I knew I was gonna hafta tell Bret sooner or later that Dandy was in town, and it turned out to be sooner rather than later. Not long after breakfast he showed up to see how I was doing, and I asked Doralice to leave us alone for a while. He knew something was going on, and as soon as the bedroom door was closed he turned to me with that look in his eye.
"What're you into now, little brother?"
He looked tired, and I was hoping that my news would be a relief. "You know how everybody's been wearin' themselves out tryin' to cover everything with me gone? Doralice is tired, you're tired, poor Maude's exhausted. Well, I think I've found a solution to the problem."
"You've found somebody to fill in?" There was both hope and trepidation in his voice.
"I think so."
Bret gave me one of those 'what are you up to now' looks before he asked the next question. "Who?"
"Sit down, please," I asked him.
"Who, Bart?"
"No yellin' now, alright?"
"Bart?"
"Jim Buckley."
Bret had taken a seat before I answered him, and he looked across the bed at me now like I was a crazy man. But he didn't yell. "You . . . aren't . . . serious?"
I nodded carefully. "I am serious, and there's a very good reason why, if you'll let me explain it to you."
Bret took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Alright, but it better be good."
"It is," and I launched into Dandy's tale of woe about Jeremiah Turner and the wages of playing cheat-free poker. I explained the clothing, the attitude, the embarrassment, the act of practically begging for a job, and finally his lodging at McGinley's. That seemed to seal the deal for Bret.
"Nobody should have to stay at McGinley's – not even Buckley. You send him to the hotel?"
"Yeah, I did, but I didn't tell Doralice. She was thoroughly amused by him, called him James and let him pretend to be the . . . proper English gentleman. I didn't want . . . her to think any less of him. Besides, I'll make him pay me back." I had to stop talking for a minute to try and get some more air into my lung.
"You heard from him this mornin'?"
I would have laughed if I'd had enough air. "Looked like he hadn't . . . slept in a . . . week. Or bathed. Gonna be . . . later before he shows up."
"Alright. I'd argue with you if I thought it'd do any good. But I'll make you a deal – if he promises to behave, I'll talk to Maude about him." That was saying a lot for Brother Bret, and I shook my head.
"Told him I would . . . " I started before I ran out of air.
"How about this . . . I'll sit in for Maude and she can come over here later. Then you can explain Buckley to her." My brother was actually grinning, probably because he knew what a task trying to explain Dandy Jim Buckley to anyone was gonna be.
"One other . . . thing. Clothes."
"What? Doesn't he have any clothes, either? Did he come here to see you buck naked?"
"No." I shook my head. "Just . . . not Dandy."
"Sold his clothes, did he? I'd have paid good money to see that." I glared at Bret and he looked kinda sheepish. I'm never gonna have that 'Beauregard Maverick' stare that Pappy and Bret have, but over the years I've gotten pretty good at withering looks. "We'll get him presentable. I ain't gonna promise anything beyond that. And if he gives me one bit of grief . . . "
"He won't." I hoped.
XXXXXXXX
Close to noon Maude showed up at the house, and Doralice went to get supplies, which were running low. "How you doing?" Maude asked, before sitting down at my bedside.
"Gettin' better," I told her. "I ain't ready to walk the floor at the saloon yet, but I'm improving."
"Speaking of the saloon – Bret told me you've got a potential solution for the floor manager problem."
"I do. His name is Jim Buckley, and he's a friend of mine."
"And Bret's?"
"Well . . . not so much. Bret and Jim sorta rub each other wrong. But you'll love Buckley. He's debonair, charming, a sharp dresser, and has a real English accent."
"And what qualifies him to work as a floor manager?"
That was easy. "Two reasons. First, he needs a job. And second, he's one of the finest cardsharps you'll ever meet. Which means he can spot somebody tryin' to cheat a mile away."
"Is he reliable?"
I swallowed hard and crossed my fingers. "Yes."
She thought about it for a minute or two. "Has Doralice met him?"
I nodded on that one. "He was here for supper last night. She thought he was . . . amusing, to quote her."
"Alright, Bart. We can pay him fifty percent of your salary to start, and he can play as much poker as he can handle, as long as he covers the floor while he's doin' it. And plays honestly." That was the sticking point, and I needed to make sure Dandy understood. "Maude's has a reputation to maintain. We don't try to cheat the customers, and they know it."
"And that's the way it'll stay," I agreed.
"Then have Bret bring him by later today, and we'll get him started. You have no idea what a relief it'll be to have some help." She patted my hand. "But only until you're well. You know I've always wanted you to be part of Maude's, from the first moment you agreed to rescue my girl. But I never thought I'd be lucky enough to have you as part of the family."
"You mean be stuck with the Maverick clan, don't you?"
Maude laughed that delicious laugh that she'd passed on to her equally beautiful daughter. "Gladly, honey, gladly."