By the time Bart left Maude's for the night he'd almost forgotten what had occurred on the boardwalk earlier in the day. The afternoon had been busy and there were so many things to handle that it had all but slipped his mind. When he walked in the front door he expected the normal mad dash of the girls yelling "Daddy, daddy, daddy," but there was no yelling and no adoring little girls. There was no trace of anyone, not even Maria Elena. The only thing he could see were two suitcases and his war bag, all appearing to be packed and sitting a few feet inside the door.
"Doralice, honey, what're the suitcases doin' out here?" There was no immediate answer, and all remained still. "Doralice?"
She came out of the bedroom then, her eyes dry but red. She'd cried quite a bit but she finally had it under control now. Otherwise, she was as beautiful as ever . . . maybe even more so. "They're yours. Get out."
"What?"
"Take your clothes and get out."
He couldn't believe the words he was hearing. "I . . .what? Why? What have I done?"
"I always believed you were the kind of man that l could trust. Someone that would never betray me. And if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. But I saw it, Bart. I saw you kiss that Whitlock woman, right out on Main Street, in front of God and anybody else that was looking. My mother and your own father saw it, and I will not allow you to humiliate me like that. Take your belongings and get out."
He was stunned. Doralice had seen Josephine kiss him. Not only Doralice but Maude and Pappy, too. He had to tell her, had to explain what happened. "Honey, I didn't kiss her. She kissed me. I'd just told her that she was gonna have to find somebody else to help her out, and . . . "
"I don't care what kind of an explanation you've got, mister. I know what I saw. And what I saw was my husband kissin' another woman. I've put up with a lot ever since Josephine Whitlock came to this town, but I will not tolerate that. Pick up your bags and go. You're not welcome here anymore."
"Doralice . . . "
"Get out, Bart, and don't come back." And with that she turned around and went back into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Bart stood there for a good ten minutes, waiting to see if she'd come back to the living room. Her door remained firmly closed, and not a sound escaped from behind it. Finally, in the depths of despair, he picked up the suitcases and left.
XXXXXXXX
He was utterly and completely lost. There were only two places he could go; one of them was the hotel, which already housed the woman that had gotten him into this mess. The other was his office at Maude's; that's where he headed now.
Fortunately, he was the occupant of the office with a back-door exit, and he went inside that way, so that no one would see him with his bags. He set them down behind the desk and then all but collapsed in his chair. His office door was closed and locked and he intended to leave it that way. Sitting there listening to the noises emanating from the saloon, he tried to determine just what had happened. With nothing better to do, he stood back up and removed his coat, then unbuttoned his vest and loosened his tie. He let out a little chuckle as he wondered, "where was Maudie when he needed her?"
His next move was the only one that seemed logical to him. He reached into the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled out a bottle of brandy and a glass. The bottle was almost full.
The next step was most unusual. He filled the glass and drank it down, not stopping until it was empty once again. He poured a second glass and consumed it slower this time, feeling the effects when he was about half finished. There wasn't much left in him that cared, so he proceeded to finish the second glass and pour a third. He pondered the wrong he'd done to the only woman he'd ever loved this way while he drank that glass, too. Before he could pour a fourth, he lay his head down on his desk and wept bitter tears. Why hadn't he listened to Doralice or Simon? Why had he insisted that Josephine was just lonely, and he was only a friend? And why, oh why, had Josephine tried to kiss him? Was it just an accident, as she maintained, or was there something else going on here, something that he wasn't aware of?
He poured a fourth glass of brandy, drinking most of it before he lay his head back down on the desk. Within minutes he was asleep, and he stayed that way until almost five the next morning. When he finally woke he was hung over and miserable. He wanted to see his babies and hold his wife in his arms, and he knew that right now he couldn't. Doralice needed time; time to get over the anger she felt at him, time to be willing to listen to him when he explained what had really happened yesterday on Main Street.
Bart staggered to his feet and made his way to the pitcher of water he kept in the office for emergencies. He washed his face and combed his hair, then opened one of the suitcases and found clean clothes. He changed and finally unlocked his office door, headed straight for the bar to make a fresh pot of coffee. Everything was so peaceful and quiet at this time of the morning; he tried to forget why he was at Maude's this early. The coffee was almost done when he heard someone knocking at the front door. Bart was inclined to ignore the knocking, but it didn't stop and he finally heard a familiar voice. "Bart, its Parker. Open up."
Maverick made his way slowly to the door and opened it, locking it again when the sheriff was safely inside. "I saw the light go on in here and I figured it was you. Didn't think you'd go to the hotel."
"How did you know . . . is it all over town?"
Parker nodded. "Afraid so. Most everybody knows what happened, or some version of it."
"Great. Do they know I didn't kiss the woman?"
"There's all kinds of stories out there. What really happened, Bart?"
The gambler poured two cups of coffee, and he and the sheriff headed for a table. "I just happened to run into her at the bakery. I told her that I needed to back away from the friendship for the sake of my marriage, and she said she understood. I held the door for her, and the next thing I know Josephine's kissed me and I'm trying to find out what the hell she'd do that for. Ain't no reason for it, Dave. I didn't do nothin' to encourage it. I pulled away from her as quick as I could but the damage had already been done."
Dave shook his head. "You're in a tough spot, Buddy. Gossip I hear has got you tried and convicted already. Most everybody knows Doralice threw your sorry behind out. What are you gonna do now?"
"Somethin' about this ain't sittin' right with me, Dave. It's too . . . contrived. I'm gonna see what I can find out about Josephine Whitlock. You got time to do me a favor?"
"Looks that way. Whadda you need?"
"Two things. Go through your 'Wanted' posters and see if you can turn up anything, and find out from the Wells Fargo office where Mrs. Whitlock got on the stage. I'd appreciate your help."
The sheriff set down his empty coffee cup. "Alright, partner, you got it. I'll see what I can do for you. You gonna try to talk to your wife today?"
"Nope. I think she needs some time to cool off before I try. But I am gonna go out to Pappy's and talk to him."
"I don't envy you that trip. I'll let you know what I find out."
"Thanks, Dave. I'll come by the jail later. And don't tell anybody what you're doin', alright?"
Parker nodded and attempted a smile. "I'll keep it as quiet as I can."
"Thanks." The sound of keys rattling was heard at the front door, and a few minutes later Willie walked in.
"Thought you might be here, boss," Willie remarked but said nothing else. Bart walked Dave up to the front door and let him out, then headed back towards his office. "You here to stay?" came Willie's question.
"Nope. I'm ridin' out to talk to Pappy. Wish me luck."
"You're gonna need more than luck, Bart. You're gonna need a miracle."