First, I must thank Vickie Batzka and Larkspur1 for reading over this manuscript and for their invaluable suggestions on how to improve the story. As always I want to thank Joan Sattler for patiently answering my questions about all things Australian. A glossary of Australian and Welsh words and phrases is provided at the end of the story. Finally, I want to thank Lissa Brown for generously allowing me to use pansies and rosemary, the combination of flowers she used in Odyssey, in my story.

I am once again using some characters introduced in the Bonanza sequels since that’s where I got my idea of Adam settling in Australia: Bronc Evans, Buckshot, Jacob, Annabelle, Benj, Sarah, and of course, A.C.

“To Bloom in Another Man’s Garden”

Part 1

by Deborah Grant

July 2003

Chapter 1

It was a blistering hot Sunday in January in Cloncurry, Queensland, and the two male members of the Cartwright family waited impatiently for their womenfolk to finish dressing so they could walk to church together. Adam Cartwright Senior leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest with his hands tucked high under his arms while Adam Junior (better known as A.C.) did his very best to imitate his daddy.

“Wanna go, Daddy,” A.C. whined. His features were an interesting combination of his father’s and mother’s: His eyes were dark hazel like Adam’s but their size and shape were like his mother’s. He had Bronwen’s mouth with its fuller lips and Adam’s high cheekbones. His forehead was high and broad like both parents’ but his firm chin with its cleft was a replica of his father’s. His thick black hair was wavy; a sort of compromise between Bronwen’s straight hair and Adam’s curls.

At age fifty-four, Adam was definitely bald although the hair that remained was as thick and curly as ever. His beard was mostly gray and he was now far-sighted so he needed glasses for reading. Apart from these changes, he had altered little during the seventeen years he’d lived in Australia.

It was his task to dress A.C. for church while Bronwen was in charge of the girls. He had brushed all the tangles from A.C.’s shoulder-length hair. (Bronwen refused to allow him to cut A.C.’s hair short until he was out of skirts, which they agreed would be when he turned three and that was a month away.) He had dressed A.C. in a tunic of white cambric, a pleated skirt of indigo tarlatan, black cotton stockings and black shoes that laced up. Now they were waiting as they did every Sunday for Bronwen and the girls.

“We just have to be patient, Jackeroo,” Adam now said firmly but with a smile. “It always takes Mama and your sisters longer to get ready,” and he hunkered down and gave A.C.’s neck an affectionate squeeze.

“Why?”

“That I don’t know,” Adam answered with a wry grin. “Ladies,” he called upstairs, “A.C. and I are leaving in five minutes with you or without you. The new minister will be preaching this Sunday and I don’t intend to be late.”

“We’ll be down in just a moment, cariad,” Bronwen called down.

Adam smiled proudly as what his youngest brother teasingly referred to as his “harem” descended the stairs dressed in their Sunday best. First came nine-year-old Penny, who had slept with rags in her hair so it would be curly. She was a tiny, delicate little girl with her mother’s huge violet eyes and heart-shaped face. Although Adam tried not to play favorites, Penny was special to him because of her resemblance to her mother, which was not limited to her physical appearance, for she had also inherited Bronwen’s uninhibited and impulsive nature.

Behind Penny was twelve-year-old Gwyneth, who at five feet six and a half inches towered over her mother and sisters. She was a thin girl and at this stage seemed to be all arms and legs. Adam smiled inwardly for his third daughter reminded him strongly of himself at her age. Gwyneth had her father’s naturally curly black hair and it refused to be tamed into ringlets. The riotous mass of curls flowed down her back just past her waist. She had inherited her father’s large, deep-set hazel eyes—hers so light they were almost golden—fringed by long thick black lashes. However, their beauty was somewhat obscured by her spectacles, for she had inherited her mother’s nearsightedness.

Bronwen and Miranda came down the stairs together. At fifteen Miranda stood five foot in her stocking-feet just like her mother and they had the same slender, fine-boned figures. There the resemblance ended, for Miranda was the image of her paternal grandmother. When she looked at the daguerreotype of Elizabeth Stoddard Cartwright, it was like looking in a mirror. She was wearing a dress of pale blue crêpe de chine with fashionable leg-of-mutton sleeves that had been a recent birthday gift from her Aunt Matilda, who loved to sew for her four nieces and was delighted that Miranda had graduated from little girl frocks to adult fashions.

While Adam could no longer span Bronwen’s waist with his hands, a stranger would have found it nearly impossible to believe she had born five children. (She’d had to work harder after A.C.’s birth to get her figure back going for such long walks Adam was afraid she would exhaust herself.) Her black hair was beginning to show strands that were snow-white but at forty-four her face was still fresh and unlined.

Bringing up the rear was Beth, who would turn sixteen in three days. She was two and three-quarters of an inch taller than her mother and Miranda and while slender, her figure was more curvaceous. She was an exquisitely beautiful girl who had inherited the most attractive features of each parent. She was wearing a gown of grey and mauve silk moiré with large leg-of-mutton sleeves that emphasized her fashionable hourglass figure. She wore her raven tresses dressed back from her forehead over pads to give a bouffant style. She looked older than sixteen and Adam was torn. He was proud of her beauty, but at the same time he missed the little girl who used to run to him for hugs and kisses. Always at the back of his mind was the knowledge that in the not too distant future his little girl would be lost to him forever when she became a wife.

“Sorry we kept you waiting, cariad,” Bronwen said with a slight smile while Adam shook his head.

“Why should this Sunday be any different,” he said dryly while A.C. said loudly, “Wanna go.”

“All right, A.C. bach,” Bronwen said with a warm smile as she reached down to take his hand and then he reached up to put his other hand in Adam’s.

They stepped through the doorway first, but Gwyneth and Penny saw their Uncle Rhys, Aunt Matilda and cousin, Llywelyn, waiting at edge of their front yard and they ran to walk with Llywelyn. Now that they were young ladies wearing their hair up and their skirts down, Beth and Miranda walked together with their parents.

“G’day,” Rhys said when they approached. Like his brother-in-law and business partner he was dressed in a suit and waistcoat made of broadcloth. He wore dark gray while Adam wore black.

“G’day, Unca Whys,” A.C. said with a grin.

“Don’t you look nice,” Matilda said smiling at him. Over the years she had become plump and her brown hair was liberally streaked with gray so she usually hid it under bonnets lavishly trimmed with lace, ribbons and feathers.

“What do you say to Aunt Matilda?” Adam prodded.

“Thank you, Aunt Tilda,” A.C. said dimpling.

“You’re very welcome,” Matilda answered with a smile. Then she turned to Miranda. “I just knew that color would suit you. Do you like the dress?”

“Yes, thank you, Aunt Matilda. It’s lovely. I’m still getting used to having such a long skirt and,” she glanced at her father and uncle and blushed prettily, “other things.”

Matilda then said to Beth, “You did an excellent job with those sleeves. I wasn’t sure if I’d like them, but now that I see them, I think they are very fetching.”

“It’s not the dress that’s fetching,” Rhys said. “It’s the young lady wearing it.”

“Thank you, Uncle Rhys,” Beth replied with a smile while Bronwen said tartly, “You are going to make her conceited. Remember, Beth, that ‘beauty is vain’.”

“Yes, Mama,” Beth replied in a longsuffering tone.

A.C. began tugging impatiently on his parents’ hands so they all began walking and soon they joined many of the other citizens of the town who were also on their way to church or Sunday school. The Cartwrights and the Davies sat in their accustomed pews toward the front of the church. Gwyneth and Llywelyn were considered too old for Sunday school now and A.C. was too young so Penny was the only child in the two families that didn’t attend church. Bronwen and Adam always kept A.C. between them and the three girls sat in their birth order with Gwyneth next to Bronwen and Beth at the end of the pew.

All the eyes in the congregation were on the new minister when he entered. He’s young, Bronwen thought, probably not more than twenty-four or twenty-five. Not handsome, but not unattractive either, Matilda noted. Beth and Miranda noticed he was of average height and average build with fine straight brown hair and large brown eyes. He’s Welsh, Adam observed, for he spoke with the same lilting accent as Dr. and Mrs. Davies.

After the service, Bronwen and Adam, who was holding A.C., joined the crowd wanting to meet Reverend Jones.

“Bore da,” Bronwen said with a smile, extending her hand to Reverend Jones when it was her turn to speak with him.

He responded with a beaming smile. “Bore da. Sut wyt ti?”

“Orgore,” she replied then added, “My husband doesn’t speak Welsh, so I’d better switch to English. I’m Mrs. Adam Cartwright, Reverend.”

“I am very happy to meet you, Mrs. Cartwright. And Mr. Cartwright, I presume?” the reverend added, extending his hand to Adam.

“Pleased to meet you,” Adam replied switching A.C. to his left arm so he could shake hands.

“I don’t want to seem rude, Mr. Cartwright, but your accent is unfamiliar to me.”

“That’s because I’m not Australian,” Adam replied with a slight smile. “I grew up in the state of Nevada in the United States.”

“Ah,” Reverend Jones said with a smile, “that explains it then. I’ve never met anyone from the States.” He smiled at A.C. “And who is this young man?”

“This is our son, A.C.,” Adam answered.

“His real name is Adam Junior but his sisters decided to call him A.C.,” Bronwen interjected. “Can you say g’day to Reverend Jones, A.C.?”

“G’day,” A.C. said dimpling and Reverend Jones smiled at him warmly. “Good day to you, too, young man.”

“I’d introduce our daughters but they seem to have disappeared,” Adam said. Then he caught sight of Beth. “Ah, I see our eldest. Beth,” he called, “come meet Reverend Jones.”

As Beth approached, Adam was gazing at the Reverend and he saw the expression on his face change from affable conviviality to guileless admiration. “Reverend Jones, allow me to present our oldest daughter, Elizabeth. Beth, Reverend Jones.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Reverend,” Beth said, offering her hand.

“No, the pleasure is all mine, Miss Cartwright,” Reverend Jones said warmly. He seemed to collect himself and Adam and Bronwen shared a smile at his faint blush.

“We’d love to have you dine with us today, Reverend, if you’re free,” Bronwen said.

“I’ve already accepted an invitation from the Reynolds,” he replied never taking his eyes from Beth’s and Bronwen and Adam shared another smile at his obvious regret.

“What about supper?” Adam suggested his lips quirked up in a faint smile.

“I would love to join you then,” he replied enthusiastically.

They gave him directions to their house and moved on so other members of the congregation could speak with him. As soon as they moved away, they were immediately approached by Jon Hampton, the owner of one of the largest cattle stations in the area. Hampton was a stocky man in his mid to late thirties. He and the Cartwrights were mere acquaintances and because of the distance between his station and the town, both Adam and Bronwen were surprised to see him on a Sunday when the stores would be closed. He approached and asked to speak with Adam privately.

“Certainly,” Adam replied, his curiosity piqued. He gestured toward the back of the church, which was now deserted, and then he sat A.C. down saying to Bronwen, “You may as well start home. I shouldn’t be too long.” Bronwen nodded so he and Hampton walked away.

Once they were safely out of earshot, Hampton said quietly, “The matter I wish to discuss concerns your daughter, Elizabeth.” Adam arched an eyebrow but made no comment, so Hampton continued. “I’m asking for your permission to court her, and then, if she is agreeable, to marry her.”

Adam’s expression became a frozen mask and he said in a very quiet voice, “Are you aware that Elizabeth will be turning sixteen in a few days?”

“Yes,” Hampton replied. “That’s why I’ve waited until today to speak with you. I’ve had my eye on her for over a year now. I am a patient man, Mr. Cartwright, and I promise I will be a good husband to Elizabeth. She’ll want for nothing, I assure you.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Hampton?” Adam asked in the quiet voice everyone in his family would have recognized with trepidation.

Hampton hesitated a moment and then said stiffly, “Thirty-six.”

“In other words, you are more than twice her age. Old enough to be her father, in fact,” Adam said frigidly. “I am sorry, Mr. Hampton, but I withhold my consent. I wouldn’t consider allowing any of my daughters to marry until they reach eighteen.”

“I would be willing to wait,” Hampton said in a desperate tone.

“I am afraid time is not going to solve my chief objection, which is the disparity in your ages. Good day, sir,” and Adam walked away without looking back.

When he caught up to the family, he noticed Beth was missing. “Where’s Beth?” he barked irritably.

Bronwen raised her eyebrows at his brusque tone but answered calmly, “Bertie Haversham asked if he could walk her home. I said yes.”

Adam’s features twisted in a ferocious scowl, but then they relaxed. Bertie was only eighteen; it was highly unlikely that he was looking for a wife. Besides, what could happen on the walk home from church?

“What did Mr. Hampton want to talk about?” Bronwen asked curiously.

“I’ll tell you later,” he replied. “Did you tell Rhys and Matilda that Reverend Jones is joining us for supper?” he asked changing the subject.

After Sunday dinner, Beth baked two lemon meringue pies for that evening’s dessert while Miranda and Gwyneth washed and dried the dishes. Since Sunday was Nell’s and Mary’s day off, Bronwen and Penny dusted and polished the furniture in the dining and drawing rooms and the library. When all that was done, they rested briefly on the verandah until it was time to begin preparing supper. Since it was such a hot day Bronwen planned on serving salad with plenty of bread-and-butter and cucumber sandwiches. Miranda, Gwyneth, and Penny picked lettuce, carrots, radishes and cucumbers from their garden while Bronwen and Beth sliced bread and trimmed the crusts. Bronwen prepared the salad while Beth, Miranda and Gwyneth made the sandwiches and Penny set the table using the best lace tablecloth.

While the Cartwright women were working, Adam and A.C. were in the backyard playing. Sunday was their day to spend time together since Adam usually didn’t return from the mine until it was nearly A.C.’s bedtime the other six days of the week. First they played catch with A.C.’s cloth ball. When they tired of that, A.C. wanted to swing in the swing Adam had put in one of the gum trees when Beth was his age. Then they took a nap together in the hammock Adam had strung up in the backyard. A.C. was not pleased when he learned he had to change clothes because they were having company. “Sorry, Jackeroo, but Mama is making me change as well,” Adam told him as he dressed him in a tunic of champagne-colored pongee and a skirt of chocolate-brown linen.

“I watch,” A.C. declared to which Adam replied, “Sure, if you want to. Then we’ll go downstairs and let Mama change clothes.”

A.C. watched his daddy change out of his calico shirt and waist overalls into a crisp white linen shirt and a pair of fawn pants made out of duck, and then said firmly, “Want pants.”

“You just have to be patient for a few more weeks, Jackeroo. As soon as you turn three, Daddy’s going to get you your first pair of knickerbockers. I promise.”

“What’s knickabockahs?” A.C. asked, scrunching his face up.

“They’re pants that big boys wear,” Adam replied with a grin, ruffling A.C.’s hair. Just then Bronwen entered.

“Oh good, you’re both changed. You can keep Reverend Jones company if the girls and I are a little late.”

Adam rolled his eyes but held out his hand to A.C. “Come on. Daddy’ll tell you a story while we wait for our guests.”

“’Bout when you was jackewoo,” A.C. demanded.

Bronwen smiled as she watched them leave, hand in hand. She changed quickly into a dress of pale blue lawn. She frowned a little as she stood in front of the full-length mirror. The dress was rather old-fashioned. She’d been so busy lately sewing for the girls that she hadn’t made anything for herself since she couldn’t remember when. She certainly didn’t want to look dowdy, so tomorrow she’d go to the dry goods store and buy some material to make herself a new dress. She’d even make one with those leg-of-mutton sleeves although not as large as the ones on Beth’s new dress.

The two younger girls were already in the drawing room, seated on the green and white striped settee with Adam and A.C. when she went downstairs. Penny’s curls were gone but she’d brushed her hair smooth. Gwyneth had braided her unruly curls into a single thick plait that hung down her back to her waist. She and Penny had both changed into short-sleeved frocks that were smocked at the waist and neck. Bronwen sighed as she looked at Gwyneth. She’d grown again because the dress barely came below her knees. If it were any shorter, her garters would be visible. Adam had also noticed the shortness of Gwyneth’s dress and even though she would only be thirteen this April, he was wishing that she could wear her skirts down so they did not display her long slim legs with their slender but shapely calves.

As Bronwen walked through the doorway, she heard a knock at the front door so she answered it and invited the Davies in. Like Adam, Rhys and Llywelyn were not wearing neckties, much to Matilda’s chagrin. She was dressed to the nines in a fashionable gown of deep purple satin trimmed with black velvet bands. Bronwen smiled inwardly for the temperature was at least 95 degrees and the dark-colored satin would be unbearably hot. They had been chatting for a few minutes when Miranda joined them, wearing another of her new outfits. Almost the exact moment she entered the drawing room, there was another knock at the door so Bronwen answered it

“Noswaith dda,” Reverend Jones said smiling warmly.

“Noswaith dda,” Bronwen replied with an answering smile. “My brother and his family will also be having supper with us,” she explained as she escorted him to the drawing room.

“Mr. Davies,” the reverend said. “I should have seen the family resemblance.”

“There’s not much of one,” Rhys chuckled. “I take after our tad and Bronwen our mam.”

“Miss Cartwright won’t be joining us?” Reverend Jones asked in what he hoped was a detached tone as he sat in the vacant green brocade armchair. The other four adults exchanged knowing looks. Beth had made another conquest it would seem.

“She’s just late,” Gwyneth said and Penny added, “She’s always late.”

“That is an exaggeration, Penny,” Beth said from the doorway. She had changed to a gown of pale pink silk trimmed with white lace and looked ravishing. The three men and Llywelyn immediately rose and A.C. scrambled off the settee when he saw his daddy stand up. Beth sat in the only empty chair, which happened to be the green and white striped side chair by Reverend Jones, who was having difficulty taking his eyes off her, to the amusement of her mother, aunt and uncle. Her father wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about the reverend’s obvious attraction to his firstborn.

They asked the reverend his first impressions of Cloncurry and then Bronwen suggested they adjourn to the dining room to continue the conversation. Reverend Jones had managed to take his eyes off Beth long enough to be impressed with the beauty of his surroundings. He appreciated the simplicity of the rooms’ design and decoration. So many homes he had visited in Britain had small windows and were cluttered with bric-à-brac so they felt dark and close. These rooms were light and airy and because they weren’t crammed full of furniture and knickknacks seemed larger than they probably were.

“You’ve arrived in the middle of Cloncurry’s summer,” Adam commented as he tied a bib around his son’s neck while the others helped themselves to the food that had been set out on the buffet. “It’s something all of us have had to grow accustomed to except the children. Beth is the only one of them not born here in Cloncurry.”

The reverend looked at her inquiringly and she said with a smile, “I was born in Sydney, but I was only a few months old when I moved here.”

“My husband adjusted more quickly than the rest of us to the heat,” Bronwen added.

“That’s because we have deserts in Nevada that are almost as hot as the outback. However, our climate is semiarid and I’ve had problems acclimating to the amount of rain we get from November to March.”

“Oh? I’ve only been here three days but it hasn’t rained a drop,” Reverend Jones said.

“That’s normal,” Rhys replied. “But it might rain tomorrow and every day for a week. March to November, our fall and winter, we get very little rain and the temperature is comfortable.”

“There are a lot of poisonous snakes here that you have to watch out for especially if you’re going bush,” Llywelyn said earnestly.

Reverend Jones wore a totally baffled expression and Adam grinned. “Don’t worry, Reverend, you do eventually learn the local expressions. It’s taken years, but I understand most of them now. I even use them occasionally. Going bush means traveling in the outback, and Llywelyn is right about the snakes. There are black snakes, brown snakes and death adders. They all produce lethal venom. One the reasons our families have our dogs is that they are excellent at killing snakes. Our Lady had pups a fortnight ago. When they’re weaned, we’d be happy to give you one.”

“Diolch yn fawr. Thanks very much,” Reverend Jones said with a warm smile. “I’d like to have a dog.”

“You can have the pick of the litter,” Bronwen said.

They continued to eat and converse until Bronwen brought out the dessert and cut everyone a slice of pie.

“This pie is delicious,” Reverend Jones stated, a look of delight on his face. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had this kind before.”

“It’s lemon meringue. I made it using lemons from our own lemon tree,” Beth said in a pleased voice. “I’m glad you like it.”

“You made it, Miss Cartwright?”

“Yes, Beth inherited her mother’s skill with baked goods,” Adam said with a proud smile at his eldest.

“We usually sing after supper, Reverend, and we’d love for you to join us,” Bronwen interjected with a smile.

“Of course. After all, to be born Welsh is to be born with music in your blood and poetry in your soul. Next time I visit, I’ll bring my lap harp.”

“That would be wonderful,” Rhys said. “Our mother plays the Welsh harp, but none of us learned and I miss it.”

“Today we’ll make do with Gwyneth’s and my guitars for accompaniment,” Adam said with a smile as they walked down the hall to the library with its paneled walls and built-in bookshelves full of books. “If you don’t mind singing the English version, Reverend, why don’t we start with Men of Harlech?”

Reverend Jones had a light tenor voice that blended beautifully with Adam’s creamy baritone, Rhys’ dark bass and Llywelyn’s sweet soprano.

“Oh, that was lovely,” Gwyneth said with shining eyes.

“Yes, it was,” Bronwen agreed. “What shall we sing next?”

“Sosban Fach!” A.C. shouted.

“One of my favorites,” Reverend Jones said with a smile at the little boy.

“A.C. has learned the refrain,” Bronwen said proudly and Adam added with a half smile, “I’ve managed to learn it with him. I’m afraid that’s the only Welsh I’ve been able to master.”

“Yes, we let A.C. and Daddy sing the refrain on their own,” Gwyneth said and Reverend Jones grinned.

They sang several songs and then Adam said, “Gwyneth, why don’t you sing The Ash Grove for Reverend Jones?”

Gwyneth blushed a little and started to shake her head so Beth spoke up. “Come on, Gwyneth. You sing beautifully and you should let Reverend Jones have a chance to hear you.”

“Yes, come on, Gwyneth,” Miranda said.

Nervously, Gwyneth stood up and began to sing. As she sang, she forgot to be nervous, forgot about her audience and simply concentrated on singing.

“Child,” Reverend Jones said quietly, “Your voice is a gift from God, and he means for you to share it. I hope I can expect to hear you singing solos often.”

“I’d rather sing with my sisters,” Gwyneth answered honestly.

“Girls, why don’t you sing Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau for Reverend Jones?” Bronwen suggested.

“I would love to hear them sing it,” he said enthusiastically.

The four girls stood—the two sopranos, Gwyneth and Beth, in back with Penny and Miranda, the two contraltos, in front—and sang, their voices blending harmoniously:

Mae hen wlad fy nhadau yn annwyl i mi
Gwlad beirdd a chantorion, enwogion o fri;
Ei gwrol ryfelwyr, gwladgarwyr tra mad,
Tros ryddid collasant eu gwaed.

Gwlad! Gwlad! pleidiol wyf i’m gwlad,
Tra môr yn fur i’r bur hoff bau,
O bydded i’r heniaith barhau.

The land of my fathers, the land of my choice,
The land in which poets and minstrels rejoice;
The land whose stern warriors were true to the core
While bleeding for freedom of yore.

Wales! Wales! fav’rite land of Wales!
While sea her wall, may naught befall
To mar the old language of Wales.

“You sing like the angels above,” Reverend Jones exclaimed, wiping tears from his eyes.

“We sing The Star Spangled Banner, too, ‘cause that’s Daddy’s national anthem,” Penny said gravely. “We’re half Welsh and half American.”

“We’ve been to the States, but never to Wales,” Gwyneth added.

“Rhys and I still have aunts, uncles and cousins living in Llanelli,” Bronwen said. “Our parents immigrated to New South Wales shortly after they married so neither our older brother, Bryn, Rhys nor I have been to Wales. Adam says maybe some day after he and Rhys have turned the mine over to Llywelyn, we can travel there.”

Reverend Jones nodded and then Rhys spoke up. “You were born in Wales, weren’t you, Reverend?”

“That’s right. But while your family comes from South Wales, mine is from the North. I was born in Dyffryn Nantile and my father and grandfather worked in the slate quarry. My parents wanted a better life for me and managed to save up enough money to send me to university and while I was attending, I felt a call to enter the ministry. I emigrated only a few months ago. If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you lived here, Mr. Cartwright?”

“Not at all. I’ve lived here in Cloncurry almost sixteen years (and Reverend Jones understood with regret that the beautiful Miss Cartwright couldn’t be more than sixteen then) but I lived in Sydney for about a year before that.” He stopped and smiled sweetly at Bronwen. “Australia’s been good to me. It’s given me my beloved wife, four lovely daughters and a son, who has been up past his bedtime.” He ruffled A.C.’s hair. “It’s time for you to be in bed, Jackeroo.”

“No,” A.C. said sticking his lower lip out in a pout.

“Are you and I going to have to have a necessary talk, young man?” Adam said in the voice all his children recognized.

“Don’t wanna go bed!” A.C. retorted loudly.

“I’m sorry, Reverend, but you’ll have to excuse us,” Adam said calmly, standing and reaching for his son.

“No. Please, Mama,” A.C. sobbed, looking at Bronwen with tear-filled hazel eyes and a wobbly chin.

“Cariad, couldn’t he—“

“No,” Adam replied firmly, picking A.C. up off Bronwen’s lap.

“Mama,” A.C. wailed piteously over Adam’s shoulder.

“I think I should be going,” Reverend Jones said starting to stand up, but Bronwen said quickly, “Oh, please stay, Reverend. I’m sorry. It’s just that A.C. has become very willful lately, but he’s a good boy, really.”

“When he wants to be,” Penny muttered and Bronwen said sharply, “Penny, do you have something to say?”

“No, Mama,” she replied quietly.

“I had a thought,” Reverend Jones said brightly. “Would it be possible for me to see the puppies?”

“Oh, of course,” Bronwen said with a smile. “Gwyneth, why don’t you show Reverend Jones the puppies?” She saw the disappointed look on the reverend’s face and added, “In fact, why don’t all you girls and Llywelyn show him. And then I think we should sit on the verandah where it’s cooler.”

“Don’t wanna go bed!” A.C. wailed loudly as Adam carried him up the backstairs. “Not sleepy!” He began kicking and squirming, which only resulted in his father holding him in a firmer grip as he carried him to his room.

A.C.’s room, which was next to Beth and Miranda’s, was painted beige and his curtains were made of green, brown and blue striped chintz. His hooked rug and his quilt had the same colors. He had a low-post bed that was identical to his father’s bed at the Ponderosa. (Adam had made some drawings to show a local cabinetmaker what he wanted and then had the bed made of Queensland maple along with the chest of drawers and the wardrobe.) The room also contained a child-sized rocking chair that Adam had made for A.C. as well as one his parents used

As soon as Adam and the screaming A.C. entered the room, Adam sat down on the bed with A.C. over his knees and administered two firm swats to his behind.

“Now, when Daddy and Mama tell you to do something, you do not talk back. Do you understand?” Adam asked, picking A.C. up and turning him so they were face-to-face.

A.C. nodded, tears falling down his cheeks. “I sowry, Daddy,” he said tremulously. “You love me?”

“Of course I do,” Adam replied gently and hugged his little boy. “Do you need any help getting undressed?” he asked A.C. quietly after the hug ended.

“Just my shoes,” A.C. replied so Adam helped him get his shoes off and then he got a nightshirt out of A.C.’s chest of drawers and handed it to him. “You go ahead and change and then Mama and I will come kiss you goodnight and I’ll tell you a story. All right?”

He went downstairs and discovered everyone was sitting on the verandah enjoying the breeze. “Reverend Jones didn’t leave, did he?”

“No. The girls and Llywelyn are showing him the puppies,” Bronwen replied.

“I told A.C. we’d come up to tell him goodnight and then I’d tell him a bedtime story.”

“We’ll make your excuses to Reverend Jones,” Matilda assured them while Rhys added in a teasing voice, “He’s not going to miss the two of you as long as Beth is here.”

“Rhys!” Matilda said in a scolding tone while Adam frowned. Bronwen rolled her eyes at her brother and grabbing hold of her husband’s hand she dragged him toward the stairs.

“You didn’t really hurt him?” she asked anxiously as they walked up the stairs.

He looked at her with one eyebrow raised. “Have I ever really hurt any of our children? I gave him two swats on his bottom that hurt just enough to let him know he is not to repeat that behavior.”

“You are so strict with A.C.”

“And you spoil him,” Adam replied evenly. “He is not even three years old and he cannot be allowed to decide his own bedtime nor can he be allowed to defy his parents. He received exactly the same treatment his sisters did when they behaved in a similar fashion.”

Bronwen sighed. “I suppose you’re right, but he’s my baby,” she added as though that explained everything and he shook his head, his expression bemused.

A.C. had taken off his clothes and hung them on the pegs on the wall, and was carefully buttoning his nightshirt when they came in.

“Look, Mama. Look, Daddy.”

“You buttoned like a big boy,” Bronwen said bending down to kiss his cheek and receive his kiss. Then he knelt by his bed and Adam and Bronwen knelt down on either side of him and listened as he recited his prayer. He climbed into bed and then Bronwen said, “Goodnight, A.C. bach. Mama will see you in the morning,” kissing him one last time before heading toward the doorway. She lingered just long enough to watch Adam sit in the rocking chair and begin the bedtime story.

That night while she and Adam were getting ready for bed, she asked what Mr. Hampton had wanted to talk to him about.

“That man had the nerve to ask for my permission to court Beth! He’s more than twice her age,” Adam replied, his brows drawing together in a scowl as he remembered the conversation. “Said he’d had his eye on Beth for more than a year just waiting for her to turn sixteen so he could approach me.” Bronwen shuddered at those words so he came and put his arm around her. “Are you all right?”

“I guess someone just walked over my grave,” she answered with a faint smile. “But the idea of him watching Beth and waiting for her to turn sixteen disturbs me.”

“It disturbs me as well, but I made it clear that I would never consider her marrying a man twenty years older.”

“Now, ten years older is the perfect age,” she said with a smile and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

When they ended the kiss, he winked at her. “I don’t feel sleepy yet. How about you?” he asked as he began unbuttoning her nightgown.

“No, I actually feel quite stimulated,” she replied, caressing his back with her fingertips and reveling in the feel of hard muscle. He grinned as he lifted her nightgown over her head and tossed it on the nearby chair and drank in the sight of her body, as white and translucent as alabaster except for the rosy nipples on her small breasts and the dark curls at the juncture of her slender thighs. Then he slowly removed her hairpins and watched her silky ebony hair tumble down past her hips. He looked at her face and saw the violet irises were nearly swallowed up by the black pupils as they traveled slowly over his body. His waist had thickened but otherwise he had changed little over the years. “You are as beautiful today as the day we married,” she said breathlessly.

He dimpled. “And you keep stealing my line. Of course, it’s pretty obvious that I find you desirable,” he added with another wink, and she grinned smugly before he lifted her in his arms and carried her to their bed.

“G’day, Mrs. Cartwright,” Mrs. Broome said when Bronwen entered the dry goods store the next morning. “Here to do some shopping for the girls?”

“G’day, Mrs. Broome,” Bronwen replied. “No, actually I’m here to buy some cloth to make myself a new dress. I’m afraid I’m starting to look a bit dowdy.”

“I have some new taffetas and silks that just came in yesterday,” Mrs. Broome said displaying three bolts: one of bright magenta, another of electric blue and the third of vivid yellow. “These are produced with the new aniline dyes.”

“Oh yes,” Bronwen said, “my sister-in-law in the States has written me that they are all the rage.” She examined all three bolts and then decided on the bolt of magenta silk. She was dismayed to learn it put her over her budget, but she told herself it wasn’t too much over and Adam wouldn’t want her to look unfashionable. However, she decided not to bring the matter up until they were alone that night.

“I bought some cloth to make myself a new dress,” she said holding up the material and draping it so he could envision how it would look on her. “It put me a few pounds over my budget but I didn’t think you’d begrudge me a new dress.”

“Take it back,” he snapped, frowning at her darkly.

“Adam!” she said surprised at his tone. “I’m only fifteen pounds over my budget. I know we can afford that.”

“It’s not the money,” he replied with a tiny grin. “It’s the cloth. It’s hideous and it doesn’t suit you at all.”

“Oh, but Annabelle has written that the new aniline dyes are all the fashion and I thought this magenta is lovely.”

“It’s hideous,” he repeated. “I don’t care if it’s in fashion or not. I’ll go to the mine a little late tomorrow and we can pick out some cloth together.” She frowned at him and he quirked his lips in a little half smile. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have a better eye for what suits you. Besides, you want to please me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered slowly but any further comments she might have made were cut off when he placed his mouth over hers and began to kiss her thoroughly. As they kissed, his fingers were busy unfastening her dress so it slithered to the floor pooling at her feet. Her petticoat was the next to go. He broke off the kiss then and looked at her in her lace trimmed white corset with the newfangled elastic suspenders supporting her stockings.

“I’m not against all modern fashions,” he added in a husky voice.

The next morning they walked into the dry goods store together and Mrs. Broome’s face registered surprise.

“I’ve come to return the bolt of silk I bought yesterday,” Bronwen said, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. “Mr. Cartwright didn’t care for it.”

“We’d like to look at some other fabric with softer colors,” Adam interjected.

“Of course,” Mrs. Broome said and she was obviously flustered. She laid out a bolt of light water green moiré, one of a rich reddish brown satin, one rose-colored silk and finally one of an antique blue taffeta. Adam draped the green, the rose and the blue over Bronwen’s shoulders, ignoring the brown. Both the women waited and after some consideration he said firmly, “We’ll take the rose and the green. Now I need to talk with Mr. Broome.”

Seeing the startled look on Bronwen’s face he said in a voice pitched only for her ears, “They’re my gift to you. They don’t come out of your budget.”

“What did you talk to Mr. Broome about?” she asked curiously as they walked home together.

“It’s a surprise,” he replied and she saw the twinkle in his eyes but knew it would be useless to try and worm the secret out of him. Adam could be as mysterious as the sphinx when it suited him.

“Don’t forget we’re eating at Rhys and Matilda’s tonight. She’s a dear to invite us so Nell, Mary and I can concentrate on getting ready for Beth’s birthday party tomorrow. I hope it doesn’t rain because she has her heart set on stringing Chinese lanterns in the backyard so they can dance.”

“I know. She’s so excited. Gwyneth and I have been practicing with Rob Anderson and I think we sound pretty good. Too bad we don’t have a fiddler for the dance though.”

Beth’s sixteenth birthday was clear, sunny and scorching. “I’m not worried,” she announced at breakfast. “It always cools off in the evening. Daddy, couldn’t we have one waltz tonight?” she asked pleadingly.

“You can have all the waltzes your heart desires on your eighteenth birthday, but this year only polkas and quadrilles.”

“I can’t believe you’re not going to school any more,” Miranda commented.

“I’ve learned everything I need to know from school,” Beth said firmly. “Dorothy and Mavis stopped going when they turned sixteen and Phyllis says her parents will let her stop then, too.” She looked tentatively at her father. “I promised Daddy I would read a book every week. School isn’t the only place to learn. With all the mathematics and Latin Daddy’s taught you, you probably know more than Mr. Clarke.”

“And that’s why we are thinking of sending Miranda to the Girls Latin School in Boston this fall instead of next,” Adam said thoughtfully.

“Fair dinkum, Daddy?” Miranda exclaimed and her enthusiasm was obvious.

“It’s an important decision, Miranda fach and you and I and Daddy need to think about it. I know you liked Mr. and Mrs. Alden and Charlotte, and Daddy was impressed with the school, but you wouldn’t see us for probably two years. It might be even longer than that before we could visit.”

“You will be homesick, Angel,” Adam warned, “but you’ll have to tough it out. Unless you are so miserable that you simply can’t stand it. Even then, you’d have to wait until I could come get you to take you home. It’s not a decision we can make lightly.”

“I know I’ll miss all of you, but it will be worth it. That’s how you felt about Harvard, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he replied slowly. “But it was hard on your uncles. Joe was too young to understand why I was gone and your brother will be even younger when you go.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Miranda said slowly. “You mean, A.C. might forget me?” and he nodded. She had never considered that she would become a stranger to A.C. and that thought was very depressing, but she’d be too old to attend college if she waited another six or seven years until he was old enough that he would remember her while she was gone. “I’ll be able to spend the summers with Grandpa and Uncle Joe and Aunt Annabelle. And I can get to know Benj and Sarah,” she said but her parents knew she was saying that to convince herself as much as them.

“We’ll think about it, and if we do decide then we’ll get in touch with the Aldens right away. It will also mean that we’d all be paying a visit to the Ponderosa this July or August.

“Hurrah!” Gwyneth shouted, earning a frown from both parents. “Sorry. But I really want to see Grandpa and Uncle Joe. And the station. I mean ranch. This time I’ll be old enough to ride a horse and not just a pony.”

“It’s not decided yet,” Bronwen reminded her.

Adam had arranged with Rhys to be a little late that morning so he strung Chinese lanterns from tree to tree and tree to verandah in their backyard with Beth and Mary’s assistance (and of course A.C.’s) while Bronwen began baking the birthday cake. Later in the day she and Nell would begin preparing the platters of bread-and-butter and cucumber sandwiches while Mary and Beth made lemonade. Bronwen decided not to have A.C. take a nap in hopes that he would go to bed more willingly. (Since Gwyneth was going to be playing her guitar and helping to provide the music, Penny and A.C. had begged to attend the party as well. Adam and Bronwen had talked it over and decided they could watch from the verandah until it was time for bed, which for A.C. meant he could watch for half an hour. They told Penny she was responsible for her brother for that time and then Bronwen would put him to bed.)

That evening the entire family hurried to change into their party clothes. The family had Beth’s birthday supper before the dance and then she opened her gifts. Matilda had promised ahead of time to make her a new dress for the dance and so Beth opened that gift first. “Oh, thank you, Aunt Matilda!” she exclaimed as she held up the lovely dress of white surah silk with leg-of-mutton sleeves, decorated with lace and. bands of pale blue silk ribbons on the high-neck bodice.

“Why don’t you open our gift next,” Adam suggested. “It’s from Grandpa as well.” Beth ripped the paper off the box and found a beautiful string of pearls.

“Oh Daddy, Mama,” she whispered and ran to hug and kiss them. “They’re so beautiful.”

“They were your grandmother’s and were intended for my oldest daughter,” Adam said in a voice that was a little unsteady, blinking back the tears that threatened to overflow. “Grandpa has been holding them in trust until you were sixteen.”

“Now you should open the gift from Tad-cu, Mam-gu, Uncle Bryn and Aunt Victoria,” Bronwen added as she dabbed at her eyes. She was beginning to understand how Adam felt. Suddenly it really hit her that her firstborn would be leaving them all too soon to start her own family.

Beth gasped in pleasure when she saw a pair of pearl earrings.

“I told them about your grandmother’s pearl necklace so they decided they would give you earrings to match,” Bronwen said smiling at her daughter.

“I’ll open Uncle Joe and Aunt Annabelle’s gift next,” Beth decided, and she discovered hair pins set with pearls.

“The last gift is from Gwyneth, Penny, Llywelyn and me,” Miranda said. “It’s not as nice as your other gifts, but I hope you like it.”

“My first silk stockings! Oh thank you!” Beth exclaimed beaming at her sisters and cousin.

“What I give Bethy?” A.C. asked in a tremulous voice, for he was feeling left out.

“I know just the gift I want from you,” Beth said smiling at him. “You come here and give Bethy a kiss, okay?”

“’Kay,” A.C. said happily and ran to throw his arms around Beth’s neck and place a smacking kiss on her cheek.

“Do I have time to change?” she asked her mother. “I’d like to wear my new dress to the party.”

“If your aunt and I help, I think you can make it,” Bronwen replied with a smile. “Adam, could you ask Nell to put the sandwiches and the lemonade out in the dining room? And Miranda, you’re in charge of A.C.”

Adam nodded and then said to Gwyneth, “We’d better tune our guitars.”

“You look very pretty tonight, Punkin,” he said with a smile as they tuned their guitars. Since Matilda loved to sew she had made the two younger girls new party dresses. Gwyneth’s was of amber-colored silk that matched her eyes with short puffed sleeves and it was smocked at the waist and neck. Her black curls tumbled down her back to her hips and he realized he would be glad when she could pin them up because they looked wanton the way they flowed down her back. She smiled happily at his words and he felt a little guilty that he didn’t praise her more often. She was his quiet girl who never put herself forward. She was sweet and thoughtful but those weren’t virtues that made her stand out from her sisters. Beth’s beauty immediately made her the center of attention while Miranda’s intellect set her apart. Penny was so extroverted and so appealing that everyone noticed her. Gwyneth, however, tended to fade into the background. She did have one outstanding gift: her music. Her voice was absolutely glorious and she was a talented guitarist as well. But she was so shy that it was really only her family that knew how gifted she was. Suddenly he had an idea how he could demonstrate to others how talented she was.

Once the guitars were tuned, he went to knock on the door of Beth’s room. “It’s Daddy, Princess. May I come in?”

“Just give us five minutes, cariad,” Bronwen called.

“I just wanted to tell Beth that I am claiming her first dance.”

“But you’re playing your guitar,” Beth called back anxiously.

“Gwyneth can play with Mr. Anderson on her own for that dance. And I’ll want to dance with your mother at least once so Gwyneth can handle the accompaniment then as well.”

Bronwen stepped out into the hallway then. “Have you told Gwyneth?”

“No, because if I tell her, she’ll try and talk me out of it. This way she won’t have time to brood over it. She’s very talented and she needs to overcome her shyness.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Bronwen said slowly. “And Rob will be playing his banjo so she won’t be entirely on her own.”

“Of course, my motives aren’t entirely selfless,” he said with a slow grin. “I really do want to dance at least one dance with you. If I didn’t mention it earlier, I think you look particularly lovely tonight,” he added and bent down to kiss her. They hadn’t broken apart when A.C. ran up and said loudly, “I want kiss, Mama.”

With a mental sigh, Adam ended the kiss and Bronwen bent down to kiss A.C.’s cheek. “Beth’s guests are going to be arriving any minute,” Adam said. “I hope she’s ready.”

“I’ll tell her she needs to get downstairs now,” Bronwen promised.

“Come on, Jackeroo,” he said to A.C. holding out his hand, “let’s go downstairs.”

All the young people Beth and Miranda’s age had been invited plus a few who were a few years older. Adam thought the girls all looked lovely in their lacy, beribboned dresses in soft pastels or white. The young men, on the other hand, looked uncomfortable in their frock coats, starched shirts and black neckties. He smiled sardonically for he knew that he had been even more callow at the first party he attended in San Francisco back when he was seventeen.

Once all the guests had arrived, Adam walked over to where Gwyneth and Rob Anderson were seated. “I think it’s time to begin the music. Let’s start with a polka. Gwyneth, I’m going to dance with Beth, so it’ll just be you and Rob this first piece.” He saw her stricken expression and said calmly, “She’ll be apples, Punkin.”

Rob added kindly, “That’s right, Gwyneth. You’re as good a guitar player as your dad.”

“I think she’s better,” Adam added with a wink at his daughter.

He enjoyed twirling Beth about in a lively polka. She was as graceful as she was beautiful and as soon as their dance finished, she was surrounded by young men. When he sat down and picked up his guitar, Llywelyn approached. He had been reluctantly persuaded to attend the dance and at fourteen he was the youngest boy there. “Would you be my partner in the next dance, Gwyneth? It’s all right, isn’t it, Uncle Adam?”

“It’s fine with me. How about it, Punkin? Will you dance with Llywelyn?”

“Please, Gwyneth. I know I can dance with you. All those other girls are older and they don’t want to dance with me.”

“All right,” she said tugging at her earlobe in an unconscious imitation of her father when he was anxious. She and Llywelyn had learned to dance together a couple of months earlier and she knew she wouldn’t step on his feet and he wouldn’t step on hers.

Adam and Rob shared a grin for Gwyneth was a good three or four inches taller than her cousin. However, they danced very well together and Adam was pleased to see Gwyneth smiling and enjoying herself. Penny spotted them from her vantage point on the verandah.

“Look, A.C.! Gwyneth and Llywelyn are dancing.”

“Wanna see. Wanna see!” A.C. exclaimed.

“I guess you’re too short.”

“Up,” A.C. commanded holding up his arms.

“You’re too big for me to hold.”

“Sit,” he said reaching up toward the railing.

“No. You could fall and hurt yourself.”

A.C. began a full-fledged temper tantrum but Penny didn’t give in. She remembered the story of how Gwyneth had fallen from the verandah when she was little and had to have stitches. Bronwen was standing near enough to hear her baby’s screams and rushed up the steps.

“What’s going on here, Penny? A.C. bach, Mama is here. Don’t cry,” she said scooping him up in her arms. “Is he hurt, Penny?”

“No. He wanted me to lift him up so he could sit on the railing and watch Gwyneth dance, but I knew it was dangerous. He’s just having a temper tantrum is all,” Penny replied a little defensively.

“Penny’s mean,” A.C. sobbed, throwing his arms around Bronwen’s neck.

“I wasn’t, Mama. I just knew he shouldn’t sit up on the railing ‘cause he might fall off and get hurt like Gwyneth did when she was little,” Penny said earnestly.

“Penny was right, A.C. You aren’t to sit on the railing.”

“Can’t see, Mama! Want see Gwyneth dance. And Bethy and Manda,” he said plaintively.

“I guess you can’t see from here,” Bronwen said talking to herself. “I tell you what. You can come stand with Mama and that way you can see everybody dancing,” and he clapped his hands in delight. When Penny started to follow them, Bronwen turned and said, “You’re to stay on the verandah. Remember?”

“But A.C. gets to go stand in the yard,” Penny pouted.

“That’s only because he’s too short to be able to see from the verandah but you can. Don’t pout, Penny, or I will send you to bed right now.”

“It’s not fair,” Penny said after her mother was out of earshot. She was still sulking when there was a break in the dancing and Adam came up to see how she and A.C. were doing.

“Hi, Kitten. Are you having fun? Where’s your brother?”

“Mama came and got him. He’s in the yard with her, but she made me stay here. I don’t think that’s fair, Daddy. Can’t I go stand in the yard with you and Gwyneth?”

“No, I’m sorry, Kitten. Mama and I said you could watch from the verandah.”

“But A.C.—“

“I’ll find Mama and talk with her about it. Did you see Gwyneth dancing with Llywelyn?”

Penny nodded. “They danced as good as some of Beth’s friends.” She sighed. “I wish I could dance.”

“How would you like to dance with me right here on the verandah?”

“Fair dinkum?” and in answer he reached down and put his hands around her waist and simply lifted her up so her feet were off the floor and whirled her about to soft giggles as he hummed a polka. When their dance ended, he sat her down and dropped a kiss on her head.

“I’ve got to go, Kitten, but I’ll try and come back for another dance before you have to go to bed.”

Since Gwyneth and Rob were still taking a break, he looked for Bronwen and spotted her with A.C. She saw him frowning as he approached.

“I watch Bethy and Manda dance, Daddy,” A.C. exclaimed with a grin and ran to Adam with outstretched arms. He picked him up and tossed him in the air before saying with smile that was a bit too bright, “So you are. But you were supposed to be watching with Penny.” Then he sat him down, making sure that he had hold of one of his hands.

“He was too short to see anything clearly,” Bronwen said defensively.

“I understand. What I don’t understand is why you made Penny stay on the verandah. That wasn’t really fair, was it?”

She dropped her eyes and said with a sigh, “I suppose not. I’ll go tell her she can come down, too.”

“No. She’s fine where she is. This is Beth’s party and it’s for her and her friends. It’s time for A.C. to be in bed anyway so I’ll take him up.”

“I’ll do it.”

“No, I will. Just tell Gwyneth and Rob that they’ll have to play the next couple of pieces without me.” He reached down and picked A.C. up. “Come on, Jackeroo. It’s time for you to be in bed.”

“No!” A.C. wailed and began squirming to get down so Adam swatted his behind and he began to sob.

“Adam!” Bronwen said reaching to take her baby but Adam snapped, “I said I’ll put him to bed,” and strode off with long strides she couldn’t hope to match. The guests standing close by had turned at the sound of A.C.’s cries but when they saw Adam carrying him off they ignored him. Matilda had been one of those nearby and came over to Bronwen because she could see she was upset.

“He’s so strict with A.C. He wasn’t like that with the girls,” Bronwen said bitterly.

“I don’t think that’s surprising,” Matilda said soothingly. “After all, you told me Adam grew up without a mother or sister. I think it’s perfectly natural that he spoils the girls a bit just as it’s natural that you spoil A.C. a little after waiting so long to have a boy. I was the same way with Llywelyn. Still am, I suppose, although I try to be firm with him for his own good. I think Adam is stricter with A.C. just because he’s a boy.”

Rhys had come up just in time to hear his wife’s last comment. “You know, Bronwen fach, it always seemed to Bryn and me that Tad was easier on you. I think it’s just natural for fathers to be tougher on boys just as it’s natural for mothers and older sisters to spoil them.”

Bronwen sighed loudly. “I suppose you’re right. I know Adam loves A.C. and A.C. adores his daddy.” She saw Gwyneth and Rob getting ready to sit down and looking around for Adam. “Excuse me. I have to let Rob and Gwyneth know they’re on their own for a while.”

Once Adam returned, Rhys walked over. “Gwyneth, would you honor me with a dance?” he asked with a bow. She looked at Adam, who winked at her, and Rob grinned. Rhys was exactly the same height as Gwyneth and he danced with an assurance that his son did not possess yet.”

“You dance very well, Gwyneth fach, and in only three years, I’ll be dancing at your sixteenth birthday party,” he said as he twirled her about the yard.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” she replied artlessly. “But I won’t have boys wanting to dance with me the way Beth does. Sometimes I wish I could be beautiful like her.”

“You’re a very pretty and talented girl. You don’t need to be like anyone else. Besides, tell Uncle Rhys the truth. Would you really want all those boys hanging around you the way they do around Beth?”

She had to giggle at that. “No, I guess I wouldn’t. Miranda doesn’t have as many boys hanging around her and she doesn’t mind. She’s only interested in the smart boys who like school anyway. I don’t care if the boys are smart; I just want them to be nice. Like Daddy and you and Llywelyn.”

“I know you’ll find one. Don’t worry,” Rhys said gently as he escorted her back to her father.

A little later Adam turned to Rob. “I hate to desert you again, but I promised Mrs. Cartwright that I’d dance with her.”

“We’ll do just fine, won’t we, Gwyneth?” Rob said with a wink. “Go on and dance with Mrs. Cartwright.”

Adam wasn’t entirely sure of his reception as he approached Bronwen, who was talking with Matilda. “Mrs. Cartwright, might I have the pleasure of the next dance? Please?” She raised her eyebrows but took his hand. “A.C. fell asleep almost as soon as I tucked him in,” he said quietly as they danced.

“He probably was overtired,” she replied forcing herself to look into his eyes. “Matilda and Rhys both told me that it’s normal for you to be stricter with A.C. than with the girls.”

He started to retort that he wasn’t, but stopped himself. He thought about it his relationship with his daughters and with his son and realized perhaps he was more firm with A.C. He wanted him to grow up to be a self-disciplined man and not a self-indulgent one. Still, even though he’d been less strict with the girls, they didn’t show signs of being spoilt and self-absorbed so perhaps he should ease up a bit on A.C. He wasn’t even quite three after all.

“I think maybe I have been too hard on him,” he said slowly and felt a warm glow of true joy when he saw her face light up at his words.

“And I admit I was unfair to Penny tonight but I’ll make it up to her. At least the party is going well and Beth is certainly the belle of the ball.”

“I never doubted that,” he chuckled. “I think she’s danced with a different boy each dance. I’ve already been approached by several boys who either want to take her on buggy rides or walk her to and from church.”

“Miranda has her share of admirers as well,” Bronwen said with a grin. “Unfortunately, they just can’t compete with the Girls Latin School and the Harvard Annex,” and he laughed with her.

“No, it will take a very special man to win the heart of our Athena,” Adam agreed with a grin.

Meanwhile the birthday girl was in her element—talking, laughing, flirting and dancing with every male at the party. Ted Stephenson and Sandy McDonald both asked her to come on a buggy ride the next Sunday afternoon, and she informed them they would have to get her father’s permission. Tony Williams asked if he could walk her to church next Sunday so he was also directed to Adam. Tom Phillips read her a sonnet he’d written to her beauty. (It certainly didn’t compare with Shakespeare’s, but she enjoyed it nonetheless.) A couple of boys tried to steal a kiss, but she didn’t like either of them in that special way (and she knew how her father would react!) so she managed to turn them down without hurting their feelings. Her mother had extended an invitation to Reverend Jones, but Beth was surprised when she saw him talking with Rhys. During one of the breaks, he approached her.

“Happy birthday, Miss Cartwright,” he said with a warm smile that lit up his dark brown eyes. They were so dark they reminded Beth of her grandpa while his lilting accent reminded her of her tad-cu “I’m certain your dance card is all filled up.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, Reverend,” she said and she meant it. She didn’t know why since he was so much older and not truly handsome, but she liked the idea of dancing with him. Her father and mother had been standing nearby drinking lemonade and overhearing Adam said, “I am signed up for Beth’s last dance just as I was the first, but I’ll let you have it, Reverend.”

“Would that be all right, Miss Cartwright?” Reverend Jones asked and she smiled her assent. As the evening drew to a close and Reverend Jones came to claim his dance, Beth was surprised to discover he was an excellent dancer. He was also a nice height. He didn’t tower over her the way her father and some of the young men did, but he was tall enough that she still felt dainty and very feminine.

After all the guests were gone, Adam turned to his firstborn and asked with a smile, “Did you enjoy your party, Princess/”

“Too right!” she replied with a big smile.

“Well, I gave Tony Williams permission to walk you to church on Sunday and Bertie Haversham has permission to walk you home. I told Ted Stephenson and Sandy McDonald that I thought you were still a bit young to be going on buggy rides, but that they were welcome to call on us any Sunday afternoon.”

“Daddy! You didn’t really?”

“Yes, he did,” Bronwen said with a slight smile. “And I agree. Seventeen is early enough to be going on buggy rides alone with a young man.”

“The first girl I ever courted I had to visit with her family in the room with us.”

“But that’s so old-fashioned—” Beth began.

“There’s nothing wrong with being old-fashioned,” Adam said firmly. “Perhaps after I’ve gotten to know the young men better I might consider allowing them to take you for a walk—but no buggy rides.” He frowned a little. “By the way, Sam Jordan and Peter Jackson will not be welcome to call. I saw them trying to lure you away to steal a kiss and I won’t tolerate that behavior,” he said sternly.

“How do you know they were going to try and kiss me?” Beth asked pouting ever so slightly. It would have melted the heart of any of the young men at the party, but her father was made of harder metal.

“Because I was once a young man their age,” he replied and Beth’s face had a speculative look for a moment but then she shook to her head to clear away any visions of her father sneaking kisses from young women. She was aware that her fat