The brothers rode out to Uncle Bentley's at about the same pace that they'd walked to the saloon. Bart's head wasn't hurting as bad as he'd expected it to, but he didn't mind the slow pace. Truth be told, he wasn't particularly anxious to meet 'Pappy.'
He'd had flashes of memory here and there that he hadn't discussed with his brother or his wife. Most of them involved pappy, and most of them were either unpleasant or unhappy. There seemed to be too many differences of opinion and too many times that they butted heads.
The house was large. Bret had told him earlier that Bentley referred to it as 'the mansion' and the name stuck. "Lily Mae will be here today. She came out to do some cleanin' for them." As promised, they found Lily in the kitchen making a fresh pot of coffee. Her face lit up when she saw Bart, but when there was no recognition from him, she went back to looking despondent.
"How are you, Bart?" He was mildly surprised that she hadn't called him Mr. B, but then that's really not who he was at the moment.
"Better than before, thank you, Lily."
There were footsteps on the stairs, and both men turned to see the man that had to be Pappy. Tall, almost as tall as he was, Bart was surprised to see a man so robust and healthy looking for someone of his advanced age. His hair was silver, but there was still plenty of it, and he looked more weathered than old. The hand he offered in a handshake was strong and firm. There was nothing weak or infirm about this man.
The three men sat down at the kitchen table and Lily Mae poured them all coffee. Pappy drank about half of his before he said anything. "How's your head doin', son?"
"Better than it was a few days ago," Bart replied.
"Do you remember what happened the night you got hurt?"
"No, not really. I just remember a lotta pain."
Bret and Pappy exchanged glances. "You got questions to ask me, boy?"
"I don't . . . I don't know. I've heard so much about you . . . from Doralice and Bret . . . and some of it doesn't match some things circlin' around in my head. Did we get along?"
"Of course we got along. You're my boy, why wouldn't we?"
"Look, I remember some things, some little things, that just make it seem like we were at odds with each other. Is that possible?" Bart was trying to explain the feelings he was getting as best he could.
Bret interrupted, thinking about the days when Bart and Pappy butted heads somethin' fierce. "You used to be. At odds with each other, I mean. There was a lot of misunderstandin' on both sides. But that was a long time ago."
"Are you sure? There was somethin' recently that we argued about. Wasn't there, Pappy?" Bart asked, that aggravated tone beginning to creep back into his voice.
"Nothin' important, Bartley," Pappy answered.
"It's important enough that it's stuck in my head somewhere. What was it?"
Beauregard poured himself another cup of coffee before sitting back down. "If you must know, we had a disagreement about that horse ranch notion you've dreamed up."
"What's he talkin' about, Bart?" Bret asked his brother.
"I can't remember all of it . . . But it had somethin' to do with horses instead of the saloon. Us buildin' a ranch, outside of town, and makin' our livelihood there."
"Damn foolish talk," Beau muttered under his breath, "give up cards for somethin' you know nothin' about."
"I remember parts of it . . . I'd just come back from some town . . . and I started thinkin' about the way townsfolk was treatin' gamblers and saloons that had gamblin'." Bart struggled to try and remember everything. "And I thought . . . I thought maybe it was time to do somethin' else. Horses, instead of cattle, horses. Bret, we talked about it . . . I sorta remember that . . . and you thought maybe sometime in the future." Bart was seeing pictures in his head . . . pictures of him telling Pappy, and being told what a fool he was . . . a ranch required work, real work. He looked across the table at his father. "You told me I wasn't . . . cut out to be nothin' but what I was . . . a gambler. I was so . . . so disappointed . . . and hurt . . . you tellin' me now I imagined it?"
"Pappy?" Bret was waiting for their father to say something. . . anything . . . to exonerate Beauregard from having uttered what he'd just heard.
"Well . . . I wasn't that . . . unfeelin'. But I told you I thought it was a foolish idea . . . to start somethin' like that at this point in your lives . . . and it was gonna involve too much work . . . you asked for my opinion and I gave it to you . . . you just didn't like it."
"You told me . . . I was wrong . . . we shouldn't do it. That's what you said, wasn't it? Wasn't it?"
"Alright, alright, yes . . . that's what I said. And if you wasn't so damn stubborn, you'da heard me and paid attention . . . instead of plottin' and makin' plans to build a ranch. I can just see you two ranchin', and it ain't a pretty picture. I think you're a fool . . . a damn fool. Both of you are." Pappy got up from the table and went out the back door.
Bret sat with the brother that didn't remember him until he finally got up the courage to ask a question. "Is that all? All you remember? What about the plans for the ranch? Your wife, your kids, anything?"
"Sometimes . . . little things. I had . . . I had a horse named Noble at one time, didn't I?"
Bret chuckled quietly. "Yeah, you did. Cantankerous old coot. You'd do almost anything for that horse."
"What happened to him?"
"Old age. Same thing that gets all of us. Uncle Ben found him one mornin', just laid down in his stall and went to sleep. He's buried out behind the barn. You remember anything else?"
"No . . . not really. But I remember the old man tellin' me how stupid I was . . . I ain't stupid, Bret. I may not remember much right now, but I ain't stupid. I gotta get out of here . . . get me outta here."
Pappy came back into the house just as Bret and Bart were leaving. "Where are you goin'?" he called after them as they walked toward the front door.
"Anyplace but here," was Bart's swift reply. He turned to Bret. "I can't stay here . . . with him."
"Come on, I know just the place."
"And don't come back as long as that dang fool notion's still in your head," Pappy's voice followed them to the door.
Once they were outside, Bret swung up on his horse. "You okay?" he asked his brother.
"I will be," came the reply, and Bret headed the horses towards the juniper grove just south of the river. He'd done some of his best thinking there. And that's where he'd hidden the night Bart almost went along with Earnie Night's plan to rob The Providence Club. He was hoping the spot would jog Bart's memories, but as they approached there was no sign of recognition. Bret sighed. What was it going to take to bring his brother back to him?