Mississippi Bayou Belle

Chapter 12 – Coffee, Bullets and Bodies

This time Emily came back with the real ship's doctor, Byron Horton. Dr. Horton took one look at the gunshot wound and shook his head. "Well, it won't be pretty when I get done with it, Mr. Maverick. Bullet's still in there and its gotta come out. Probably need a couple stitches by the time I get through diggin' around to find it. Sorry. How's your brother do with pain?'

"What kind Doctor? The 'diggin' in his arm lookin' for it' or the 'gonna hurt long after the bullets out' kind?"

"Never heard it put like that before, but both, I guess."

Bret chuckled as he answered, "Better than I do, Doc. He's had plenty of stitches, he'll handle it."

"That your sister came to get me?"

"Emily? No, she's a . . . . .a client."

Doctor Horton talked while he was digging around in Bart's arm for the bullet. Bret stayed in the room just in case Bart came to while the doctor was busy. With no liquor and no aspirin to help, the only thing the doctor had was laudanum - or a strong brother to hold you down. Bart had once before made it clear he'd had enough of the laudanum and would rather face pain the hard way. Lady Luck stayed with him on this night and he didn't regain consciousness while the doctor was working.

Once the bullet was out and the stitches were in, Bret helped Doc Horton get the blood off his brother. "Bled an awful lot for a gun shot. Keep an eye on him – I'll be by tomorrow to take a look at things and change the bandage." The doctor shook his head and gave Bret a strange look. "What kind of business are you two in?" he asked. "He's awfully young to have so many scars."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Doc Horton left and Bret got Bart's boots off, then most of the rest of everything else. He pulled the blanket up and sat down gently on the edge of the bed. "How do we get into these things?" he asked out loud. "And why do you get hurt so much?" He gave that a minute's thought and then said "I guess I don't do a real good job of protecting you, do I?" He thought back to all the skinned knees and broken bones his little brother had and wondered if Bart was his own worst enemy. He seemed to attract trouble, and the older he got the worse it got. His penchant for saving 'damsels in distress' had gotten him into this mess. But he'd done nothing to get into the other problem he had – the three murders that still had to be solved. And time was getting short. Tomorrow night they'd be in Memphis.

He had to get some sleep. That's what he'd been about to do when he heard the moaning in the hallway. Thank God he'd checked to see what it was all about. Maybe things would stay quiet for a while and he could grab a few hours. Then Zeke Crawford needed to be found. He stood up from the bed and pulled a chair over. Taking off his own boots and pulling the other blanket around him, he sat down in the chair and put his feet on the end of the bed. He was so tired he could sleep anywhere. He closed his eyes for just a minute and then he did.

XXXXXXXX

Somebody was pounding on his head. That's what it felt like for a minute or two, and then it stopped. He'd just drifted back into sleep when he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a woman's voice calling him. "Bret, wake up. It's Emily. Captain Sampson wants to see you in the pilothouse." He groaned and opened one eye. Yep, it was Emily all right. What time was it? And how was his brother?

Bret opened the other eye and yawned. "What time?" he asked sleepily.

"Almost ten o'clock," she answered.

A little over four hours of sleep. Better than nothing. He threw the blanket back and sat forward in the chair, anxiously looking to see if Bart was awake. No such luck. Still sleeping like an angel. An angel with a hole in his arm. Well, no hole after Doctor Horton took stitches in it.

"Did they say what he wanted?"

Emily looked fine, how did women do it? "He wants an explanation for the body."

Oh, yeah, the body. Jerome Lewis, card cheat extraordinaire. Thief, liar, betrayer of trust, husband and father. Now there were two little girls with no daddy. Killed by his own greed, and two bullets courtesy of Bart Maverick and the pop gun that Bret had given him. It couldn't be helped, he reminded himself as he looked down at Bart's sleeping form. Lewis had tried to kill his brother twice in the same night and it was only through subterfuge and the grace of God that he was unsuccessful both times. 'Don't forget that,' he reminded himself.

He reached up with his hand to rub his chin and felt stubble. 'Gotta shave,' was his next thought, then, 'Gotta change clothes,' quickly followed. He turned to Emily, who was still standing there watching him. "Can you stay here while I go take care of some things?" he asked. "Soon as Sampson's down to a dull roar I'll be back and you can go to breakfast."

She laid her hand back on his shoulder. "Whatever you need," she told him, then quickly corrected herself, "Whatever you both need."

His mind started working and he remembered all the ugly, nasty truth that Emily had heard this morning for the first time. "Will you be alright until I'm back? We can talk then."

She nodded her head. Sweet of him to think of her emotional pain when his brother was all but dead last night, thanks to Jerome Lewis. "I'll be fine," was her answer, almost as glib as his brother's 'Sure.' "Better get going, I don't think the Captain has much in the way of patience."

He reached up and squeezed her hand, then picked his boots up from the floor and stood up. "Take good care of him, please," he directed to her before leaving the room and walking through the sitting area back to what had started out as his room. There was no reason for Emily to stay with them any longer, but it was kind of nice to have her around and if she felt more comfortable here than in her own room she was welcome, as long as she wanted.

After a shave and a change of clothes Bret set out for the pilothouse, anticipating a long and arduous meeting with Captain Sampson. The thought crossed his mind that Sampson must have a first name but Bret had no idea what it was. 'Captain', perhaps? The thought made him smile, and he was still smiling when he entered the pilothouse. Sampson was just giving a steward the directions for the disposition of the newest body on board and waved Bret over to a chair. Once the steward departed he turned his attention to the gambler. "You look like you could use some coffee, Mr. Maverick."

Sampson seemed to be in a reasonable mood this morning, considering that he'd just had to deal with body number four. "That I could, Captain. Do you have any?"

The captain stepped over to a small desk, picked up a bell sitting there and rang it. In just a minute another steward, this one very young, opened the door and asked "Yes, Captain?"

"Bring us some coffee, would you, Tim?"

Bret's curiosity was immediately peaked. "Is that Tim Jameson?"

Samson nodded ascent. "Yes, and he's a fine lad. Quick and sharp-witted. He'll go far with this ship."

That answered Bret's quest for new hire number two. Fred Dabner was correct – Jameson wasn't the man he was looking for. In less than five minutes the young man was back with two steaming mugs of coffee and Bret took his gratefully. "Thanks."

"Mr. Maverick, I have body number four on my hands. I understand you have an explanation for this one?" The Captain's tone was light and inquisitive rather than dark and accusing.

"Self-defense on Jerome Lewis, Captain. He was going to kill all three of us."

"You, your brother and Miss Mayhew?"

"That's right. He tried to kill Bart twice. Once on the second deck, once in our stateroom. Any questions?"

"Just one, Mr. Maverick. Do you and your brother always have people trying to kill you? Besides poker players that have lost to you, I mean."

Bret shook his head as he took another sip of his coffee. He was starting to wake up, finally. "Not usually. This is the man that was after Miss Mayhew. Nothing to do with us, really."

"Some background, please."

"Jerome Lewis was Emily's former employer. He had some inside information about something she knew nothing about. He got greedy. That's about all. His wife and daughters are back in St. Louis."

The captain changed topics on him. "How's your search for the other killer coming?"

Bret couldn't tell if Sampson was seriously asking him or just trying to get information before they got to Memphis. "Two down, one to go."

"Does the missing man happen to be Zeke Crawford, by any chance?"

Bret sat up straight in his chair. "Yes, it is Crawford. Do you know something I don't?"

Captain Sampson nodded. Was that the hint of a smile on his face? "No, I never met the man. He was hired by the ships on shore manager, Sam Merton. I wouldn't know him if I saw him."

"So I'm still looking for a needle in a haystack?"

"It would appear so. I wish you luck, Mr. Maverick. I know how close you and your brother are. For your sake I hope you're correct and he really is innocent." He paused and then added, "We'll be in Memphis tomorrow night, you know."

"I'm well aware of that. It'll all be straightened out by that time." Bret was finished with his coffee and stood to go. "Someone's waiting for me."

"Miss Mayhew?"

Bret just smiled. "Could be. Captain." He tipped his hat and left the pilothouse. So Sampson didn't know what Zeke Crawford looked like? How convenient. He hurried back to the stateroom. He was hungry but the coffee would have to do for now; Emily had been up for hours and he'd promised to relieve her so she could get some breakfast first.