Not that they would have the summer with nothing to do. There were always chores, both inside and outside, poker lessons, poker games, and whatever else their father, uncle or surrogate mother could find for them to take care of. But there would be plenty of long, slow, lazy days, with nothing better to while away the time than ride their horses or swim in the river. Then there was also the looming promise of dances and overnight trips and the most exciting prospect of all – girls.
It was definitely going to be an exciting summer, and one that would prove a turning point for many aspects of their lives, and the three Mavericks couldn't wait for it to start.
"Remember, Miss Spencer said if we could all get to school early tomorrow she'd let us go early," Bret Maverick, the oldest of the three, reminded his two companions. First-born son of the clan patriarch, Beauregard, Bret turned fifteen in April and had already fulfilled the promise of being tall and well-built. "That means you HAVE to get up, Bart, whether you want to or not." The remark was directed at his younger brother, Bart, who wouldn't be fourteen until September.
"Yeah, sure," Bart answered. His growth spurt just begun, he was still reed-thin. Unlike his brother, who was dark-haired and dark-eyed, Bart had brown hair that turned blonde when he spent time in the sun, and eyes that were so brown and shiny they could be called chestnut. Thirteen or not, he'd already been noticed and paid attention to by every single girl in their schoolroom. There was something about those eyes – 'dancing eyes' they would be called when he got older. His mother's eyes.
The third member of the group was Beau, a cousin in name only to Bret and Bart. Beau was truly blonde, with blue eyes but the same tall, solid build as Bret, who was only six months older than Beau. He was the son of Bentley, Beauregard's brother, and the surrogate mother they all answered to was Lily Mae Connors, Bentley's long-time housekeeper. The boys had more in common than just their last name and blood – all three had lost their mother at an early age. Beau's mother Abigail died when he was not quite two; Bret and Bart's mother Isabelle when they were seven and five. The boys grew up together, more brothers than cousins. It would remain that way the rest of their lives.
Beau stopped walking and grabbed Bart by the shoulder. "Hey, this is important. Nobody wants to stay late the last day of school, so get your butt up out of bed in the mornin'. If you make us late I'll personally whale the tar out of ya. Understand?" Beau didn't get riled very often, so Bart was inclined to pay attention when he did.
"Alright, alright, I'll get up." Bart turned to his older brother. "No poker playin' tonight, got that?"
Bret grinned. "Whatever you say, Brother Bart." Bret took off running and Beau gave chase. Bart kept walking at the same pace, knowing that the two older boys would tire hurriedly in this heat and he'd catch up with them.
Sure enough, before he'd walked another quarter-mile he found them both panting, sitting under the shade of a tall Green Ash tree, with their shirt sleeves rolled up. 'Fools,' the thirteen-year-old thought to himself, and smirked at them as he walked leisurely past. They both scrambled to their feet and caught up with him. "Slow and steady," Bart told them. "It's too hot to run."
"He's probably right," Beau proclaimed. "Last one home has to clean up after supper!" And off the two of them went again, this time chased by the youngest, who had no intention of getting stuck helping Lily Mae again. Most days all three went to Beau's house after school, to be fed supper by Lily Mae. If it was still light out by the time they were finished they walked home; if not, they rode home with Bentley when he went to pick up Pappy for an evening of poker in town. This was one of the nights there'd be plenty of time to get home before dark, and that meant they'd get to spend some time with their father.
Beauregard enjoyed time with his sons, but since he was currently without a housekeeper figured it best they go to Ben's house for their evening meal. That way they didn't have to endure his cooking, meager as it was. Beauregard and Bentley went into Little Bend most every night to play poker; unless something special was happening that required their presence. They were both gamblers by trade, and all three boys were growing up with the intention of following in their footsteps.
This particular night was a special tradition; the last night before school was out for the summer Lily Mae made a roast and mashed potatoes, fresh biscuits and pecan pie for dessert. Then she avoided using the stove as much as possible for the remainder of the summer, with its constant heat. They practically lived off of fish the boys caught down at the river and vegetables from the garden. Beau was especially pleased when Lily made her famous roast – even after all these years of eating it he never tired of it, and knew that summer was only a day away when roast appeared on the table.
The three boys were arguing about just what Miss Spencer classified as 'early', and it was obvious that Bret was insistent he was correct. "Seven o'clock, I'm tellin' ya," could be heard, again and again, as he kept repeating it.
"What's all this noise?" Lily Mae questioned them as they tumbled into the kitchen of the big house, one after the other. "Ben's asleep and doesn't need the three of you wakin' him up just because tomorrow's the last day of school. Now, one at a time tell me what it's all about."
"Miss Spencer said she'd let us out early if we got there early," Beau repeated for Lily Mae's benefit. "But she didn't tell us HOW early we had to be."
"Seven o'clock," Bret repeated for at least the tenth time.
"School don't start till nine," Bart argued. "So why ain't eight o'clock early enough?"
"I think she just told us to get there early so we'd make it on time," Beau complained. "If she wanted us there at a certain time she'd a told us the time."
"I think you got a point, Beau. She didn't tell you what time, she just said early?" Lily Mae asked.
"Yes, ma'am," Bart answered.
"Sometimes we get there by nine o'clock," Bret insisted. "When I can get Bart up to help with the chores."
"How hard is it to feed the horses?" Bart asked.
"And the cows and the chickens and the pigs," Bret added.
"That don't answer what time we got to get there," Beau pointed out.
"No sir, it don't at that," Lily Mae agreed. "I think Miss Spencer'd be happy if you all got there on time, without any excuses."
"So, be there by nine and not be any earlier than that?" Bret couldn't believe they weren't going in before.
"Lily Mae's right. She's always right," Bart stated flatly.
"Thank you, Mr. B. I appreciate the thought, but I'm not always right."
"What is this stampede goin' on down here?" Bentley Maverick questioned as he appeared in the kitchen doorway.
Wrong question to ask. Bret, Bart, and Beau started by reiterating their own point of view, all at the same time. Ben leaned against the wall and nodded, trying to listen to all of the boys at once, and a look of amused bewilderment settled on his face. Bentley was tall like his brother, with the same dark hair as Beauregard, featuring a distinguished looking silver streak, and bright blue eyes. He wasn't quite as robust, but he was still a solidly built man. Sometimes he wore a mustache, sometimes a goatee; right now he was clean-shaven. And slightly rumpled, looking rather like he'd just gotten out of bed. Which, indeed, he had.
Ben waited until the boys had stopped babbling and looked at Lily Mae. "I agree with Lily," he told them, not having the faintest idea what any of them had said. He nodded at his housekeeper and smiled, and Lily Mae grinned and nodded back. Where his brother could be grumpy and sarcastic when rubbed the wrong way, Ben never seemed to lose his rather cheerful demeanor. He smiled at the boys and they went back to arguing among themselves, while Ben headed towards Lily Mae and that delightful smell. "School out tomorrow?"
"Yes sir, you know it. Boys, boys, are you all interested in arguing or supper?" Lily's question was immediately answered by total silence. "Well, I see supper wins again," she said as she filled plates and passed them out. Soon all four Maverick men were engaged with dinner and Lily Mae sighed openly. "Ah, the sweet sound of silence," she remarked and filled her own plate. "Eat, Mr. B, eat," she urged the youngest Maverick, who seemed to have eaten about half of what his brother and cousin had.
"I'm full, Lily Mae," Bart answered. "I can't eat another bite."
"Now how do you expect to grow up to be big and strong like your brother if you don't eat?"
"I don't," was the logical answer. "But I could eat some dessert."
Four pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly. "You know I made it," she told them. "You just have to wait a few minutes." There was a general moaning and groaning that caused Lily to laugh so hard she couldn't eat anymore. "Alright, alright, pecan pie next."
When everyone was finished, Beau began gathering the plates. Bart had actually managed to beat his cousin in the race to the house when Beau stumbled and almost fell. He had one last thing to tell them before they left for home. "I'll be there at eight o'clock."
"I hope not," Bart mumbled as he and Bret headed for the front door.
"Tell your father I'll see him around nine," Ben reminded them.
"Yes, Uncle Ben."
"Yes, sir."
Bret and Bart headed down the road, towards the little house they called home. "Don't know why Pappy don't come to one of these special suppers Lily Mae fixes," Bart remarked. "He's sure missin' a great meal."
"Guess he's got other things to do," Bret answered his brother. "Although I don't quite know what."
As the boys got closer to the house they saw their father escort a young lady out to her buggy and up into the driver's seat. "Well, thanks for comin' by, Cindy Jean. I'll let ya know what I decide."
The brothers looked at each other. "I could stand it if she was our new housekeeper," Bret stated frankly. "Fine lookin'."
"Yeah, but can she cook?" Bart asked, and they laughed. Neither one actually believed that Cindy Jean had been there to interview as Beauregard's next housekeeper. Their father had loved their mother, there was no doubt about that. But momma had been dead for a long time, and Pappy was still a man with healthy appetites. "Oh well, at least we know why Pappy didn't make it to supper. Again."
Beau stood on the porch and waited for his sons to get all the way home. "Celebratory dinner?" he asked.
"Same as always," Bret answered. "You lookin' for a housekeeper again, Pappy?"
"Yes, boys, I am. Cindy Jean is a fine young lady with excellent references."
"And an excellent figure," Bret murmured to his brother.
"Let's go practice some," Beau suggested. "I've got time before your Uncle Ben gets here."
The three Maverick men went inside the house to see just who could beat whom at five-card draw on this last night before summer began. Before things began to change for everyone.