook her head. "No," she said as she retrieved her hands. "It isn’t that—I mean, I like you very much, but—well, the world is what it is."

She paused and gave him a reluctant shrug. "To be frank, Mr. Cartwright, I’m a nice girl. And you know as well as I do that a white man can’t offer me marriage."

Adam met her gaze and held it. "I’d never insult you," he said. "And it’s a bit early to worry about marriage. Right now I’d just like a chance to know you better."

"No, don’t tempt me," she told him. "If I get to know you I might end up in love with you—but it would all come to nothing. Let me walk you to the door. And thank you again for your assistance. You’ve been most kind."

He sighed. There was nothing to do now but take his leave.

"You’re welcome," he managed as he put his hat back on and tipped it. "I hope we meet again."

He stepped outside to find Hoss waiting for him at the end of the walkway with his arms folded over his chest. Adam walked up to him.

"Did you follow us over here?’ he asked.

Hoss nodded. "Sure did. I thought there might be trouble."

Adam gave him a grim smile and started walking up the block. "As it happens we didn’t get anything worse than cold stares."

Hoss marched beside him. "Are you fixing your interest with that little lady?" he demanded.

"I’d like to," Adam answered, "but so far I’ve failed miserably."

"Well, don’t take this the wrong way, older brother, but that might be for the best. You two would bring a bellyful of trouble to each other."

Adam thought about that as he paused to glance back at the house. He caught Charlotte staring at him through one of the windows, but she closed the curtains as soon as their eyes met.

He smiled. "I know," he answered at last. "But, all the same, I don’t think I’ll accept this failure.”

LINK TO PART TWO