Don't Close Your Eyes

Chapter 4 – Just My Imagination

Bart carried the cane with him in case he needed it. In fact he was just tucking it under his left arm when a man came out of the 'Frontier Palace Saloon' and walked right into him. The cane dropped and Bart lost his balance and fell. The stranger muttered something that sounded like "Sorry" and hurried down the sidewalk, oblivious to Bart's crash landing. He grabbed the cane off the ground and used it as a brace to help him get back up. He regained his feet just in time to see the man turn the corner at the end of the street and disappear.

He brushed himself off and checked the shoulder holster. Yep, the derringer was still there. He somehow felt safer knowing that he had it. Finally he went through the batwing doors into the saloon itself; there sat his brother looking like he didn't have a care in the world. From the size of the stack of chips in front of him, he didn't. Bart tapped the front of his hat and wandered over to the bar, where he ordered coffee and lit a cigar. In a few minutes Bret cashed in his chips for a large stack of bills and stood at the table. After excusing himself he walked over to meet his brother at the bar.

"You look like a man who just took away everybody's gamblin' money, Mr. Joseph." Bart took a draw on the cigar and laughed. Bret added a smile to his face and signaled the bartender for another coffee.

"I did." He pulled out a cigar and Bart lit it for him. "It does feel good to be back on the winning side. Anything exciting going on in your end of the world?"

"You mean besides being knocked down before I could get in here?" Bart asked facetiously.

Bret stopped his coffee cup in mid-air. "Knocked down?"

Bart stood staring into nothing for a moment, then finally, "Yeah. Somebody in an awful big hurry to get out of here and get away from me. Ran into me on his way out, knocked me down and never even stopped to say good night." He thought for a moment and then added, "My height. Older, kind of worn down looking. Little mustache. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Black vest, black pants. Hat worn Texas style. Sound familiar?"

"Sort of. There was a man matching that description in here earlier at the bar, drinkin' whiskey. Didn't pay much attention but did look over a couple times. He was quiet, never talked to anybody. Did you see which way he went?"

"Down the street and around the corner. Why? Do you think . . . . . ?"

Bret shook his head. "Because I've had that same feelin' of being watched all afternoon. Let's go see what we can find."

"Alright." Bart finished his coffee and left two coins on the bar. Bret drank most of his and set his cup down, too. Both men turned and headed for the doors. By the time they got outside it was almost dark and they set off down the sidewalk the way the man had gone. When they got to the corner they turned on the street and came to an immediate halt. It was a dead end alley.

"Are you sure this is the way?" Bret was aggravated by the disappearance.

"I swear." Bart raised his right hand. "I know this is the way he turned."

"Huh. Well, unless he knows how to climb walls, he's gone."

"What now?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's all my imagination. Maybe there's nobody watchin' me after all. Maybe I've lost my mind."

Bart shook his head, leaned on his cane and laughed. "That would imply you had a mind to begin with."

Bret took a step back, out into the street. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

Now both of them were laughing. From inside the building on the corner a set of eyes watched them as people walked down the street and turned to stare at the two grown men, one holding a cane, laughing like fools. Go ahead, the unidentified eyes seemed to say. Laugh now – I'll be the one who has the last laugh.

XXXXXXXX

Damn, Bret's tailor was good. Only three days later he had both coats ready for Bart, perfectly tailored to his liking. He was so pleased with the way they'd turned out that he bought a tan coat that he'd considered on his first visit and had that measured for himself. It had a chocolate brown collar to it and it reminded him of Rose's long chocolate hair. Of course that demanded the brown and gold vest that Bart eyed on his first visit but decided he didn't need. What good was money but to spend? And spend he did, deciding that tonight was going to be poker night.

The days were lazy and long and he found himself using the cane less and less. Much of the time he could move around without being in pain and decided, once again, it was time to get back on a horse. He went to the livery to see what they had for sale and found a roan with a white blaze that seemed to have enough spirit without having too much sass. Bart remembered all too well the skittish bay at Anderson's ranch and the painful lesson the horse taught him.

It was a beautiful day, early summer, and once the roan was saddled Bart decided now was as good a time as any to ride. He mounted and headed out of town, northwest towards Ralston Point. The country was stunning and it was a pleasant ride. It was good to be back on a horse; it had been too long. There was no unanticipated pain with the ride and he felt more like himself than he had for a while. A small summer shower popped up along the way; he took shelter under a tree. It didn't rain long enough or hard enough to get too wet. But he remembered another ride and the sudden storm and the most pleasurable aftermath. He still wasn't sure he'd done the right thing by walking away; he just knew it was the right thing for him. Besides, Bret needed him.

That though brought a realization. He'd been gone for hours, and even though neither of them had detected anyone following his brother for days, Bart still didn't believe they were out of the woods. The mystery tracker needed to be found, for no other reason than to determine why Bret was being pursued. He turned the roan back towards Denver and rode.

XXXXXXXX

He tried checking Bart's room but there was no answer. That was a good thing, he decided, it was hard to brood when you were busy. There was still something bothering Bart and after more than a week together Bret hadn't been able to find out what. Again, that secretive part of his brother's personality reared its head. There was nothing he could do until Bart decided to talk.

Failing to raise his brother prompted Bret to go to the dining room alone. Late breakfast, early lunch? How to decide? He looked up to see the prettiest girl in town waiting to take his order. "Well, hello."

"Yes, sir. What can I get for you, sir?" She was blonde and blue-eyed, and no wedding ring.

"Coffee and your company?" Bret smiled as he said it and turned his dimples loose on her.

"I'm sorry, sir, I don't get off until two o'clock. Perhaps you want to order something to tide you over until then?" She was definitely flirting back.

"Yes, ma'am, bacon and eggs. No toast." 'Vile stuff, toast,' he thought. 'And Bart practically lives on it?'

"Thank you, sir, I'll be right back with your coffee. My name is Sara." She smiled at him, charmingly, and took his menu. She returned shortly with his coffee and by the time she brought the bacon and eggs they had a buggy ride scheduled for two o'clock. When he was through with breakfast he paid the bill and promised to be back for her at two.

Now there was something interesting on the agenda. He located the nearest livery and was surprised when he found that his brother had been there earlier today and bought a horse. Bret settled for paying the livery man for use of a buggy for the afternoon. At the appropriate time he called for Miss Sara at the hotel and was rewarded with a big smile, a lovely lass and a picnic basket.

The afternoon went by pleasantly enough, getting better acquainted with Sara Hanford. She had a lively mind and a delightful manner and proved to be the perfect companion for whiling away a summer day. By the time they returned to town it was almost six o'clock and time to take the young lady home. They made plans to see each other the next day and Bret returned the buggy to the livery and reserved it for the following afternoon. All in all, the best day spent in Denver in a while.

XXXXXXXX

"You in there?" Now it was Bart's turn to knock on the door looking for a Maverick. He was more successful than Bret, since his brother actually answered his knock. "Thought we were goin' to dinner and poker tonight. And what's that stupid grin on your face, anyway?"

Difficult to stop smiling when you have something to smile about. Bret opened the door wider and Bart entered the room. When he turned around and looked at his older brother he didn't have to ask any more questions. "I see. There's a lady in the picture?"

"Why Brother Bart, whatever are you talking about?" Once again Bret gave him the sly grin that indicated Bart was correct.

"You dog. I can't leave you alone for one day, can I?" Bret's reputation as a ladies man made it hard to deny Bart's accusation. So he didn't.

"I'm ready to go. Looks like you are too. Dining room or somewhere fancy?" Bret had no preference, as long as it was food.

"Dining room's fine. Poker still following?" You never knew with Bret once there was a lady that grabbed his attention. Bret nodded 'yes' and they went to dinner.

XXXXXXXX

Dinner was fine but poker was up and down. They tried not to play against each other whenever possible and tonight was no exception. They'd gone to the 'Lucky Lady Saloon and Gaming Room' and both found a table that looked inviting. Bret straddled a chair as usual at the beginning of the night and Bart tucked his coattails before sitting down. Both were armed and Bart carried the derringer, but had no use for the cane on this night.

The brothers Maverick played on for most of the night, winning two hands, then losing three. Finally the tide seemed to turn and Bart was once again on his hot streak. Bret wasn't quite as good tonight as most nights in the past; whether it was the cards or the players or his mind on Sara, he wasn't able to pull very far ahead. Sometimes it's just not your night, and this seemed to be one of those. Around four in the morning Bret had enough and simply decided to get up from the table and go smoke. Bart saw him walk out the front door, but he left his hat on the table so there was no danger of him not returning.

The night air was still cool even though summer had arrived and Bret leaned against the support post for the roof overhang and struck a match. His face was momentarily illuminated as he lit the cigar but there was a soft breeze blowing and he had to turn his back to the street to keep it lit. He stood that way for several minutes, drawing on the cigar to keep it going, and wondered just how far it would get with Sara.

Bart was in the middle of a hand when he heard the first shot. It came out of nowhere and sounded like it was right outside. There was a small "oof" sound and then shots two and three rang out, clear as day. Bret! Bart jumped to his feet and ran, not caring what he left on the table or who might have a problem with it. When he reached the swinging doors he could see his brother lying face down on the sidewalk, a large splotch of blood spreading rapidly across his back. "Somebody get the doctor!" he yelled as he reached Bret and gently turned him over. Damn! He could see where one of the bullets had exited in front and there was a dark red stain quickly growing bigger. Bret never had a chance. Somebody shot his brother in the back.