Bart was awake and up soon after sunrise. When he gave it some thought, he was amused by all the mornings he had to be dragged out of bed when he and Bret were growing up. Make no mistake, he still liked his sleep, but when there was something that needed doing he was usually awake when he needed to be.
He went downstairs and ate what passed for breakfast while he decided where to start. The marshal was too obvious; so were the bank and the telegraph office. After heading out the front door of the hotel he spied Mosby's General Store down the street and walked that way. He poked around among the merchandise for sale while the other customers made their purchases. When he and the man behind the counter were the only ones left, he picked up several items he was in need of and went to pay for them. He and the clerk made small talk until Bart finally asked, "Say, I've got a friend that lives here in town somewhere but I'm not sure exactly where. Do you know the Dupree family?"
"Sure, Dalton and Janie. They live out in the Cottonwood area – bout six or seven miles north a here. Did you just turn up unexpected? Cause Dalton left town on one a his business trips two days ago."
"Just my luck," Bart lamented sadly as he shook his head. "I wasn't gonna come through here but at the last minute, I changed my mind. I was hopin' to catch him home. Don't they have a son?"
"Naw, it's a daughter named Sara Beth. You gonna go out there anyway? Janie's used to all sorts a company droppin' in on her unexpected. "
"Yeah, I just might," Bart replied. "Where'd you say it was?"
"Cottonwood. Take the north road outta town till you see the sign that says 'Benton – 6 miles' – then follow that road. It'll take ya right to their farm. Janie Dupree's always glad to meet somebody that knows Dalton – he's got a lotta friends. What'd ya say yer name was?"
"I didn't, but it's Jamison. Bart Jamison. Thanks, friend. I surely appreciate the information."
Bart left the store with his purchases and headed for the livery, where he got a horse and rode out of town on the north road. It didn't take long to get to the 'Benton' sign and he was soon at a small farmhouse that he assumed to be the Dupree's. Whatever Dalton had done with the money he stole from Wyoming, he certainly didn't live an extravagant lifestyle.
The house was small and cozy, and the rest of the property seemed well-taken-care-of but not expensively maintained. A young woman with wispy blonde hair sat on the porch in a rocking chair watching a four or five-year-old girl ride a pony around the corral. The woman stood up as Bart approached and he saw that she was big with child. She smiled and shaded her eyes while he dismounted and tipped his hat to her.
"Mrs. Dupree?"
"Yes."
"My name's Bart Jamison. I know your husband." 'Sort of,' thought Bart. 'I know his alter ego.' "I understand I missed him."
"You did, Mr. Jamison. He went to Mississippi to buy cotton. He'll be gone for another three or four days."
"Pardon me for being indelicate, Mrs. Dupree, but should he be gone with you in your condition?"
She threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Jamison. You needn't be concerned. This is our third and I'm fine. Won't you have a seat? I have some tea inside if you'd like some."
"Please, Mrs. Dupree, sit back down. I just finished breakfast. And call me Bart."
"Glad to meet you, Bart. I'm Janie. Won't you join me?' There was a second rocker on the porch next to the one Janie Dupree had been in, but before Bart could take the seat the girl on the pony began to call, "Mommy, mommy, mommy!"
"What is it, Sara Beth?"
"I wanna get down, Mommy!"
"You know how to do that by yourself, Sara."
In response Sara Beth dropped the reins and held out her hands, crying. "Come get me, mommy!"
Bart reached out and put his hand on the mother's arm. "Sit down. I'll get her." He headed toward the corral before Janie Dupree could tell him how very shy Sara Beth was, and generally frightened of strangers. Bart got to the pony and picked the reins up from the ground, talking to the little girl the whole time. She nodded and grinned at him, then swung her leg over the saddle and slid down into his arms. By the time they got back to the porch, Sara Beth slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour and giggling her head off, her mother was thoroughly impressed. He set her down carefully on the porch and she ran into the house, still laughing.
"She's never reacted to anyone like that. You certainly have a way with children, Bart."
"Sara Beth's a beautiful little girl."
"She's an excellent judge of character, so I've no doubt you're a good man to have as a friend."
Bart felt a twinge of guilt but answered honestly. "I hope so, Janie. I thought you said this was your third child."
Her eyes took on sadness but the smile never left her face. "It is. Our firstborn was our son, Thomas. We lost him last year when fever came through the valley. He was almost ten."
Bart wasn't sure he'd ever feel sorry for George Henry, but there was pity in his heart for Dalton and Janie. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." He couldn't imagine the pain of losing a child.
"Not your fault. Was there something you needed to see Dalton about, or was this just a social visit?"
He'd almost forgotten for a moment why he was there. "A little of both, actually. There's some business I wanna discuss with him, and I wanted to meet his family."
Sara Beth came running back outside. "Mommy, can Bart stay for supper?"
Janie stared at her daughter, wondering how she knew their guest's name. "I told her," the gambler explained, answering the unasked question. "It seemed only fair. I knew her name."
The woman smiled at her daughter. "Yes, Sara Beth, I think that's an excellent idea." She turned her head to extend the invitation to Bart. "As long as we can convince him to stay." She held up her hand. "Stop before you say anything. I already have a big pot of beef stew cooking, and adding an extra plate is not an imposition."
Sara Beth looked happy and hopeful, and Bart persuaded himself he couldn't disappoint a lady, no matter the age. He nodded. "Alright, I will. But only if you let me help clean up after."
"Deal," Janie Dupree agreed and stuck out her hand. Bart shook it and felt a pang of guilt. He had to keep reminding himself that Dalton was actually George Henry, a contract killer, and not a friend of his.
"I'll put the pony away for you," Bart told Janie. "Why don't you come with me, Sara Beth, and we'll take care of your pony? What's his name?" He reached down to the girl and she took his hand and walked obediently with him out to the corral. Janie Dupree sat for a moment and watched the two of them, then shook her head in disbelief. She'd never seen her daughter respond to anyone like that except her father, Dalton.
XXXXXXXX
When supper was done Bart helped Janie with the dishes, as agreed upon, and she poured him a fresh cup of coffee before they went to sit on the porch. Sara Beth was inside getting ready for bed and Bart lit a cigar, after making sure it wouldn't disturb his hostess. It was a beautiful clear night, with a slight breeze that cooled off the heat of the day. Janie was rocking and humming and watching the stars, and Bart didn't think he'd ever seen anyone quite so peaceful in his whole life.
"Dalton and I love to sit out here on the porch and look at the night sky," Janie told the gambler. "It's just about our favorite thing to do since we lost Thomas. It's so quiet; if we sit still and don't make a sound we can almost hear him."
"How did you get through it? I mean . . . " Bart was more or less at a loss for words.
"Have you ever lost anyone you loved, Bart?' It was practically dark outside and she couldn't see the pain that appeared in his eyes after she'd asked the question.
"Yeah. My wife."
The woman in her grieved for him, this man she'd only just met, and she reached over and patted his hand. "Then you understand."
"No, I can't imagine bringing a child into this world just to lose them." She could hear the sympathy in his words.
She sighed heavily. "Neither could we. But we did, and we got through it somehow. Sara Beth helped. We had to keep on, for her sake, and we kind of inched forward, until one day I laughed at something Dalton said, and we both knew we'd made it through the worst. Of course, this baby helped. It gave us hope, and a reason to keep going. And it inspired Dalton to finish building the new church."
"New church?"
"Oh, hadn't he started that the last time you saw him?"
"Noooo, it's been quite a while." Bart thought back to the school he'd helped build in Magdalena after Caroline died. George Henry certainly didn't seem like the kind of man to build a church; Dalton Dupree must be quite different from the gunslinger persona. "Yes, he used most of his commission money to buy the supplies and pay for the extra labor to get it built. The congregation provided all the money it could, which wasn't a lot, but the old church had gotten so small . . . and he'd started the project before Thomas got sick. I think it helped keep him sane."
"And he did that – "
"While doing his regular job as a cotton broker and working the farm. My husband stays busy."
Bart's cigar was gone and it was past time to leave. He stood up and she stood with him. "There's no need for you to get up. I have to go back to town. Do you think Dalton will be back by Friday?"
"Yes, Bart, I do. That was his plan. You're not leaving before that, are you?"
He shook his head. "No, I'll stay until he comes back. I really do need to see him." He reached for his hat on the arm of the rocker but before he could set it on his head Sara Beth came running out.
"Are you leaving, Bart?"
He bent down and picked her up. "Yes, ma'am, I have to go back to town. It's my bedtime, too."
She giggled and kissed him on the cheek. "Will you come back?"
"I will," he pledged. "On Friday, when your daddy's home."
"Promise?"
"I promise." He set the child back down on the ground, and she hugged her mother's knees.
"I love you, mommy."
"I love you too, baby. Go on and get in bed, I'll be right there to tuck you in."
"Okay. Bye Bart. See you Friday." And she disappeared as quickly as she'd appeared.
"Hard to stay miserable with her around."
"Yes, it is. Thank you for your help with her today."
Bart grinned. "My pleasure. Thank you for the pleasant company and supper. I will be back out on Friday. And just in case Dalton doesn't remember my last name, just tell him I said 'Maverick.' He'll remember that."
She smiled in the dark. "I'm sure he wouldn't forget you."
"Goodnight, Janie. I'm glad to have met you."
"Me too, Bart. Goodnight."
He mounted the horse and rode towards Lake Charles. His head was spinning – so much new information, so many contradictions. How could a man like Dalton Dupree turn into an outlaw and killer like George Henry? It was almost beyond belief. This was one time he absolutely had to see for himself. Now he just had to keep occupied until Friday.