A Small Price to Pay

Chapter 6 – Who Can it be Now?

Bret opened his eyes and looked around. Daylight was streaming in the window, and he distinctly remembered closing the shades last night. Then he saw why the shades were open – Marybeth Canton was standing at the window, looking out at the town-rapidly-changing-into-a-city, below.

"Come back to bed, darlin'" he called to her, patting the mattress next to him. She made no sound, just stood at the window and looked down. "Marybeth?"

"Hmmmmmm?"

"Bed – come back," he repeated, but she didn't move any more than she had the first time he called to her.

The wagon was already there, waiting in the street for her. Damn, she'd told him nine o'clock. Even after all these years he still didn't pay any attention to her. Maybe it was time to get out – before her picture was plastered on every jailhouse wall, with a headline above it that said "Wanted – For Bank Robbery and Murder" and below it – "Reward - $5,000 – Dead or Alive". Right now there was no reward and the banner was merely "Wanted for Questioning"; there was a very bad drawing of her. With blonde hair and exaggerated makeup. Probably what his brother had seen the last time he'd been thrown in a jail cell. She was almost unrecognizable in the drawing – almost.

She turned around to face him and made him smile. That's what most men did when she stood in front of them. Somehow he was different. Sweet and gentle, more concerned with her welfare than his own, he was tender and passionate at the same time. He held out his hand to her and she walked back to the bed and took it, climbing in beside him and back in to the warmth that was Bret Maverick. The man in the wagon downstairs would have to wait until she was good and ready.

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No sense knocking at his brother's door this morning – Bart knew exactly where he was and who he was with. Breakfast for one on the menu. Not the first time and certainly not the last – in fact, it had been a long time between women for Bret. Maybe his brother was slowing down.

Bart was surprised to find Beau sitting downstairs in the lobby waiting for him. "Why didn't you come up?" Bart asked as they headed for the dining room.

"Wasn't sure you'd be alone," was the reply. Beau grinned at him the way only Beau could – like he had a secret he was about to share with you. "I saw you talking to Frankie Slade last night and watched the way she was looking at you." Frankie was one of the newer girls at the saloon - tall and statuesque, with magnificent chestnut hair and a body most woman would kill to have. "Thought maybe you noticed it too."

"Oh, I noticed it, but nothing happening there," Bart answered back. "Brother Bret seems to be the only one the least bit fascinating to the ladies right now." 'Besides,' Bart thought to himself, 'I'm still thinking about Carson City.'

"Lot of new girls at the saloon," Beau volunteered. "You ought to take a closer look."

"Not really interested," came the reply quickly; 'A bit too quick,' Beau thought. 'Don't tell me Cousin Bart's in love again.'

"You have a lady somewhere you're not telling me about?"

"Nada."

'That'll be the day,' thought his cousin. The only one who attracted more women than Bret was his younger brother. Without trying.

"So why not give Frankie a chance?"

"Cousin Beau, you should learn to take no for an answer."

"Coffee?"

"Breakfast."

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It was well after nine o'clock when Bret woke again; Marybeth was sound asleep next to him and the sunlight wasn't as brilliant. He wondered what she'd been so fascinated with at the window; dressed, or rather undressed, as she had been. He slipped out of bed and she stretched and purred; at least that's what it sounded like. He got dressed quickly and left the room quietly; she didn't wake. Bret closed the door to the room and strode down the hall, desperate for some coffee. He knew better than to stop and see if Bart was up; his brother had long ago developed the awful habit of waking early and napping later in the day if necessary. Instead he went down to the dining room and ordered his usual; a double order of bacon, eggs and coffee.

When breakfast was done he went back up to his room, changed clothes and shaved. He happened to glance out the window and saw Marybeth down on the street arguing with a man sitting atop a wagon. From the look of things the argument had gotten quite heated, and suddenly Marybeth turned back towards the hotel and stormed inside, leaving the man with the wagon in the street. If that was her brother-in-law, why was she arguing with him? And why had she returned to the hotel instead of leaving with him? Something about her story wasn't quite right, but he was in no mood to find out what. His brother had insisted that she was familiar to him somehow and he'd all but ignored Bart. Maybe it was time to go push Brother Bart's memory and see if he could remember just why Marybeth was familiar. But first he had to find him. And that might not be so easy to do.

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Jody had arranged to meet Bart at her office in the saloon at ten o'clock. That time of the day would give her ample time to explain just what she'd done and why before most of the girls came in to work, just in case things got out of hand and there was any screaming and yelling going on. Not from Bart, from her. She'd never even heard him raise his voice to anyone, much less get as loud as she could when provoked. She was there by eight thirty, nervous as a cat and alternating between hoping he wouldn't show and scared to death he wouldn't show. When there was a knock on her door at ten minutes to ten she knew it was him.

When Jody finally took over the day-to-day operations of 'The Three Mavericks' she moved into the big office upstairs that had been Jessie's sanctuary. That way her mother could keep the smaller office downstairs that she was comfortable in and she would still have room to expand if necessary. The first thing she bought for the office was a new couch, where she slept many a night when there was too much work to do to go home. Once she started seeing Travis Cole it was simply easier to stay in town and sleep in her office; she could spend the time asleep instead of traveling home.

"Come in," she called out, and in just a few seconds Bart was in her office and there were more hugs and kisses between the two of them. "Let me really look at you," he told her, and held her at arm's length for a moment. "I can't believe you're getting married so soon."

She felt like Benedict Arnold. "Bart, that's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Please sit down." Bart sat at one end of the couch, Jody at the other. He seemed so far away and her impulse was to sit closer; given the truth she had yet to tell him she thought maybe it was a good idea that she didn't.

"I'm not gonna bite, Jody," Bart told her. She felt guilty and moved closer. "What's the matter, baby girl?" She hadn't called him Bart in a long time; he knew something was wrong.

Best to just come out and say it. "I lied to you."

"Oooooooooooooookay."

"About the date of the wedding."

"Okay."

"It's not in June."

Bart sat and listened without saying anything. He knew Jody well enough to know there was a reason behind the lie. Slowly he asked her, "Why did you tell me June sixteenth?"

She looked down at her hands, which were nervously rubbing themselves raw, one against the other. "I – uh – I needed – oh – uh . . . . . "

Bart sat patiently, waiting for her to give him an answer. Finally she did. "I needed to talk to you."

"You could have written me a letter."

"Not the same," she replied.

"True. So here I am. Talk to me."

She cleared her throat. "Travis asked me two questions the night he proposed."

Seemed odd to Bart, but then he'd never proposed to anyone. "I assume one of the questions was about marrying him. What was the other question?"

"If I'd sell the saloon when I became his wife."