Maverick

Send My Condolences to Good

By Lucky_Ladybug

Notes: The characters aren't mine and the story is! I continue to want to explore Beau and Bart's relationship, as one thing I find puzzling in the series is that, to me, it isn't always easy to tell that they care about each other, whereas with Bret and Bart, that's always plain. The character they meet up with isn't mine either, albeit I delight in fleshing out his personality since he only appeared in one episode of The Wild Wild West. Perhaps it's fitting for them to encounter him, as both Western series are unconventional as far as traditional Westerns go.

Chapter One

The rain pounded on the small stable as inside, a young man knelt in a hay-covered corner and half-cradled another young man close to him. Blood was everywhere, seeping through his torn clothes and dripping into the hay.

"Well, that won't be any good for the horses tomorrow," the first man said in a pronounced British accent. His blue eyes were filled with worry, illuminated every time the lightning flashed outside the dirty window above them.

The wounded man groaned, turning his head to the side. "Where are we?" he mumbled. His left hand went to his side, soon finding the crimson-soaked cloth covering the skin made jagged by a sore loser's knife.

"I don't know exactly," was the reply. "A stable somewhere near the waterfront."

"The riverboat's . . . already left?"

"In this storm, I doubt it."

"You could've kept going, then."

"Not likely. In your condition, Cousin Bart, you were almost ready to take a tumble off the horse." The healthy man carefully tried to lay his relation down in the hay. The stab wound needed more of his attention.

Bart cringed as his position was altered. He gripped more tightly at the injury, ignoring the blood oozing from under the makeshift bandage and onto his hand. "Is there a doctor around?"

"I'm going to go out and look in a moment. The first order of business was to get you someplace dry. Although this certainly wouldn't have been my choice of surroundings." A horse whinnied somewhere in the darkness as if to emphasize the point.

"With our luck, the roof will probably start leaking," Bart said.

"Well, don't make things worse by imagining up more trouble for us!" was the lightly scolding reply. "We have more than enough as it is."

Bart coughed, tasting blood on his lips. "I think we're about to have more anyway. Beau . . ." He sank back into the hay, weakly closing his eyes. "If I don't make it, you and Bret can divide up my emergency stash."

"Stop talking nonsense!" Beau shot back. His hands trembled slightly as he worked with the cloth. It was clearly useless now. Beau added his own handkerchief on top of it.

"The way I'm feeling right now, it doesn't sound like nonsense," Bart moaned.

"It is," Beau insisted. "Now, just settle down and go back to sleep. I'll go find the nearest doctor."

Bart gave a tired sigh. "Sometimes I really wonder why Pappy thought gambling would be such a safe thing to do." His eyes fluttered and closed.

When he suddenly went limp, Beau went stiff. Bart hadn't been tired enough to fall asleep so quickly. Either he had passed out, or . . .

Beau shook the horrible thought from his mind as he bent down, trying to feel his cousin's breath on his face. Finding it, he leaned back with a silent prayer of relief. He still had time to save Bart's life.

An involuntary shudder traveled up his spine as he stood and reached for the blankets they had brought with them on their trip. The agonizing worry he felt for Bart now was not something he would wish on anyone. It hadn't been that many months when he had been shot in the back protecting Bart. He hated to think of how Bart must have felt when he had discovered Beau lying nearly dead on the floor. At least some of those feelings were likely similar to what Beau had felt hours earlier when he had run to Bart's side after shooting his attacker and discovered Bart's blood everywhere.

Unlike Beau in the earlier incident, Bart had managed to stay conscious for a while after taking the blow. But with the doctor out of town and the stabber's friends hot on their trail, they had been forced to leave town in spite of Bart's dire condition. He had faded in and out of consciousness on the desperate ride through the wilderness, and once the rain had started, Beau had known they would have to stop somewhere.

He clenched his teeth as he stood after adjusting the blankets. Leaving Bart alone was not something he wanted to do. What if their latest batch of enemies caught up with them? True, it was probably mainly Beau they wanted, but they might decide to use Bart against him.

He could try to cover Bart with hay, he supposed, while leaving a space for him to breathe. Maybe if they were lucky, Bart would stay unconscious and not make any sounds to alert anyone while Beau was gone. Or if he did, maybe the horses would whinny and cover up any other sounds.

He was just starting to undo a fresh bale of hay when a sound in the doorway made him look up with a start. A match had been lit and was being brought to the tip of a cigar. A silhouetted figure stood in the doorway, seemingly unconcerned as he studied the scene.

Beau gripped the knife he had been using to slice open the hay. "Who's there?" he demanded. "I'm armed."

"You're trespassing, Pal," a gravelly Southern voice spoke out of the near-darkness. He shook the match and flicked it outside before strolling into the stable—the picture of calm, cool, and collected.

"It couldn't be helped." Beau pulled out his gun with his other hand before lowering the blade. "My cousin is very badly hurt. He needs medical help now! I was just going for a doctor."

The Southerner—Virginian, from the sound of it—was still unconcerned. Taking a lantern off a hook, he lit it with another match and brought it down to examine the scene. "What happened to him?" he asked, giving no indication of what he thought to see Bart lying in the bloodstained hay.

"He was playing poker and won. Someone didn't like that." Bitterness slipped into Beau's voice with that statement. It had been almost a mirror of the situation that had resulted in Beau being shot months earlier. The bullet would have drilled into an unsuspecting Bart if Beau hadn't been there to tackle him to the floor. This time, Bart had seen the weapon but had been unable to prevent his enemy from using it.

The Virginian nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, we get a lot of that around here." He bent down, pulling back the blankets to examine the wound.

"Well, is there a doctor around?!" Beau exclaimed with impatience. "Don't you understand? If he doesn't get the proper help, he'll die!"

"That's not much to me." The Virginian straightened, replacing the blankets. "Except I hope you're gonna reimburse me for the hay he's damaged."

"I'll pay you whatever you want, after Bart is treated by a doctor," Beau snarled. "My God, man, don't you have any heart?!" It wasn't something he said often, especially considering the types of people he regularly encountered, but he was furious. This was not what either he or Bart needed right now!

"See, I'm a businessman," was the smooth reply. "This here stable services some of the people who work for me. I control most of this town. The doctor, too. I can have him out here in a jiffy, if I want to."

"Then I suggest you decide to want to." Beau poked his gun into the stranger's ribcage. "I've toppled towns controlled by one man before. You see, I don't like them very much. Especially when they're not in my or my family's favor."

"Don't threaten me." The Virginian's voice hardened. "It might interest you to know that I just had a visit from three angry poker players, willing to pay me cold, hard cash if I'd turn you over to them. They're not interested in your cousin, just you, since you shot their leader."

Beau gripped the gun all the stronger. "How much did they offer you?"

"Five hundred a piece. Fifteen hundred dollars just to get at you, Mr. Maverick."

"I'll offer you two thousand right now to take us both in and keep us safe from them until my cousin is well!" Beau said in desperation. Bart probably wouldn't be happy about Beau giving over his emergency stash to this character, but once they were safely out of here, Beau would win at poker and pay him back. And maybe the fact that Beau would be giving up his emergency money too would soften the blow.

The Virginian's eyes glittered. "You have that kind of money on you?"

"We both do," Beau said. "Here, look." He pulled back his coat, revealing the thousand-dollar bill pinned inside. "My cousin has one as well."

The mercenary puffed on his cigar. "You know," he said, "I could easily plug both of you, take your money, and then turn your wounded body over to your enemies for them to finish off."

"Yes, but will you?" Beau replied, praying he wasn't going to regret challenging such a dark soul.

"That's the predictable thing for someone like me to do." But the Virginian sauntered away, unconcerned of the gun trained on him.

"I hope I'm not mistaken that I hear a 'but' in that sentence," Beau said.

At the doorway the other man paused, holding his cigar between his fingers. "I hate to lose out on any money promised to me. What if I take your money and agree to tend to your cousin here, if you'll surrender quietly and go out to take your medicine?"

Beau's stomach rolled. "Is that the only way you'll help him?"

"What if it is?"

"My life for his, then." Beau drew a shuddering breath. "I already sacrificed myself for him once. It nearly broke him."

The Virginian leaned against the doorframe. "Broke mind or broke body. Which'll it be?"

Beau clenched a fist. "I could shoot you where you stand," he said.

"Yeah, but you'd bring the whole town down on your head. You wouldn't want that for your cousin either, would you?"

It was a rhetorical question. Of course Beau couldn't put them in that kind of danger. But how could he go through with the proposal he'd just been given?

Well, maybe with a little Maverick luck, he could outsmart the three angry poker players.

At last he sighed in resignation. "If that's the only way you'll help Cousin Bart, then I have no choice but to agree."

"What?!" To his astonishment, the Virginian was actually rattled, very nearly dropping his cigar in the stable. He tossed it outside in the rain and spun about to stare at Beau. "You actually mean that? You'd go to your death to save him?"

Beau held his ground. "I'd hope that I might still come out of it alive, but yes, I'd go realizing I might very well die. I'd have to pray that Bart would understand I had no other choice."

The Virginian ambled over to him now, holding out his hand. "Give me your money," he said. "Both thousands. I'll take care of you."

Beau stared at him, tense, suspicious. "Why? You just said you hate to lose any money promised to you."

"There's a reward out on those three," was the reply. "I can turn 'em in and get that." He studied Beau in the lantern light. "The fact is, it's been ages since I've met anyone crazy enough to willingly give up his life for somebody else. I wondered if I'd ever see it again. It's a breath of fresh air after a steady stream of sniveling cowards." It almost sounded like he muttered, "Like me," in an undertone.

Slowly Beau reached up and unpinned the thousand from his coat. "Bring the doctor and I'll have the other thousand ready for you," he said.

"I'll bring the doctor and a carriage," the Virginian said, accepting the thousand with ease. "You can hide out at the place where I stay when I'm in town. Your enemies won't think to look for you there."

"Thank you," Beau said, still wary. "By the way, what do I call you?"

The Virginian turned slightly, revealing a ghastly disfigurement on his left cheek. "Snakes," he said. "Snakes Tolliver." Without waiting for a response, he headed for the door. "Keep down and keep quiet till I come back."

"I can assure you I will," Beau said, watching the scarred man until he was out in the rain and out of sight. Then, sighing, Beau leaned back against the wall and watched the still-unconscious Bart. He could see Bart was breathing, but not much more than that.

"Well, Cousin Bart, I wonder what sort of fine mess we're getting into now," he mused.

He had heard of Snakes Tolliver, the riverboat gambler and suspected crime boss, and had wondered if they might be near his territory. Snakes had a reputation for being cold, cruel, and selfish—and an explosives expert. For him to be willing to take in both Bart and Beau, Beau had to wonder what other schemes he was planning.

Perhaps, he decided instantly, once Bart was out of danger, he could work on a plan to get their two thousand dollars back.