A Small Price to Pay

Chapter 10 – Fools in Love

It was almost six o'clock when Bret got back to the hotel. He'd done a lot of nothing most of the day, and was surprised when he realized it was so late and the day was gone. On a whim he stopped at Marybeth's door and knocked, not expecting an answer but trying anyway. He was surprised when she came to the door, and even more surprised when he took a close look at her. Her eyes were red, her cheeks blotchy; she'd been crying for quite a while, obviously. Her jacket was on but unbuttoned; her hat sat crooked atop her dark hair, which was starting to come loose from atop her head. She opened the door wider and he gathered her into his arms and held her. The crying started all over again and he stepped inside her room and closed the door behind him, never letting go of her. Her suitcase was open on the bed, half packed or half unpacked, he couldn't tell which.

"Darlin', darlin', stop now." He attempted to soothe her but it seemed to have no effect. She moaned profusely as he sat down on the end of the bed and continued to hold her; she remained in his lap with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her sobs drowned the collar of his ruffled shirt in a torrent of tears. All he could do was hold her so she wouldn't fall to the floor while she wept.

After a few minutes she began to choke and cough in between her sobs and was forced to stop crying just so she could breathe. Her face was buried in his neck; when she finally pulled away from him a little he pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and began to dry her tears. "Now tell me what's wrong."

"It's . . . my . . . sister . . . . she . . . . doesn't . . . . want me ," came out in pieces and between choking, gasping sobs. She was shaking and her hat was falling down into her eyes. Bret reached up with a free hand and removed it from her head, setting it down on the bed behind them.

Slowly she began to calm down, and he waited a few more minutes before asking, "What do you mean she doesn't want you? Was that your bother-in-law this morning in the street? Is that why you were arguing with him?"

She nodded her head 'yes.' "That was him . . . Percy Lutz. My sister's . . . name is . . . Sarah. Sarah Lutz."

"Why doesn't she want you there, Marybeth? What's she afraid of?"

"That I'll steal Percy!" she wailed, and she burst into tears all over again.

It took Bret a few minutes to settle her down so she was capable of talking again. "Can't you go back down south?" he asked

"No," she told him. "We lived in a hotel. I moved out."

"What about your husband's restaurants? Can't you sell your interest in those?"

"Peter was only a partial owner. By the time we settled his debts there was nothing left. I have no money and nowhere to go."

She laid her head back on his shoulder as he continued to hold her. Now what? If she had nowhere to go and no money to get there, what would she do? She couldn't live in the street. Maybe he could find a place for her. "Maybe I can help. We'll pay your bill in the morning and you can stay with me while I try to find a home for you. If that's alright with you."

"Thank you," she whispered quietly, and kissed him chastely on the cheek, then snuggled her head back down into his shoulder so that he couldn't see the little smile that played very subtly around the corners of her mouth.

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They'd had too much wine, and too much food, and too little rest. When Jody fell asleep while they were talking, Bart simply took a pillow off his bed and laid it under her head, then covered her with a blanket and let her sleep. He laid down on his bed after untying his tie and unbuttoning and removing his vest, then taking off the shoulder holster and laying it in the bed next to him. The boots were the last thing to come off. Just like sleeping on the stage coach, only he got to lie flat. It wasn't a minute before Bart was asleep, too, and they stayed that way all night.

The morning light woke him, shining brightly into the room as the sun came up. He automatically reached for the shoulder holster; it was still where he'd left it last night. So was Jody; she hadn't even rolled over where she lay on the couch. Gradually it dawned on him that there might be people wondering where she was; what if her mother and Beau expected her home and she never showed up? And what about Travis? Did he know where she was?

Bart got up, rumpled, and stumbled over to the couch. "Jody, Jody honey, wake up," he murmured to her softly, shaking her shoulder gently.

"Mmmmhmmm," she moaned, but slowly opened her eyes as he continued to shake her shoulder. "Bartley?" she sat up quickly, suddenly awake. "Where am I?"

"Where you were last night," he answered carefully. "In my room."

"Oh my God," she jumped to her feet, dropping the blanket and swaying slightly. "I have to leave."

"Not by yourself," Bart told her. "Give me a minute and I'll take you down to the saloon." He shuffled back to the bed and put his boots back on, then the shoulder holster. He took his gun belt off of the chair next to the bed and put it on next, then his coat and finally his hat. He ignored the pounding in his head; whether it was from the wine or just because made no difference, there was nothing he could do to ease the pain. He put his arm around Jody protectively and they left the room; he locked the door behind them. They walked carefully down the stairs and out into the street, and even though it was very early the town was already awake. Many late nights and early mornings he'd walked up or down this sidewalk, but it seemed strange to be escorting Jody to the saloon. Once there she unlocked the heavy front doors and Bart pushed them open for her. He kissed her on the cheek and waited while she got inside, then closed the doors again so she could lock them. He turned and moved up the street, back to the hotel dining room, where he ordered toast and coffee. He had no idea that the entire trip down and back was seen by a very unhappy man, already at work in the marshal's office. There would be hell to pay, and sooner rather than later.

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Another day and he was back at the clinic. Everything had proceeded just the way he hoped for, maybe even better than expected, in the two years he'd been in Silver Creek. Both the town and the clinic had expanded so rapidly that he'd taken in a partner sooner than planned; Dr. Kerrigan Thomas, a skilled surgeon and the man that handled the afternoon's patients. He, Beckham Dooley, M.D., staffed the offices in the mornings. That arrangement had worked out fine until he'd started courting Jody Mayfield, and then there weren't enough hours in the day to accomplish everything that needed to be done. Slowly he'd fallen in love with the young, spirited woman, and his soul was almost crushed beyond repair when she'd accepted Travis Cole's proposal of marriage before he'd had a chance to ask her to marry him.

Dooley straightened his tie and unlocked the front door. He wondered what the day would bring; another inebriated homesteader like Jeb Kincaid, who'd been shuttled in for treatment by the bridegroom-to-be himself? He hoped not; it was bad enough that the clinic was almost across the street from the jail, he didn't want to see Marshal Cole any more than absolutely necessary. It was too painful. Each sighting brought a reminder of what he'd lost to the man. Why had he waited so long? He should have proposed months before Travis did; but he wanted the clinic to be on firmer financial ground when he finally asked her. He snorted; so much for good intentions.

The worst part, he realized, was the idea that the rumors he'd heard around town were true. Cole had made it well-known that no wife of his would run a saloon. Beckham had no such notions – Jody loved the place like it was her child and he would never ask her to give it up. But the marshal had, and it was quietly known amongst townsfolk that 'The Three Mavericks' was for sale.

And now it looked like the damn wedding was really going to happen. Jody's 'brothers', the actual namesake Mavericks, had arrived, and preparations appeared to be in full swing. He had one chance left; a longshot at that, he knew full well, but he had to take it. If he didn't and Jody married Cole she would be lost to him forever. That's why he'd asked Dr. Thomas to come to the clinic early today, so he could go talk to the one person that might hold sway over Jody's decision to marry the wrong man – her brother, Bart Maverick. He was nervous and anxious – he hadn't met either of the gamblers, but he knew the full story behind their trials and tribulations in Silver Creek. Doc Washburn had filled him in on everything Maverick quite a while back.

It was a fascinating tale, he had to admit. If not emotionally, then at least medically. Doc had never been able to determine a cause behind Bart's apparent seizures; Beck suspected an allergy of some sort. Possible causes – the laudanum or the aspirin given so freely, without any concern for side effects. Even if he hadn't been in love with Jody he'd have wanted an audience with the patient, but Jody's ties to the man made his contact all the more urgent. Everything that would affect the rest of his life depended on the meeting today. Where was Doctor Thomas?

Then he pulled his pocket watch out and looked at the time. Only eight o'clock. Kerrigan wouldn't be here until ten. He was surprised it was still so early; he'd seen the brother walking up from the saloon and returning to the hotel. Didn't gamblers work at night and sleep during the day? Or was it too soon after their arrival to be playing poker? He was confused, nervous and frustrated. Everything he normally felt whenever he saw the red-haired beauty. 'Jody,' his mind wailed, 'couldn't you have waited? Didn't you know I love you?'

"Stop it, Beckham,' he chastised himself. 'Be a man. No begging or pleading. Present your case rationally and professionally. Maintain your dignity at all costs. Behave.'

He stood still at the door to his office before going in and resuming the update he'd started on his records last night. There was a time to gather your emotions together and act like an adult. Keep yourself occupied with something productive until you could go to your meeting. Stay busy and the time will pass quickly.

Yeah, fat chance of that.