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