Bart was laying silent and still when Beau entered the bedroom. Of course, he hadn't expected different, but that didn't make it easier.
"Well, Cousin Bart," Beau said as he sank into the chair next to the bed, "you've made it through the operation. Now you'll show us all that stubborn Maverick spirit and wake up. And I suppose if I don't get back our two thousand dollars from Mr. Snakes Tolliver, you'll insist on trying your luck at it."
He leaned back, folding his arms and gazing up towards the ceiling. "It's a strange thing. Do you know what just happened in there? Well, unless your spirit is wandering, you wouldn't. Snakes apparently wants me to come work for him. Can you imagine anything so ridiculous? A Maverick working for a crime boss? I could barely put together what to say. Except that I turned him down, of course. But he says the offer will be open to me if I ever change my mind.
"What could he want with a Maverick? He knows that we aren't criminals. Well, most of us, anyway. Any that are have been stopped.
"I wonder if he made such a proposal to Cousin Bret. You wouldn't think so, if they detest each other so much. But then . . . is it just me whom he wants, because I 'don't fit in', as he put it?
"What do you think, Cousin Bart?" Beau wondered, looking to his silent relation. "Do you think I fit in?"
Of course there was no reply.
"Oh, naturally none of us Mavericks really fit in anywhere," Beau mused. "But when you think about it, I don't even fit in with the rest of the family. Snakes was right, at least about that.
"Now, don't look so surprised," Beau said lightly, pretending Bart was reacting. "You know it's true as much as I do. Uncle Beau always was worried about me. He tried everything he could think of to make me fit into his idea of what a man should be. Actually, isn't that odd? We're all unconventional and he encouraged that, but he wanted me to fit with his own, personal unconventionality! My own brand of it wasn't good enough."
Bart stirred slightly, as if in distressed response. But then he quieted again, showing no sign of awakening.
"I'm sorry, Bart. I don't mean to upset you. I shouldn't have said that." Beau sighed. "Snakes really got to me, I suppose. And he was also right that he couldn't have done that if I hadn't already been thinking about it. I know I told you a bit about my feelings on how Uncle Beau treated me, especially after the shooting, but I don't think I've ever really acknowledged how out of place I feel sometimes.
"Really, I'm proud to be a Maverick. I worry a lot about making sure I don't do anything to dishonor the family name. But I'm afraid I will never be what Uncle Beau wants me to be. And I wish he could accept that. And me."
Beau might have continued his soliloquy had the peace not literally been shattered by a bullet crashing through one of the panes of glass. Immediately he leaped out of the chair and pulled out his gun in the same swift motion, ducking under the window as he waited for what would happen next. Thankfully, Bart should be out of the line of fire; the bed was to the side of the window, not directly under or across from it. But Beau was still concerned for him to be there anyway.
"We know what's going on in there, Snakes!" a familiar voice bawled from outside in the dark. "You sure picked the right name for yourself. Instead of helping us, you've got those Maverick boys right in there with you! And the doctor too! And here I thought you wanted to live."
A second voice laughed in a burly, drunken tone. "Unless you've been playing them for saps all along and were still planning to turn them over to us after you won their confidence!"
Beau stiffened. He had never stopped being suspicious of Snakes, but somewhere during their conversation he had started to think that Snakes actually would let them go. What if, since Beau had turned down the job offer, Snakes would instead betray them and keep his original deal with the three angry poker players?
"Where are you now, Snakes?" he hissed under his breath. "Surely you hear this noise."
A second bullet took out a second pane of glass. Beau shielded himself from the particles as they flew in every direction. Then his eyes widened in realization. Bart might not be in danger from the bullets, but glass could so easily fly onto the bed.
Slipping the gun into its holster, Beau stayed low as he went back to the bed. "Sorry, Cousin, but this is for your own good," he muttered, pulling the edges of the blankets up and over Bart's face, while making sure to leave room to breathe.
"Snakes!" That was the third voice. "You yellow-livered weasel. If you're for them, get in there and fight for them! We're going to fill the room full of buckshot!"
"And if you're for us, get out here and tell us!" the first voice chimed in.
"Yes, Snakes, do something," Beau growled under his breath as he went back to the window. He fired two shots and then quickly drew his hand back as the third pane was shot out. It wasn't fast enough to stop two pieces of the flying glass from superficially cutting the back of his hand, and he hissed in pain at the sting.
Snakes was known for doing whatever was best for Snakes at the moment. That was no doubt why he had taken the Mavericks in; he had thought maybe he could convince Beau to join him and that would be more profitable than turning him over to be killed. But now Beau no longer had any value to him and Snakes very likely no longer had any interest in him. Maybe he would turn their enemies over to the sheriff, as promised, but skip out in the process. There was very little likelihood that he would come in here and help Beau fight them off. He was on his own.
The fourth pane was gone now. The cold night air was coming in full-force. Beau scowled. It was blowing in the wrong direction to help him; his bullets would go off-course, while theirs, being carried by the wind, would very likely hit their mark every time.
"You can't be brought up on murder charges if you stop this right now!" Beau called. He was desperate. He had to try reasoning with them before attempting to fire again.
"You killed our friend," the third voice growled. "If anyone's going to be accused of murder, it's you!"
"I wouldn't have shot him if he hadn't stabbed my cousin!" Beau retorted. "I was only trying to keep him from finishing the job!"
"Your cousin cheated!" the first voice roared.
"If there's one thing Bart wouldn't have done, it's cheat," Beau snapped. "Are you going to insist on continuing your attempt to take your revenge on me?"
"Three against one," the second voice hiccupped. "I'd say we've got this one made."
"I'd say you're all going to jail," a fourth voice drawled from the next window over. "Bustin' up my house . . . assaultin' my guests. . . . And you know, since you're the reason these guys had to run from the first town, I'd say that if Bart Maverick dies, you'll all be charged as accessories to murder."
Instantly the three intruders started swearing and cursing. One fired a bullet through the next window. Two more were returned in reply.
Beau fired a shot to help, in grateful disbelief. Snakes had come through.
xxxx
It wasn't long before the doctor returned; he had gone out the back way to find the sheriff and two deputies. But within those few minutes, one man had been killed thanks to a shotgun Snakes had in the house and a second had been wounded.
Snakes strolled over to the doorway of the bedroom once he was sure the law had things under control. "How did you make out in here?" he asked.
Beau slowly got up from the floor, replacing the gun in its holster. "A lot better than I likely would have if you hadn't come," he said. Carefully he moved the blankets away from Bart's face, allowing any glass particles to crash to the floor. "I really thought you were leaving us."
"Yeah, well . . ." Snakes leaned in the doorway and lit a cigar. "I considered it. Pretty strongly, actually. When I heard the first couple of shots, I ran for the back way to catch a ride to town on the doctor's carriage."
Beau regarded him in surprise. "What stopped you?"
"It wasn't the doctor, if that's what you're thinking," Snakes said. "Actually, he encouraged me to come and leave you two behind."
Beau made a face. "So much for the doctor's main concern being the ill and wounded."
"I said I had the town in my pocket. Part of that is them looking out for my welfare."
"You didn't answer as to what did make you come back," Beau reminded him.
"I really figured you could get out of this mess, just like you've got out of so many other messes before." Snakes took the cigar between his fingers and studied it. "But then I thought about your cousin, and how he might not get out of this mess alive. Even Mavericks aren't infallible. So you might not make it out either. And I thought . . . well, it would be a shame if the white sheep of the Maverick family ended up dying in my house. I have a certain respect for the whole family, but you, daring to be different in a family that's already pretty different . . ." He smirked. "I respect that even more. It's easier to be different around strangers than around people you know. You've gotta be pretty happy with yourself as you are to not try to fit in with the rest of them."
Beau rocked back. "I'm grateful," he said honestly. "You could have died yourself by coming back."
"Eh . . . I tried to make sure I wouldn't." Snakes pushed away from the doorframe. "Kept out of sight and all that."
"You still could have taken a stray bullet, especially if one had torn through the wall where you were," Beau said.
"You've got a point there," Snakes conceded.
"And I'm sure you thought about that," Beau said.
Snakes didn't confirm or deny that. "You'd better try to get some rest," he said gruffly instead. "Your cousin will probably sleep through the night."
"Perhaps," Beau said. "But I'd rather stay in here with him. Is there a cot that could be brought in?"
"Yeah," Snakes said, "there's probably something like that around somewhere." He turned to go. "I'll see about it." But then he paused. "Are you sure either of you should spend the night in this room?"
Beau blinked, suddenly becoming aware again of the breeze blowing in through the liberated window. ". . . Oh." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't like the thought of moving Bart again, so soon after the surgery, but that draft can't be good for him, either."
"Especially since it might rain again." Snakes put the cigar back in his mouth. "Okay, here's what we'll do. I'll go get the cot. We'll put him on it and carry him out of this room and into a different one. Then you can use the cot."
"Thank you," Beau said in relief.
"Just . . . don't let this get around," Snakes grunted. "It's not good for business."
"To let the townspeople know the crime boss has a heart?" Beau smirked a bit. "I understand. We Mavericks don't tend to like that to get around about us, either."
Snakes actually seemed to smile a bit as he walked out of the room.
Beau went over and sat in the chair while he waited. "I suppose I should be trying to break his control over this town and getting our two thousand dollars back," he mused. "But you know something, Cousin Bart? I don't think I have the heart any longer." He leaned back, rubbing his knee. "We did make a fair deal, and he did come through with his part of it. And Uncle Beau does believe in letting fair deals stand."
Bart stirred, bringing his hand out from under the covers. "Beau . . . what's with all the cannons going off outside?" he mumbled. "I thought the war was over."
Beau started and looked over, overjoyed to see that Bart was awake, even somewhat. "The War Between the States, yes," he laughed. Sobering, he added, "And hopefully our own personal war as well.
"Bart, how are you feeling?" He wasn't sure Bart was aware enough to process the question, but it had to be asked anyway.
"I . . ." Bart made a face as he tried to sort out the answer. "I could be better. My side still feels like it's on fire."
"I'll see if the doctor has anything he can give you for that," Beau said.
"Where are we, anyway?" Bart squinted up at the ceiling and then looked down at the bed.
"Someone took us in," Beau said, not sure how much to say at this point.
Snakes returned at that moment with the cot. He set it down next to the bed and straightened, looking to Bart—who was looking back at him in confusion.
"Well, so you're finally awake, eh?" Snakes greeted. "We're going to lift you out of here on this thing." He indicated the cot. "That way, you won't have to be jostled around as much."
"Thanks," Bart said slowly. "But . . . who are you?"
"Someone you probably won't even remember when you're feeling better." Snakes threw back the covers. "Ready?"
Beau nodded, and together, he and Snakes carefully lifted Bart onto the cot. Bart grimaced at the movement, keeping a hand over his side as they raised the cot.
"I'll walk backwards," Snakes decided. "Since I know the layout of the house better."
"That's fine," Beau said.
"Watch out that you don't scrape your hands on the doorframe," Snakes cautioned. "Put them under the top of the cot instead of keeping them on the sides."
"I was thinking of that," Beau replied.
Snakes smirked. "I wasn't sure how much experience you Mavericks have had with lifting things."
"Hmm. That's a good point," Beau conceded.
Bart listened to the back and forth between them, still half-awake and confused. "Where are we going?" he asked. "This room seems nice enough."
"It was a lot nicer before the window was blown out," Beau said. "We're just moving to a less drafty room in the house."
Bart tried to relax while being carried out of the room on the cot. "Well, this is service," he mused.
"Just don't expect it to continue when you're well, dear cousin," Beau said.
"Just for now is fine," Bart said.
He eyed the new room they were entering in amazement. "This house must be some kind of a mansion," he declared, staring at the exquisitely carved furniture and the expensive comforter on the bed.
"You could say that," Snakes said. "I got it at a real bargain price."
"Who would want to sell this place cheap?" Bart couldn't help wondering.
"It was because of the war," Snakes said, setting down his end of the cot next to the bed. Beau followed suit. "Wounded soldiers from both sides were brought here and tended to. After the war was over, the owner kept being uneasy remembering all the wounded and claiming she saw the ghosts of the ones who died here walking the halls." He smirked, clearly showing how much stock he put in that.
"Don't be too sure she didn't," Beau said, uneasy himself as he remembered his out-of-body experience after being shot. He turned back the comforter.
"Well, whatever. So she wanted to sell the place. I was looking for something in the area and I snapped it up." Again Snakes moved to lift Bart. With Beau's help, they moved him onto the new bed as gently as they could.
"How's that, Cousin Bart?" Beau asked.
"Good," Bart said through gritted teeth.
"I'll go find the doctor now," Beau promised. As he headed for the door, he looked back and asked, "Oh, what are you going to do about the broken window?"
"I'm going to make those enemies of yours pay for it," Snakes declared.
Beau smirked. "As well they should."
He ducked out of the room, leaving Bart with Snakes.
It was strange, how only a few hours ago he would have hated to do such a thing. Now, he felt that it was alright and Bart would be safe.