The Rogue's Company, Part Seven

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG

Link to Part One

~

I spent the next few weeks accustoming myself to Adam. He was strict and demanding--the sort of master who wouldn't tolerate any carelessness or shoddy work. But I didn't mind that; I was something of a perfectionist myself.

He was a hard taskmaster—my day began before daybreak and didn’t usually end until midnight. But I didn't mind that either. Adam was quite clear in spelling out my duties, so I always knew what he expected of me. Besides, he was generous in my salary and he gave me one day to myself every week. That was a luxury almost unheard of among servants. Most were satisfied with one day off per month.

By the time my first month was through, I felt that I knew my employer quite well. And that surprised me—Adam was the first master I'd ever known personally. As a footman, you scarcely have an opportunity to speak to your master, after all. You answer to the butler. But now that I was a valet, I answered directly to Adam.

That meant that it was Adam’s place to discipline me—I didn’t have to worry about a butler boxing my ears or thrashing me any longer. But by the end of my first week, I learned that Adam had no compunctions about thrashing me himself.

I had only myself to blame for that. I should have guessed that Adam wouldn’t put up with a lie—or even a slight shading of the truth. He tanned my hide to drive that point home. And didn’t he treat me to a blistering lecture as well? That was almost worse than the tanning.

It was a stupid thing to lie over. Adam had asked me if I’d finished mending one of his good shirts. I said I had, thinking he wouldn’t need it for another week. I figured I’d get to it by then. But he wanted it the next day. I managed a glib excuse, but he had brains enough not to buy it.

“Why would you lie about this, Shea?” he asked as he folded his arms across his chest.

I gave him what I hoped was a beguiling grin—the one I usually reserved for angry butlers. “I was hoping to spare myself a thrashing.”

He grinned back. “Well, then the lie was counter-productive. I don’t mind that you didn’t get to the mending, my lad, but I do mind the lie.”

I nodded, resigned, and took the tanning without complaint. I even managed to ‘Yes, sir’ my way through the lecture. But once it was over, I chewed my lip thinking about how closely I worked with Adam.

Again, I hadn’t much known the families I worked for in the past. It hadn’t been my place to interact with them. They hadn’t even hired me directly. Butlers or stewards took care of that. And since I scarcely knew the families—well, I can’t say I ever felt any guilt over robbing them.

But I was coming to know Adam quite well, and I was rather partial to him. I knew already that he was the best employer I’d ever had, even taking the tanning into account. Moreover, I was fast becoming friends with Hoss and Joe. They hadn’t been raised with staff (apart from Hop Sing), so they didn’t know enough to keep themselves aloof from me. And as for me—well, I liked the thought of being friends with them.

But I had enough sense to wonder how Adam felt about my would-be friendship with his brothers. I’d back off, I told myself, if he minded.

I brought the subject up one night when he was working late. He had sent me down to the wine cellar to fetch a bottle of brandy for him. I brought it up to his room and set it down, along with a glass, on the table next to him. Then I checked the oil in his lamp.

He smiled up at me as he poured the brandy. “You don’t have to wait up for me tonight, Shea. Get some sleep.”

But I shook my head at that. “I don’t mind, sir.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said as he went back to the documents he'd been perusing.

I took a seat on the other chair and busied myself with some mending. But at length I looked back up at Adam.

“Sir?” I said. “Joe asked me to go into town with him tomorrow. Would that be a problem?”

He looked up at me in surprise. “Why should it be? It’s your day off, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Yes, but I didn’t know if—well, is it appropriate?”

He grinned at that. “I told you before, Shea, that we’re not that formal here. Just do me a favor and don’t let Joe drag you into too much trouble.”

I smiled back at him. “Yes, sir,” I promised.

~

I wish I could say that I kept that promise. But that’s near impossible with Joe. We drank toasts to each other and to every passing saloon girl at three separate establishments. We got thrown out of two of those establishments for brawling. Ah, but they were friendly, good natured brawls. Everyone involved was laughing, even after we were all tossed out the door.

The short of it is that by the time we got home, we were three sheets to the wind, caterwauling at the top of our lungs—I’d been teaching Joe some good Irish songs, you see—and incapable of getting ourselves into the house. I don’t think we even rode our horses back to the ranch. I think some kind soul brought us home in a wagon. In fact, I have a vague memory of Adam and Hoss coming outside to the wagon to thank whoever the driver was and to tip him handsomely.

“Well, well,” Adam said as he looked us over. I could tell that he was wearing that sardonic smirk of his--the one he often wears when Joe gets into mischief.

Joe greeted his brothers with drunken enthusiasm and started telling them how much he loved them. He kept babbling on, talking about his love for his Pa, for Hop Sing and for his horse Cochise—even for me.

Hoss sighed. Apparently he’d heard Joe’s declarations of undying devotion before. “I suppose we should get these two inside,” he said to Adam. “I’ll take Joe—you take Shea.”

Adam must have agreed, because I felt him hoisting me over his shoulder. At that point I was still singing about the girl I’d left behind when I sailed for 'Americay.' I kept up the song all the way up the stairs.

They dumped both of us onto Joe’s bed. It was too cold to put me in my own room and Adam said he’d no mind to be woken up by me retching my guts out. So they put some basins on the floor on either side of the bed, covered us up with warm wool blankets and then left us to sleep off the beer and whiskey.

I woke up the next morning with a blinding headache. I’d never drunk like that before in my life. My Mam had always warned me that no Irishman could afford to appear drunk before his employers. Most of them were eager to brand us all as drunkards.

I retched my guts out into the basin—just as Adam had predicted—and then panicked. Most masters would fire a servant who came home drunk. That sort of behavior just wasn’t tolerated. I’d best apologize and in a hurry.

I retched again and then somehow made it out of the room and down the hall. I knocked on Adam’s door and held my breath waiting for him to reply.

“Come in,” he called out.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” I said as I opened the door. “About last night, I mean—”

Adam rolled his eyes at me. He was fully dressed already, I noticed. In fact, he was kneeling by his fireplace, fanning the coals.

“Go back to Joe’s room, Shea,” he ordered, “and get back into bed. I’ll be over in a few minutes to see to the fire and to get some water into you two.”

I leaned up against the doorframe so that I wouldn’t fall over. “I’m not a drunkard, sir,” I said. “I’ll swear that on anything you’d like. This won’t happen again.”

He grinned. “I don’t think you’re a drunkard,” he said. “You’re just an idiot nineteen year old—like my brother. Now get back to bed.”

I stood there uncertainly. “I—I should be working today.”

But he shook his head at that. “Take today off to recover. You can work seven days next week.”

I managed a nod and the ghost of a smile. “Yes, sir.” Then I turned around and stumbled back into Joe’s room and back onto the bed.

I groaned a little as I hit the mattress and curled up under the covers. Joe was still asleep beside me. I wondered suddenly if he’d be in trouble with his Pa. He still lived under his father’s roof, after all.

But I can’t say I worried too much about that. I was more concerned with my plans for the Cartwright safe. I didn’t see how I could crack it in good conscience—not if Joe was willing to go carousing with me and Adam was willing to put up with an occasional night on the town on my part.

Of course, I thought to myself, I could crack the safe without taking anything from it. That way I’d have the satisfaction of pulling off the crime without actually doing any harm. I'd never cared about the money anyway. Perhaps there was even a way to break the safe open without damaging it. That way no one would know that someone had tampered with it.

By the time I finally shut my eyes, I think I truly intended to reform. Not that I kept that resolution, mind—but at least when I broke it, it was for a good cause.

LINK TO PART EIGHT