The Old Deringer, Part Twenty-Four

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG

LINK TO PART ONE

~

I took a deep breath after Sophie left the kitchen. In fact, I stood there for a long moment wondering if I’d imagined the whole conversation. But I hadn’t imagined it—she had actually sat there by the fire and all but proposed to me.

I shook my head and went back to work. I had to keep an eye on the fire, an eye on the water for Adam’s bath, an eye on the coffee and see to the pressing. And everything had to be cleaned up and out of Hop Sing’s way in less than an hour.

By the time I went back upstairs, Adam was already awake. He was out of bed and just tying on his robe.

“’Morning Adam,” I said as I placed his coffee on the night table.

“’Morning,” he returned with an affectionate glance in my direction. “I have the meeting with the Cattleman’s Association today,” he reminded me through a yawn.

I nodded. “I’ve your clothes already pressed.”

“Good,” he said as he picked up his coffee cup and drank down a swallow. “Thank you.”

I paused, watching him drink a bit more of the coffee. He must have felt my eyes on him, because he cocked his head at me and put the cup down.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

I shrugged. “Nothing exactly—are you really going to pay off Becky Johnson?”

“I don’t think you’ve left me much choice,” he answered. “I don’t mean to see you tied down to her if I can possibly help it.”

I stared down at my feet as I felt my face redden. “I’m sorry about this, sir. I didn’t have any idea that you meant—that you meant to put money in trust for me and leave me a—a respectable fortune. I didn’t know I was worth anything to Becky.”

“You shouldn’t have compromised her regardless,” he said without sympathy. “And this may not be over, Liam. If you've gotten that girl with child, you’re going to have to marry her.”

“I know,” I said. “But if she’s not with child—well, Sophie and I were talking this morning.”

“Stop right there,” Adam warned me, folding his arms over his chest. “Don’t even think about Sophie until you’re free of Becky.”

So he wasn’t surprised to hear me bring up Sophie. That was interesting.

But I nodded, knowing he was right. There was no point in get any hopes up, for me or Sophie. “Yes, sir,” I agreed.

Then I took a deep breath and plunged into another question. I figured that I might as well have it all out at once. “Adam, are—are you leaving me all that money because you have no son of your own?”

He smiled at that. “No,” he said. “I’m leaving it to you because, for all practical purposes, I do have a son.”

I can’t pretend that I didn’t want to hear those words. I glanced up at him and risked a small smile in return. “Do you ever feel like you got a poor bargain?”

Adam laughed. “No,” he assured me. “I have a soft spot for street-rats.”

I smiled again and then gave him a level look. There was something else I needed to ask him. “I was thinking hard about college last night,” I began. “How would you feel—how would you feel about me going to CornellUniversity?”

He looked surprised at that. “That’s the new egalitarian university in Ithaca, New York, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes. They accept everyone. Catholics, Jews, blacks—even women, I’ve heard. And they let poor students work their way through.”

He leaned back against his dresser. “It has a scandalous reputation,” he commented with a wink. “Most people don’t want their kids mixing with undesirables like Catholics, Jews and blacks. And I don’t think many will let their daughters go. Matthew Harris certainly won't, if that's what's in your head.”

“Oh, I know that,” I said in a no-kidding voice. “Oh, and it’s not connected to any church,” I added. “Cornell, I mean. That’s considered scandalous as well.”

Adam grinned. “Well, that accounts for its science program,” he muttered. “l don't have any objections. Ithaca isn’t like Manhattan, though. Just keep that in mind.”

“I know,” I said. “But I’ll sacrifice the city for a few more years in exchange for a place that won’t look down on me for being a papist.”

“And that will accept you as a papist,” Adam added.

I nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. That had gone well.

But Adam was giving me a thoughtful, measuring look. I got the sense that he was trying to piece together a question of his own.

“Liam,” he said at length, “I know you’re proud of the name O’Donnell. I’d never ask you to give it up. But just so you know, the Cartwright name is available to you, if you want me to make the adoption formal.”

I stared at him for a long moment, but at length I shook my head. “There’s nothing I’d like better than to have your name,” I said softly. “But it—it would feel like denying the Irish in me and it would feel like denying my family. I know my birth family wasn’t ideal, but I did care for them.”

I gave him a half-cocked smile as I dug my hands into my pocket. “I’ve never sorted out whether I regard you as a father or master or—or some sort of guardian angel,” I continued. “It’s a combination, I suppose.”

“Well, I suppose I can live with that,” Adam said easily enough. “But speaking as your master, you’d best make sure the bath water doesn’t get cold.”

I grinned and turned toward the door, thinking of the small pot of water I’d left boiling over the fireplace for just such a purpose. “Yes, sir.”

LINK TO PART TWENTY-FIVE