As it turned out, the next day wasn't any better than the last two had been. The thought of going back to town still put knots in Bart's stomach and again he found it hard to be around his father or brother. In an effort to avoid spending time with his family he spent most of the day outside trying his best to stay busy. Having been brought up to avoid manual labor whenever possible Bart soon found that his choices for keeping busy were limited, but he had also been at home for more than two days and not only did he want to keep out of the way but boredom was starting to eat at him. At one point it got so bad that he entertained the thought of repairing part of the fence row he had noticed needed some attention, although he couldn't quite make himself do that. Besides, Bret already thought he was a little off, if he went out to do any ranch work that wasn't absolutely necessary his brother would sure enough think he'd lost his mind. Then he was almost tempted to just go into town, it wasn't as though he could stay out of town indefinitely, but the closer it got to sundown, the worse that idea sounded.

About dusk Bart went back inside, immediately going to his room in a futile hope that if he wasn't visible Pappy and Bret might just forget about him. He figured if he simply stayed out of Bret and Pappy's way there would be no need to discuss what he planned to do tonight. Or rather what he planned on not doing. He hadn't talked to either one much today but what little time he had seen his brother Bret had been more like himself. Not a word had been said about their slight disagreement last night or any plans for later. Even so, Bart doubted Bret would be very accepting of his decision to stay home another night. He was right. Not long after he came in Bret stopped by.

"Feelin' alright?" he asked as he casually he leaned against the doorframe.

"Fine."

"You goin' out?"

"Wasn't plannin' on it."

Bret straightened with a sigh and took a few steps into the room. "Bart…" Bart braced himself for a verbal assault or at least a negative opinion but after a long pause Bret just shook his head. "Never mind. I'll see you later."

After how much Bret had fought him last night Bart was surprised when his brother just walked away, not that he was looking for a fight. Maybe Bret had realized what Pappy had said last night was true, if he didn't want to go to town he didn't have to. Thinking he'd succeeded in staying in yet another night, Bart grinned. He'd just got a deck to kill some time with when Pappy stormed into the room.

"Bartley, this is becoming ridicules. Get dressed."

"I don't want to," Bart said wincing some at the use of his full name.

"I wasn't giving you a choice."

No, he hadn't been given a choice, and he had no chance of winning a fight with Pappy, but Bart wasn't willing to admit defeat yet. Sighing heavily, he gave Pappy his sad-eyed look. There weren't many things that disarmed Pappy but he'd always been a little weak to that look. "I don't feel like playing tonight."

"That's not gonna work, son," Beau said instantly although his voice did soften some.

"Pappy, I don't…"

"I know what you're doing and it's not going to solve anything."

Bart was ready to protest Pappy's insinuation, even if he was right. "I'm not…"

Beau cut him off with a look. "Get dressed," he said after a moment.

"I can't. Not tonight."

Beau sighed. "Bart, how long do you think you can hide?"

Bart shrugged, not even bothering to deny it. "It's the good cowardly thing to do isn't it?" he said with a weak smile hoping to appeal to his father's bizarre sense of honor.

"Probably. And if there were any danger involved I'd applaud it, but this is one situation I can guarantee you'll live through. Get dressed."

"Pappy." The word please wasn't audibly spoken but it hung in the air as clearly as if it had been.

Beau shook his head. "It's the bed you made, boy." He wasn't unsympathetic to Bart's plight, but what Bart was doing was the worst thing he could possibly do. The longer he put this off the harder it was going to be to face, and Beau would rather push him into it now then let Bart go his own way and have it eat him alive for days.

Bart scowled at the answer; he didn't have a rebuttal for that. Pappy was right, but had Bart known beforehand how hard that bed was going to be to sleep in, he would have found a different one to make up.

"You're going out," Beau continued. "You can come with me, you can go with your brother, but you're going." With that final word Beau walked out, leaving a very unhappy Bart behind him.

For at least a full minute, Bart didn't move. He simply stared at the door Pappy had just left through and tried to think of a way out of his situation. 'Forget it, Bart,' he finally told himself. 'There's not a way out.' Pappy had pampered him as much as he was going to. The man planned on Bart taking his medicine tonight and there wasn't a thing Bart could do about it. He was going to town. He could suck it up and face it like a man; or he could sit here and pout and have Pappy drag him bodily just the way he was. Sighing Bart striped off his shirt and fetched a clean one from his dresser. If he was going to have to go he might as well present himself as best he could.

It didn't take long to clean up, not nearly as long as Bart would have liked it to anyway, and soon he found himself back in the sitting room, alone. It was odd, he thought, that no one else was around. Pappy wouldn't leave until he was sure Bart was going to do what he'd been told to do, and Bret had started getting ready before anyone else had. Bart didn't mind though; if no one else was ready yet that meant he didn't have to leave yet. And right now, every minute he didn't have to be in town was a minute well spent. Blowing out a breath he wondered back to Pappy's room and found his father just finishing up.

Bart lightly tapped on the open door. "Where's Bret?" he asked entering the room. "He's still getting ready," Beau answered as he finished combing his hair.

"Dandy," Bart mumbled.

Beau chuckled at the disgruntled tone as he took in Bart's own broadcloth suit. It was good to see Bart looking more like the 'gentleman gambler' he'd been raised to be. "Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"It's not the same thing."

"Course not." Beauregard adjusted his tie one last time and picked up his jacket. "You're waiting for him?" he asked as he slipped the coat on.

Bart nodded. "If it's all right." It hadn't taken Bart long to decide that if he was going to have to do this, and he was, he wanted Bret to be at his back. As much as he loved and respected his father, Pappy wasn't known for making things easy, even in the best of times.

"That's fine." Beau hadn't expected anything different when he'd given Bart his options. He'd started to just tell the boy he was going out with his brother, but he knew Bart would have balked at that. Instead he'd offered him a "choice" but there had never been any doubt in his mind at who Bart would pick to spend his night with. "I'm goin' on then." Again Bart nodded. Beau smiled as he took in Bart's slightly green visage. "Why don't you go throw up?" he suggested. "You'll probably feel better."

Bart scoffed. "I'm alright."

As Beau watched his son - who looked for all the world like a man about to attend his own hanging - he felt the paternal protectiveness he knew most people thought him devoid of start to swell. That gentle touch usually reserved for times of sickness appeared as he dropped a hand on his youngest's shoulder and squeezed. "Get it over with, son. Waiting won't make it any easier and that bitter taste won't last long."

Again there was nothing but a nod. Bart knew Pappy was right but that didn't mean he was looking forward to tonight.

Beau offered a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow." He stepped past Bart and a moment later Bart heard the front door open and close again.

Sighing Bart trudged back to the sitting room to wait for Bret. Part of him wished his brother would hurry up so he could get this over with while another part didn't think he would mind if Bret never came out. It was only a few minutes however, before Bret appeared.

"Pappy said you wanted to go out with me."

"Yeah," Bart said slowly, his eyes narrowing. He had a sneaking suspicion that Pappy and Bret had planned this out long before he'd known anything about it. He hadn't told Pappy what he'd planned on doing until he'd gone to his room, and he knew Pappy hadn't talked to Bret after that. He couldn't help but wonder what else Pappy might have told Bret.

"Ready?"

"Nope," Bart replied honestly as he stood. Not that it mattered if he was ready or not. He was sure Pappy had informed Bret that he was going to town, and if need be Bret could be nearly as persuasive as Pappy.

Bret chuckled as he started for the door. "Come on. Let's show this town what a Maverick boy can do."

Bart bristled as the dreaded title left Bret's mouth. "Don't call me that!" he snapped.

Suddenly it seemed like all the air had been sucked out of the room and a terrible feeling of Déjà vu descended on Bart as Bret came to an abrupt halt.

"Don't call you what?" Bret asked, confusion plainly written on his face as he turned back around.

"Maverick boy," Bart admitted, feeling a little guilty.

After a painfully long silence, Bret spoke again. "What would you like me to call you?"

"My name," Bart suggested, his guilt increasing a bit. He shouldn't have snapped at Bret; none of this was his fault.

"Maverick is your name," Bret offered.

"I mean my name."

Bret smiled slightly. "Alright, Bartley."

"Stop it," Bart growled, all guilt vanishing. Bret knew he hated Bartley.

Bret shrugged. "It's your name." Bart glared at his brother's patronizing tone. Bret finally cleared his throat and continued. "Maverick bothers you, huh?"

"Did he tell you that?" Bart demanded.

"He who?" Bret could understand Bart being apprehensive about tonight but he wasn't clear on why his brother was so agitated.

"Pappy!"

Bret became even more confused. He was ready for this, whatever this was, to be over. The longer it dragged on the more off Bart became. "Why would Pappy have told me that?"

Bart didn't have an answer. He'd known last night Pappy wasn't pleased that he hadn't exactly talked to Bret like he was supposed to, but it seemed unlikely that Pappy would have taken it upon himself to tell Bret anything. That wasn't the way Pappy did things. Judging from the look Bret was now giving him, Pappy hadn't told him anything. Unfortunately, thanks to his little outburst, Bart had just told him plenty. "He wouldn't have," Bart finally answered, wishing he'd thought about that before he all but bit Bret's head off.

"But since we're on the subject, why does it bother you?"

"It doesn't."

"But…" Bret prompted. Bart was lying through his teeth to say it didn't bother him.

"It doesn't bother me to be a Maverick," Bart answered reluctantly. "I just . . . don't want to be a 'Maverick'."

"Oh," Bret said still not entirely sure what his brother was talking about. "Well, thanks for explaining it."

Bart studied the floor, dreading what was coming. He'd already said too much to avoid it though. "Sometimes. . .I just feel like. . .I can't be me."

"Why?"

Bart looked up, bracing himself for a copy of Beauregard. It wasn't there. There was just Bret, his brother, his best friend. Oh, Bret still looked like Pappy but the slight glare and defensive attitude Pappy had possessed was missing, there was nothing but honest curiosity on his brother's face. "Because I'm a Maverick. You know what that means." Bart didn't feel the need to elaborate; Bret was too much like Pappy for him to not know what that meant.

"I do. It means we don't have to work a job because we get to play poker. We don't have to get up at the crack of dawn and bust our backs day in and day out. We don't have anybody standin' over us telling us what to do or how to do it. As a matter of fact, being a Maverick means we're free to do most anything we want without having to give an answer to anyone or worry about what anybody is gonna think about us. It means we get to dress well and on occasion live well. But most importantly it means that no matter how big a fool we make out of ourselves or how much trouble we get into we know there's always going to be somebody at our back." He finally paused and gave a small shrug. "That's what it means to me anyway."

Bart slowly digested that, giving serious thought to everything his brother had just said. He'd never seen it that way before, but Bret was absolutely right. For some reason, and he wasn't sure when it had happened, he'd started to see his name as a burden. He'd gotten so caught up in wanting to be different from what everyone expected that he'd forgotten how he'd been raised and what he actually did want. "I've uhhh, I've never really thought about it like that before."

"Doesn't sound so awful now does it?"

"It wasn't awful before," Bart shot back defensively. "It was just…" he sighed. "I was so worried about not being what was expected, I stopped thinkin' about who I did want to be."

"What do you want to be?"

Bart dropped his eyes, almost afraid to say what he was thinking. "I wanna play poker, dress well, occasionally live well. And I want to know that no matter how big a fool I make of myself I'm gonna have somebody at my back." He looked back to Bret and smile weakly. "I wanna be a Maverick," he admitted sheepishly.

Bret stared at his younger brother a minute then shook his head. "Well, that's good 'cause you're kinda stuck with it. And with us."

"There's no one I'd rather be stuck with."

"Then what's the problem?"

Bart thought about that. He wasn't sure what the problem was, not anymore. Bret had done what neither he nor Pappy had been able to do, he'd made this whole thing make sense. Pappy was right, he wasn't Bret and he wasn't Beauregard, and he certainly wasn't Bentley or Beau, but he was a Maverick. Suddenly there wasn't a thing wrong with that. Pappy was right about something else too, he was the Maverick kid and as long as he was around people who had known him his entire life he always would be. But even that didn't seem to matter right now. All being the Maverick kid meant was that there were four people who would do anything for him, and although they might hover a little too much at times, there was something comforting about knowing he was never really alone in anything. Bart chuckled. "I don't know . . . anymore. I guess I'm just being an idiot." He was one of the Maverick boys and for the first time in a long time, he was proud of that. In Bart's mind everything finally made sense but for some reason Bret's expression only became more confused.

"Is that what's been bothering you?" Bret asked, more than a little puzzled.

"What do you mean?" Bart asked. He honestly had no idea what Bret was talking about.

"You've been miserable the last few weeks. Me and Pappy's been about to go crazy trying to figure it out. Even Beau asked me what was wrong with you the other day."

Bart was surprised to hear that. "I have?"

"Yeah. Ever since you started goin' to that … that …"

Bart realized Bret was referencing the Dove. "Hovel?" he suggested using Pappy's favorite term for the place. He was surprised his dissatisfaction had been so obvious to everyone, but it did explain why Bret had constantly asked him about the place.

Bret nodded his approval. "Hovel works. So, does your moodiness and your liking for the place have anything to do with each other?"

Bart flushed some but didn't deny it. "A little," he admitted. Then he told Bret the story, the whole story. From the first night he'd played in the Dove to Bret picking him up three nights ago, even added a bit of his conversations with Pappy in. "I don't know," he finished up. "No one there expected anything from me and sometimes I wasn't sure where I fit in, you bein' so much like Pappy and all."

"Well, you're just like Mama you know?"

"Really?"

Bret laughed. "Yep. I don't know too many people, outside of you and Mama and maybe Uncle Ben, who have the guts to stand up and yell at Pappy."

Bart groaned. That memory was still kind of stomach turning. "That wasn't guts," he told his brother. "That was stupidity. And God only knows what will happen if I ever dare to do it again."

Again Bret laughed. His brother was back, really back. Whatever had been eating at him for the last few weeks seemed to finally be over and Bret couldn't be happier. There was only one thing left to do, the task Pappy had charged him with; getting Bart to town and inside a saloon. Personally he thought Bart was overreacting just a bit. Last night only two men had said anything at all about Bart and that had only been to make sure he was all right. "Ready for town now?" he asked again. Pappy would have his hide if he came home and found that they hadn't done anything but sit in the parlor all night.

Bart looked to the door and back at Bret. He shook his head but there was a smile on his face. "No, but let's go anyway. I think you're right, Brother Bret. We do need to show them what the Maverick boys can do."