The knocking at the door was loud and persistent. "Bart, can you get the door?" Doralice called from the kitchen, where she and Lily Mae were making cookies for the church bake sale.
"Sure," he called back, already halfway there.
Bart Maverick was a tall, well-built man in his forties, with brown hair streaked with silver. He wore dark brown pants, a red shirt, and an unbuttoned brown vest with red and white stitching on it. The only jewelry he wore was a gold wedding band, and he'd worn that a long time. His brown boots propelled him forward, and he pulled open the front door. There stood Dave Parker, a good friend of Bart's, and the sheriff of Little Bend, Texas, and right behind him stood someone he hadn't seen in years, and hoped he would never see again . . . Federal Marshal Travis Cole, the man that had once tried to kill him and almost succeeded. Coles gun was drawn and pointed at Bart, and there was an ugly sneer on his face.
"Dave?" Bart questioned, wondering what this was all about.
"Bart, I'm sorry, but I've got a warrant for your arrest. That's what he's doing here." Dave's voice sounded full of regret as he inclined his head backward, towards the marshal.
"What's it for, Dave?"
"It's for murder, you idiot. Do you think I'd come all this way for anything less?" Cole spit out.
"That's enough, Marshal Cole. I told you I'd handle this," the sheriff turned around and looked Cole right in the eyes. Dave wasn't a tall man, but he had a stare that could stop a rattlesnake. The marshal quieted down.
"And just who am I supposed to have murdered?" Bart asked, still trying to remain calm. What he really wanted to do was put a bullet through the tall, blonde lawman's brain. There was no sense shooting him in the heart, he didn't have any. Bart learned that the hard way, a long time ago in Montana.
"Logan Doran."
Bart looked at Dave incredulously. "Dave, I shot him in self-defense. Almost twenty years ago."
Dave looked embarrassed, and nodded his head. "I know that. But the Marshal got a judge to sign a warrant for your arrest. I gotta take you in, Bart, until we can get this all cleared up."
"Until we can get him extradited to Silver Creek and hang him," Cole threw in. He was still furious that the judge would only sign the warrant and not an extradition notice.
"He's led an exemplary life," the judge in Montana said. "Let's give them a chance to prove his innocence. Notify me when he's in custody."
Travis Cole had trudged through life, with only one goal . . . find Bart Maverick, and make him pay for the pain and agony he'd caused. Cole was all set to marry the love of his life – Jody Mayfield, when Maverick showed up in Silver Creek, Montana and disrupted everything. He'd spent the next twenty years tracking the man down, having vowed revenge.
Now that Maverick was in his sights he had no intention of letting him go, he'd do whatever he had to do to see Maverick swing at the end of a rope. Even if it meant obeying a small town sheriff. As soon as they got Maverick back to Little Bend he could wire the judge to let him know the prisoner was in custody.
"Alright, Dave, let me tell Doralice what's happening. I'll be right back."
"I gotta go with you, Bart, so there won't be any accidental shootings. You stay here, Travis."
Bart headed for the kitchen, with Dave close behind him. Doralice looked up as the two men entered the kitchen, the greeting on her lips dying then she saw their grim expressions. "Bart?" she asked nervously.
"Go tell Bret that Travis Cole came for me. He'll understand."
"What?" She didn't know all of what had gone on in Montana, but she knew enough to know the name meant trouble.
"He's got a warrant for Bart's arrest for a murder charge in Montana," Dave explained calmly, trying to be the voice of reason. "I gotta take him in, Doralice, I got no choice. Better tell Bret to bring a lawyer with him. We gotta get this dismissed in a hurry."
Bart put on his coat and kissed his wife. "I love you," he told her.
"I love you, too," she whispered back.
"Come on, Bart, before Travis starts gettin' nervous and starts shootin' somethin'," Dave grabbed Bart by the elbow and guided him back to the front door. Travis was still standing there, gun drawn, waiting for something to happen.
"Bring the horses to the barn Marshal," Parker ordered. He turned to Bart and quietly asked, "What happened up there? It sounds like this guy's been lookin' for you for a long time. You never told me the whole story."
"And I will, Dave, as soon as you can get Cole out of the jail. I'm not gonna fill you in until he's out of earshot so you can hear the truth all the way thru without him interruptin' all the time."
They entered the barn and Bart began to saddle Baron. Travis stood guard at the door until Dave called, "Time to mount up, Marshal."
The trip into town was probably the quietest one Bart ever made. Parker rode in front and Cole rode behind, with Bart in the middle. All sorts of feelings were swirling in Maverick's mind. The softness of his wife's kisses, the feel of his daughter's arms around his neck, the sound of his son's laughter, the temptation to turn his horse any way that would get him out of this position. He fought all thoughts of running, not willing to be a fugitive for the rest of his life. He knew he was innocent, but Travis Cole had a way of twisting the truth until even you began to think you were guilty. At least he was in the Little Bend jail, and not the Silver Creek jail. He wondered how long it would take Bret to get a lawyer and get to the jail. He wished that Cristian de la Torres was still alive; but Maude's husband, an excellent lawyer, had been dead for many years.
Before he knew it, they had arrived in Little Bend. As he slid down off of his horse, he thought about all the times he'd come to see the sheriff on one matter or another, never thinking he'd be here like this. The two lawmen and the rancher walked into the jail, and as the door closed behind them, Bret Maverick's horse skidded to a stop in front of the law offices of Smithson Talbet, Esquire. The ranch had some dealings with Mr. Talbet, and Bret had had no complaints. He hurried inside to talk to the lawyer hoping that their partnership would be a good fit for this situation.