The Eyes of the Wind, Part Sixteen

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG

LINK TO PART ONE

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We trudged inside after the fight, where, as best I could tell, Joe had been attempting to explain to his father why Adam was out in the yard beating up the blind fellow. I can't say whether his father found his explanation satisfactory, but he said nothing about the matter to Adam--at least not in front of me. Instead he greeted me warmly and insisted that I stay the night. I had meant to refuse, but it's suprisingly difficult to say no to Mr. Cartwright.

Now I was sitting in Adam's room, freshly bathed and dressed. My own trousers, waistcoat and frock coat were still serviceable, but I had borrowed a clean shirt and cravat from Adam. The cravat, at present, hung open, but Adam promised to attend to it once he finished tying his own.

I was usually uncomfortable in a strange house. I didn't like not knowing how the furniture was arranged, or how far it was from the chair to the door, or how many paces it would take me to reach the stairs. But I was surprisingly relaxed at present.

I leaned back in my chair, listening to Adam get ready. The Cartwrights, apparently, did not dress for dinner unless they were entertaining company. While I was in the bath I heard Mr. Cartwright ordering Hoss and Joe to dress properly that evening. I could hear Joe rolling his eyes as he answered: "Why Pa? It's not as if Drew can see us--he won't know the difference."

Such is the charm of Little Joe that I did not gnash my teeth or take offense at his statement. I even managed a smile. His father, however, was unimpressed by his argument. I knew that Joe would dress in his finest tonight, despite the fact that I wouldn't be able to appreciate it.

Adam was whistling as he readied himself. The tune called me back to the present. I sat back up in my seat, trying to place it.

"That's an old Scottish melody, isn't it?"

"Yes," he answered. From the sound of him, he was moving around by his dresser, so I imagine he was combing his hair or putting on cufflinks or some such.

"Is that the song about the Yew Tree?" I persisted.

"It is," he said, in a voice that was somewhat impressed. "You know it?"

I nodded. "Yes," I said softly. "It's the song that talks about the eyes of the wind--though I can't remember the lyrics precisely. It's connected to a battle, though, isn't it? Culloden, perhaps?"

I heard him turn around at that and then draw up a chair opposite me. "It's Flodden, actually," he corrected. "The song is about an old yew tree that has seen all the sad, bloody history of Scotland--the singer keeps asking it questions."

I heard him move a bit again, as if he were reaching for something, and then I heard him strum a few chords on his guitar. I listened carefully as he sang the relevant verse:

Did you look through the haze of the long summer days
To the south and the far English border?
All the bonnets of steel on Flodden's cold field.
Did they march by your side in good order?

Did you ask them the price of their glory
When you heard the great slaughter begin?
Now the dust of their bones rises up from the stones
And bring tears to the eyes of the wind.*

We both fell silent. I could remember how that song had haunted me when I was little. I didn't know what Flodden was, or what bonnets of steel were--I just wanted desperately to use the wind's eyes to see by. I almost told that memory to Adam, but I kept my mouth shut instead. I wasn't sure I could explain it properly.

At length I heard him put down the guitar. Then I felt him regarding me.

"What is it?" I asked.

"What are you going to do about Jameson?" he inquired.

I shrugged. "Nothing--and why should I do something? The man sunk himself into debt, all on his own. I merely took advantage of that situation."

"You have to do something, Drew." His voice was soft, but he couldn't keep the chiding note out of it.

I glared in his direction. "What do you want me to do, Adam? Put myself in your hands and beg you to reform me? And then imitate you by falling for every bleeding-heart story I hear?"

There was a definite smile in his voice as he answered. "You could do worse," he assured me.

I rolled my eyes at him. "And what about you?" I asked. "What do you intend to do about yourself? Do you mean to hide on the Ponderosa forever?"

I could hear him bristle at that, but he decided not to challenge me on my choice of words. "Do you have a suggestion for me?"

"Yes," I said. "Do you have a suggestion about Jameson?"

"Yes," he answered. "He may have bad judgment when it comes to borrowing--but he's an adequate accountant. I want to offer him a position in our mining company."

I rolled my eyes. "Very well," I said in a voice that made it clear that I didn't think the subject was worth arguing about.

"Thank you," he said as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "And what's your suggestion to me?"

I considered my words carefully. "The Monstrosity will be ready in about a week--Jack and I will be moving in directly. Why don't you come and stay in town with us for a few days? I'll catch you up on the mine and you can teach me more about self defense."

He didn't say anything to that, but I could still feel his eyes on me. I wanted to remind him that he would have to come to to town sooner or later, but I held my peace.

He sighed as he removed his hand. "The Ponderosa needs all my attention at present," he said at length. "In a month or two, things might look different--"

I didn't listen to any more of his explanation. A simple invitation was not enough to coax him out of his shell. A plea for help might be, however--though I'd despise myself later for issuing it.

"Adam," I said, cutting him off, "I'm going to have the devil of a time finding my way around the Monstrosity. I can order Brian to help me count the paces from one part of the house to another--over and over again--but, while he's a gem in other respects, he doesn't have much patience for that."

Adam didn't say anything, but I could hear his unspoken question.

"And as for Jack," I continued, "I--I can't ask Jack. He doesn't know how difficult it's going to be for me to navigate his dream mansion. And I don't want him to know. If you would help me learn the lay of it, as a favor to me..."

I let my voice trail off. Adam still hesitated, but only for a moment.

"All right," he said. "The Ponderosa can wait. Here--let me fix your cravat."

I kept still while he tied it. Once Adam was in town, I could likely coax him out to dinner, to the opera house and such. Perhaps to a business meeting as well. At any event, I had done more than Little Joe had a right to expect of me.

I couldn't say just why I had done it. I suppose, on some level, I considered Adam a friend. But not quite. That word seemed far too generous on one hand, and strangely inadequate on the other.

And that was the trouble with Adam--I had no category in which to place him. That irritated me. And it would irritate me even more, I suspected, when he came to stay at the Monstrosity. I would have done better, I thought savagely, to have divorced myself from any further connection with him.

But the die was cast. I would regret this fact eventually--I was certain of that--but Adam Cartwright seemed a permanent fixture of my world.

~The End~

* Traditional Lyrics