Mississippi Bayou Belle

Chapter 7 – Mason, Grant and Finch

Why did people keep pounding on their door at all hours of the day and night? Once again he found himself answering it and once again the headache was there when he did so. This time he found another ship's steward at the door. "Mr. Maverick?"

"Who else?"

"Captain Sampson sent me to ask you to come to his office; he has some information for you."

'Maybe some answers at last,' he thought. "Can it wait for me to get dressed?"

"Yes sir, I'm certain it can. Do you know where the office is?" the steward asked sheepishly.

"I'll find it," was the reply he got. He closed the door and went back to his bedroom to check the time. Nine-thirty. Well, all he'd asked for was two hours sleep; he'd gotten almost three. Dressing this morning didn't include his gun belt – he deliberately left that in his bedroom. He did carry the derringer just in case. Some minutes later he was looking for the captain's office, which wasn't far from the pilothouse. He knocked and heard Sampson's voice, "Come in, Mr. Maverick."

"How'd you know it was me?" he couldn't help but be curious, the door was solid oak with no peephole.

"You're the only one I sent for," Sampson answered seriously.

'My God,' Bart thought, 'the man has no sense of humor.' "Captain, you have some information for me?"

"Have a seat, Mr. Maverick. I have some answers that have raised more questions."

Just what he wanted to hear. Now what? "Captain?"

"The two men that were murdered were William Mason and Bradford Grant, both officers of Montana Savings and Loan in Silver Creek, Montana, where you lived for almost a full year. Do you still claim you didn't know either of these men?"

Mason and Grant from Montana Savings and Loan? He'd never been in the bank and had no idea who the men were. Had they ever frequented 'The Three Mavericks' saloon? Highly doubtful. Not too many 'respectable' men did that. "Sorry, Captain, I never met either gentleman. Any idea what they were doing here?"

"All I know so far is they came to find you."

"Me? Are you sure? And what for?"

"Bank business. That's all I've been able to discover so far. Did you owe them money?" The tone in the captain's voice was quite obvious. And quite offensive.

Bart was more than happy to disappoint Sampson. "No, I didn't owe them money. But I am part legal owner of a business there." Jody had never had his name formally removed from the ownership papers to the saloon. Maybe that's what this was all about. But who would be killing men coming to see him?

The captain wasn't willing to give up quite yet. "Are you sure? A gambling debt of some sort, perhaps?"

"No, captain. No gambling debt, no any kind of debt. I don't owe anyone any money." Except that $500 he owed Bret. That didn't count. "Anything else?"

The captain looked skeptical. "Yes, there was another man with them. A Matt Finch. He's a new deputy with the marshal's office. We're still looking for him."

Bart shook his head. "And no one knows what they wanted? Not even the marshal?"

"We haven't been able to reach the marshal. He's up in the mountains somewhere. All I know, Mr. Maverick, is they wanted you."

"Why would I want to kill people who wanted to find me?" It seemed a perfectly reasonable question for Bart to ask.

"My question exactly, Mr. Maverick. Why would you?"

Bart opened his mouth to say something when he realized that Sampson was serious. He actually thought Bart was the murderer! "I think our conversations are at an end, Captain. I have nothing further to say to you." With that as a parting remark he got up and left the office. He headed straight back to the stateroom to see if Bret and Emily had returned yet from breakfast.

XXXXXXXX

Bret was teaching Emily the finer points of Maverick Solitaire when Bart came back to the room. The door unlocked, then opened, then slammed shut, then was locked from the inside, no spoken words necessary. Bart proceeded straight to his room and closed the door. Bret and Emily exchanged looks and he immediately got up to see what triggered the silent reaction. "Bret?" was the only thing said when he knocked on his brother's door.

"Yep, just me. Want to tell me where you were and what happened?" From the look of things, probably at the Captain's, either the pilothouse or his office. Sampson had a way of doing everything he could to aggravate the young gambler.

"Do I look like a murderer to you? Do I strike you as someone who goes around slitting people's throats? Especially people I don't even know?" There was an edge of anger in Bart's voice, even though he asked the questions calmly and quietly.

"How about no, no and no?" Bret was hoping his joking answers would settle Bart back down to where he would talk about this rationally.

"Tell you what, if I were any other kind of man I might be tempted to do just that. But only if I could kill Sampson."

"What happened, Brother Bart?"

"Don't patronize me, Bret!"

Bret went over to his brother, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. Bret sat down next to him and put his arm around Bart's shoulders. "I'm not. I want to know what happened."

"Captain Sampson has got me pegged as a murderer." He looked at his brother plaintively. "You know what that means, don't you? Next thing I know he'll have me thrown in jail somewhere." His voice broke. "I can't do that again, Bret. I'd lose my mind."

Bret tightened the grip he had on Bart. "Not gonna happen, Bart. We won't let it." They sat like that for a few minutes while Bart got himself back under control. Then Bret continued, "Tell me what he thinks he has on you."

Bart told his brother the whole story, just as Sampson laid it out for him. When he was done Bret still had hold of him and wasn't letting go. "Nothing. It's nothing! Just because these bankers came looking for you he's going to try and pin the whole thing on you? And where the hell has the deputy disappeared to?" He took his arm off Bart's shoulders and grabbed his brother by both arms, turning Bart to face him. "I won't let him. Do you hear me? I won't let him."

Bret had left the door partially open and both men looked up to see Emily standing there. From the look on her face she'd heard most, if not all, of their conversation. Obviously there was more to the Montana story than Bret had told her. "Have I done anything to cause this?" she asked somberly.

"No," Bret told her, and it was followed up by "No," from Bart.

"Let's just forget the whole thing," she offered.

Bart pulled away from Bret's grasp and faced her. "This has nothing to do with you," he explained to her. "This has to do with – I don't know what it has to do with. But not you."

"But I started this mess," she protested.

"No, you didn't," Bret added. "You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's all."

"We'll deal with this," Bart told her finally. "And we'll protect you. So quit worrying. Let's just get back to the business at hand."

"Which is?" Emily asked.

"Finding out who tore your room apart, and what they were after."

Another knock at the stateroom door set them all on edge. Bret stood up. "I'll deal with this, whatever it is."

He walked out to the front door. Emily turned to Bart. "There's more to the Montana story than just the murder and trial, isn't there?"

Bart leaned his elbows on his knees and folded his hands together. Then he hung his head and stared at the floor. "Yes," was his only answer. He sounded so wretched and lonely.

Emily quickly jumped back in with, "That's okay. You don't have to explain anything. It's really none of my business."

"You should know what you're dealing with," came right back at her. "I haven't had anything today, not even coffee. How about an explanation on neutral ground?"

"I don't think the dining salon is open at this time of day," she replied.

"How about the saloon?"