The Silver Coin, Part Eight

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Slash Fan Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: PG-13

Link to Part One

~

Abby smiled as she reached for a cloth in order to dry the dishes. Adam and David were sitting opposite of each other, bent over a chessboard. At the moment they were both oblivious to the outside world—nothing mattered but the game. Each man was determined to out-think and out-strategize the other.

David would likely win the match. Even Adam was willing to admit that he was the better player. That was only fitting, for David spent much more time at chess than Adam did. But David considered Adam a worthy challenge regardless and he loved to hone his skills against him.

She shook her head. After all this time, these two were still rivals. Not bitter rivals, of course—not any more. But this gentler rivalry would always exist between them. It lent the spice to their relationship, she supposed. That was incomprehensible to Abby, but there was nothing to do but shrug her shoulders. At least they were no longer at each other’s throats over Little Joe’s poker habits.

She felt herself blush. She was on such intimate terms with both these men. She always knew when there was friction between them and often she could find a way to sort it out. Of course, sometimes there was trouble between herself and David instead—but in that case, Adam could generally smooth things over. And he usually had the decency to take her side, she noted with satisfaction.

She smiled again. Sometimes she felt like she was married to both of them. How strange that was, considering that she wasn’t sleeping with either man.

No, that wasn’t true. Ever since she and David had moved into the cottage, they’d shared a bed. It was a small house, after all, and the spare room was on reserve for the children they meant to adopt. So David had decided—without consulting Abby—that they would share a room and a bed like a normal married couple.

Not that she minded. She’d always thought it was silly for David to sleep on the settee whenever he spent the night at the flat he had rented for her. But it did lead to an awkward situation.

David had been married once before—and he had been quite forthcoming with the details. The union had ended in divorce. He had been young and he hadn’t fully understood his inclinations. And that had made everything rather, um, uncomfortable. Somehow he managed to consummate the marriage, but he had difficulty performing afterwards. And his wife’s frustration and scorn didn’t help matters.

Abby didn’t expect David to perform for her—she’d had quite enough of that, thank you, when she worked as a saloon girl. But David was still uncomfortable and surprisingly shy at night. He would sleep as far away from her as possible on the bed, risking falling off rather than any unintentional contact.

He was still haunted by ghosts from his first marriage, no doubt.

After the third night of his lunacy, Abby decided to speak up. She sat up, fumbled for the matches that she kept on her night table and managed to get the lamp lit. Then she turned to her husband.

“David, this is ridiculous,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You can’t spend the rest of your life trying to sleep on the edge. You were the one who decided we should share a bed, remember?”

He sighed and rolled over to face her. “Yes,” he owned. “I’m sorry, Avigail,” he continued, calling her by her Hebrew name. “It’s just that—well, suddenly it seems much more obvious that I’m not a proper husband to you.”

Her eyes softened. “You are a proper husband,” she assured him. “I knew what I was getting into from the beginning. Besides, at least I’ll never have to lie here and think of my country.”

David laughed—a warm, mischievous laugh that almost made her catch her breath. He was a good-looking devil, this husband of hers. Especially now, when he was all tousled and disheveled.

“Is that what respectable women do?” he asked.

“So I’ve been told,” she answered as she managed a teasing smile. “Women are never supposed to enjoy themselves, you know. It’s all for the sake of children.”

“I don’t know if our religion views it that way,” he remarked. “Technically speaking, a woman can get a divorce if her husband doesn’t sleep with her often enough.”

She winked at him. “That's only because children are so important in our faith. But don't worry; I’m not going to divorce you,” she promised.

“Good,” he said as he put a casual arm around her and drew her to him. “I’m not sure either Adam or I could live without you.”

He’d kissed her hair after that and fallen asleep with his chin on top of her head. In the nights that followed, however, he wasn’t so tactile. It was always like that with David: one moment he was affectionate, the next he seemed to shy away. But at least he stopped sleeping on the furthest edge of the bed.

The sound of a horse approaching jolted Abby’s thoughts back to the present. She turned to look at her two men—both of them were so absorbed in their game that they hadn’t noticed the noise. She shook her head again and went to take a glimpse out the window.

It was Little Joe, riding up to the cottage on Cochise. Abby smiled, expecting him to dismount and come to the door. But he was hesitating—and it seemed to be because he had caught sight of Sport, his brother’s horse.

Abby frowned. Was Joe trying to avoid Adam? And if so, did it have something to do with poker? David was convinced that Joe was in over his head, even if Adam didn’t want to hear it.

She bit her lip. Well, if Joe didn’t want Adam to know he was here, she would have to make sure that Adam didn’t find out. Not yet, at any event. Abby loved Adam, but she wanted to know what the problem was before she carried any tales to him.

Little Joe might have the right to some privacy.

LINK TO PART NINE