by J. Rosemary Moss
Genre: Fan Fiction Crossover (Bonanza-Gone With The Wind)
Rating: PG
Summary: A chance encounter with a little runaway leads Adam to the girl's mother--Scarlett O'Hara. Adam soon finds himself falling for the green-eyed vixen...
~
“Sit down, Mr. Cartwright.”
It was an order, not a request. Adam took that in good part, however. He had a keen appreciation for the ridiculous—and he found it amusing to have this green-eyed vixen boss him around.
Should he ask himself how it came to this? No, it was a pointless question. He knew full well where it began. It started right when he returned little Miss Ella to her home on Peachtree Street—and got a glimpse of her mother’s green eyes…
*
Adam stared at the little girl who appeared to be by herself. He frowned—Atlanta had managed to rebuild after the war, but it wasn’t always a safe city. It certainly wasn’t a good place for a little girl to wander the streets at night.
She was about seven years old, by his reckoning. She was standing on a corner, looking confused as she turned her head from side to side. Perhaps she was lost. Adam walked up to her and tipped his hat. Then he crouched down so that they’d be eye to eye.
“Good evening, Miss,” he said. “Are you having trouble finding your way home?”
She took a step back and gave him a weary look. Adam took that in good part and did nothing to frighten her further. He kept still and let her take her time answering him. She finally rewarded him with a shy smile.
“No,” she confided. “I just left my home.”
“Ah,” Adam managed, as if it were quite natural for a little girl to leave her home unescorted at night. “Where are you heading?”
“Charleston,” she answered.
“Charleston?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows. “That’s quite a distance. Why Charleston?”
She shrugged. “My step father talks about Charleston. He just went there. On—on business, I think. From what he said, I think it’s far away from my mother.”
Adam narrowed his eyes at that, wondering what she had against her mother. She looked well fed and well cared for. She didn’t look abused—but then you couldn’t always tell.
“Why do you want to be far away from your mother?” he asked.
She bit her lip. “I—I don’t think she wants me,” she stammered. “She never talks to me or pays attention to me.”
“Well, she must pay some attention to you,” he said encouragingly. “That’s a very pretty dress you’re wearing. Did your mother buy it for you?”
The girl looked down at her dress. “I suppose. But Bonnie had prettier dresses.”
“Who’s Bonnie?” he asked.
“My little sister. She died. Her pony threw her.”
Adam’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Did that happen recently?”
The girl nodded.
Adam considered his words. “Your mother must miss your little sister terribly,” he pointed out. “Maybe that’s why she’s not paying much attention to you now.”
“Maybe,” she answered, but she didn’t look convinced.
Adam sighed. “People do strange things when they’re grieving. Even if it seems like your mother is ignoring you, I’ll bet she could really use your company. Why don’t I bring you home for now—you can always go to Charleston later.”
He held out his hand. She stared at it, considering his offer. At length she nodded and placed her hand in his.
“My mother will be angry when I get home,” she said in a small voice. “She yells sometimes—she has a temper.”
Adam smiled at that as he stood up. “She’s probably sick with worry right about now. She might scream a bit—but I’m sure she’ll forget her anger afterwards. Now where do you live Miss…”
He let his voice trail off, hoping that she would supply her name.
“I'm Miss Ella Kennedy," she answered, looking up at him. "But my mother’s name is Mrs. Butler. She’s been married three times,” Ella continued. “If you put all her names together, she’s Mrs. Scarlett O’Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler.”
“That’s quite a mouthful,” he said with a grin. “My name is Adam Cartwright. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ella. Now let’s see about getting you home.”
*
Adam stared at the Peachtree Street monstrosity. It was quite possibly the most vulgar mansion he had ever seen.
“This is your home?” he asked the little girl at his side.
Ella nodded as her grip on his hand tightened. “My mother said that she wanted all her neighbors to be pea-green with envy,” she confided.
Adam bit back a laugh. “Well, I’m sure it’s made them pea green,” he commented as he scooped her up into his arms. “Come on—let’s get you inside.”
“Wait!” Ella said. “Will you stay? Maybe my mother won’t holler if you’re there.”
He gave her a wink as he walked up to the house. “You did leave the house all alone after dark,” he reminded her. “I think your mother has a right to do some hollering.”
She blushed at that—but she smiled a little bit too.
The massive front door opened before they made it up the walk and a black servant ran outside. Judging by his fine starched clothes he was the butler. He was obviously frantic for Ella. He hurried up to them, scolding the little girl along the way. Adam handed her over to him and followed him as he carried her toward the house.
“Thank you, sir,” the man said over his shoulder. “Where did you find her?”
“Not too far away,” Adam assured him.
“Adam says I should wait to go to Charleston,” Ella told him.
“Charleston! Oh, sweet Lord,” the man said, shaking his head at her. “Why did you get it into your head to go to Charleston?”
“Pork!” a voice called out. “Is that Ella?”
Adam stared up at the front door again. A pale woman was running out toward them.
Perhaps she wasn’t that pale—perhaps it was just the severe black of her dress. This must be 'Mrs. Scarlett O’Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler,' as Ella had named her.
She was in mourning, Adam reminded himself. She had lost her youngest daughter to a riding accident and then someone called ‘Aunt Melly’ to childbed. From Ella’s chattering, Adam gathered that Melly was Mrs. Butler’s sister-in-law.
“Yes, Miss Scarlett,” the butler answered as she reached them. “It is. She’s safe and sound. This kind man brought her home.”
'Miss Scarlett' turned to Adam. Even in the dim lamplight, he made out a pair of extraordinary green eyes—pale green without a touch of hazel.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m so glad she fell into good hands.”
She said the words mechanically, he noticed. She wasn’t paying any real heed to him—her eyes were fixed on her daughter. But there was as much annoyance in them as concern.
Adam tipped his hat at her. He was about to ask if he might call tomorrow afternoon and inquire after Ella, but Mrs. Butler spoke again before he had the chance.
She was digging into her reticule as she spoke. “Here, take this,” she told him, handing him a silver dollar. “And if you’re hungry I’m sure our cook can find you something. Just go right around the back.”
Adam stared at her for a moment. True, he wasn’t dressed to the nines. He wore no waistcoat or cravat—but he hadn’t expected to be taken for a pauper. But Atlanta was crawling with men looking for work, he reminded himself. Apparently Mrs. Butler assumed that he was one of them.
“Thank you kindly, Ma’am,” he said, biting back a grin as he pocketed the silver dollar. “I’ll be on my way.”
She nodded and turned on her heel. Adam watched her march inside, followed by the servant—was Pork his name?—and Ella.
“Goodbye Adam!” Ella called out, looking over Pork’s shoulder to wave at him.
“Goodbye sweetheart,” he called back. Then he turned and made his way back to his flat.
*
Adam waited a few days before inquiring after Ella. He wasn’t sure what he could do for the young lady. The child was practically crying for attention. But from his brief interaction with her mother, he would guess that she was impatient and neglectful.
At least Pork seemed to care for her. Adam would be happy to spend more time with the little girl as well, but he couldn’t think how to bring that about.
He didn’t go back to the hideous mansion on Peachtree Street—he’d no mind to be shown the kitchen. But Ella had told him about the mercantile her mother owned near Atlanta’s Five Points. He decided to make his way there instead.
He didn’t dress up for the occasion. Why disillusion Mrs. Butler regarding his pauper status?
To his surprise, Mrs. Butler was standing outside the store when he arrived. She was giving some lazy worker the rough side of her tongue. Adam leaned against the front of the store and raised his eyebrows at the scene.
Southern aristocratic women—no matter how poor they might be in the aftermath of the war—had impeccable standards when it came to behavior. Most wouldn’t be caught dead standing outside a shop, haranguing some unfortunate laborer. But Mrs. Butler must have been cut from a different cloth. This particular Southern aristocrat should be out West, Adam thought. People out there understood that a woman could own a shop and get her Irish up when a worker didn’t do his job to her satisfaction.
The worker in question had ignored the crates of china that were waiting in the wagon out front. Mrs. Butler cut off his excuses and fired him on the spot, declaring that she’d sooner haul them in herself than give him another cent.
She marched over to the wagon, intending to do just that. Adam rushed to her side and picked up the first crate for her.
“Allow me, Ma’am,” he said.
She raised her green eyes to him and let go of the crate. “Why, you’re the man who brought Ella home,” she said.
“Yes, I am,” Adam agreed.
She took a step back and considered him. “You seem respectable enough,” she said at length. “And I suppose the least I can do is give you a job. When you finish bringing those crates inside come into the office. Then you can sit down and we’ll discuss your wages.”
With that she turned around and swept back into the store, leaving Adam to stare in her wake. She hadn’t even bothered to wait for his response.
Adam let out a low laugh as he carried the first crate inside. It was going to be an interesting day.
LINK TO PART TWO
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