Chapter 1

Adam slowly turned his hot coffee mug on the wooden table as he and a few friends sat in the tavern near the college that was patronized by the Harvard students. He studied the water rings where various glasses had sat over the years, students just like him hefting a stein of beer or a mug of steaming coffee that had slopped over.

As usual, he and Jarrod Barkley, his friend and flat mate, having very little spending money, went to their favorite haunt to partake in energetic arguments over various political and social matters or to discuss intellectual theories on the evolution of man or the latest philosopher they had discussed in Professor Mercer's class. Lately though, since the female students from the nearby Women's College insisted on patronizing the tavern as well and becoming part of the conversations, topics had changed to include women's rights such as voting, having a say over reproductive choices including methods of birth control other than abortion and the ideas of free love and open marriage.

Isabelle Henry was as usual, pontificating and her topic this time was on men being responsible for birth control. "Why should the onus fall on women?" she perfunctorily asked. Isabelle was pretty enough and Adam had to admit that she was intelligent but she was deliberate in provoking people into arguments and watching them become outraged at her Bohemian views. But then Adam realized that he had the same fault and intentionally tried to provoke her; it wasn't a trait he was proud of but he did enjoy the result. Jarrod had described it as "lighting a keg of dynamite and watching it go off.'

"Because," Adam said looking up from studying the table top, "why would any woman trust one?"

"What?" Isabelle asked.

Jarrod grinned and the other male students seated around began to snicker while the five female students looked around their table to see what they had found funny. But what the female students didn't realize was that the Harvard students had been waiting for someone to take down Isabelle Henry a few notches and Adam Cartwright would be the one to venture to face her sharp tongue and equally sharp mind.

"The way you talk about men, why would you trust any of them to handle such an important matter? What are you proposing, Isabelle? Gelding? What type of birth control should the man provide? Withdrawal just at the moment of most heightened excitation? Where would that leave the woman, Isabelle? And wouldn't that leave you a mess to clean up?"

Adam's classmates roared as Isabelle's mouth dropped open. She didn't know how to respond to Adam because her emotions as far as he was concerned, always interfered with her logic.

Beatrice Severn, Isabelle's constant companion and fellow student, stood up and stabbed the air with her finger at Adam who sat and calmly sipped his coffee. He watched her full breasts heave as she insisted that he was just a man and couldn't be trusted at all for any reason; men always had their own agenda. Beatrice was stout and just hauling herself about from place to place caused her to breathe heavily; even sitting still, she could be heard breathing. Now, after chastising Adam, she was practically gasping for each subsequent breath.

"All right, all right," Adam said. "I can appreciate what women have to go through if they find themselves with child and I…well, for a mere 25 cents, a man can buy a 'rubber good' and save both of them a lot of trouble. I think that if a man and a woman agree to a sexual relationship then they both should take equal responsibility, especially if a child is the outcome."

Isabelle and Beatrice looked at one another. They didn't know what to say since Adam had conceded to their point in the argument. The other students, both male and female waited to see what would happen next.

"You don't really mean that," Isabelle said in a low voice.

"Of course, I mean it," Adam said, putting down his coffee mug. "Why is it, Isabelle, that you come over to the Courtyard Tavern and make a big argument over anything and everything? Why don't we talk about philosophy or scientific discoveries? Why must you always berate men as vile creatures that you wouldn't deign to consort with yet you can't seem to stay away from us?"

"Because all of you—all of you nasty Harvard men need educating on other issues, our issues. Men want to control everything as they have for centuries—to deny us our voice in politics, to control everything even down to our bodies and what we do with them. That's why. And I know about you, Adam Cartwright—and stop your smirking, Jarrod! You and he are both from out west where women are treated the same as cattle-made to bear child after child and then die!"

Adam and Jarrod looked at one another. Then Adam looked to Isabelle. "C'mon, Isabelle, let's make peace-give us a kiss."

The males roared with laughter and Isabelle, infuriated, stomped out, Beatrice puffing behind her and then the other three girls left with them as well. The last one spat in their direction before she walked out.

"Good job, Adam," one student called out. "You finally put that bitch in her place."

"You told her, told her right and it's about time. I don't know how you put up with her for as long as you did," another said. But Adam began to regret his behavior; he had been raised to respect women but Isabelle, she refused to allow anyone to treat her with the deference he had been taught to employ when interacting with females; whenever Adam tried to defer to her, to pull out a chair for her or such, Isabelle accused him of being patronizing and insisted that she be treated the same as a man. And she puzzled him.

And when Adam looked at Jarrod, Jarrod raised his brows. He understood that Adam was beginning to regret his behavior but Jarrod also understood that Adam Cartwright had been Isabelle's target of abuse for many weeks now and that he could only bear it for so long.

But in a corner table sat Zedock Taylor who detested Adam Cartwright and wasn't fond of Jarrod Barkley either; they were, in his opinion, of low birth and didn't deserve the respect of their professors and the admiration of other students. Zedock was as smart as Adam, handsome—or so many a girl had told him-and if it weren't for Adam, he would be the center of the intellectual arguments and the object of Isabelle Henry's obvious adoration. Zedock also was from a good family, a family that had donated much money to the college and for that alone, he deserved to be deemed above those clod-hopping cowboys. And when he was in Adam's presence, he seethed. But he was content to sit and wait to bring down the much-vaunted Adam Cartwright; he wanted to see it happen before his very eyes. Zedock wanted to be Adam Cartwright's nemesis.

That night as they walked back in the cold to their small apartment on the third floor of a rooming house, the two young men didn't speak much. But once they were inside the room and Adam had started the small furnace that warmed their quarters, Jarrod spoke.

"Don't use much coal," he said. "I haven't received my draft from home yet—I don't know why, and I can't expect you to use all your money keeping my ass warm."

Adam laughed. "I'd just as soon my pa sent me an Indian blanket than money. At least I'd be warm at night."

"Get Isabelle to warm your bed. She may seem like she doesn't care for you but I think that the reason she stops by the Courtyard Tavern is to see you."

"To see me?" Adam said. "She can't bear the sight of me."

"Oh no, friend," Jarrod said in his voice that he was learning to use as a lawyer presenting his case to a jury, "Miss Isabelle Henry, the crusader for women's right would be happy if you would give her a tumble—and as far as your being responsible for birth control, she wouldn't care. I think she'd love to have a way to get you to marry her."

"That's ridiculous." Adam had gone to the desk to find his book for their class on logic. All students, no matter what they had chosen as a profession, had to take a course in logic; they needed to be able to think, they were told. He picked it up and headed to the back alcove which served as the bedroom. It was partially closed off from the front room by a wall but it had no door to close it off completely.

"Miss Isabelle can't take her eyes off you," Jarrod said following him. "I offer that as proof."

"That's no proof at all. We can't take our eyes away from all sorts of things—good or bad—and usually, the more horrible and shocking, the more we stare."

"You'll see," Jarrod said. "I know of what I speak."

Adam sat down on his bed and raised the lamp so that he could read. "I have no interest in hearing you present the rest of 'the case'. I have to go over the reading material for Donnelly's class. He caught me flat-footed last time. Remember?"

"Ah, yes, I remember, but no matter what, Donnelly has nothing but admiration for your—what were the words he used—oh yes, lofty intellect." Jarrod sat on his own narrow bed that creaked under his weight. "Read the passages aloud to me, would you, Adam? That way we'll save time."

"All right, you lazy bastard—just don't fall asleep on me."

Jarrod laughed and made himself comfortable while Adam began to read in his deep baritone, "Title: Logical Constants. The constants with which we have to deal in every scientific theory may be divided into two large groups. The first group consists of terms which are specific for a given theory. In the case of arithmetic, for instance, they are terms denoting either individual numbers or whole classes of numbers, relations between numbers…"

And fifteen minutes later, Jarrod was softly snoring and Adam shook his head in disgust. So he read the rest of the section to himself until he too finally fell asleep with the text open on his chest.