'What – how did Ray find out?' Bart's mind raced. Then it came to him, slowly, and he remembered – Ray's daughter Susie was Cora's best friend. Trust a girl not to be able to keep quiet about something that was - well, personal.
"Nothin' to say, Bart?"
"Uh – "
Beauregard didn't make another sound, waiting to hear a response from his son. Bart was panic stricken, scared to death, and relieved, all at the same time. Pappy hadn't exploded with rage or any other reaction that Bart might have normally expected. How much of that was due to his father's good mood from the trip to Claytonville he had no idea, but he was still alive and breathing. Pappy and he were riding peacefully towards home, and his father was still waiting for an answer to his question. Finally, Bart gave the only answer he could think of.
"No, sir, nothin' to say."
"Is it true?"
Pappy's calm demeanor had convinced Bart to determine just how much his father actually knew before committing himself to an answer of any kind. He made a bold move, one befitting a Maverick, and forced Pappy into showing his cards first. "What did Ray tell you?"
Beauregard had to chuckle, even though it was the last thing he should do. Bart was certainly acting like his son, rather than the frightened young boy that he'd somewhat expected. Beau did his best to remain calm and reasonable, waiting to see if Bart had learned how to handle adversity or, at least, pressure. "That you and the young lady in question were at the barn dance kissing."
Bart continued to be evasive but entirely honest with his answers. "Sort of."
"Was does that mean, sort of?"
"We went outside to talk, that's all."
"Kissin' and talkin' ain't the same thing, boy."
Bart was emboldened by his father's lack of agitation. "We was just supposed to talk. She kissed me."
"You kiss her back?"
"Yeah."
"What else?"
"Nothin', Pappy, I swear. Two kisses, that's all."
"Then what?"
The boy was glad it was dark out, Pappy wouldn't see him blush. "I left."
"What does that mean, you left?" Beauregard almost chuckled again; Bart was certainly not making this easy.
"I got on my horse and came home."
"And where was the girl?"
"Still at the dance, I guess."
Beau stopped his horse, and Bart did the same. "Why didn't you tell me?"
It all came rushing out, in a flood of words. "I was goin' to, I swear, Pappy. I almost told ya on the way to town tonight, but I was . . . . . I changed my mind. You was in such a good mood, an I didn't wanna spoil it."
"You ever kissed a girl before?"
"No, Pappy. I swear."
Beauregard couldn't help it, he had to ask the question. "Are ya gonna do it again?"
Bart heard the tone in his father's voice and took a chance. "Yeah. I 'spose."
"You ain't fixin' ta do nothin' else, are ya?"
"Pappy!"
"Ya know what happens if ya do, don't ya?"
"Yeah," Bart stared at the ground. "Ya gotta marry 'em."
"Ya think yer a little young fer that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. You decide yer not, ya come talk to me first, alright?"
"Yes, sir."
They rode the rest of the way home in silence; Bart relieved that things had gone as well as they did, his father pleased that there didn't seem to be anything further on his son's mind, at least for now. He hoped that his oldest was thinking the same way.
XXXXXXXX
Bret had ridden towards home for a short distance, but when he got to the turnoff for the Tompkins house, he impulsively took it. He hadn't been able to get Mary Alice off his mind all day and wanted to see her, even though it was too late at night for that. He circled around the back way to her house and was surprised to find a light on inside her room. As quietly as he could, Bret dismounted and left his horse tied to a tree some distance away, and made the rest of the journey on foot. A window was open and he could hear what sounded like crying in the room. He peeked in and saw his girl, his Mary Alice, laying on the floor next to her bed sobbing.
"Pssst! Mary Alice! What's wrong?" His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but she heard him and looked up from her position on the ground. He had to blink more than once to make sure he was really seeing what was right in front of him – Mary Alice, with red eyes and tears running down her face, a bruise the size of a fist on her right cheek and a split lip with a thin line of blood trickling down her chin. She scrambled to her feet and ran to the window, still crying, and opened it all the way. Bret did his best to climb in and finally succeeded in pulling himself inside.
As soon as he straightened up she ran into his arms and continued crying against his chest. "What happened? Who did this to you?' he whispered. She gulped and shuddered and finally calmed down some, but didn't answer him.
Bret held her close and tried to comfort her, silently swearing that whoever did this would pay for it, and pay dearly. It took a few minutes but she finally gave him an answer, and it was just what he feared. "Pa did it."
He led her back over to her bed and sat down, pulling her down into his arms and on his lap as he did so. He rocked her and stroked her hair while she told him the story of the welt on her face. "Pa came home drunk. Nothin' unusual, but he was so late his supper was ruined a long time ago. He pulled me outta bed and told me to fix him somethin' else, and I tried, but nothin' made him happy. So he found one a his bottles and started drinkin' again. An I begged him to quit, and when he decided he'd heard enough he grabbed my arm, an I tried to pull away from him. An he hit me."
"Where is he now?" Bret asked, fully expecting to hear the answer he got.
"Passed out somewhere, I'm sure."
Now it made sense – Mary Alice's reluctance to tell him what had been bothering her for weeks. "This ain't the first time, is it?"
Her tears had stopped, but she was still gasping for air and trying to breathe. She shook her head. "No."
Bret stood up and pulled her to her feet with him. "Get dressed. Pack some things. I'm not leavin' you here."
Mary Alice stood there trembling, afraid to go and afraid to stay. "Bret, I can't. He's my – "
"I don't care what he is, Mary Alice. You're goin' with me. I'll not leave ya here to get beat on some more."
She studied him carefully, the determined tone in his voice and the look of pure hatred in his eyes, and nodded her head. "Alright, turn around so I can put on clothes."
The boy did as instructed, and in just a few minutes he heard her voice again, steadier this time. "I'm ready."
She wore jeans and a shirt and held a small bag in her hand. "My clothes and a hairbrush," she told him when his face assumed a questioning look.
"We'll come back for your things tomorrow. You're not livin' here anymore." She followed him to the window and he left the way he'd come in. Once he was outside, he took her bag and then helped her climb out of the house, to the ground where he stood.
"Come on, we'll ride double," taking her by the hand and leading her to his horse. He helped her up in the saddle and then mounted himself, sliding back behind the cantle. It was slower going than normal but eventually they made it to the Maverick Ranch. Beau and Bart's horses were still outside.
"Come on down here, Missy," Bret told her as he pushed himself off the side of his horse. She swung her right leg over the saddle and slid down into his arms. "I'll take care of the horses after I get you inside."
Bret opened the front door to find Pappy and Bart sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee. "What in the world – " Pappy started, then stopped abruptly when he saw the bright red welt and rapidly swelling lip on Mary Alice's face. "Ben?" he asked, and Bret nodded.
"She ain't livin' there with him." It wasn't a question, it was a statement of fact, and Beauregard nodded, in complete agreement. There was no reason in the world to hit a woman, and Beau had always impressed that upon his boys. The fact that Mary Alice was only fifteen changed nothing. He came up out of his seat and pulled the chair out for her.
"We got another room you can sleep in. Bart, go get the bed ready in the spare room. Honey, you want some coffee to warm you up? You look like you're near freezin' to death."
"No, thank you, Mr. Maverick."
"Beauregard, Mary Alice, call me Beauregard. Bret, you stay here with your girl, I'll go get the horses."
Bret nodded and sat down with 'his girl.' "You sure you don't want some coffee? Pappy's right, it'll warm you up."
"Alright," she finally said, after a pause. "Why'd you come over to my house, anyway?"
"Just a feelin'. I couldn't get you off my mind." He poured a fresh cup of coffee and set it on the table in front of her. "That's what you wouldn't tell me, isn't it?"
"I was too ashamed."
"Ashamed? Why? You don't deserve to be beat. Nobody does. Not like that."
"Pa made it seem like – he said that I should – you know, take care of him. Since Mama was gone."
"Take care of him? He's a grown man, he can . . . . . . . oh . . . . . . oh my God . . . . . . . you mean like – "
Mary Alice couldn't answer the unspoken question. She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and the tears slid down her face once more and dropped into her lap. Bret took her hand in his and kissed it. "Did he . . . . I mean did he try to . . . . . you know . . . . . because if he did . . . . . . "
"No, no, he just talked . . . like I should . . . . because he was my Pa . . . . . "
Bart walked back into the kitchen just in time to hear his brother declare, with as much venom as he could muster, "If he ever lays a hand on you again, or even thinks about it . . . . . . "