The train pulled slowly into the station at Boston. The male passenger who had been slouched in his seat, arms folded, and chin resting on his chest, stirred as the conductor called out, "Boston...Boston…last stop...all passengers please exit here!" Adam Cartwright sat up and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. When the train finally came to a complete stop he rose, stretched his cramped muscles, and exited the car in search of his baggage.

Train travel had made the trip from Nevada shorter, though portions of it still had to be made via stagecoach. Nevertheless, it was still an arduous journey—breakdowns, poor overnight accommodations, the dust from the stagecoach and the soot from the train. Yes, it was a long, tedious trip and Adam was happy to have it over. As soon as he could locate his bags he would hire a carriage to take him to his hotel. A bath, shave, and change of clothes were definitely order, and then he would go to see Carrie. He really wanted to go straight to bed and sleep until tomorrow, but it was early evening and he knew she would expect him to come and see her—perhaps take her out to dinner.

June was a bad time to be away from the ranch for an extended period of time. The next few months would be full of activity—branding, moving herds to fresher pastures, and endless fence mending. However, it could not be helped. Adam was in Boston to escort Carrie back to the Ponderosa.

Caroline Moreau was Ben Cartwright’s ward. Her father Daniel had been a lifelong friend of Ben’s. He had relocated to South Carolina, preferring its milder climate to that of New England. He had begun a small shipping business, which had prospered nicely and become involved in the local politics of Charleston, much as Ben had done in Nevada.

Daniel had married late in life to a woman much younger than he was, and they had had one child—their daughter Caroline. An outbreak of cholera had taken the lives of both Daniel and his wife Paulette. Daniel had named Ben as the executor of his will and guardian to Caroline. Ben traveled to South Carolina to tend to the Moreau’s affairs and to bring ten year old Caroline to live temporarily on the Poderosa. This "temporary" arrangement lasted four years.

Carrie, as everyone called her, soon became a part of the family. She got on well with all of them. She respected and obeyed Adam, who was much older than she was. She shared with Hoss a love of all living creatures and loved to stay with him to care for any sick animal on the ranch. But it was with Joe that she spent the most time.

He was four years older than she was, but as boys so often mature more slowly than girls, they got on very well. Joe was delighted not to be the "baby" of the family any longer. At first he tended to ignore her, but she showed that she had a real spirit of adventure, was fearless to a fault, and almost as mischievous as he was. On their trips to and from school they would hatch scheme after scheme. The objects of their pranks were invariably Hoss or Hop Sing, the cook.

They short-sheeted Hoss’ bed, set off firecrackers in the hen house, put salt in the sugar bowl, filled the sugar canister with salt, knocked over the outhouse more than once, and broke an entire set of china by trying to recreate a magician’s trick of whipping the tablecloth out from under the dishes that were set on the dining room table. Ben could frequently be heard roaring ,"JOSEPH…CAROLINE…come here now!", but even he had to suppress a smile when they replaced the Bay Rum after shave in Adam’s bottle with horse liniment. Adam, it should be noted, was NOT amused.

How long this might have continued is anyone’s guess. Time progressed and as Joe got older he discovered girls were good for things other than braid pulling. He was home less and not as likely to want to play tricks. Carrie, at age thirteen, felt as though she had lost her best friend. She resented it and fought back in the only way she knew how. She began to sabotage Joe’s romantic encounters. If he were sitting on the porch swing at a girl’s house she would ride up shouting about an emergency at home. She carried with her at all times some sort of creepy, crawly, jumpy, slimy creature with which to frighten his latest female companion. When the girl ran away screaming, she couldn’t understand why Joe wasn’t laughing with her. He berated her for jokes he would have authored himself only 18 months ago. They began to fight like cats and dogs. He humiliated her by calling her "little girl" and treating her with condensation. It was a very unpleasant year for her, but all that changed when she turned fourteen.

According to her father’s will, Carrie was to attend Miss Collier’s Academy for Young Women in Boston. She was to complete the entire four-year course. When Ben informed her of this she blew up. She would not go! She would not be sent away like some stray dog! They couldn’t make her go! Just try! Just try!

"Carrie, darling," Ben reasoned gently, " These were your father’s wishes and as your guardian I’m bound by the law to see them carried out. You’ve become a bit unruly lately and Miss Collier’s Academy will help you become the gracious young lady I know you can be."

"I don’t want to be a gracious young lady," she sobbed. "I want to stay here and go on the roundup!"

At that moment Joe walked in and, overhearing part of the conversation, had the misfortune to remark," Gracious young lady! Ha!"

She moved so fast that he never saw her coming. She jumped on him, knocking him to the floor, and began to pummel him with her fists.

"Carrie! Stop that! Get up right now!" shouted Ben as he wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her up off Joe, who got shakily to his feet, shook his head, and ran for the safety of the stairs.

"I’ll show you, Joe Cartwright—you just wait and see if I ain’t the most gracious young lady you ever seen!" she shouted after him.

So it was that Ben Cartwright accompanied fouteen year old Caroline Moreau to Boston, where she was enrolled in Miss Collier’s Academy for Young Women. She spent the next four years of her life there. Adam had been sent to attend her graduation and bring her back to the ranch. The topic around the Cartwright’s dinner table for the last month had centered on what was to be done then.

Miss Collier’s Academy for Young Women was located about half a mile outside of Boston proper. Adam took an admiring look at the buildings as his carriage drew up in front. Gracious elms and maples lined the walk in front of the Georgian style buildings. The school complex was in the shape of a U with two wings extending back from the main building and at right angles to it. Flowers and shrubs were planted beside the front entrance and ivy grew up the sides of the two- story façade. The lawn was neatly tended.

Adam knocked at the front door and waited. He was eventually admitted by a professional looking woman of about 30 dressed in a while shirtwaist and black skirt. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a bun and she wore spectacles.

"May I help you?" she inquired politely.

Adam introduced himself and asked where he could find Carrie.

"My name is Louise Madden. I’m Miss Collier’s personal secretary. She asked to see you as soon as you arrived. Will you come this way please?" She turned and moved down the hall to her right.

Adam followed her down the oak-paneled hallway past what he guessed must have been several classrooms before they arrived at a large sunny room. Almost the entire back wall consisted of large windows hung with heavy green brocade draperies. These were drawn back to allow sunlight to flood the room. Directly in front of the windows was an impressive mahogany desk, behind which sat a woman—Miss Collier herself, he assumed. Louise Madden stopped in front of the desk and addressed the woman behind it.

"Miss Collier, this gentleman is Adam Cartwright. He’s here for Caroline Moreau."

Miss Collier stood to greet Adam. She was a tall woman of about 60 with steel gray hair, startling blue eyes and a kind face.

"How nice to meet you, Mr. Cartwright. Won’t you please have a seat?" She pointed to one of the two padded armchairs in front of the desk.

"Thank you, Miss Collier," he replied as he sat down. "I trust you received my father’s letter explaining why I was coming instead of him."

"Yes, I did. I was sorry to learn of his accident, but happy to hear he is mending. I’m sure you’re anxious to see Caroline and you will very shortly. I just wanted to meet with you first to tell you that she has been rather ill lately. No---no---please don’t be worried!" she hastened to say when she saw the look of alarm on his face. "She took sick with flu like symptoms –fever, cough, chest congestion, and so forth, about a week ago. We have had her in our infirmary and she seems to be on the road to recovery, although she is still pretty weak."

"Has she been seen by a doctor?" Adam questioned with concern.

"Oh yes! A very fine doctor who treats all our girls should the need arise. He’s been to see her daily. We decided not to put her in the hospital because frankly she can get better care here and doesn’t run the risk of picking up someone else’s illness. I’m sorry to say that our hospitals are not as clean or well staffed as they should be. But as I said, she’s over the worst. Her main concern now is that she will not be well enough to attend her graduation next week, but I think if she gets plenty of rest she should be able to participate."

"When can I see her?"

"Why I’ll take you to her right now," she replied rising.

They walked toward the main entrance again and Miss Collier explained that the dormitory rooms, kitchen, and dining hall were in the right wing of the complex, the infirmary, library, conservatory, and more classrooms were in the left wing. The main building housed classrooms and offices. There was a charming courtyard formed in the center of the building and through the windows Adam saw a number of young girls playing crochet and lawn tennis.

"Classes are over for the year and the younger girls have already gone home. The senior girls are allowed quite a bit of freedom now. This senior group has been particularly nice and we will be sorry to see them go."

"Most of the girls go home for the summer?"

"Yes, but not all of them. Those who live great distances away may stay with relatives who are in the vicinity or they may board with teachers for the summer, as Caroline did. We close the dormitories during the long vacations for routine maintenance. It is quite a job to keep all the buildings and grounds in the condition that people have come to expect from our school."

Adam believed it. It was a tribute to Miss Collier that she could run the school and maintain its high standards of excellence while seeing to the more mundane concerns such as feeding these girls, keeping them warm in winter, and making sure the buildings and grounds were well kept. He stole a look at her face and she exuded pride and contentment as she showed him around. She obviously loved what she did.

They finally arrived at a room at the end of the left wing. Inside it was painted bright white and also had a number of large windows, some of which were open to let in the refreshing June breeze. There were five beds in the room, but only one was occupied. A plump woman dressed in a pristine white apron approached them and Miss Collier introduced Adam to Mary O’Reilly, the school nurse.

"You see, Mr. Cartwright, we feel it is important to have a nurse on staff what with all the little illnesses, scrapes, bruises and such that our girls can encounter. We are the first school that I know of to provide such a service. I do try to be modern and up to date whenever possible. Mrs. O’Reilly, Mr. Cartwright is here to see Caroline. He is her-----I do beg your pardon, but I’m not sure how to explain your relationship!"

"Technically she’s my father’s ward, but we’ve always treated Carrie as one of the family. I consider her a little sister and I'm sure that she regards me as an older brother."

"Yes, yes, of course. Well, in any case, Mrs. O’Reilly, it is alright for a visit, isn’t it?"

"Why sure now it is," Mrs. O’Reilly responded in a thick Irish brogue. There’s no better medicine than a visit from a loved one, I always say. Right this way young man."

And she bustled off to the occupied bed with Miss Collier and Adam following.

Carrie appeared to be asleep. She lay with her eyes closed, breathing softly and evenly. Mrs. O’Reilly shook her shoulder gently.

"Caroline, dearie, there’s someone here to see you."

Her eyes opened slowly and she blinked as she focused on the nurse and head mistress. Then she spied Adam and her eyes widened. A smile wreathed her face as she brought herself to a sitting position to greet him.

"Oh, Adam, I’m so glad you’re here!"

The two women moved aside and he sat on the edge of the bed. He reached out, pulled her gently to him and she fell into his arms in fervent hug. He kissed her cheek.

"We’ll leave you two alone for a little visit. Not too long now. She is still quite weak."

Adam stood as Mrs. O"Reilly and Miss Collier left the room and then turned back to Carrie. He resumed his seat on the edge of the bed and grinned at her.

"Well, I make this long trip to see you and you don’t even get dressed up to see me," he teased.

She smiled back at him, shy suddenly and not knowing what to say.

"Seriously, how are you feeling, Carrie? Have they taken good care of you? Do you need anything? Want anything?

She reached out and hugged him again, holding on to him while she answered.

"I’m getting better—really! I feel stronger every day. And they’ve taken excellent care of me. The doctor has been to see me every day—sometimes twice a day."

She pulled back and looked up into his face.

"I have to take some very nasty tasting medicine and they put some other stuff in a bowl of steaming water and make me inhale it with a towel over my head. That’s for my congestion they said. Some other girls were sick too, but I’m the last one to recover. I hate being sick. It’s so boring—nothing to do at all, so I’m trying hard to get better. I just have to be well enough to go to the graduation ceremony. I spent hours making that dress! And I wanted so much to prove to Papa and …and...everyone that I could do it."

He smiled down at her. "Papa" was what she called Ben.

"Anyone who chatters as much or as quickly as you do can’t be that sick. If you do as you’re told you’ll most likely be in the graduation. And Pa will be proud of you no matter what."

He felt a sudden pang of guilt. He hadn’t thought about her often over the past four years but had written to her occasionally, and it just occurred to him that she might have been unhappy here. Her stubborn nature might have made her stick it out to "prove" to them that she could. There was no question in his mind that sending her east had been the right decision legally and in countless other ways, but she might have viewed it as a challenge or a test that she had to pass before she could return to the family she loved. In fact, she needed to be here to learn the things that a woman must know and that a house full of grown men could not teach her.

"Are you looking forward to coming home?"

"Of course I am, silly, although I will miss some of my friends and teachers. When I first got here I hated it. Most of the other girls were Easterners, and I guess they didn’t know what to make of me and my wild ways. But the teachers, especially Miss Collier and Miss Prescott were very kind to me. When I think back! They had so much patience. Then I started to think about how my mother would have liked me to be. I hadn’t thought about her in a long time, Adam, but she was a lady. So I tried to become the kind of person she would want me to be."

She stopped here as a paroxysm of coughing overtook her. He patted her back until it passed and gave her some water to drink from the pitcher on the bedside table.

"I remember your mother, Carrie, and she was a lovely lady. I know that she’d be proud of you too. It must have been difficult for you on the ranch with so few women around. That’s one of the reasons it was important for you to go to school here."

He paused, pretending to study her critically.

"But look at you now! All grown up and ready to take Nevada by storm!"

"Well you can tease me if you want to, but I am grown up and different from the girl who came here four years ago. Can’t you tell how I’ve changed?" she asked cocking her head to one side.

He smiled to himself—she certainly was different! He couldn’t tell much about the physical changes since she was dressed in a voluminous cream colored nightgown with a high neck, and long, ruffled sleeves. But she was playing the coquette, and this was a brand new side to her personality. Tomboy Carrie had disappeared. He wondered idly if this ability to flirt was something a woman could be taught, or if it was an innate quality that surfaced at a particular time in her life. He studied her more closely. She had very fair skin, rather pale now due to her illness, and long jet- black hair, which hung in a loose braid down her back. Her eyes were the most fascinating shade of blue-green he had ever seen. They had a slight tilt, which gave her an exotic appearance. Her lashes were long and lush, her nose straight and patrician. Her lips appeared to be naturally pink and her lower lip was slightly more full than the upper. Dressed up she would be stunning. If Pa thought he had problems when she was fourteen, he was in for an unpleasant surprise. " Maybe I should telegraph him to lay in a supply of shotgun shells," he mused silently.

"What are you smirking about, Adam? I asked you a question. Have I changed?"

"Yes."

"That’s all? Just ‘yes’?"

"You fishing for compliments?"

"OH!" she pouted, wrinkling her nose at him. Then she changed expressions to one of sly satisfaction.

"I don’t have to fish for compliments. There are plenty of young men here who think I’m very attractive and have told me so!"

"I don’t doubt it for a moment," he replied honestly, mollifying her feelings. " I wasn’t aware you were allowed to socialize with young men here. Is that something new?"

"We’re supposed to know how to behave in all sorts of situations so we’ve had social gatherings with young men from some of the schools in the area. That’s when we practice the social graces. It’s all very well chaperoned and they don’t allow anyone to pair off, but sometimes…," and here her voice trailed off suggestively.

"You haven’t been misbehaving have you?"

"How can you think such a thing! I am a perfect lady at all times. I just wanted to have a little fun once in a while. Some of the girls actually would sneak out at night, but I never did that."

"Spare me the details. I think I’ve heard all I want to on this subject."

"Then tell me all about your trip and what you plan to do while you’re here."

He amused her for a few minutes with some stories about his trip east.

"I’m going back to the hotel and get a decent night’s sleep. Tomorrow I want to speak to your doctor and find out if I should extend my stay here. The trip back isn’t easy and I don’t want to risk you having a relapse in the middle of nowhere. I have some errands to run and then I’ll and meet up with my friend Jack Devine at his law office. He and his wife have invited me to dinner tomorrow night. You were invited too, but I guess you can meet them when you’re feeling better. I’ll visit with you again in the afternoon before I go to dinner."

Adam stood to go. Carrie pulled on his hand and he sat back down.

"Adam, I’m so glad to see you again! I almost forgot to tell you. I managed to get tickets for Edwin Booth’s performance of Hamlet . He was a friend of yours from college, too, wasn’t he?"

"Yes. He’s performing in Boston?"

"Uh-huh. The tickets were hard to come by but I managed to get two of them. I thought you might like to see him."

"That was thoughtful of you, sweetheart. I would like to see him. He visited once at the ranch and did a favor for a friend of Joe’s. I didn’t know he’d be in town. I heard he opened his own theater in New York."

"I think he did, but he still travels some. I’m glad you’re pleased."

"When are we supposed to go? Will you be up to it?"

"The performance is the night after tomorrow—Friday evening. I’m not even going to ask if I can go—I know they won’t let me. But if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to take someone in my place."

"Who?"

"One of my teachers—Miss Prescott. She really is nice, Adam and she has been so good to me. She doesn’t have a lot of money and would never get an opportunity like this. She’s the one I boarded with over the summers and Christmas vacations. If I can’t go myself then I’d really like her to have the other ticket. Please? It would be a real treat for her."

Adam groaned inwardly. The thought of escorting some spinster schoolmarm around was not enticing, but Carrie had been thoughtful enough to get the tickets, so he thought he could do her this one favor.

He smiled at her.

"How can I turn down a request from an invalid? Yes, I’ll take your Miss Prescott to the theater to see Hamlet. Where does she live?"

"I’ve written the address on that piece of paper on the table. I’ll send word that you’ll come for her at 7:30. The play begins at 8:00. That will give you enough time to get to the theater. Thank you so much! She really has been my favorite teacher. And you know," she added in a very adult manner, "I think these teachers are very much underpaid for what they have to do!"

He laughed. "If they have to deal with impertinent chits like you I’m inclined to agree."

She was about to protest indignantly when she began to cough again.

"I’d better go, Carrie. You do as they tell you and I’ll see you tomorrow morning."

He kissed her on the cheek and walked to the desk where Mrs. O’Reilly was busy completing some paper work.

"Did you have a lovely visit now?" she inquired with a broad smile.

"Yes, thank you. Can you tell me what time the doctor comes to see her? I’d like to speak to him, if that’s alright."

"Sure it tis, Mr. Cartwright. Dr. Banks generally arrives around 9 a.m. He’s an early bird that one. He’s young and has a lot of modern ideas. I don’t understand them all, but he’s kind and good with our girls. Will we be seeing you in the mornin’ then?"

"I’ll be here, and if you have any problems with that one," he remarked nodding toward Carrie, "you just let me know!" With a wink he was out the door. Mrs. O’Reilly giggled like a schoolgirl.

"That was one of the best meals I’ve ever had, Jane. Everything was delicious."

Adam placed the linen napkin beside his plate and smiled at his hostess. Jane Devine lived up to her married name. She was tall, slender, blonde and blue-eyed. She had a classically pretty face with even features and a ready smile. His friend Jack had been fortunate to marry her. Jack had begun working in her father’s well-established law firm soon after he passed the bar. The two young people had been attracted to each other immediately but her father had not been in favor of the match. Then Jack had won a landmark case for the firm, which resulted in a host of new clients. Jane’s father had relented and the two had married within a year. Jack continued to do well for the firm and had come to earn his father-in-law’s respect and trust. Jane was expecting their first child next month. They were obviously very happy and very much in love. Adam was delighted for his old college friend.

"Well it’s a pleasure to have you visit with us. I’m so sorry that Carrie isn’t well. Is there anything we can do?"

"No, thanks. She’s very well taken care of at the school and I’ve spoken to the doctor. He agreed with me that I should stay here longer to make sure she well enough for the trip home."

"That’s a great idea. Then you can visit with us a few more times. I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again," said Jack enthusiastically.

"Why don’t we move to the parlor so you two can have some brandy," suggested Jane, rising.

Her husband rushed to assist her and she threw him a loving look. He took her arm and settled her comfortably on the sofa before filling two glasses for himself and Adam.

Adam took a moment to appreciate his surroundings. Jack and Jane lived in a lovely three-story brick townhouse in an old, established neighborhood. It was bright and airy and Jane had decorated it with the latest furniture and lighting fixtures and carpeting. The place bespoke owners who were well to do.

"Yes," thought Adam to himself, "Jack has done very well. Good job, lovely and loving wife, baby on the way, beautiful house. I’m happy for him."

"What are your plans, now that you’re here?" The question from Jack snapped Adam back from his thoughts.

"I’m not sure of everything I’ll be doing, but I know that tomorrow night I’m seeing Edwin in Hamlet."

"How did you ever manage to get tickets?" Jane demanded.

"Carrie got them. She knew that Edwin and I went to school together and she did it as a favor to me. Unfortunately, she won’t be able to go with me."

"Now, Adam, if you need someone to go with you I know any number of very attractive young ladies who would be happy to accompany you. Just say the word and I’ll have you fixed up. It would be a shame to let the ticket go to waste!"

"Jane, darling, I’m sure Adam is capable of arranging his own dates. He never had a problem getting girls when we were in college. I think they were attracted to his dark, brooding looks!" teased the fair-haired and grinning Jack.

"Don’t make me embarrass you in front of your wife, Jack," Adam replied smiling and swirling the brandy in its snifter. "I could relate a few stories about you…"

"Okay! Okay! Let’s call a truce on telling old college stories. But Jane is right. It would be a shame to have the ticket wasted."

"As it turns out the ticket won’t be wasted. Someone will be going with me."

" Oh… who?" demanded Jane, very interested.

" Well, actually," and here Adam paused, somewhat embarrassed, "Well, actually Carrie asked me to take her favorite teacher, as a favor to her. Seems she’s very fond of her and feels the woman wouldn’t have the opportunity or the means to see a performance like Edwin’s. Carrie thinks that this teacher would really love to go. She boarded with her over the long vacations and I think she looks on her as a mother figure. So, I said yes and that’s where things stand."

Jack was chuckling and shaking his head, but Jane glared at him and said, "I think it’s very kind of you to do that Adam. I mean it’s really the least you could do if this person has had such a strong influence on Carrie. But after this, if you are looking for a companion for a concert or anything, please let me know. I really do know some lovely young women."

"Thanks, Jane. I did have an idea though. I asked Edwin to have a late dinner with me after the play at a restaurant near my hotel. Why don’t the two of you join us? You’d like to see him again wouldn’t you, Jack?"

"It’d be great, but I don’t think we can make it," his friend replied.

"I know it’s short notice and I should have realized that you’d have other plans."

"We don’t have any other plans. We can’t go because of Jane’s….um…condition."

"Jane?" Adam turned to her with a puzzled look.

"I’m as healthy as a horse, Adam. Women just don’t go to social functions when they are expecting a baby. I haven’t been anywhere except to my sister’s and my parents’ for the last two months. That’s one of the reasons I was delighted to have some company. Planning dinner gave me something to do. You seem surprised. Do women in Nevada go out when they’re…?"

"I never gave it much thought, but life is different out west. The women—at least some of them—have a very rough time. They do what they need to do whether there’s a baby on the way or not. I guess it’s just one of the social conventions that we don’t observe. Believe me, there are plenty of others as well. Virginia City used to be very wild, although as new people move in we are becoming more "civilized".

"I’d like to visit your ranch sometime," said Jack. "The "wild west" sounds pretty romantic to us easterners!"

"You two are welcome anytime. The house is big and roomy and I think you’d enjoy some of the scenery around the ranch. And maybe your lovely wife can bring some more civilization to our part of the world." He winked at Jane, who smiled back fondly at her husband’s friend. "I’d better be going. Thanks again for a wonderful evening. It’s been great seeing you again." And he rose over their protestations that he should stay longer.

"I’ll be in touch with you, Adam. We expect to have you and Carrie for dinner next time. And before you can protest, Jane has a couple of servants to help her, so dinner is no major undertaking."

Jane heartily agreed with her husband as they walked Adam to the front door. With promises to stay in touch during his visit, Adam bid his friends goodnight and returned to his hotel.

Adam was in a morose mood. This was unusual for him. He was generally even tempered and not given to moodiness, but events over the last few days had conspired to make him consider just where his life was heading.

First there had been the meeting with the doctor. The man looked about Joe’s age. All evidence to the contrary, he didn’t look like he was long out of grammar school, never mind being a full-fledged physician. However, he did seem knowledgeable and he readily agreed that the trip home should be postponed, if it was possible to do so. Maybe he was just comparing this young man to the older and more comfortable image of Dr. Paul Martin at home. "A doctor shouldn’t look younger than I do," thought Adam grumpily.

Then he had met with another old friend, Dave Hammond, who had gone straight from graduation into his father’s bank. He was glad to see yet another college friend doing well. Dave was married and had two little girls. He had a secure future in the bank and he and his wife were living a socially upscale life similar to that of Jack and Jane. Dave even teased him about being an old bachelor.

"When are you going to take the plunge, Adam? When we were young it was great to fool around, but at our age it’s about time to settle down. I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t envy my unmarried friends. I’ve got the best little wife on earth and the two most beautiful girls in Boston. I guess I’m just so damned happy I want everyone to be like me!"

"I’m happy for you, Dave. I just haven’t found the right woman yet. The few times I came close, well---things happened."

"Well, I hope you find someone soon. Say… Nancy has a bunch of friends, if you’re interested. I’m sure we can work something out—a little party or something. What do you say?"

Adam was reluctant to say either yes or no. He didn’t like the idea of being "fixed up", but the next two weeks loomed long and uninteresting in front of him. He had already telegraphed Pa about their delayed return. He had changed their train reservations and made arrangements for Caroline’s things to be shipped west. After the graduation he wanted her to rest as much as possible, so he wouldn’t ask her to accompany him to any concerts or plays. Perhaps Dave’s offer wasn’t such a bad idea. A pretty female companion for a few weeks might make him feel like less of an old fogey.

"We’ll be leaving on the 23^rd. I’d be happy to get together with you and Nancy. Just let me know when. You can leave a message at the hotel."

Now he was riding toward the Prescott house and reflecting rather grimly on his life. He was in his thirties, no wife, no children, successful in his own way, but suddenly a bit discontent with his lot. Perhaps he shouldn’t leave his future happiness up to fate. Perhaps he should begin to think about what he would like in terms of a wife and actively seek someone out. He didn’t consider himself much of a romantic, but he had always thought these things would just take care of themselves. Maybe it was time to give "fate" a helping hand.

The carriage pulled up in front of a three-story brick house in the north end of Boston. The house was similar in design to Jack’s, but in a neighborhood that was more working class. Wishing this obligation could have been postponed indefinitely, Adam climbed the steps to the front door. No need to tell this Miss Prescott about his dinner plans with Edwin. He would take her to the theater and then take her home. That was all he had promised Carrie and that was all he intended to do. Hat in hand, knocked and waited. The door was soon opened by a short, plump woman who appeared to be in her seventies.

"Miss Prescott?"

"Yes! You must be Mr. Cartwright. I’d recognize you anywhere. Carrie described you so well. Please do come in," she responded. She stepped aside to allow him to enter the house. Then she led him to the parlor.

Although this house was built in a similar style to the Devine’s, that’s where the similarities ended. Adam recognized shabby gentility when he saw it. Everything in the parlor was immaculate, but the furnishings and carpet had seen better days. An effort had been made to make the place more cheerful. A brightly knit afghan covered worn areas on the sofa and several vases of colorful flowers were placed throughout the room, giving it a warm and friendly air, reflective of Miss Prescott herself. She had kind brown eyes, gray hair, and an air about her that caused one to feel instantly comfortable. Adam understood at once why Carrie was so taken with her.

When she invited Adam to sit down he said, "I’d like to but we really should be going. The performance begins at 8 and we have a 15 or 20 minute drive ahead of us. Why don’t you get your wrap and we can leave."

She looked at him for a minute and then began to chuckle gently. At his puzzled expression she said, "I can see there’s been a slight mistake here. I’m Beatrice Prescott. My niece, Meg, is Carrie’s teacher and she’s the one who is going with you tonight. Meg, dear, this is Mr. Cartwright and he thought I was going to see Hamlet tonight instead of you!" She laughed and spoke to someone who had come up behind Adam and he turned to see who it was. Suddenly the evening had possibilities.

Meg Prescott was about 5 feet 4 with wavy brown hair that was pulled back and piled on the top of her head in a confusion of curls. A few errant strands had escaped and curled gently around her face. She was neither classically beautiful like Jane, nor exotic looking like Carrie. Her face was oval and sweet and full of character. Her eyes were the color of rich brown velvet, with tiny golden flecks. They were large and expressive and framed by thick lashes. Her complexion was peaches and cream, her nose straight, and her lips full but not pouty. When she smiled, her teeth were white and even and she had a small dimple in her right cheek. She appeared to be in her mid to late 20’s.

Had Adam known anything about fashion he would have realized that the gown of dull blue-gray silk that she wore was several years out of style. She had received it when a wealthy student had left it behind after graduation and had remade it at that time to the current style. That was four years ago and this offer to accompany Adam had come too late for her to remake it yet again. The material was of excellent quality though the color was not the best for her, but she had long ago learned to make do with what she had. She wore a large cameo on a velvet ribbon around her neck as her only ornament.

Looking directly at Adam she said with a perfectly sober expression but mischief in her eyes, "I’m sure if Mr. Cartwright would prefer to take you Aunt Beatrice, we can arrange that. How long will it take you to change?"

"Why don’t we just leave things as they are?" Adam replied with a smile. And then, because he was innately courteous, he offered to give his ticket to the aunt and forgo seeing the play himself. He offered, held his breath, and waited.

"Don’t be silly, Mr. Cartwright. I’m looking forward to a little time alone. You two run along and enjoy yourselves."

Meg handed him her shawl, a gray silk crocheted piece that looked about as substantial as a cobweb. As he draped it over her shoulders he caught the scent of something delicate and floral…and very pleasing.

"Miss Prescott, after the performance I’ll be having a late supper with a friend and I’d be delighted if you would join us."

"It’s very kind of you to offer, Mr. Cartwright. Are you sure it won’t be an imposition? I know that you don’t come east very often and I wouldn’t want to take time away from your visit.

"It’s no imposition and I think you might find this person interesting."

"Alright. Thank you." She turned toward her aunt. "I’ll be a little later than I thought, Aunt Beatrice. Don’t wait up."

"I’ll leave a lamp burning for you, dear," replied the older woman.

With this parting remark Meg took Adam’s proffered arm and they left the house. As he assisted her into the carriage and gave the driver the directions he wracked his brains to remember if he had ever had a teacher as attractive as she was. No…all his teachers had been sour old biddies or stern men. Having her as his companion tonight was a stroke of luck and his black mood lifted. Meg turned to him and said, "In the confusion back at the house we were never formally introduced." She held out a gloved hand and, smiling, said primly, "I’m Margaret Prescott. It’s very nice to meet you."

He grinned back at her and took her hand. "Adam Cartwright. And it’s nice to meet you!" They laughed quietly together as the carriage rocked and swayed on the street.

"I’d like to thank you for this opportunity to see Edwin Booth. I’m just sorry it happened because of Carrie’s illness. I visited with her today and she does seem much better. I’m sure she’ll be well enough to participate in the ceremonies on Wednesday,"

"I hope so. She talks about it incessantly. It seems there’s a dress she’s made that she wants to wear."

"She not only wants to wear it, she has to wear it. All the senior girls must wear white gowns that they’ve made themselves. It takes a long time and is part of the graduation tradition at Miss Collier’s. For the girls who don’t like sewing very much, it’s quite an undertaking. Carrie has become a reasonably good seamstress, but most of the other girls don’t see the point because they come from families where gowns are ordered and made for them."

"Then what is the point?" Adam asked.

"Miss Collier’s philosophy is this. Her girls are going to homes where they will be the mistress of the house and need to oversee servants. You can’t supervise someone doing a job unless you’ve done the job yourself and know how it’s done properly. So all our girls do all the jobs that their servants will be doing, such as cleaning, polishing, sewing, and even some cooking. They learn how to keep household accounts so they won’t be taken advantage of. Hopefully this type of education along with finer accomplishments in music, art, foreign language, and needlework will make them valuable partners for their husbands. A number of our graduates have written to tell us the value of their years here. We have a waiting list for openings in the next three years’ worth of classes, so Miss Collier is doing something right."

She spoke very earnestly and Adam smiled to himself.

"What classes do you teach, Miss Prescott?" he asked her.

"I teach mathematics, French, and I give piano lessons, too."

"You’re a math teacher?" he asked incredulously.

"You seem surprised. It happens that I love math. I’ve always had a gift with numbers. I teach a class in household accounts, a class in general math, and I’d like to teach one in higher mathematics, but there’s no demand for it here. The consensus seems to be it’s a waste of time for a young lady to learn such things." Then she surprised him by asking, "What do you think about that?"

"I’ve never given it much thought," he answered honestly.

"Well, I may be a teacher now, but I’ve always been and always will be a student. It pleases me to learn new things. And we can’t go through life only learning those things that are practical. For instance, the play we’re going to see has nothing to do with the practical side of life. Seeing it won’t help feed or clothe us, yet in a sense it feeds our souls, and I think that’s very important too."

He was impressed by the way she spoke with quiet conviction and his curiosity was aroused.

"If they’re not teaching higher math to girls, where did you learn it?"

"I sort of taught myself. I borrowed some books and studied them. My aunt has a dear old friend who is also our banker, and when I would get stuck, he helped me out. I’m no genius, but I do like the mental activity of studying numbers. It’s one of the things that makes me seem rather odd to most of society," she added ruefully.

Adam thought about what society expected of women and had to agree that intelligence was not high on the list of desirable qualities for many. Beauty, charm, grace, good manners, an ability to sing or draw, were all touted as necessary qualities. Most men did not think it required, or even desirable, that their wives be bright and inquisitive, so Margaret Prescott would seem strange to many.

"I had forgotten about the strictures of society in the east. In the west we’re more democratic. I was just explaining this yesterday to some friends. Life is different for women in the west—for most much harder—so many of the restrictions of eastern society fall by the wayside. Women have more freedom."

"But their freedom comes at a price, if I understand you. Life is difficult for them," she answered.

"Life in the west can be difficult for everybody. And freedom always comes at a price, don’t you think?"

She thought for a moment and then replied, "Yes, Mr. Cartwright, I think you’re right about that." And the dimple in her cheek reappeared as she smiled.

"Miss Prescott, would you do me a favor?"

"Certainly, if I can."

"Please call me Adam. Every time you say Mr. Cartwright I want to look around for my father."

Laughing softly she said, "Alright, Adam. And you please call me Meg. Every time you say Miss Prescott I want to look around to see if one of my students is nearby."

"Agreed!"

For the rest of the ride she asked questions about the ranch, life in the west, and his family. He decided that she was telling the truth when she said she loved to learn new things. She apologized to him for any questions that might sound silly, but in fact, they were mostly intelligent questions that he was delighted to answer. As much as Adam enjoyed these occasional trips east, he loved the Ponderosa and his life there and he felt very comfortable talking to her about that life.

They arrived at the theater and took their seats. Edwin was at his best and gave a marvelous performance. Adam glanced at Meg a few times during the play and her face had an expression of pure rapture. He was suddenly glad that he could provide this evening’s entertainment for her. Carrie was absolutely right—here was someone who was not at the theater to see or be seen, but to enjoy the beauty of Shakespeare and "feed her soul".

There was a brief intermission and people walked to the lobby where refreshments of various kinds were available. Adam asked Meg what she would like and to his surprise she requested a dish of ice cream. He got it for her and purchased a glass of wine for himself. He wondered if she was a teetotaler. They were chatting amicably about the play. Meg was enthusiastic but not gushing.

"I wanted to see Mr. Booth because I had read that he interprets Hamlet in a more natural and less dramatic way. I think his method is wonderful. It might even persuade some of my students that Shakespeare is interesting!"

Adam was about to answer her when they were approached by two very well dressed young ladies of about 20. He thought Meg stiffened when she saw them coming.

"Miss Prescott! It’s so nice to see you here. How have you been?" The girls were addressing Meg but looking Adam up and down.

"Jenny, Marion, it’s nice to see you too. Are you enjoying the performance?"

"It’s alright. We had to come because Edwin Booth is just the talk of the theater. We couldn’t possibly miss it. Actually, we don’t see what all the fuss is about. Are you here alone?" They both spoke at once and this last remark was slipped in slyly.

"Jenny, Marion, this is Mr. Adam Cartwright. Adam, these young ladies are Jenny Morris and Marion Harrison. They’re former students of mine."

Adam nodded but before he could say anything the bell rang announcing the end of the intermission.

"Oh, we have to run," said Jenny. "Papa gets so angry if we keep him waiting. Sorry we can’t talk longer. It was good to see you again, Miss Prescott."

As they turned to leave Marion turned to Jenny and said in a voice just loud enough to be overheard, "Do you believe she’s still wearing that same dowdy gown? Well, I suppose if you never go out you don’t need many!" And, laughing, they walked off toward the other side of the lobby.

Meg bit her lower lip and her cheeks were flame red with embarrassment. There was an awkward moment of silence.

"Why don’t you finish your ice cream?" Adam asked kindly, wishing he could throttle the two thoughtless young women. It angered him that something as unimportant as fashion could be used to hurt another person. He wondered if the two girls were malicious or just ignorant. He decided they must be a little of both. He wondered if he could rescue the situation.

"I’m sure Edwin Booth would be interested to hear your comments about his performance," he said trying to divert her.

Though she had lost her appetite, she was scraping the last of the ice cream onto her spoon and answered quietly, "Perhaps I should write him a letter giving him my opinion."

"A better idea would be to tell him in person at supper later."

The spoon stopped between the bowl and her lips. She stared up at Adam who was looking at her with a twinkle in his eye. His ploy had worked. All thoughts of the nasty remark disappeared from Meg’s mind.

"Did I neglect to tell you that the friend we’re dining with is Edwin Booth?" he asked innocently.

She was dumbstruck. He took the bowl and spoon from her and placed them on a nearby table. Taking her elbow, he began to lead her back into the theater.

"We’d better hurry back for the last two acts so you can comment on his entire performance."

"This occasion calls for some champagne, don’t you agree, Adam?"

"Sounds fine to me, Edwin," Adam answered, smiling.

"Miss Prescott, do you like champagne?"

"I don’t know, Mr. Booth. I’ve never had any." Meg was trying not to show how nervous she was in this unfamiliar situation.

"Never had champagne! For a teacher, her own education is sadly lacking, wouldn’t you say, Adam? We’ll take care of this at once!"

So saying, Edwin Booth ordered a bottle of champagne, after they were seated at their table. He made a great show of serving it when it arrived and then said, "I’d like to propose a toast. To old friendships (here he raised his glass to Adam) and to new friendships." He raised his glass to Meg and the three sipped from their glasses. Meg felt self-conscious as both men watched for her reaction.

"The bubbles tickle my nose," was her first reaction and they all laughed

"But do you like it? Do you like the taste?" asked Edwin.

She took another sip and considered her answer.

"I think so. It’s very different from anything else I’ve ever had. Even though it’s cold, it makes me feel a little warm inside."

"Haven’t you ever had any kind of liquor before—wine, hard cider, anything like that?" Adam asked her.

"No. I’m afraid we’re not very sophisticated. I don’t think Aunt Beatrice has an objection to spirits per se. We just never have the occasion to serve them." She took another sip.

Adam placed his hand on hers and gently made her put down the glass.

"You’d better drink that slowly if you’re not used to wine. Don’t have more than one glass… at least until you’ve eaten something," he warned.

Meg was beginning to feel warm all over. Her cheeks were flushed and she felt relaxed and happy. She couldn’t imagine why she had been so nervous just a few minutes ago. She wasn’t sure if this feeling was due to the champagne or the efforts of the two gentlemen to put her at ease. Edwin Booth was both handsome and charming. He was of medium height, thin, and dark in coloring. Even off the stage there was a presence about him.

"Did you enjoy Hamlet, Miss Prescott?" Edwin was asking her. She answered him simply and honestly and he was very pleased, as Adam had predicted.

"The overly dramatic gestures and acting that have been traditional are really unnecessary when doing Shakespeare, in my opinion," he stated. "The words of the bard are dramatic enough in their own right. This is why I favor a more natural delivery."

"I’m not an expert, Mr. Booth, but I thought the way you played the part was wonderful," she answered, and he beamed at her.

Supper was delicious and the conversation light and pleasant. Sometimes the two men would discuss things from their past association of which she had no knowledge, but they would always make an effort to draw her back into the conversation. She had a second glass of champagne because Edwin insisted that they shouldn’t waste a drop, but the wine’s effect was lessened by the food she had eaten. She had a rich French pastry with her coffee, but the men had brandy with theirs. Adam watched in amusement as she put two heaping teaspoons of sugar in her coffee before adding a quantity of cream.

"You could have had tea, if you’d preferred," he told her.

"Oh no! I like coffee." It suddenly occurred to her what he was driving at and she laughed sheepishly.

"I have a terrible sweet tooth. Aunt Beatrice always says I like a little coffee with my sugar and cream. I really do like the flavor of coffee. I just need to…adjust it a little bit."

Edwin asked her with a smile if she’s like another pastry and she blushed. They were teasing her, but she had no clever comeback so she just said, "No, thank you."

Adam checked the time and said to Edwin, "We’d better go. It’s late. Will you be in Boston much longer?"

"Fraid not. I go back home tomorrow. I’m glad we could get together. I hope you can visit me in New York sometime." He turned to Meg.

"Miss Prescott, it has been a treat to have met you. I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again sometime." She held out her hand and he shook it warmly as they all rose to leave.

"Edwin, you know you’re always welcome on the Ponderosa anytime you head west. Tonight has been wonderful. Now I’d better get Meg home before her aunt sends out the police." With cordial good-byes all around they left the restaurant and got into their respective carriages. Meg was quiet on the ride home.

"A penny for your thoughts."

" I was just thinking about what a wonderful evening this has been—a once in a lifetime evening. And I’m feeling guilty because it should have been Carrie’s to enjoy."

"Don’t feel guilty, Meg. Carrie got the tickets for me, not because she was so anxious to see the play. And she can meet Edwin the next time he’s out west. He goes to San Francisco periodically and we get to see him then."

The carriage pulled up to the house and he helped her out. At the door she turned to him and said, "Thank you for a lovely night, Adam. Everything was so special. I’ll stop by to see Carrie tomorrow and thank her as well."

"I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I hope we’ll get to see you again before we leave."

"Well, I’ll see you at the graduation ceremony, surely."

"Of course."

This wasn’t exactly what he meant. He looked down into her upturned face and suddenly had a desire to spend more time with her. They had gotten along very well. She was intelligent, witty, and honest. They had talked easily together all night and he still felt as if there was much to be said. It was curious. She didn’t chatter on inanely like many women did. She was full of contradictions. She had an endearing child-like curiosity, but did not hesitate to firmly, but gently, state her opinions about areas where she was knowledgeable—a delightful combination of naivete and intelligence. Adam himself was reserved but she had engaged him in thoughtful conversation all evening. Though they had met only hours earlier, he felt like she had been a friend for a long time. This was a new concept for him—a woman as a friend. Yes, it would be nice to spend more time with her. But she ended the evening by extending her hand and saying, "Thank you again, Adam. Good night."

He shook her hand gently, said good night, and waited until she was safely in the house before returning to the carriage. As it rolled along he considered the fact that he was ending the evening in a much better mood than he started it.

"Why sure now, Mr. Cartwright, aren’t you just full of charm. Why would you be bringin’ an old lady such as meself candy? Surely there’s some young lady you fancy!" And Mrs. O’Reilly laughed heartily as Adam placed the box of chocolates on her desk.

"It’s just a little token of my appreciation for the care you’ve given Carrie. Please accept it with the gratitude of all the Cartwrights."

"You’re a dear, to be sure. You can tell that young lady in the bed she’ll be out of here tomorrow. She’s to take it easy—early to bed, eat well, fresh air. She’ll be just fine."

"That’s good news. And thank you again, Mrs. O’Reilly."

Carrie was sitting up and looking well. The color had returned to her cheeks and she was animated as Adam sat on the bed beside her.

"I heard! I can’t wait to get out of here. Have my things been sent to the hotel, Adam?"

"Many of them are there already. I can’t believe the number of trunks you have. I made arrangements for some of them to go on ahead of us. We couldn’t take them all with us."

"But who packed them?" she whined. "How do I know I’ll have what I need?"

"Miss Collier made the arrangements to have your things packed. I’m sure she left behind what she thought you’d need. And…I can’t believe I’m saying this considering the amount of stuff you have…if you really need something, you can buy it before we leave. Just try to leave some clothes for the rest of Boston to wear."

"You men have no concept at all about what is necessary in a woman’s wardrobe."

This remark amused him mightily because of the air of superiority with which she delivered it and because of her reference to herself as a woman. Judiciously he decided not to rile her by laughing. He changed the subject.

"I want to thank you again for getting the tickets to Hamlet. I enjoyed myself and it was great to see Edwin again. I owe you."

"Your welcome. Miss Prescott enjoyed it too. She came to school today to pack away some things in her room and she stopped by to see me. It was nice of you to take her to supper. You didn’t have to do that but I know she loved every minute of it. So you don’t owe me anything. She’s been like a big sister to me and Aunt Beatrice has been like a mother. But they are so proud. I know they don’t have a lot and there are so few ways I can repay all their kindness to me. They refused to take more money when I boarded there even though I know Papa offered more, but they made sure I had the best of everything. So this was a good way to give back a little something to someone who has been a good friend to me."

Adam regarded her for a moment and said, "Caroline Moreau, you have grown into a very special young lady. I like what I see. You’re beautiful on the outside, but, more importantly, you’re beautiful on the inside." He kissed her gently on the forehead. To his amazement, tears sprang to her eyes and her face crumbled.

"Carrie, what is it? What did I say?"

"I don’t know," she sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her nightgown. "I guess it’s just everything. I’ve been sick, and I’ve missed all of you, and I’m glad to see you, and I know I’ll miss my friends here, but I want to go home, and now you’ve paid me a lovely complement, and I hope I have the right clothes to go home, and…"

"Alright…alright…shhh…," he crooned and held her while she wept. "You’re overwrought. It’s hard to leave good friends even when you’re anxious to go home. That’s perfectly natural. But you can write to them and I’m sure you’ll be back here sometime or they can visit you on the ranch. You remember how many guests we used to have? Now we’ll just have few more," he comforted her while she regained her composure.

"You’re right. I’m being silly. I have so many conflicting emotions about leaving. I like Boston. I like the shops, the concerts, the parks. Has Virginia City changed? It seems like there won’t be much to do. I’m sorry if that sounds selfish or disloyal."

"You may not recognize Virginia City. We have an opera house now where you’ll be able to go to concerts and hear famous performers. You won’t be able to shop like you do in Boston, which, I might add, is not a bad thing unless you want to go through your inheritance in record time, but things can be ordered. You can travel to San Francisco, which is growing all the time, and as for parks, you know there is no place on earth as pretty as the Ponderosa."

She looked up at him through damp lashes and smiled.

"That’s my girl. Everything is going to be just fine. I promise."

"Since Papa couldn’t come for me I’m glad you did. You make me feel better."

"Pa wanted to come himself but his leg isn’t healed enough yet. Hoss or Joe could have escorted you back just as well as I could."

Laughing she said, "Try as I might, I can’t imagine Hoss in Boston. And as for Joe, well he’s just a child."

"He’s four years older than you are."

"Well, he always was so juvenile."

"You grew up. I think you’ll find he did too." He stood up. I’m leaving now to get some lunch. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to pick you up. Make sure you’re ready."

"Oh, I’ll be ready alright. And I expect you to take me out to some nice restaurants and maybe a concert or two before we leave. You will, won’t you?"

"I will. We’ve been invited for dinner with several friends of mine, so we’ll be busy before we leave. You just make sure you’re all packed and ready to go tomorrow. I was going to come in a carriage but I may need to hire a wagon for all your things," he teased.

Adam was almost out the door of the main building when he stopped. He stood in the doorway holding his hat and tapping his left arm against his leg, while he thought. He was not generally given to spontaneity. In fact, the deliberateness and careful planning with which he approached most things was what made his father value his opinion and help around the ranch.

"What the heck," he thought. "She’s probably not even here." He ran into a young woman coming in from the courtyard with a croquet mallet in her hand and he asked her which room was Miss Prescott’s. She gave him directions and watched with an admiring glance as he walked off.

She didn’t hear him coming towards the room, and he decided to watch for a moment before he announced his presence. He folded his arms, leaned against the door jam and grinned.

Her back was towards him and she hummed as she worked. She was bent over at the waist, and attempting to slide a large box of books toward a closet that was on the same wall as the door where he was standing. She’s give the box a little tug, take a breath, and tug some more. The view was wonderful from Adam’s perspective. He allowed her a few more tugs before he reluctantly cleared his throat and said, "Hello, Meg."

She stood up and whirled around.

"Adam!…hello. I didn’t expect to see you here." Her expression became concerned. "Is everything alright? How’s Carrie? Is anything wrong?"

"Everything’s fine," he replied. And never had he meant those words more. "I just came from the infirmary and they’re releasing her tomorrow. She said you had stopped in to pack up some things so I thought I’d see if you’d like to go out to lunch."

"Lunch?"

"Yes, lunch…you know…the meal between breakfast and supper that you eat about this time of day."

She laughed. "Thank you for clearing that up for me. You’re invitation’s very kind, but I’m not quite finished here."

"What’s left to do? I’ll help you."

"Thank you, but even if I was done, I couldn’t go out to lunch like this," she told him looking down at her clothes.

He studied her for a minute. She was wearing a white, high-necked shirtwaist with a navy blue poplin skirt. Over this she wore a large white bibbed apron. He hair was bundled into a black net snood, but some wayward curls had again escaped to frame her face. She had a few little smudges of dust on her face. He thought she looked fabulous.

"I’ll never understand a woman’s obsession with fashion. You look fine. Let me help you with whatever is left to do here and we’ll find someplace to eat where you don’t have to be in evening clothes," he said in his most persuasive tone.

She hesitated. It was so tempting. He was smart, good looking, and pleasant to be with. She rarely had a chance to do something spontaneous and nice for herself. She had to work hard and didn’t have the resources for much entertainment. Her free time was spent reading, playing the piano, attending an occasional free lecture, walking on the beach, or attending meetings for some of the organizations with which she was involved. There really was no harm. He would be going in a few days, so why not spend a little time in his company?

"Well, if you can just lend a hand here and then give me a minute to clean up, your invitation to lunch sounds very nice, thank you."

He hadn’t realized that he was holding his breath waiting for her to decide. He exhaled silently, smiled and asked her what he could do. She pointed to the box of books saying, "That box has to go on the shelf in the closet. If you’ll take care of that, I’ll run down the hall and make myself presentable." The box was very heavy and Adam wondered how she had planned to get it on the shelf by herself. No doubt she was resourceful enough to manage it.

She returned sans apron and dirty face and said, "I’m ready. Where shall we go?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. What about a place that’s not too large or fancy, but has good food. You live here. You must know of a restaurant like that."

"Well…," she considered, "have you ever eaten Italian food?"

"When I was in Italy"

"Oh…yes…of course," she was flustered for a moment. "Well, if you like Italian food I know of a small restaurant run by some friends of mine. I’ve never been to Italy, but I think the food is very good. Does that sound alright?"

"It sounds perfect. Where is it?"

"It’s not too far from my house. We could walk. It would only take about half an hour."

"I can hire a carriage."

"If it’s just the same with you, I’d prefer to walk. I’m used to it. I walk all over the city and it’s a beautiful day."

"Walking is fine with me. If I don’t get some exercise I’ll be too soft when we get back to the ranch to be of much use."

He allowed her set the pace and she walked briskly along. Every few minutes she would be warmly greeted by someone—a merchant, a police constable, a street vendor, children playing in the road. In her own little world she was well known and liked if Adam was any judge. But nothing prepared him for their arrival at the restaurant. It was a small free-standing two-story building near the waterfront and only a short distance from Meg’s house. The sign over the door simply announced, "TONY’S". They walked in and Adam counted only eight tables but they were all full. This was not a typical restaurant where people spoke softly and the only sound was the occasional clink of silver on china. The customers enjoying their mid-day meal ate with gusto, speaking loudly, and gesturing broadly. Adam caught bits of conversations in both English and Italian.

Meg was distressed to see that there were no available tables. Turning to him she said, "Adam, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it would be this crowded and I’ve made you walk all this way. Perhaps we could…"

What she was about to suggest he would never know because at that moment the owner spotted Meg. He was a short, rotund man who was beginning to go bald on the top of his head. He set down plates in front of two patrons and rushed toward them, his face lit up like a lantern.

"Margarayta, Margarayta," he called to her. "Itsa been a longa time since we see you. Where hava you been?" He embraced her and kissed her soundly on both cheeks, grabbed her hand and began to pull her towards the kitchen. Meg threw Adam a helpless look over her shoulder and he grinned and followed them.

"You musta come and say hello to Angelina. She’sa wonder where you been. The children they missa you. Angelina, look who I found!"

Tony pulled her through the door and Adam followed. The kitchen was almost as large as the dining area and almost as crowded. There were children of various heights everywhere, all engaged in some restaurant-related task. Some were washing dishes, some peeling and chopping vegetables, an older boy was preparing to bring two dishes out to the dining area. He smiled broadly when he saw Meg, then frowned when he caught sight of Adam. A baby boy toddled amongst the chaotic scene with a crust of bread in his grubby little hand. When the children caught sight of Meg they went wild. They all crowded around her trying to kiss her cheeks and shouting words of welcome.

"Miss Prescott, Miss Prescott, where have you been? We haven’t seen you in so long. When can I have my next lesson? When will you read us a story? Gina broke her finger. I was top of my class this year. Mama’s making me a new dress. Anthony went fishing on a big boat and fell in the ocean but he didn’t get drownded! Prince had four kittens so now we call him Princess!"

They all were speaking at once and trying to fill her in on the events of their lives since they had last seen her. She kissed them all on the cheeks, including the biggest boy, who blushed beet read. She scooped the baby up and placed him on her hip.

"One at a time please!" she laughed. "I can’t hear if you all talk at once. Where’s your mama?"

"She’s in the yard at the stove. We moved it out there for the summer so it’s not so hot in here. Wasn’t that a great idea? Anthony thought of it!"

"Well let me go out and say hello."

It was bedlam as they all tried to get through the door at once. Angelina was stirring a pot on the huge cast iron stove but stopped to greet Meg effusively.

"Maragrayta, finally you come to see us! The children start to think you no like them anymore," she scolded as she pinched Meg’s cheeks and hugged her. Angelina was a little shorter than her husband, but just as round. Her hair was pulled back in a bun and she had a large, stained apron over her peasant style clothes. Her sleeves were rolled up past her elbows. She spied Adam and asked, "Margarayta, who isa your young man?"

Meg blushed and hoped Adam hadn’t overheard that particular remark. She went to stand by him and said, "I’d like you all to meet Mr. Adam Cartwright. He’s come all the way from Nevada to escort Carrie Moreau home. Adam’s father is Carrie’s legal guardian. Adam, this is the Bonelli family."

They lined up like soldiers and she introduced each one.

"This is Tony Bonelli and his wife Angelina." Tony pumped Adam’s hand enthusiastically and Angelina beamed at him. "And these are their children," she said, introducing each one in turn. Anthony, the oldest shook his hand and managed to glare at him all at once. The oldest daughter, Maria, was dark and pretty and smiled shyly. Next came Anna who curtsied and smiled impishly. Then Joseph and the twin girls, Lena and Gina.

"And last, but not least," she said, tickling the baby’s belly, "this little cherub is Mickey." The baby looked at Adam with wide eyes and then hid his face in Meg’s shoulder.

"It’s very nice to meet all of you," Adam said. The children stared at him in awe.

"Are you a real cowboy?" Joseph breathed.

"Hey! Joseph! Not everybody who lives ina the west is a cowboy. I’ma sorry Mr. Cartwright. This one is always talk, talk, talk cowboys and Indians. He’sa drive me crazy!" Tony apologized and batted the little boy affectionately on the side of the head.

Adam smiled at the child, squatting down to look him in the eye. "You’re name is Joseph, isn’t it?" The boy nodded vigorously.

"Well, Joseph, I have a younger brother who has the same name you do and among other things that we do, we’re both cowboys. Maybe we can talk about it sometime."

Joseph’s eyes grew wide and he grinned from ear to ear.

"Tony I brought Adam here and promised him a nice lunch. Do you think there’ll be a table free soon?" Meg asked as Tony shooed the children back to their jobs and Angelina went back to the stove.

"But sure! You wait here and I have Anthony set up another small table pronto. Justa minute!" And he bustled off towards the kitchen.

"Well, what do you think of my friends?" Meg asked Adam as she shifted Mickey to her other hip.

"I like them. They’re quite a family." He paused. "He has a crush on you, you know."

"Who has a crush on me? Tony? Don’t be ridiculous. He adores Angelina," Meg whispered, frowning at him.

"Not him—the oldest boy, Anthony. He’s been looking daggers at me since we walked in the door. But when he looks at you, he looks like a calf whose been poleaxed."

"Poleaxed?"

"A calf whose been stunned by being hit on the head with a heavy stick."

"I’ll take your word for it that someone with a crush would look like that, but I think you’re wrong. He’s just a little boy. I don’t treat him any differently than the rest."

"I’d say he’s growing up, does not consider himself a little boy, and worships the ground you walk on. It’s written all over him. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed it."

"You really think so?’ she asked, frowning.

"Mmm hmm. You’d better be careful how you treat him. You don’t want to hurt his pride by treating him like a child, but you don’t want to encourage him either. Good luck." He grinned down at the worried expression on her face.

"Oh dear," she sighed. "Maybe I should stay away for a while. But I’m so involved with all of them. I give the girls piano lessons, read all of them stories, help them with their homework. I usually see them more during the summer because I have free time. And they’re such a happy group that I love being around them."

"Don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll all work out", he replied as Tony walked toward them. "Maybe he’ll meet a fourteen year old girl and, as the older woman, you’ll be out of the picture."

He laughed at the withering glance she shot at him as Tony took the baby from her and ushered them to a table in the dining room.

The food was delicious. They had homemade pasta with red clam sauce, a tossed salad with spring vegetables, and a loaf of fresh crusty bread. To Tony’s delight Adam had wine with the meal and convinced Meg to try a small glass.

"I"ma always tell her that the food isa better with vino, but she no listen!" he exclaimed.

Adam even had a cup of espresso at the end of the meal. This Meg declined.

"There’s not enough sugar in Boston for me to drink that. I tried it because I’ll try just about anything once. I think that must be an acquired taste."

"Would you try rattlesnake?" Adam asked.

"Don’t tell me you’ve eaten snake?" she grimaced. "That’s a story I think you’d better save for Joseph. I don’t think I could fully appreciate it,"

Tony tried to refuse payment for the meal, but Adam was insistent. The entire family gathered to say goodbye, as though the two of them were going on a long trip.

"You come again when we not so busy. You tella the children about a Nevada. It’sa good for their education. And you and I have a little vino together, Mr. Cartwright. And tella Carrie to come to see us before she leave. We have a little party."

Meg and Adam finally made it out of the restaurant.

"Well, where to now?" he asked her.

"I really should go home. I have work to do."

"It’s Saturday! School’s over. Whatever you need to do can wait for a few hours, can’t it? Don’t you think in the interest of our health we should walk off some of that meal?"

"You really are a bad influence, Mr. Cartwright. You get me to drink wine and play hookey from my work and you have the nerve to suggest it’s in the interest of my health," she answered shaking her head reprovingly, but with a smile.

"Around home I’m considered to be a good influence and since our ranch is pretty successful, I must be right. Come on, the beach is around here somewhere. Let’s take a walk." He was using his persuasive tone again and it was difficult to resist.

With an exaggerated sigh she replied," Alright, but only for a little while."

They walked several blocks and made a left turn. The road continued for about twenty yards and ended abruptly. Before them lay an expanse of white sandy beach and the Atlantic Ocean.

"Take off your boots," she surprised him by saying.

"What?"

"Take off your boots. It’s much easier to walk on the sand barefoot." With this she proceeded to unbutton her own high top boots. "Now turn around."

"Why?"

"Because I have to remove my stockings."

So Adam gave her his back and pulled his own boots and socks off.

"Now what?"

"You can turn back around now. We’ll leave the boots here while we walk."

"I don’t know," he said doubtfully. These boots were expensive. I don’t want to risk going back to the hotel barefoot."

"It’s perfectly safe. I’ve done it before. Just place them behind this piling and we can go." And with that she hiked up her skirt and ran toward the water.

He shook his head in amazement and jogged after her. The water was freezing but she was playing in it like a child. It was the least reserved Adam had ever seen her and it made him smile.

"Your toes are frozen? A big, strong man like you can’t take a little cold water? I’m surprised," she teased him, when he complained about the water temperature. This was the closest thing to flirting he had seen from her. She was always cordial but very proper. She was apparently in her element here and more relaxed. "Alright, why don’t we sit in the sand by that dune for a little while—maybe the sun will warm you up."

It was a beautiful day. The weather was warm and the sky bright blue. A briny sea breeze whipped their hair around as they plopped down on a dune.

"You really love it here, don’t you?" he asked her as they sat side by side in the warm sand and watched the gulls. She had drawn her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, while she stared at the waves.

"It’s my favorite place in the world, almost like my second home. I can be here without even leaving my house. My bedroom is on the third floor and it’s the only room up there. It has windows in the east and the west, so there’s always a breeze---even on the hottest days. It’s the only room in the house where you can see the ocean, so it’s my special place. When I can’t get to the beach I can sit at the window and see the Atlantic. The ocean is magical—clear, green, and calm one day and stormy gray the next. You never know how it will appear. It seems almost human, with moods and attitudes--- like a volatile friend. I know that sounds fanciful, but I often come here and see if her mood matches mine. It’s the best place for me to think and dream and work out problems. Sounds silly, but it can’t be helped. I have salt water in my veins. My father was a sea captain on a merchant ship, you know."

"I didn’t know. Tell me about him. My father was a first mate for many years before he traveled west."

"My father went to sea when he was about twelve years old as a cabin boy. His father had been a seaman. He met my mother in England, married her and brought her here to live. She had two little babies who were stillborn before she had my brother Jesse. By the time Jesse was born, Father was a first mate, earning better wages and part of the profits from the cargo on his ship. He did so well that the company made him a captain and he and my mother bought the house where I still live. She had two more children—my brother Michael and my sister Amanda. There was an epidemic of measles and all three children caught it. Michael and Amanda died within three days of each other, but Jesse survived. Eventually my mother had me. Jesse was six years older than I was. From what I can remember we had a wonderful life, even though my father was away so much. When he came home he would bring presents for everyone and pretty things for the house. He was wonderful. Often he brought Jesse and me down to the beach for the day. We’d have a picnic lunch and he’d tell us stories of all the places he’d been and the amazing things he’d seen. He let us build sand castles, collect shells, draw pictures in the sand, and fly kites." She turned to Adam, smiling, and said, "He even taught us how to swim."

Looking back toward the Atlantic she continued, "Anyway, when Jesse was about twelve he begged to go along with Father as cabin boy. Mother was against it, but Father prevailed and off they went. They were back in about three months and Jesse had loved every minute of it. So Father said he could come on the next trip." Her voice lowered slightly. "They never returned from that voyage. It was believed that their ship went down near Cape Horn. Fierce storms come up quickly there. My mother never recovered from it. I think she had just lost too many people in her life and she literally took to her bed and didn’t get up again."

"What about you? She had a little daughter who needed her," Adam interrupted gently. Meg’s expression grew bleak.

"I guess I wasn’t enough," she answered quietly.

It was one of the saddest statements Adam had ever heard. His own father had buried three wives and mourned them deeply, but more than once Adam had heard Ben remark that if not for his sons he could not have gone on. But he had gone on and realized his dream for himself and his boys. What affect had her mother’s action had on that little girl who had also suffered the death of her father and brother?

Meg’s face cleared and she went on. "Aunt Beatrice came to take care of us. I don’t know how she knew—perhaps my mother wrote to her. In any case, she was wonderful to me. My mother died about two years after we received word about Father and Jesse. So Aunt Beatrice has been with me ever since. She’s father’s only sister. I can’t get her to tell me what she was doing before she came to live with us." Meg was smiling now and Adam was glad to see the sparkle back in her eyes.

"Maybe it was something really dangerous or romantic. She just won’t say. It’s a real mystery!" And now she was laughing and Adam laughed along with her.

"I’ve talk much too much about myself. What about you? Carrie’s told me a bit about your family. What do you love so much about the Ponderosa?"

"It’s difficult to put into words. The land has a rough, majestic beauty. The Sierra Nevada mountain range is spectacular. I don’t think it’s possible to describe it properly to you, anymore than it would be possible for you to describe the ocean to me, if I had never seen it. The fact that so much of it is untamed is a challenge, and Virginia City is growing—always changing. But I suppose the real reason I love it is because my family is there. We built the ranch together and, as different as we all are, we’re very close."

"Family is the most important thing in the world. You’re lucky to have such a big one."

His family hadn’t seemed particularly large to Adam, but he supposed in comparison to hers it was.

"And it will be bigger once Carrie goes back with you. I hope she’s happy. We love her and she’s been a pleasure to have with us. Aunt Beatrice and I will miss her dreadfully. Adam, what do you think will happen to her once she’s back in Nevada?"

"Unless she has aspirations to do something else, I imagine she’ll find someone, get married, and settle down. From the way she’s turned out there should be no shortage of suitors." He let a handful of the warm white sand slide through his fingers. For a moment Meg sat transfixed, watching him sift the sand. His hands were strong, but in a masculine way, graceful. Hadn’t Carrie said something about his playing the guitar? She felt a fluttery feeling in her lower abdomen. Giving herself a mental shake, she returned to the conversation.

"But will her life be difficult—you know, like the women you spoke about before?"

"That’s not likely. Carrie is a wealthy young woman, in her own right. Her father left her his whole estate and my father’s taken care to see that it’s been preserved for her. Her life will be far different from the average rancher’s wife---that is if she chooses to marry a rancher."

They sat in comfortable silence for a minute when she suddenly pointed out to sea and exclaimed, "Oh look!—two clippers setting off together! Aren’t they lovely?"

"Very lovely," he replied, though he was not looking at the ships.

Something in his tone caused her to turn and look at him, but by that time his eyes were on the ocean.

Meg would have liked to sit in the sunshine, inhaling the salty air for a while longer, and talking to Adam, but she rose reluctantly, brushing sand off the back of her skirt, and said, "I’m afraid I’ll have to be going now. I promised Miss Collier to help with the arrangements for the graduation ceremony. It’s been a lovely afternoon and I thank you for it."

"I’ll see you home," he replied.

"There’s no need. If I walk down the beach for about half a mile I come to a street that’s only a short distance from my front door."

"I’ll see you home," he repeated in a tone that brooked no argument. "But let’s get our boots first, if they’re still there."

The boots were right where they had left them and they picked them up and took the beach route to Meg’s house. Before they entered the street Adam brushed off as much sand as possible and put on his socks and boots. He watched in amusement as Meg decided to walk barefoot back to her house.

"If I take small steps my feet won’t show under my skirt. With a little luck we won’t meet anyone I know." At her door she looked up and said to him, "Aunt Beatrice and I would like to have a little farewell dinner for you and Carrie. I know you’re leaving a week from Wednesday, so would a week from Monday be convenient for the two of you?"

Looking down into her brown eyes, he had a sudden urge to bend down and kiss her. The feeling washed over him, encompassed him, as completely as the waves he watched only moments ago washed over the shore. There were a million reasons why he couldn’t do it of course. It was broad daylight on a public street, he had known her less than 5 days, and she gave no indication in her behavior toward him that she felt a similar attraction. Still, the desire was there engulfing him.

"Adam, is that convenient?" she asked again, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes…yes that would be fine. Carrie and I will be looking forward to it."

"Wonderful! I’ll see you at the graduation on Wednesday. And thank you again for such a nice afternoon." With that she turned and walked into the house.

It was a distance but Adam decided to walk back to his hotel. He felt sand in his socks and thought ruefully that he’d probably end up with blisters, but he wanted to think. What was it about Margaret Prescott that attracted him so? Maybe he had just been too long without a woman. No, he rejected that idea. She was definitely attractive but the pull he felt towards her was more than physical. Something about her intrigued him. What did he know about her? She supported herself and her aunt, was smart, opinionated in a gentle way, had a wry sense of humor, liked sweets, was poor, but proud, and didn’t flirt. Why didn’t she flirt? In his experience, flirting for a woman was as natural as breathing. Even former tomboy Carrie had developed the habit. With a sick feeling in his stomach he had a sudden revelation. She didn’t flirt with him.

"You idiot," he chided himself. "She’s involved with someone."

It was the only answer that made any sense. A young woman as attractive as she was would surely have at least a couple of beaus. But why hadn’t she married? Her boyfriend didn’t want a packaged deal—take me, take my aunt? That must be it. She loved her aunt and would sacrifice her own happiness so the two could remain together. From the little he knew about her, it made perfect sense that she would be honor bound to take care of the older woman just as her aunt had taken care of Meg since her mother’s death. From what Carrie said, it was a happy household, so add true affection to a sense of duty and there you had it—a sacrificial lamb.

There was another possibility. From what he had seen with his own eyes and from his conversations with Carrie it was apparent that they were poor. Perhaps they even had debts. Where were all the "pretty things" her father had brought back for the house? She wouldn’t be the first person to sell precious mementos to pay the butcher bill or the taxes. Teachers, even at a prestigious school like Miss Collier’s, did not earn a lot. The house was large and the upkeep was probably high. And they took in student borders. Pretty or not, their financial status might frighten away suitors.

By the time Adam reached the hotel he had an ache in his headache as well as sore feet. He lay on his bed, arm stretched across his forehead, cursing his bad luck. Once again he had met a woman whom he was interested in pursuing, and once again fate had intervened to make this impossible. He would be on his way back west in less than two weeks. There was no time to find out if she had more than a friendly interest in him, never mind the time to court her if she was receptive. She seemed perfectly happy here in Boston with her job and her interests. As attractive as city life was to him at times, he knew he belonged on the Ponderosa with his father and brothers, so there was no question of him staying. He sat up, rubbed his foot, and uttered an epithet.

The best thing to do would be to avoid her as much as possible. Of his father’s three sons, he was the most deliberate and logical, the one most likely to find an answer to some complicated problem. The solution to this one, however, escaped him. He swore again, washed his feet with the water from the ewer, and decided to go to the hotel bar for a drink.

Carrie and her trunks had moved into the room next door. Apparently there were sufficient garments to get her to Virginia City. They attended church on Sunday and Adam took her to lunch in the hotel restaurant. Later in the day they rode over to Boston Commons and sat quietly talking. He continued to be impressed by her maturity. She had not been treated well by some of the girls her first year in school (the Misses Morris and Harrison sprang to mind, although she did not mention them by name). With help from her teachers and a few friends, she persevered and adapted. She had a soft heart and had learned to control her wild nature, although he saw occasional evidences of her willfulness. He imagined she would be a challenge for the man lucky enough to marry her. Life with Carrie would not be dull!

On Monday they went shopping so she could bring home presents for the others, including Hop Sing. Tuesday he dutifully escorted her to the homes of various friends from school so she could make formal "calls". While she visited, he patiently endured boring conversations with anxious mamas who, he suspected, were contemplating whether or not he might be suitable husband material for their daughters.

Graduation day dawned bright and warm. The ceremonies were to be outside and graduates, parents, faculty, and friends gathered on the lawn behind the school. The forty or so young ladies looked lovely in their white gowns and Adam was pleased to note that none was lovelier than Carrie. She was tall and slender. Her raven hair and blue-green eyes were set off by the white dress. Each girl carried a simple bouquet of daisies. Miss Collier, tall and resplendent in gray silk, presided. Adam was impressed by the guests of honor. They included the mayor himself and both state senators, as well as various other dignitaries. A number of awards were presented and Carrie received one for her artwork.

A large tent had been pitched and beneath it were tables laden with tea, coffee, lemonade, sandwiches, cookies, and cake. The faculty acted as hostesses. As soon as she was able, Carrie dragged Adam to the sandwich table where Meg and Louise Madden were serving. Carrie and Meg hugged as Meg congratulated her.

"I did it, Miss Prescott!"

"Yes you did! I’m so proud of you. And now that you’ve graduated and are a young woman, you must call me Meg. You’re not my student anymore, but I hope you’ll always be my friend. Did you see Aunt Beatrice? She’s here somewhere."

"No, but I’m going to try to find her. I’ll be right back." She turned and in a moment was lost in the crowd of people.

"I thought we’d find you at the dessert table," Adam said, smiling as Meg handed him a plate and linen napkin.

"I asked to be put there, but my reputation preceded me and they thought it best if I was here," she joked back at him. For a moment she was quite busy assisting other guests and speaking with parents and students. He ate a few small sandwiches and watched quietly. All the faculty was dressed similarly in white shirtwaists and black skirts and she appeared to be one of the youngest. Today Meg had a little watch pinned over her breast and her hair was in a subdued knot at the back of her head. He liked watching her interact with her students and their parents. She smiled, joked, and hugged a number of the girls. It was apparent that many of them cared for her as much as Carrie did. Perhaps it was because she was rather young herself. That yearning again came over him and, knowing that any effort to pursue his feelings was futile, he was about to leave, when she called to him.

"Adam, Tony and Angelina close the restaurant on Sunday and would like you and Carrie to come for dinner. Are you free?"

" I believe we are. What time do they want us there?"

"They said at 1 p.m. Carrie ate there occasionally with me and they know and like her. They just want to say goodbye. And please don’t forget about Monday night."

"We won’t. Will you be at Bonelli’s too?"

They invited Aunt Beatrice and me. I have a meeting to attend but if I have time I’ll be there." She threw this remark over her shoulder at him as she became busy at the sandwich table again so he left in search of Carrie. He found her with Beatrice Prescott drinking lemonade and laughing.

"I’ll miss you Carrie, dear," the older woman was saying. "What fun the three of us had together, don’t you think?"

"You and Miss Pres…..Meg were so good to me. What am I going to do in a house full of men? It will be so different. Why can’t you and Meg come live back in Nevada? Maybe she could get a job there."

"Oh, no, dear. That wouldn’t do at all for me. My roots are very firmly planted here, but it would be nice if sometime Meg could go for a visit. We’ll have to see about it. In any case, you’re not gone yet and you’re not leaving for a week so I hope you’ll stop by the house once in a while to see me. Do you think we could find a place to sit? I’m feeling a bit tired." And, indeed, Beatrice Prescott did look a little pale to Adam. There was a tiny film of perspiration on her brow though the day was not overly warm. He found a spot under a tree and brought over a chair, assisting her gently as she collapsed into it.

"Thank you, Mr. Cartwright. I have an occasional spell like this—one of the drawbacks of old age, but as they say, consider the alternative!" And she chuckled at her own joke.

The afternoon progressed and people began to leave for their homes or the local hotels. Families had come from all over but no one had traveled as far as Adam had. Carrie was reluctant to leave and he imagined it was difficult for her to give up what she had known so well for the past four years. There was comfort in the familiar. He finally convinced her that they had better go and offered to drop the older Miss Prescott at her house, as Meg still had some cleanup work to attend to. The offer was gratefully accepted.

Carrie was unusually silent at dinner that night.

"Is something bothering you?" Adam asked as he sipped brandy and she finished her tea. She was in a navy blue gown, bustled in the latest style, hair piled high upon her head, and more than one masculine head had turned as walked into the hotel restaurant.

In a gesture reminiscent of the way she behaved as a child, she put her elbow on the table, propped her chin in her hand, and said, "Endings are always so sad, aren’t they?"

"I don’t mean to speak in cliches but the end of one thing is generally the beginning of something else. I think you’re worried about what the future holds—the unknown can be a little bit scary. If it’s any comfort, I think you’re going to do just fine."

"But I don’t know what I want to do when I get back to the ranch—well, except for one thing."

"What’s that?"

"I’m going to find the fastest horse I can, saddle him, and ride for hours. And I’m not going to use a stupid side saddle!" This brought a smile to Adam’s face.

"As I remember, you were quite a daredevil. Think you can remember how to ride without falling off?"

"I’m not joking, Adam. The only riding we did at school was sedate, ladylike walking. And a side saddle is intolerable! You only have rein control. You know how much you can communicate to a horse with your legs."

"Well that’s true about cow ponies, but I doubt that’s what you were riding here."

"We rode pokey old mares that couldn’t move fast enough to get out of their own way!" Her mood had lightened considerably. "But at least now I know there’s something for me to do when I get back. She looked into space with a dreamy expression. "I’m going to find the perfect horse. You’ll help me, won’t you? I know you’re a good judge of stock." Then she added impatiently, "Can you think of a horse right now that might do? I mean a really fast, nice looking one? Can you?"

"Wait…wait!" he answered laughing. "Even if I knew of such an animal, what makes you think Pa would let you ride it, let alone buy it?"

"Oh, he will. I can handle Papa. He’ll want to do something nice for me when I return and I’m sure I can convince him to let me buy a horse. And he’ll trust you to pick out a good one," she smirked at him.

"God help us all," Adam thought to himself. "This little minx thinks she can handle Pa. It should be fun to watch her in action."

Carrie daintily wiped her lips with her napkin and said, "Suddenly I can’t wait to get home. Why do we have to stay an extra week? I’m alright. Can’t you change the reservations?"

"I am not changing the reservations again. You know perfectly well why we’re staying. Don’t start to nag me about it," he warned. "We’ll be busy all week and before you know it we’ll be leaving. Tomorrow night we’re having dinner with the Devine’s, Friday night with Dave and Nancy, Saturday night we’re attending that concert you wanted to hear, Sunday night at the Bonelli’s, Monday night at Prescott’s, and Tuesday night we can rest up before we leave. Time will fly—you’ll see."

On Thursday some of Carrie’s Boston school friends had prepared a farewell luncheon for her. Adam begged off as he had some business matters to attend to for his father. Dinner that night with Jack and Jane was pleasant and it was difficult to say goodbye. When Carrie told him on Friday morning that she had more formal "calls" to make he put a hired carriage at her disposal for the day and made her promise to meet him back at the hotel at 6 sharp. Dinner with Dave and Nancy Hammond was set for 7 p.m.

He was tempted to seek out Meg Prescott, but Adam knew that would be a bad idea. Each meeting with her left him more attracted and since nothing could come of their relationship, avoidance was the best course of action. He was coming to dread the farewell parties on Sunday and Monday. The less he saw of her, the easier it would be to go, but God! He wanted to see her again.

With time on his hands he decided to do some shopping of his own. In a commercial section of the city there were some fine bookstores. It was a pleasure to be able to browse in a well-stocked store instead of having to wait weeks for an order he placed to arrive. He had made several selections and was examining some newly published works when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he looked down into the dimpled smile of Meg Prescott. He felt his heart skip a beat.

"Hello, Adam," she said simply. "How are you today?" She looked around the shop. "Is Carrie with you?"

In the space of a heartbeat a million thoughts stampeded through his mind. What were the odds of running into her when he was purposely trying to avoid her? Was it his infatuation-addled brain, or did she look better each time he saw her? What was that delicate floral scent that clung to her like a second skin? He resolved to chat politely for a minute and then make his escape.

"Hello. No, Carrie’s not with me. She had some more calls to make. I went with her one day, but frankly I just couldn’t stomach it again."

She laughed.

"Formal calls are most definitely a female activity. Let me guess. Carrie visited with her friends and you spoke to their mothers. Does that sound about right?"

He nodded, smiling slightly, then just stood quietly looking at her, cursing his luck and enjoying it at the same time. When he didn’t speak she asked, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Without taking his eyes from her, he waited a second and then answered softly, "Yes…yes I did."

For the rest of his life he would remember that moment—the exact moment when she became aware of his interest in her. She grew very still, her eyes widened, and her lips parted ever so slightly. The look that passed between them was puissant. For a moment the earth ceased to turn. Had life been fair…had it been a different place and different circumstances, he would have taken her in his arms and kissed her as he ached to do. But love and luck never seemed to find themselves in the same place for Adam.

He broke the silence.

"What have you been buying?"

She blinked twice, unable to speak for a second.

"Poetry," she finally answered him. "I’ve always liked Longfellow and I bought a volume of his most popular poems."

"You like Longfellow?" He couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice.
She had regained her equilibrium and told him somewhat defensively, "You can scoff if you like. I know that some critics say his poetry is mundane and common, but I’ve always liked his work. We received our quarterly wages today so I thought I’d treat myself. Do you like poetry?"

" Mmm hmm. My tastes are a little different. Have you read anything by Walt Whitman?"

"Yes, I’ve read a few of his poems, but I don’t like free verse. I did find Oh Captain, My Captain very moving though. My poetry has to have meter and rhyme. I guess I’m old fashioned that way. And I don’t like the new "realism". Living life is real enough—I think poetry should be romantic and uplifting. I love narrative poems, which I guess is why I like Longfellow. I read that some people feel that Mr. Whitman’s work is not fit to be read in mixed company. They actually want to ban it!"

Adam was aware of the controversial nature of some of Whitman’s work. The covert and overt sexual references would surely offend some in polite society. He wondered if she was aware of the reason for all the controversy.

"Do you know why they want to ban his work?"

"No. The last time I checked it wasn’t a crime to write bad poetry. Anyway, I don’t believe in banning books. Mr. Whitman’s work will probably die a natural death because of its lack of quality."

"Perhaps he’s just ahead of his time—you know—a visionary," he responded enjoying this little exchange immensely. There were so few people at home with whom he could have such a discussion. It was one of the things he missed most—intellectual stimulation.

She tilted her head down and looked up at him through her lashes, shaking her head. He was sure this was the same look she gave students who hadn’t mastered a lesson—a teacher’s sad, but patient look.

"You should go back and read the classics and see where real literary beauty is," she advised him.

He paid for his books and arranged to have them sent on to the hotel. While she was paying for hers he said, "And maybe you should open your mind to modern writing and writers." He gave her a mocking smile, took her book from the clerk, and led her out onto the street.

She looked at him in astonishment.

"You think I’m closed-minded?" she sputtered. "That’s nonsense! I just know what I like and what I think will last beyond next week! I’ll have you know I’m very open-minded."

To really drive home her point she added defiantly, "I’m so progressive that I’m a suffragette!"

She expected him to react with shocked silence. The move to win women the right to vote was unpopular with many men. They argued that women were not as capable as men of making important political decisions and that the fabric of family life would be destroyed if women were given suffrage. She never expected the reaction her statement received. He threw back his head and laughed out loud. Her usually mild temper was ignited. She drew herself up to her full height, insulted and angered. She looked him straight in the eye and fumed, "You insufferable…smug…pompous…MAN!" Turning on her heel she began to walk away when she remembered her book. She stormed back to him and tried to take it but he held it just out of her reach. He had stopped laughing, but still looked amused.

"Meg, calm down. Please. You’re creating a scene on the street." He spoke the same tone of voice he used to calm an excited horse. He hadn’t intended to offend her, but her outburst had been so ridiculously sincere—an effort to prove him wrong about her convictions. He had to attempt to placate her.

"Please give me my book." She forced the words through gritted teeth.

"I’m sorry I laughed. Really…I’m very sorry," he said as she continued to reach for the book and he continued to keep it from her. "I wasn’t laughing at what you said. I was laughing at the way you said it."

She stopped her efforts to get the book and took a deep breath. He was glad to see some of her anger had abated.

"The fact that one half of the population of this country is being denied its constitutional rights is no laughing matter. I take it quite seriously."

"I respect your opinions—really I do. It was the way you announced them that made me laugh. Am I forgiven?" She looked at him skeptically but he did appear sincere so she said, "I suppose so."

"And if I hand you the book, do you promise not to turn tail and run away?"

"I never run away!" she answered indignantly, completely forgetting that she had just been about to do that very thing. He judiciously decided not to point that fact out to her.

He handed her the book and smiled in his most charming manner.

"Do you know of a dry goods store nearby where I can purchase some rope?"

"Rope?" she repeated, totally confused by the abrupt change of subject.

"For a teacher your not very good with common vocabulary—first I had to define lunch and now rope. Rope is made of…."

"Adam, stop being ridiculous. I know what rope is! What kind of rope? What do you need it for?"

"Oh, it’s for a gift."

He had her smiling again.

"Your really are mad! What kind of a gift is rope?"

"I’m pretty sure the person who is receiving it will think it’s a very fine gift," he said enigmatically. "Now do you know where I can buy some?"

Shaking her head and laughing she responded, "Yes, I do know where you can buy rope. Do you just want directions or do you need a personal escort?"

"Oh I definitely need an escort. This is a big city and I’m just a poor country boy. I might get lost."

She rolled her eyes. Adam Cartwright was as much a poor country boy as she was the Queen of England.

"Well let’s go then. I don’t have all day!"

"Where have you been, Adam? I was here at 6 but there was no sign of you, no message at the desk, nothing! It’s almost 7. We’ll be late!" Carrie scolded as Adam rushed to slip into his jacket.

"I told you—I was buying some books, ran into a friend, and lost track of time. I’m sorry if I worried you. I’m ready now, so let’s go."

It’s just that you’re always so dependable. I was worried. But never mind. I know you won’t be seeing your friends for a very long time so I understand."

"I wonder what she would think if she knew where I was?" mused Adam to himself.

It had been a wonderful afternoon. After buying the rope he wanted (he had fun teasing Meg about its intended use), Adam convinced her to have coffee with him. He had abandoned his plan to speak with her briefly and then be on his way. They found a small restaurant and for three hours they sat, drank coffee, and talked about a myriad of things—literature, politics, philosophy, music, literature, life on a ranch, life as a teacher, their likes and dislikes. They told each other stories about their families. They discussed everything except the future. By tacit agreement that was a topic left untouched.

It was as if they had each obtained an outline drawing of the other and were now, in the space of an afternoon, hastily attempting to fill in the rest of the picture, with all the colors, shading, and depth of a fine portrait. They were forced to work quickly, but it was work they loved.

Adam admired Meg’s cheerful attitude. In spite of the difficulties in her life, she seldom complained and seemed grateful for the small pleasures that occasionally came her way. She had a sunny disposition and a dry wit, much like his own. He sensed in her a strength of character forged by adversity. And, in his opinion, she was simply lovely to look at. Soft brown curls and big brown expressive eyes—yes…lovely.

Adam was one of the few men Meg had met who treated her as an intellectual equal. He didn’t belittle her views, even if he disagreed, and he didn’t patronize her. He was kind and charming and could be very funny when he chose. She saw in him the same devotion to his family that was apparent in Carrie. They must be special people, these Cartwrights! He was strong and authoritative, which made her feel exceedingly safe in his company.

Before they knew it, it was 6 p.m.

"Oh my! I’ve got to get home right now. Aunt Beatrice will be frantic."

Meg picked up her gloves and book and they both rose from the table.

"I’ll find a carriage to take you home," Adam told her as they walked out into the street where dusk had begun to settle.

"No, that’s not necessary. There’s a public omnibus that stops a block away and it will leave me near my house. Besides, it would be hard to find a carriage now."

So he walked her to the bus stop and waited with her until it arrived. He insisted on paying her fare. There was no time for a sentimental goodbye. The bus rolled away and Adam headed off in the direction of the hotel.

The evening with Dave and Nancy was pleasant and lively. Their two little girls were riotous moppets who attached themselves to Carrie until their mother put them to bed. While Nancy and Carrie talked and gossiped, Adam drew Dave aside.

"I’d like to ask a favor."

"Anything, Adam. You know that. What is it?"

"Sometime in the future I may ask you to assist a…friend of Carrie’s."

"In what way?"

"I’m not sure actually. I just want you to make a note of the name and if I write or wire you be available to help her in any way possible. I’ll be more specific if the need should arise. Actually, you may never have to do anything, but I’ll feel better knowing that there’s someone close by to help, if necessary."

"Her?"

"Yes. Her name is Margaret Prescott. As I said, she’s someone Carrie knows. I’ve asked Jack to make himself available too. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this conversation to Carrie. It’s a rather sensitive situation."

Why Adam felt the need to do what he had done, he couldn’t say. He didn’t want Carrie to know because she might guess where his feelings were headed. His intensely private nature abhorred the thought of comments from his family about Meg and how he felt about her, especially considering the futility of their situation. Better to keep this all quiet. He felt oddly relieved to know that he and his friends could provide help to Meg if the need arose in the future.

"I don’t pretend to understand any of this, but you have my word that should this Margaret Prescott need…whatever…I’ll be there," Dave answered good naturedly.

"Thanks, Dave. And I hope we’ll be seeing you, Nancy, and the girls out at the ranch sometime. I’d like the opportunity to return some of you Eastern hospitality. And if the bank’s looking for places to invest money, there are countless opportunities out West."

"That’s a carrot you can always hold in front of me—never enough good investments in the banking business!"

Once again the good-byes were difficult. In spite of time and distance, Adam liked to keep in touch with his old college friends. They had been involved in a number of strange and funny escapades and he had wonderful memories of that rather carefree time.

"Why are you bringing that rope with us to Bonelli’s?" Carrie demanded as the two stepped down from the carriage in front of "TONY’S".

"Curiosity killed the cat, little lady. Have some patience and you’ll find out," Adam answered her as they made their way to the front door.

"I hate it when you call me that!"

"What?...curious?"

"Oooh! You know exactly what I meant…’little lady’…it makes me sound about 12 years old."

"Stop behaving like a brat and I’ll stop calling you names." Carrie had been driving him crazy for the last 24 hours with demands on his time to do more shopping and see "just one more" friend before she left. He was losing patience with her, but it wasn’t entirely her fault. He was becoming more and more depressed about the inevitability of Wednesday’s arrival and their own departure. Perhaps the chaos that was part and parcel of the Bonelli family would take his mind off things for a few hours.

They were greeted like long lost beloved relatives, children surrounding them, everyone talking at once, and general pandemonium. In the space of a few minutes Adam was whisked away to the relative quiet of the backyard to share a glass of "vino" with Tony, while Angelina and the children monopolized Carrie.

"Why do you close the restaurant on Sunday, Tony? I would think you’d do a good business then," Adam remarked as they sat in the shade of a large tree. They were watching Angelina and the two older girls at the stove while the younger children and Carrie played with the new kittens. Anthony was nowhere to be seen.

I close-a the business because I think it’sa very important to have-a one day with my family. If I close-a during the week, the bambinos they are in school. Saturday is-a my busiest day. So-close Sunday. Even God rested on one day!"

Adam liked this answer.

"Mr. Cartwright, you have-a wife and bambinos?"

No, I’m afraid I haven’t been as lucky as you are in that respect. I have my father and two brothers in Nevada, and Carrie is like one of the family. There are some distant cousins here in Boston, but no wife and children.," he answered regretfully.

"That’s-a nice, but you gotta get-a yourself a wife. Take my Angelina there—she’s wonderful! Good wife, good mother, good cook, and," he winked at Adam, "she’s-a keep my feet nice and warm at night—you know what I mean?"

Adam laughed and said, "I know exactly what you mean."
This conversation was a repeat of the one he had had with Dave two weeks ago. And he was beginning to feel as depressed again as he had after that one.

Angelina called everyone in and she and Maria and Anna began to serve. The meal was a seven course marathon, with each dish better than the previous one. Before Angelina could serve dessert Carrie begged, "Can we wait a little bit? I’m so full I just couldn’t eat another bite!"

"Sure! Sure! We wait. The girls and I clean up and we have-a the sweet later. You go and rest," Angelina replied, smiling broadly.

Carrie insisted on helping with the clean-up and Adam called young Joseph over to him. The boy approached shyly.

"So, Joseph, would you like to learn how to do some things that cowboys do?" Adam asked him. The child’s face lit up like a lamp and he nodded his head vigorously.

Adam got the rope he had brought with him and while he fashioned a lasso, he explained to the youngster what an important skill roping was and why it was done.

The little boy listened with wide eyes while Adam searched the yard for something to rope. A rickety fence surrounded the yard, separating it from the neighbors to the right and left and Adam settled on the corner post, which rose about five feet off the ground. He expertly twirled the lasso above his head and with a flick of his wrist it landed over the post.

"Now you try it," he said to the boy. They practiced for about 15 minutes and Adam instructed the child, patiently correcting his mistakes, until a thrilled Joseph lassoed the post two or three times. From the corner of his eye Adam saw that Meg had arrived. She was standing talking to Carrie and it looked as though they were turning to go into the house.

"You know, Joseph, real cowboys sometimes have to lasso moving targets. That’s a lot more difficult," he said, taking the rope from the child. "Watch."

He silently swung the lasso above his head released it, and landed it neatly around Meg'’ shoulders. He gave it a quick tug and it tightened, stopping her in her tracks. Surprised, she turned and saw him grinning as he pulled on the rope. She was forced to move toward him or fall over. Carrie, standing behind her, began to laugh.

"Now I see why you brought the rope!"

Since Joseph wants to be a cowboy, I thought I’d teach him how to lasso," Adam answered, not taking his eyes off Meg.

"Well you’d better set some ground rules or he’ll be lassoing everything in sight. Tell him to stick to inanimate objects," she warned him.

Adam continued to slowly pull Meg close as Carrie followed.

"Can I try, Mr. Cartwright?" Joseph begged as he tugged on Adam’s arm. Meg was now standing directly in front of him, so Adam loosened the loop and drew it over her head. She was smiling gently and her eyes twinkled. Adam squatted down facing the little boy.

"If you want me to leave this lasso you have to promise me that you won’t try to rope any living things—no animals and no people," he warned seriously. "Will you promise me that? Joseph nodded solemnly.

"Real cowboys never purposely hurts any living creature, Joseph. They take care of their stock. And real cowboys always keep their promises. I trust you to keep yours, so here’s your lasso. Now you go back and try the fence post again. When you can do it every time move back about ten feet and try again." The child scampered off happily.

"I’m going with him," Carrie said. "It’s been a long time since I’ve practiced roping. Bet Joseph is better than I am!"

"I see you got here in time for dessert," Adam teased as he rose to face Meg.

"Mmm hmm. My meeting was over so I thought I’d stop by on the way home. I consider this very good timing."

"What meeting?"

"Boston Women’s Suffrage Club."

"Oh"

Neither said anything as they stared into each other’s eyes. Then they both burst out laughing simultaneously.

"Are you busy for the rest of the afternoon?" Adam asked her as they watched Carrie and Joseph lassoing the fence post from various positions in the yard. Carrie hadn’t forgotten much at all and Joseph was duly impressed.

"I’m afraid so. Aunt Beatrice is a little under the weather so I have a number of chores to take care of at home. I’ve put them off far too long as it is."

"Maybe we should take the two of you out to dinner tomorrow night, instead of putting you to the trouble of cooking," Adam suggested.

"Oh no! I wouldn’t hear of it! You’ve been much too kind already. No, I have it all planned and the food I’m serving is ordered. So you and Carrie come by at 6 and we’ll have a quiet, pleasant evening together. Aunt Beatrice is very anxious to see Carrie again before you leave."

What would it be like to have every night for the rest of his life spent as a "quiet, pleasant evening together" with this woman standing in front of him? The prospect was more than appealing to Adam. He had once again lost his heart to someone who was unattainable. There must be some curse hanging over his family…or maybe not. He could take Carrie back to Nevada and return here permanently. It was an idea that he would consider seriously. Boston and the entire East Coast was growing. His architectural credentials would enable him to find work without much trouble and he already had a significant amount of money banked. It was something to think about.

He found it difficult to imagine Meg on the ranch. The veneer of civilization was still very thin in the west—rough people, rough language, an untamed land, and dangers all around. He wasn’t sure if she had the fortitude to live there, or even if he wanted to see her make the attempt. She spent the greatest portion of her life living with a maiden aunt and teaching in a girl’s school! That was no kind of preparation for the life of a rancher’s wife.

"Are you daydreaming, Adam?" Meg interrupted his thoughts. "I don’t think you heard what I said."

"Yes I did. Carrie and I will show up at 6 sharp. But promise me that if your aunt’s not feeling well, you’ll let us know and we can alter our plans."

"Alright, I promise. Look, Angelina is calling us to come in. We’d better go." She turned and called out to Carrie and Joseph.

The dessert consisted of fruit, cheese and some delicious Italian pastries that only the Bonelli’s could pronounce. Adam once again enjoyed espresso, but Meg and Carrie had tea. As they sat around talking the children again produced the kittens and Meg made an appropriate fuss over them.

"Miss Prescott, when they’re old enough to leave their mother would you like to have one? You can have first choice."

An expression came over Meg’s face that Adam couldn’t identify. She said rather sharply, "No, I don’t want a cat!" Then, seeing the hurt expressions on the children’s faces she added more gently, "Thank you for offering. It’s very sweet of you, but I don’t want a cat right now. I’m sure you can find them good homes. I’ll even ask around for you if you like."

The children seemed satisfied and talk turned to other things. Eventually Adam, Carrie, and Meg rose to leave. The Bonelli girls and Angelina burst into tears and even Tony appeared choked up. It was the most dramatic leave-taking yet. Carrie insisted that they drive Meg the few blocks to her house.

"We’ll see you tomorrow. Did you say 6?" Carrie asked as Adam helped Meg from the carriage.

"Yes. Thank you for the ride. We’ll see you then," Meg called back as she ran up the stairs and into the house.

"I’m going to miss her the most of anyone, Adam. Don’t you think she’s a wonderful person?"

"You won’t get an argument from me there. Do you have any idea why she’s never married? Does she have gentlemen friends?"

"I don’t think so. You know she’s an activist," Carrie confided. She’s a suffragette and most men don’t like that. But her family has always been progressive. She once told me that they occasionally hid runaway slaves in their house when she was a little girl! But you know something, Adam? If that’s what she wanted to do, I’ll be she could get a husband out west. People back home seem less stuffy than people in the East. They seem more accepting of odd people."

"So you think Meg is odd?"

"Oh no! I didn’t really mean that. She always behaves like a perfect lady. Her manners are impeccable. It’s just that she’s opinionated. She doesn’t force her views on anyone, but if asked, she doesn’t hesitate to speak up. Men here seem to want a woman who’s meek and docile."

"Well it’s a good thing I’m taking you home then. You’d never land a husband here!" he teased her. She punched him in the arm.

"Maybe I’ll never marry. Maybe I’ll buy a ranch of my own and run it. Who says a woman must marry?"

"No one says a woman must marry, but I think if you met the right person, you’d want to marry. If you love someone, you’d want to spend the rest of your life with him, don’t you think?" She considered this for a moment and responded, "I’ve never been in love, so I can’t say. I know my parents were in love, but it’s getting harder and harder to remember them. Have you ever been in love? Why haven’t you gotten married?"

"Not that it’s any of your business, but the few times I’ve considered marriage something has occurred to prevent it. I’d really rather not discuss my past. But if I met the right person, I’d definitely marry. Most men, I think, eventually want to settle down with a wife and children. Most of my friends are settled and seem very happy. I suppose I want that for myself too."

Carrie felt very much like an adult having this discussion with Adam, since he wasn’t one to share his feelings very much with others. He was the most private of the Cartwrights.

She took a sidelong look at him. He was a handsome man, and he was dependable and smart. Papa consulted Adam most about decisions concerning the running of the ranch. Hoss was jolly, slow to anger, and good-hearted. If Joe hadn’t changed too much, he was mercurial—as quick to anger as he was to laugh. But he wasn’t moody. His emotions flared and died quickly. Adam seemed less approachable than the other two brothers, though he was invariably polite to any of the women Carrie had seen him with. An enigma—yes that’s what he was—an enigma!

"I noticed a large box arrived at the hotel from some art supply store," Adam interrupted her musings. "Do you mind telling me what’s in it?"

"I discovered at school that I love to paint and draw. Some of my teachers said I had talent. In any case, I love to play at it and I wasn’t sure what supplies I could get in Virginia City, so I ordered a few items," she answered innocently.

"Carrie, the crate has to be about four feet high! How do you think we’re going to get it home?" he asked in an exasperated tone of voice.

"I don’t know. I thought you were supposed to take care of that."

"Listen to me. No….look at me when I’m speaking to you! You are not to buy even one more thing to take back with us. Am I making myself clear? I’ll have to go and arrange to have that crate shipped because we can’t possibly bring it with us. I’m a patient man, but you’re pushing your luck. NO MORE SHOPPING!"

When he spoke to her like that she knew he was serious.

"I’m sorry. I promise I won’t buy anything else. Do you want me to send that stuff back?" she asked in a very small voice, her eyes cast downward.

She looked so sad and woebegone that he relented a little.

"No, just don’t buy anything else! Visit anyone you like tomorrow, but don’t go near any shops!"

At four o’clock Meg was in the kitchen doing some final preparations for the meal while Aunt Beatrice set the table. There had been a tension in the air all day and Meg was beginning to feel exasperated. First her aunt had suggested that they serve roast beef.

"Aunt Beatrice, it’s quite warm and I don’t feel like heating up the kitchen for hours to roast beef. Besides, the Cartwrights live on a ranch about the size of Rhode Island and their business is raising beef. It would be like taking coals to Newcastle to serve it. I think my idea is better—serve fish because they can’t get fresh seafood where they live. I know Carrie likes it and she said Adam does too. A nice baked cod with that crunchy topping should do nicely. We have fresh peas and asparagus in the garden and I can whip up some biscuits. I still have a few jars of the corn relish we put up last summer. And for dessert we’ll have blancmange with fresh strawberries—that’s easy and pretty to look at."

"I don’t think cod is going to impress anyone, dear," her aunt replied.

"For the last time, Aunt Beatrice, I am not trying to impress anyone. I’m trying to feed him…and her," she quickly added. She sighed, "Please don’t do this to me."

"Do what, dear?"

"Don’t play innocent! You’re trying to somehow pair me off with Adam Cartwright. Do I have to remind you that he’ll be leaving Boston the day after tomorrow?"

No one had to remind Meg about that fact. She was sick at heart over it. Adam Cartwright was about the most special man she had ever met in her life. And she realized in the bookstore that he had some feelings for her. She couldn’t believe it at first—she was nothing but a poor schoolteacher and he was a wealthy rancher. He was handsome and charming and could probably have his pick of any woman he wanted. Yet she knew in her heart that he was very attracted to her. They got along so well. How long had she known him? About two weeks! And yet she felt as if she had always known him—had been waiting her whole life for him to appear. They could talk for hours and never run out of conversation. Even the silences between them were comfortable. The only thing that was uncomfortable was the way she caught him looking at her once in a while. She couldn’t describe the look, but it gave her a tingling feeling in her tummy and made her yearn for….for what? His eyes were mesmerizing and when he looked at her she felt as if there was no one else in the entire universe except the two of them. She had never been in love, but maybe this is what it was like. All she knew for sure was that it was becoming harder and harder to act normally around him. These feelings were new and scary and exciting. But she had to get a grip on reality—the reality that he and Carrie would be back in Nevada in less than three weeks. So all that was necessary was to get through the next two days and then her life could go back to its normal routine. Why was that such a depressing thought?

"I know he’s leaving and Carrie is going with him, but I thought…"

"Well just don’t think, please. You’re hoping and planning for the impossible and it’s starting to drive me crazy. Let’s just plan to have a nice friendly evening and leave it at that."

"Meg, dear, it’s just that I worry about you. What will you do if something happens to me?"

Meg sighed and glanced at her beloved aunt, who was folding napkins and rearranging the silver for the tenth time. She had been having "spells" lately—shortness of breath and lack of energy –and she refused to go to the doctor. Meg resolved that as soon as Carrie and Adam had gone she would speak to Dr. Banks and see if he would stop by. It amused her that Aunt Beatrice worried about what Meg "would do" if anything happened to her, since Meg did almost everything now. But she allowed her aunt to indulge in the pleasant fiction that Meg was the dependent one in their household.

"Aunt Beatrice," she said, giving the older woman a warm hug, "nothing is going to happen to you. Please don’t talk like that. And the table looks lovely, so why don’t you go pick the peas and asparagus while I finish the blancmange. Our guests will be here in a few hours and I still have to wash up and change."

Promptly at 6 o’clock there was a knock on the door and Aunt Beatrice let in their guests. She gave Carrie an affectionate hug and kiss and she shook Adam’s hand warmly.

"Come into the parlor and have a seat," she said, leading them there.

"Aunt Beatrice, would it be alright if I took Adam upstairs and showed him my old room?" Carrie asked before they could sit down.

"Of course, dear. Go right up. I’ll see what’s keeping Meg," the older woman answered, walking toward the kitchen as Carrie pulled Adam by the hand toward the stairs. They were back down in a few moments and found Meg in the parlor with her aunt. Carrie rushed over and gave her a quick hug.

"I was just showing Adam my room," she explained and Meg looked up quickly at Adam’s face.

"It’s very nice," he was saying as he watched her intently, with his arms crossed. "Top floor of the house, windows on the east and west so there’s probably always a breeze, even on the hottest days. You can even see the ocean from there."

"Meg, I noticed some of your things there. Are you going to use that room now?" Carrie asked her.

"Yes, I thought I’d use it since you won’t be here this summer. Adam is right about the breeze," she told her former student, as her face grew rosy. "Are you all packed and ready to go? Any more last minute shopping to do?" she changed the subject abruptly.

Adam recalled Carrie’s remark that the Prescott women "made sure that I had the best of everything". This apparently included Meg giving her own room to Carrie during the hot summer months—the months when the breeze would be most appreciated. He admired this small unselfish act. It revealed a lot about the young teacher’s character. Then he answered, "I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention shopping. It’s a sore subject with me, isn’t it Carrie?"

"Well, maybe I have gone a little overboard, but you’ve been very good about it. But let’s not talk about shopping since it only makes us argue."

"There’s no time for an argument because dinner is ready. Why don’t we all sit down?", Meg remarked. So they moved to the dining room and Meg served up the food. She appeared outwardly calm, but she watched Adam anxiously to see if he liked the meal. He certainly appeared to, and had seconds on everything. When he commented that he was going to miss fresh seafood at home, Meg gave her aunt a triumphant little glance.

They took their coffee into the parlor and Carrie asked Meg to play the piano for them. She good-naturedly played some classical pieces and then a few popular ditties of the day, which she and Carrie sang in pretty harmony. Aunt Beatrice sat in her rocking chair, knitting and enjoying the music and conversation.

"If you had your guitar, Adam, you could play along," Carrie said, as they took a little break from their singing.

"I certainly can’t play the guitar as well as Meg does the piano," he answered her. Then he spoke to Meg. "You’re very talented."

"Thank you. I’m not sure how talented I am, but I love music dearly. Carrie is the really talented person. Her drawings and paintings are incredible. I have great admiration for her. I can’t even draw a straight line with a ruler."

"She probably inherited that from her mother. Paulette was a gifted artist. I think my father has a few of her paintings put away. She never sold them commercially but I think she might have—she was that good."

"I didn’t know that!" Carrie broke in excitedly. "Do you think Papa will let me see them when we get home?"

"Of course he will. You can hang them in your room if you want." Carrie was in ecstasy about this revelation. The older she got, the less she seemed to remember about her parents. This little piece of information was a treasure to her. It connected her to her past, the memories of which seemed to grow dimmer each year.

Noticing a beautiful chess set which was set up on a small round table, Adam asked Meg, "Do you play?"

"No I don’t. The set belonged to my father and I keep it out in memory of him. I suppose you do play."

"Mmmm hmmm. Would you like to learn? I could show you how the pieces are moved. It’s not that difficult."

"Come on, Meg. Let him. I’ll sit with you and learn too." Carrie was moving chairs around the table as she spoke.

Carrie and Meg sat on one side of the table and Adam on the other. He explained how each piece was moved and what the object of the game was. They began one game but not before Meg said, "Don’t try and be kind by letting us win. We’ll never learn how to play if you do that."

"I’ll play my best game each time, I promise," he answered, amused at her determination. He won the first game very quickly. The second game proceeded more slowly, but he won again. Carrie was getting bored and left to chat with Aunt Beatrice. Meg was quick to learn and seldom made the same mistake twice. The third game lasted a while, but Adam won that one as well. He thought she might continue to play until she won, but it was getting late and he and Carrie had to leave.

"Will you come to the train to see us off?" Carrie asked anxiously.

"Meg will come, but I’ll say my good-byes now, dear. Please do write to us and you know that you are welcome here anytime you come east. I wish you both a safe trip and Godspeed. We will miss you dreadfully." Aunt Beatrice wiped her eyes as she embraced Carrie and said farewell. Carrie was reduced to tears and could barely choke out the words, "Thank you for everything. I’ll miss you too. I love you both!"

"I’d better get her out of here. Thank you for the delicious dinner and a wonderful evening. We’ll see you at the station." These last words from Adam, arm around the weeping Carrie, were more of a question than a statement and they were directed at Meg. There were tears in her eyes as well, so she simply nodded. In moments they were gone.

"I don’t want to visit anyone or shop today, Adam. I think I’ll just stay in the room and read." Carrie spoke to Adam the next morning after breakfast.

"I think that’s a good idea. We’ll be constantly on the move for the next few weeks and you should rest up now. And the weather isn’t too nice. It looks like rain. I have some errands to run and I’ll probably have lunch out. Will you be alright till dinnertime?"

"I’ll be fine. I have to repack a few things. I may go for a short walk. You go do what you have to do. Don’t worry about me."

"I’ll see you later then. Try to cheer up. Think about that great horse you’re going to get and all the people who will be so happy to have you back home!"

She smiled and waved him off.

His errands took up most of the morning and he grabbed a quick lunch at a little restaurant near Boston Commons. He could have gone back to the hotel but he found himself on Meg’s street and then at her door. Her aunt answered his knock.

"Why Mr. Cartwright! How nice to see you. What can I do for you?" These words were merely a polite formality because the older woman knew exactly why he had come.

"I was wondering if Meg is around? I wanted to…to speak to her about something."

Aunt Beatrice was not above a little teasing.

"Is it anything I can help you with?"

Adam looked up. She smiled sympathetically at him and he realized she knew exactly what was going on. He smiled back and shrugged.

"I guess right now all you can do is tell me where to find Meg."

"Adam," she answered, calling him by his given name for the first time, "It’s been a pleasure to have met you. I wish…" she hesitated. "Well, never mind. I wish you a safe journey home and hope that you and Carrie will write."

He took her hand in his and pressed it warmly. "My whole family thanks you for the loving home you gave Carrie during the past four summers. You gave her guidance and discipline at a difficult age for young girls. We’ll never forget your kindness and I promise that we’ll stay in touch."

"That means so much to me. Thank you!" She sniffed and dabbed her eyes. "Now do you think you can locate Meg? It’s a big beach."

"I have all afternoon, but I think I know where to find her. Goodbye!" Adam placed his hat on his head and strode off to the spot where he and Meg had sat on the beach just days ago. There by the pilings were her boots and he hastily removed his own and his socks. He set out on the sand to find her. She was seated very close to the spot where they had been before. Once again her arms were wrapped around her drawn up knees. Her chin rested on her kneecaps.

"May I sit down?" he inquired quietly, not wanting to startle her. She turned and looked up into his face. He could tell she was surprised and, he thought, pleased to see him.

"Of course! I thought you would have been busy tying up all the loose ends before tomorrow," she said as he seated himself next to her on the sand and removed his hat.

"All taken care of. I tend to be pretty organized," he replied as he watched her watching the waves break roughly on the shore. "The ocean’s looking somewhat different from the other day."

"I think a storm’s coming in from down south. Perhaps it’s a good thing that you’ll be out of here early tomorrow. The weather could become very nasty."

He didn’t respond and she knew he was looking at her. She always felt unsettled when he did that so she continued talking.

"Tell me about the weather in Nevada. Do you ever get bad storms? Or do you have earthquakes? Does it snow a lot? What about…"

"I don’t want to talk about the weather," he said, cutting her off in mid sentence. He took hold of her upper arm and turned her to face him. She looked up at him with wide eyes as he bent his mouth to hers. He was stopped by the pressure of her hand on the front of his shirt.

"Adam, please don’t," she implored quietly, as she gently pushed him away. He wouldn’t release her arm and she was forced to look into his eyes as he asked, "Why not? I want to and I think you do too."

She took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. His hand slid down her arm until it covered the hand that rested on his chest. She could feel his heart beating beneath her palm--strong and steady as the man himself. Glancing out over the angry waves for a moment, she turned back to him and said, "Let me explain by telling you a little story I heard recently."

"I’m not interested in hearing stories, Meg. I think we have a few more important things to discuss."

"Please…please just listen for a moment. Then I’ll listen to what you want to say."

He curled his fingers around hers on his chest and said, "May I at least hold your hand while I’m listening?" A little smile played around his mouth. He was irresistible to her at that moment and she smiled back as she answered, "I’m not sure how proper it is, but, yes, you may."

Satisfied with that small victory, he laced his fingers through hers and held her hand in both his own while he waited for her to continue. She was momentarily distracted by the feel of his larger hands enclosing her slender fingers. All kinds of pleasant sensations floated through her—new and exciting feelings tickling her tummy and causing her breathing to change.

He chucked her under the chin with his finger and brought her back to the moment.

"Hey…I thought you had a story to tell me."

"It’s not really a story—it’s more like an analogy," she answered, while privately admiring his handsome face. Her insides began to flutter again, but she got hold of herself and continued, trying to stay calm while his very presence overpowered her with emotion.

"I heard a theory recently about the difference between Heaven and Hell. When a person dies and goes to Heaven, they see the very face of God. They are filled with utter and complete peace, joy, happiness and love and they know that they will spend eternity in this place which is wonderful beyond description. The people who go to Hell also get to go to Heaven. They also see the face of God and experience the very same peace, joy, happiness and love that the others experience. The difference is that the people who go to Hell only get to experience Heaven once, for a very short time. They then must spend eternity—forever and forever—aware of the existence of such a glorious place and aware that they will never ever again be allowed to go there." She paused, then looked into his eyes and, her chin quivering just the littlest bit, continued. "I think you wanted to kiss me just now. If I let you do that and I liked it…and I’m brazen enough to tell you that I think I would like it very much,… then how could I live happily, knowing that you would be on a train tomorrow and I’d probably never see you again?"

She saw that he was about to say something but she quickly continued, "I hope I’m not assuming too much, but if I am please forgive me. One of my greatest faults is that I’m too frank and sometimes outspoken. I feel very lucky to have met you. The times we’ve spent together have been nothing but wonderful for me and I thank you for that. But things being what they are, I think it is best that we just part as friends." She bit her lower lip and looked at him to see how he would respond.

"Do you care for me at all?" he asked her quietly.

Her eyes widened.

"I’m surprised that you even ask! Yes, in the short time we’ve known each other I’ve come to care for you a great deal. But that doesn’t change our circumstances."

"I’ll bring Carrie home and come back. I studied architecture and I’m sure I can find a job—maybe open my own business." He spoke quietly and earnestly, his eyes boring into hers. She had no doubt that he meant what he said.

"I can’t let you do that," she answered, and then, before he could protest, she continued. "Adam, I know you enjoy the city. You like to attend the theater and concerts, see your old friends, and buy what you want without an extended wait. You appreciate the conveniences and amenities of city life. But you love your ranch. You and your family built it together and that’s where your soul is. It’s apparent every time you speak about it. If you came east, you’d be happy for a while, but you’d eventually regret your decision. If you think about it honestly, you’ll admit I’m right."

"Why don’t you come west, then?"

"That’s even more impossible. I have a responsibility to my aunt. She means everything to me. If she hadn’t come when my mother took sick, I’d have ended up in an orphanage. It’s because of her that I had an education and now have a good job. I owe her so much and I won’t ask her to leave. This is her home and she’s happy here."

"She loves you enough to want you to be happy. If she knew…"

Meg cut him off. "Would you ask your father to give up everything he loves…everything he’s familiar with, for you?"

"I wouldn’t have to. My father can take care of himself."

"That’s my point! Aunt Beatrice depends on me now. Our situations aren’t at all similar. Please try to understand my position!" She could read the disappointment on his face and she searched for something to say that would ease the pain they were both feeling.

"Anyway, we haven’t known each other very long. Maybe after a time we’d find we weren’t…umm…suited…if you know what I mean."

He began to draw circles and figure 8’s in the palm of her hand with his index finger.

She swallowed convulsively. The feelings pulsing through her body were incredible she was almost light-headed from them.

He stopped his tracings and asked, "Do you honestly think that the amount of time we’ve known each other really matters?" She dropped her head and he could barely hear her whispered, "No."

"Meg, I won’t give up. I have to leave tomorrow, but I’ll be thinking about this. I’m sure there must be some way."

She looked up at him with a sad little smile and said, "Carrie always said that you were her "smart" brother. Maybe you’ll think of something after all. But for right now can we talk about something else? This is a depressing conversation and I’d like to enjoy this last little time with you."

He rose to his feet and pulled her up after him. Suddenly she was in his arms, his fingers laced together at her back, her hands resting on his chest. She looked around anxiously. She was always very circumspect in her behavior because of her position at the school. The only witnesses to their embrace, however, were the noisy gulls at the water’s edge.

"I’ll respect your wishes and not kiss you. If I started, I don’t know how I could stop. But someday, Miss Prescott, I will kiss you, and you’re absolutely right…you will like it!" he said with typical male arrogance. The gentle pressure of her hands on his chest felt like two branding irons to him, frustrated as he was. He shook his head and sighed.

"Come on. Let’s get off this damp beach and go someplace else…someplace dry and warm," he said.

"Where do you suggest?"

"How about my hotel room?" he teased.

"Adam Cartwright! How dare you suggest such a thing! I thought you were a gentleman!" she answered him with a glare.

"Alright, alright!…no hotel. Then how about a restaurant where I can buy you some disgustingly sweet cake and watch you ruin perfectly good coffee with a pound of sugar and a pint of cream?"

This made her laugh and he smiled down at her. He cupped her face in his palm and ran his thumb over her lips. They parted slightly in surprise and desire. She was grateful that he was holding her because her legs were trembling so that she was sure they wouldn’t support her.

"You have a beautiful smile, Meg. No more sad faces today…promise?"

"I promise."

"Then let’s go."

They walked to the pilings and put on their boots.

"Are we allowed to walk arm in arm to the restaurant? I wouldn’t want to shock any of your acquaintances."

"That sounds perfectly respectable," she answered primly, as she took his arm. He placed his other hand over the one she had draped over his arm and proceeded to drive her crazy by stroking her knuckles and fingers. They strolled along slowly and he kept her as close to him as possible.

They spent a bittersweet hour in the restaurant, sometimes talking, sometimes just looking at each other. Then he slowly walked her home. At the front door they stood facing each other, trying to delay the inevitable.

"Do you think it’s a good idea for you to come to the train station tomorrow morning?" he asked her.

"I promised Carrie I’d come and I will. I won’t stay long. She’s emotional and saying goodbye will be hard. But I do want to see her one more time. Oh! That reminds me. Please wait here a minute." She turned and rushed into the house. She was back in few minutes with a package wrapped in tissue paper, which she handed to him.

"Will you please give this to Carrie tomorrow? Just make sure you don’t give it to her until you’re well out of Boston." He was puzzled.

"Why don’t you give it to her yourself?" he asked.

"I want her to open if after you’ve left and she won’t do that if I give it to her at the station. She’ll want to open it immediately. Will you do it please?"

"Of course I will." He put the package in his jacket pocket and looked at her with his steady gaze.

"Will you write to me, Meg?"

"I thought about that. If I write to you specifically, won’t your family wonder what’s going on? I thought you were a rather private person, but if you don’t care, then I’ll write. Other wise I’ll just include a message for you when I write to Carrie. No one would think that was unusual. Which will it be? You decide."

He laughed ruefully and replied, "How can you possibly know me so well in such a short time? I do value my privacy, so just include a message in your letters to Carrie."

He paused and took both of her hands in his own.

"I meant what I said. I’ll think of something."

He could see her eyes fill and she bit her lower lip to keep it from quivering. She didn't answer him. She couldn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply nodded.

Not wanting to prolong this painful scene, he squeezed her hands, said goodbye, turned and hurried away.

The train was scheduled to leave at 8 am and Meg arrived at 7:30. She found Carrie, who was walking up and down the platform in search of her.

"Carrie, you look gorgeous! You’re sure to leave a string of broken hearts from here to Nevada," she said in as cheerful a voice as she could muster. Carrie was dressed in a blue/green plaid dress that set off her eyes and hair to perfection. On her head was a sweet little confection of a hat that exactly matched the color of her dress. She looked stunning.

"I’m so glad you came! I thought maybe you’d decide not to and I so wanted to see you before we left. I’ll have to board any minute now," Carrie answered in a rush, as they hugged each other.

"Where’s Adam?" Meg inquired, looking around.

"He asked me to say goodbye for him. There was some last minute crisis, which of course he insisted blaming on me! He’s inside the car taking care of it now."

Meg was both disappointed and relieved. The next few minutes would be bad enough without having to again say goodbye to him. She wouldn’t have put it past Adam to invent the "crisis" to spare them both an agonizing farewell. She was distracted from these thoughts by Carrie, who had begun to weep.

"I’ll miss you and Aunt Beatrice so much," she sniffed. "I have no girlfriends back in Virginia City. What will I do?"

"You’ll make friends! You’re young and pretty and charming. More important, you’ve got a kind heart and generous spirit. You’re now a well-educated young woman who should begin to think about taking her place in society. My guess is that as soon as you’re home Mr. Cartwright will have a big party and soon you’ll have plenty of new friends. Your spirit of adventure and fun is one of your most endearing qualities and you’re learning to control your impulsiveness. No one can help but like you! Promise that you’ll write often and let me know what’s happening to you…and to the rest of your family."

Meg had just about finished when the conductor began to call, "All aboard…all aboard!" The two women embraced again, each one in tears.

"I’ll write, I promise! And you write and tell me all about school and Aunt Beatrice, and the Bonelli’s and everything. And promise me, Meg…promise me that you’ll try someday to visit us in Nevada…please!"

"Last call…all aboard!"

Meg took Carrie’s arm and walked her to the steps of the passenger car. Her eyes were brimming with tears, but she smiled and said, "With all my heart I hope that we’ll be seeing each other again. I promise that if the opportunity presents itself, I’ll come and see you. But whatever happens, I’ll treasure our friendship forever. You’re the little sister I never had. I pray you’ll have a safe and speedy trip home, dear. Now you’d better board or they’ll leave without you."

Carrie climbed the steps, then turned to wave a final time. Meg waved back and called, "Carrie, please tell Adam I said goodbye." Carrie nodded that she had heard and turned to enter the car.

Meg stood on the platform as the train began to move. She didn’t see Adam watching her solitary form from behind one of the curtained windows. All she could think of was that she had left her heart on that train and it would soon be in Virginia City, Nevada. Nature, of course, abhors a vacuum. Adam had left his heart in Boston. When the train was completely out of sight she turned and walked home.