The Rogue's Company, Part Thirteen

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG

Link to Part One

~

Joe and I made quite a pair at dinner—both our faces were sporting bruises. Mr. Cartwright glanced from his son to me as I set a tray on the table. But at length he shook his head and then busied himself with his dinner.

I stood respectfully at hand while the family ate their meal, filling glasses as wanted and refreshing the trays of food when necessary. On other nights, I let my mind wander a bit as they talked—much of their conversation was about ranching, after all—but tonight I paid strict attention to every word they spoke. Surely they wouldn't waste time chatting about cattle and pastures?

I was right: Mr. Maris was the topic at hand.

“At worst, Maris may have made a deal with the railroads,” Mr. Cartwright began. “With Federal backing, the railroad can legally steal our land.”

Hoss frowned at that. “But we have our own connections with the railroads, don’t we Pa? We have our own investments. And you sold them that land last year at a fraction of its worth—you know, for the common good and all.”

“That land wasn’t directly connected to the Ponderosa,” Adam pointed out. “But yes, we do have friends in the government and friends in the railroad. Let’s just hope those friendships pass the test.”

“That’s all assuming that Maris is involved with the railroads,” Joe chimed in. “What if he’s not? What if we’re on the wrong trail?”

Mr. Cartwright nodded. “True enough. But there may be ways of forcing Maris to play his hand.”

“Or—or we could just have Shea take a peek into that safe,” Hoss ventured, glancing at me.

That was just what I wanted, but somehow I kept my face studiously neutral.

“No,” Adam said at once. “I’m going to have enough trouble keeping his hide out of prison.”

“I agree,” Mr. Cartwright said. “Now listen to me,” he continued, glaring at Hoss and Joe in turn. “Neither of you are in any way to encourage Shea to break the law. And as for you, Shea,” he said, turning his head to look at me, “I expect your promise that you won’t go after the Maris safe or break the law in any other fashion.”

I bit back a frown. “That’s—that’s a far-reaching promise, sir. I only intended to crack that safe in order to get information for you.”

I saw Adam swallowing a grin. “I know,” he said. “But my Pa’s right—I’d like that promise too.”

Little Joe caught my eye just then, willing me not to make the promise. But I didn’t see a way of avoiding it. I’d just have to hope that Joe could wheedle Adam into releasing me from it if necessary.

“Yes, sir,” I said to Adam. “I promise.”

Adam seemed satisfied with that, but Mr. Cartwright turned back to Hoss and Little Joe. “I want a promise from you two as well,” he said, glowering at them. “Promise me that you won’t encourage Shea to crack that safe.”

Joe rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t about to dispute his father. “Yes, sir,” he managed.

“Yes, sir,” Hoss echoed.

Joe shot a look at me and then at Hoss. I could tell that he blamed Hoss for bringing up the possibility of me breaking into the Maris safe. Hoss must have realized that he had made the mistake of asking permission instead of begging forgiveness, for didn’t he blush mightily?

When dinner was over and the table cleared, I sat down with Hop Sing. I took my time over our kitchen meal, for I knew I’d have Adam to face when it was over.

Not that I minded all that much. My Mam told me once that she needed more than one pair of eyes to keep after me—I was always one for tumbling headlong into mischief. She also said that when I was older I’d need a strict master or a strict wife to keep me out of trouble.

She was right, like as not. I took such pleasure from baffling the authorities that I needed someone I genuinely liked and respected to mind, I suppose. And I did like and respect Adam, so surely it wouldn’t be hard to mind him? Especially since I’d made that far-reaching promise.

I could only dawdle so long, so at length I trudged upstairs and knocked on Adam’s door. He ordered me to come inside and sit down. I took the chair opposite him and gave him my most charming grin.

“Shall we get this reckoning over with, sir?” I asked.

“In a moment,” he said. “Shea, when did you start cracking safes?”

I stared at him for a bit, debating how much to tell him. But I couldn’t see the harm in confessing the whole. The man who taught me my craft was dead, after all.

“It was the clockmaker,” I explained. “He was the one who taught me how to crack safes. I did a few jobs with him. I didn’t make much profit, mind, but when he passed on he left me his tools.”

Adam nodded and waited for me to continue.

“Well, sir, you know I didn't fancy the idea of working in a shop. Besides, most of my family were in service, so it seemed natural enough to follow in their footsteps.” I paused and felt my face redden. “And I decided I could get at my masters’ safes without raising suspicions. But I only robbed those three safes, sir. I did no other jobs, excepting the ones with the clockmaker when I was naught but a youth.”

Adam didn’t say anything to that, but he was studying me.

“And I meant what I said earlier,” I said, hoping to fill the silence. “I don’t care about the money, sir. I just love the challenge of it.”

He sighed. “We’ll have to find some other way to challenge you.”

I grinned. “No you don’t, sir. Just release me from that promise I made downstairs and I’ll get into that safe. I may not be able to disguise the deed, but at least we’ll know what’s on the map.”

He grinned back at me, but he also shook his head. “Not a chance,” he said. “Are you going to keep this promise, Shea?”

I stared at him. It was a legitimate question, wasn’t it? I hadn’t treated my other masters very well, had I?

“I told you before, sir, that I scarcely knew my previous masters. That’s why it was so easy to steal from them. It’s different with you.”

“I think I can trust you not to steal from me,” Adam said easily. “But I don’t know if I can trust your word. You’ve lied to me before.”

“Over a shirt,” I said, “nothing more. I wouldn’t break my word over something like this. I wouldn’t, sir. I like you too well for that.”

“My thanks,” he said dryly. “Just don’t like me so well that you break your word with my own best interests at heart.”

I grinned again. “I’ll try my best, sir—although if I truly thought it was in your best interest…” I shrugged and let the words trail off.

“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head again. “I can only keep you out of prison so often.”

Damn, he meant to be stubborn about this. But I suppose I understood. Prisons were brutal places—I’d have the lash to worry about inside one, among other things.

“Yes, sir,” I said. "Until you release me from that promise, I won't break it."

"Don't hold your breath," he warned me.

"We'll see," I said, favoring him with a wink.

He rolled his eyes at that but decided against lecturing me any further. Unfortunately, I still had the tanning to face. I made no complaint this time either. I just promised myself that I wouldn’t do anything to deserve another one. There’d be no more lies to Adam and no more money for him to pay back on my behalf.

When the punishment was over, I went about my duties. I left the room and started down to the kitchen, intending to bring up some hot bricks for his bed. But Joe’s arm snaked out of his room and caught me in the hallway.

I smiled as he pulled me inside his room and shut the door behind us. “I’ll get to work on older brother,” he told me. “Don’t worry.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I can’t go breaking my word to him, sir.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I understand that. I can't break my word to my Pa, either, so I'll have to figure out something. Maybe he'll see reason.”

I shrugged, but I wasn't too hopeful on that score. Neither was Joe, I think.

He paused and looked me over. For a moment, I thought he was going to object to the 'sir' again, for he frowned at me. But he said nothing of that.

“What are you going to do when you’re older, Shea?" he asked instead. "You can’t go back to cracking safes now—will you become a real clockmaker?”

I was puzzled by the question. “Why would I?” I asked. “Your brother doesn’t mean to fire me—not as far as I can tell.”

“No, he’d never do that,” Joe assured me. “But, well, you can’t be his valet your whole life, can you?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why not?” I demanded. “It’s a perfectly respectable job, isn’t it? And doesn’t he pay me well?”

Joe let out a short laugh. “Heck, yeah—you make more than our new hands. But that’s not the point. Are you going to spend the rest of your days serving someone else? What happens when you want to get married?”

“I assume I’ll be marrying someone else in service,” I said. “I might need different living arrangements, but I’d still serve your brother. Perhaps he’d build those servant quarters here.”

Joe folded his arms over his chest—funny, he looked somewhat like Adam when he did that—and cocked his head at me. “You wouldn’t mind living on another man’s property your whole life? How will you be able to hold your head up once you’re in your thirties or forties?”

I stared at him for a long moment. “Why don’t you go ask Hop Sing that question?” I said at last. “How do you suppose he holds his head up? Or perhaps you can chat up one of your hands, sir. Some of them have far more than thirty years, and yet they still bunk here.”

Joe opened his mouth and then abruptly shut it again. I could see that the plight of Hop Sing or the hands—namely, the fact that they owned no property of their own—had never occurred to him. I don’t think Joe realized that he existed in a rarified world of privilege.

I didn’t wait for him to formulate a response. To own the truth, I was too annoyed. So I bowed my way out of his room and went back to my duties.

LINK TO PART FOURTEEN