Momma's Gift
I do not own or have any right to Beau, Bart or Bret Maverick or Beauregard or Bentley Maverick
I am experiencing no monetary gain by writing about them
I did not create the Mavericks, but everyone else in this story is mine
Chapter 1 – Black Opals
The little boy tried to walk down the dusty road without kicking up too much dirt. That wasn't an easy task when you're five years old and you've just helped bury your momma. What made it harder was his older brother following him and doing the exact opposite. They walked on for a while that way, one kicking and the other avoiding. Suddenly he heard Pappy's voice boom down from the wagon, "Bret Maverick! Stop kicking dirt on your brother!"
The kicking stopped immediately. At the tender age of seven Bret knew better than to ignore a warning from Pappy. Especially on a day like today. Neither of the boys feared their father but there was a healthy respect for Beauregard Maverick, particularly within the Maverick clan. Of course temptation proved to be too much for the younger boy and he turned in his tracks and stuck his tongue out at his brother. That act was met with a similar tone. "Bart Maverick! Put your tongue back in your mouth where it belongs!"
This was the first time Pappy yelled at them since Momma got sick. Of course, with Momma gone nothing would ever be the same again, but at least their father sounded more like the man they knew and loved rather than the quiet, soft spoken person he had become while Momma lingered on during her illness. The most important things in the world to Pappy were Momma, his boys Bret and Bart, and poker. Not always in that order. But for the last three months nothing had come before Momma.
Bret caught up to Bart and whispered conspiratorially, "Sounds like Pappy is back to being Pappy."
"Mmmhmm," responded Maverick the younger. Relief sounded in that one syllable. Neither of the boys had been sure how to act around their parents, with Momma sick constantly and Pappy sounding like someone they didn't know. Often they had taken refuge with their Uncle Bentley, who had a son about their age also named Beau. At Uncle Ben's house they could be high-spirited young boys, running and shouting and making all the messes that boys make. None of the constant "Shhhh! Momma isn't well!" or "Can't you be quiet? Momma is sleeping!"
There was lingering sickness and death in the house for so long that Bret and Bart almost couldn't remember a time without it. And everything had seemed worse these last few days, when the doctor had finally determined that Momma didn't have much longer to live. So for them, when 5 minutes felt like an eternity, three months was about as far back as they could recall. No wonder both their spirits were lifted to hear Pappy scold them in what they considered a normal tone of voice. Maybe now that Momma was gone things would get back to their regular routine.
They would miss their mother, of course; she was the joy and comfort in both their lives. Especially for little Bart, who constantly seemed to be sick with one thing or another. Momma was always there with kind words, a comforting voice, homemade soup or a wet towel to sooth a fevered brow. Sometimes Bret almost forgot he had a brother, Bart spent so much time at home in bed. But when Bart was well Bret did his best to take good care of him, including protecting him from their sometimes rambunctious cousin Beau. Pappy had always insisted that the Mavericks look out for each other; kin was more important than almost anything. Except when it came to poker.
Poker may not seem like an appropriate pastime for young boys, but for the Mavericks it was not only the best game but the only game. When each of his boys had been old enough to hold the cards in their hands, Beauregard taught them every aspect of the sport. Poker was an honorable game, played among honorable men. Cheating was only taught so that dishonorable men could be caught doing it and disciplined. And Pappy knew all the ways to cheat and not get caught. Which, of course, he made sure that he passed along to both brothers, just in case someone was trying to take advantage of them.
Beau drove the wagon and watched his boys walk. It was good to see them annoying each other, playing around without a care in the world. Life had been too dark and gray ever since Belle got ill with a fever she just couldn't shake. It began to dawn on him that he didn't know a thing about raising his sons, and that responsibility was now his. He had to be accessible when the boys needed him, had to set a good moral example for them. Which, of course, encompassed the life style that he embraced – that of a poker playing confidence man. With an eye for the ladies. Oh, he loved Belle with all his heart – when Maverick men fell in love they fell hard – but that didn't stop his appreciation of the fairer sex.
His brother Ben said something to him and he hadn't heard. So Ben repeated himself. "Come over for supper tonight. Lily Mae's making enough food for everyone." Lily Mae was Ben's housekeeper. Beau realized he would have to get one of those, too, so there was someone at home when he was out. Of course he had in mind a much younger version of Lily Mae.
"Sure. Maybe we can play a little poker afterwards."
Ben looked at his brother askance. "You just put Belle in the ground. You think that's a good idea so soon?"
Beau snorted in disagreement. "Got to get back to normal. Haven't played since Belle got sick. I need to sharpen my skills so I can make us some money."
Ben knew his brother was right. Beau needed money coming in the door; he wouldn't continue living off of Ben any longer. It was bad enough taking funds from your brother when you needed them and couldn't work; now that Belle was gone Beau wouldn't accept any more 'handouts.' Ben gave in as he usually did and agreed to poker. There was no arguing with Beauregard once he made up his mind; all of the Mavericks were stubborn but Beau was the worst. Ben could see that trait in Bret, not so much in Bart. Maybe Belle's influence had a tighter hold on her youngest son.
The boys continued walking back to the house in front of the wagon that held Pappy, Uncle Ben and a very solemn cousin Beau. Beau had lost his own mother when he was young and didn't remember anything about her. Maybe that's why he was so quiet through the service and on the trip home. He was both sad for his cousins and envious of them – they knew their mother and would remember her. He hadn't been given that chance.
Once the little house came into view Bret and Bart took off running. Beau jumped out of the wagon and chased after them. He didn't want to finish in third place in a three man race. The older Mavericks exchanged looks and Pappy shook his head. "Wish I still had that much energy," the elder Beau said. "I sure wouldn't waste it on running."
Ben tried not to laugh. "I know just what you would waste it on, Beau. How long before you find some sweet young thing to romance now that Belle's gone? Do you really think that's what's best for your boys?"
"Now Bentley, don't try and mother me. You know I don't like it. I have more respect for Belle than that."
"I should hope so. The last thing you need right now in your life is a woman. Unless it's a housekeeper, of course. Lily Mae knows several women who would be glad to help out." Pappy looked sideways at Ben. "I just bet she does. All way over the age of consent and ugly as a doorknob." The horses came to a halt in front of the cabin, which the boys had run into some time ago. Beau and Ben climbed down and went in the door.
Bart was lying in the temporary bed Momma had used in the past month, near the fire, wrapped up in her blankets and crying profusely. Bret was doing his best to comfort his little brother and Beau stood watching them both, his hands in his pockets. "What's all this?" Pappy asked as he moved Bret aside and picked up Bart. Bart continued his sobbing. Bret and Beau backed away, preferring to let the senior Maverick handle this. "What seems to be the problem, son?" The tone had changed in Pappy's voice. It was quieter, and more sympathetic. He turned Bart over and held him close, gently rocking the boy. Bart's crying slowed down, finally stopping. Beau sat down on the bed, Bart now curled up in his lap and arms. "Why now?"
The little boy gradually choked out the words "Because Mommas gone and she's never comin' back." Beauregard wasn't one to lie to his sons, even now, and agreed with him instead. "That's right boy, she's not comin' back to this earth. But Momma's gonna be in heaven watchin' us and makin' sure that we don't get in too much trouble. An angel watchin' over us. And we'll get to see her again when we go to heaven."
Bart started sobbing all over again. "But you always said none of us Mavericks would ever go anywhere but hell. How are we ever gonna see Momma?"
Uncle Bentley looked at Beau and shook his head. "That's what comes of fillin' their heads with things they're not old enough to understand," Ben said to no one in particular.
Beau ignored his brother's remark. "Well, son, that part about us all goin' to hell is probably true. But Momma's gonna be an angel, and she'll find a way to be with us." He continued to hold his youngest as they talked. Bart's sobbing tapered off and he lay in his father's arms, listening intently. He couldn't remember Pappy ever holding him. Things like that were always left to Momma. Bart enjoyed it as long as he could, until his father abruptly shifted positions and set him down on the floor. Then Bart stood up, brushed himself off, and wiped away the remainder of his tears with his shirt sleeve. The crying fit stopped as fast as it started. A few seconds later he was busily running after Bret and Beau, who had found more interesting things to do than watch a little brothers meltdown.
Ben watched his brother gaze after the boys and shook his head again. "Beauregard, you will never cease to amaze me."
Beau turned his attention to Bentley. "Get on home now so that Lily Mae can question you incessantly about the service. Take Bret with you, please. I want time alone with Bart. I have things to discuss with him without those other two mischief makers around." A thoughtful look came over Pappy's face. "And make sure that Bret behaves. Last time they were alone together one of 'em got the foolish notion to set a chicken on fire 'cause they were hungry." Pappy remembered Bret's and Beau's faces when he found them out back and threatened to whale the living daylights out of them if they ever tried anything that stupid again. He struggled hard not to laugh at the terror that his threat struck in their hearts; neither boy had misbehaved since the incident.
Ben nodded somberly and walked to the door. "Beau. Bret. Come on home with me now."
The two older boys appeared at the door almost instantly. Neither spoke but Bret stretched out his hand as if to touch his father on the arm. Beau reached down and picked Bret up until he was eye level with his father. "You behave, you hear? We'll be over soon and we can all play some poker." Bret lit up with a dimpled grin, and Beau could see a forerunner of the charm that was surely going to get his oldest son into many a scrape with a lovely lass. "Yes, sir," came Bret's immediate answer. At last, Pappy was ready to play cards. Beau set the boy back on the ground and admonished him and little Beau "No burning chickens! Lily Mae is cooking supper."
The cousins nodded in vigorous agreement. They were going to play poker. Both were thrilled; it had been a long time since anyone in the house shuffled a deck of cards. And the prospect of all of them together was almost too exciting to think about. It was a real treat to play with Beau and Ben at the same time; watching the two older Mavericks battle each other was an experience not to be missed.
Once Ben and the older boys left, Beau had to go looking for his youngest son. He found Bart sitting on the floor of the bedroom humming to himself and playing Maverick Solitaire. He appeared to have fully recovered from his earlier crying outbreak. Beau hoped that the conversation he was about to have with his five year old wouldn't resuscitate it.
"Pappy." Bart looked up and smiled ruefully at his father. "Beat it every time, Pappy."
Beau nodded in affirmation. "Of course you do, son. That's why we call it 'Maverick Solitaire.'" He waited until Bart finished the game before starting up again. "There's something that Momma wanted me to tell you about. Do you remember the gold cuff links that she had? The pair that belonged to her daddy?" Bart nodded his little head. Momma had shown him the cuff links and told him the story surrounding them. They were beautiful gold ovals with a black opal set in the middle. Bart had immediately wanted to touch them but Momma wouldn't let him for fear they would be lost.
"Well, Momma wanted to be sure that I saved them for you." Bart's eyes widened with surprise and delight. Beau opened the small box he held in his hand and the cuff links were inside, looking just as they had on that first viewing. This time when Bart reached out to touch them, Pappy allowed it. The small fingers gently stroked the stones, feeling the smoothness of the opals. 'Momma wanted me to have them,' he thought to himself. 'They're mine. Not Brother Bret's. MINE.' He looked up at Pappy and smiled his best smile. Then Beauregard burst his bubble.
"There's only one catch, son. I can't let you keep them until you're older." Bart's face fell and his lower lip trembled. Pappy felt terrible, but he had given his word. "Your mother made me promise. Not until you're old enough to wear them." As an afterthought he added " . . . if you want to."
The little boy remained solemn. "I will, Pappy. I will."
