Chapter 25 – Wishin' and Hopin'

Sometime after sunup I fell asleep in one of the empty rooms, Domino curled up next to me. One of the best things to do on the face of the earth is fall asleep with a beautiful woman in your arms. One of the worst is to wake up and find her gone, and that's just what happened. I could tell she hadn't gone far; I could hear her voice out in the hallway.

"You can't wake him; he was up all night." That was Dominique.

"But Judge Vincent sent me to talk to him." That voice I didn't know well, but I'd heard it before. When I renegotiated the liquor delivery contract. Frank. I almost jumped out of bed, putting too much weight on my knee too fast, and had to practically drag myself to the door.

"It's all right, Domino, I need to see him. Let's go back downstairs, Frank. We can use Lonnie's office." I intended to find out just what it was the judge wanted. I walked ahead of Frank, and half-limped, half-dragged myself down the stairs to Lonnie's office. I closed the door behind us and he took a seat at Lonnie's table. "So, Judge Vincent sent you, did he? To make arrangements already?"

"Yeah, to make arrangements. Ya know, I thought you was a straight shooter when you took over the Belle and you came after me for a new contract. Guess I was wrong, huh?"

"I am until it pays better not to be," I told him. "I expected you to send McGinty."

"I thought about it. Then I figured I'd give it a shot myself and see if you was on the up-an-up or not."

I wasn't sure if I was still half asleep or Frank was talking in circles. I leaned forward to say something and that's when I saw the gun he had partially hidden under his coat. Pointed at me. "What's that for?" I asked as calmly as I could.

"Told you, I came to see if you was bein' straight with the judge; Harvey's not as suspicious as I am. Everything sounded a little too quick to me. I checked with my friend down at the Marshal's office, found out the two of you seem to be good pals. Figured you'd know about McGinty, so I decided to handle it myself. Your little scheme ain't gonna work, Maverick. This here's the end of the road."

"You've got the wrong idea. The deal I made with Vincent is legitimate. Fontana's been on my back about cuttin' him in on the action here; that's why I've been down at his office. So you're just gonna shoot me before I have a chance to prove myself?"

"Can't think of any reason not to," he said casually.

"They'll hear the gunshot." I hoped that was enough to give him pause.

He sat there for a minute, trying to work it out in his head. "Maybe. Maybe not. Might as well not take the chance." He stood up, still holding the gun on me. "Ain't there another way outta here?"

"Through the back door," I told him.

"Where's that?"

"Back through the saloon, there's another door. That leads to the back entrance."

He thought for another minute. "Alright, get that gal a yours down here. She's goin' to the back door with us. You try anything, I shoot her first. You co-operate, I won't hurt her. Tell her we're goin' to the warehouse to inspect the next shipment. Don't test me; she wouldn't be the first woman I killed."

I had no trouble believing him. I got up from the table and went to the door, slowly. Domino was sitting in the saloon, drinking tea with Bonnie. "Dominique, can you come here, please."

She gave me an odd look but came over to the door. I offered her my arm and she took it. Frank was right behind me, with the gun. "I'm goin' to the warehouse to check the next shipment. Come to the back door with me."

I don't know what was going through her mind, but she walked with us. I chattered incessantly about some nonsense or other, and sometime before we got to the door I told her, "Tell my brother I'll talk to him about that Breton Joseph matter later. Remember to tell him that right away, okay, honey?" Then I leaned over and kissed her and let go of her arm. She stood there at the door and watched me walk away with Frank, and I thanked God that he hadn't hurt her. And I prayed that she'd get my message to Bret.

As I limped to the warehouse, because that's what I was doing now, I did my best to try and convince Frank that my intentions were dishonest and I was genuinely committed to working with them. I wasn't successful, because the gun was still in my back by the time we got there. He locked the door behind us and gestured for me to move over near a stack of boxes along the side wall. I did as I was told and then turned to face him; if he was going to shoot me I wasn't going to make it easy for him. I had no intention of dying with a bullet in the back.

"I'll give ya this – ya don't give up easy. Sit down in that chair and put yer hands behind yer back."

Okay, I let out a breath I'd been holding as the realization hit me that you don't tie up a man before you shoot him. Now it was up to me to buy enough time any way that I could for Bret to get the message and come after me. "Maybe you oughta check with the judge before you do this."

"Smart ass. Where do ya think McGinty is now?"

Of course. Where else would he be? Frank knew all the tricks about tying men's hands, and he gave me nothing to work with. Then he relieved me of my Colt. All I could do now was pray.

Even though you're waiting for somebody to put a bullet in you, eventually you get bored. And when it's hot and stuffy and you got about an hour's worth of sleep, you doze. And that's what I was doing when the outside door finally opened. The newest addition to the warehouse made too much noise to be anyone except McGinty.

I could hear he and Frank talking, but neither one came into sight.

"What did Vincent have to say?"

The voice was deep and soft, and sounded nonchalant, like murder was what it spoke of all the time. "He's still not sure. He wasn't too pleased that you sent me out with the question, though."

"Yeah, that's too bad. You botched the shootin', so I had to do somethin'. He didn't give ya a yea or nay?"

McGinty must have shaken his head. "Nope. Left it up to you. Just suggested we wait until dark and dump the body down in the river."

Great. Now I was 'the body.' Where the hell was Bret, anyway?

The next thing I heard were footsteps, and I finally got a good look at McGinty. He seemed about as impressed with me as I was with him. "Herman knows you killed Lillian, McGinty. He won't rest until you're dead." The man shrugged casually, as if it didn't matter to him.

"A bullet'll stop the big man." So much for friendship.

The day wore on, and nobody turned up to get me out of this mess. Morning faded into afternoon and I'd given up hope of coming out of this any way but dead. Then I started thinking. Who'd let Frank into Belle Amour, anyway? It had to be one of the ladies, and I needed to figure out which one. I went through all the women, one by one, and I kept coming back to Rosalie. I hoped I was wrong, but she was the only one that made any sense.

The next time Frank appeared, I threw out the bait. "How long do you think it'll be before Rosalie cracks and admits she let you into Belle Amour?"

He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. "How'd you know it was Rosalie?"

"Because Rosalie is the one addicted to morphine. I'm not the only one that knows. As soon as my body turns up they'll go after her, and she'll break. And they'll have a perfectly good witness to testify against you and McGinty and Vincent. I hear a gallows in your future, Frank."

"Shut up, Maverick. Just shut up."

"Not a pleasant prospect, is it, Frank? I know what it's like to sit in a jail cell and watch 'em build the gallows they're gonna hang you on. Counting down the hours and minutes that you have left to live. Climbing up those steps just so they can put that noose around your neck. You know what they all say, huh? Short rope long drop?" The more I talked the more agitated Frank became, so I continued. "By the time that trap door opens, the crowd's so quiet you can hear your own neck snap. God forbid somethin' goes wrong and your neck doesn't break, then you get to just hang there and slowly strangle to death, coughing and choking and begging somebody – "

I saw it coming but there was nothing I could do. The butt of Frank's pistol slammed me across the mouth and made me forget who I was and what was happening, at least for a while, and my head dropped onto my chest.

XXXXXXXX

Little bits and pieces of conversations started flying around my brain; voices I recognized and didn't recognize. I didn't want to open my eyes, in case I was wrong about whose voices I was hearing. It took a minute before all the jumbled up words came together and organized themselves into a coherent sentence, and when they did I knew the sentence had been spoken by my brother. "I got him, Fontana!"

Fingers were at the ropes that bound my hands behind the chair, and without any further warning my arms were free to swing forward. Slowly I talked my eyes into opening, but I couldn't convince them to focus. Finally, a hand was tapping my cheek and the voice that went with it kept saying, "Bart, Bart, wake up, son. You're safe, we gotcha. Come on now, let's get you up and outta here." That familiar face swam in front of me for another minute or so, and then my brain and eyes finally got it together and let me see those damn dimples.

"What took you so long?" I whispered, and Bret laughed out loud. He had something around his head, under his hat, and I slowly realized it was a bandage. We made a fine pair, didn't we?

"Rosalie," I mumbled, and I could vaguely see Bret's head bob up and down.

"Yep, Rosalie finally told us what she did. Sorry I wasn't here any sooner. Domino gave me the message right before I passed out. Then I sent Marjorie for the marshal, and by the time he got there Herman and I were about to leave. Fontana wanted to wait until dark; I knew better. Can you stand up?"

"Don't know," I told him, and he got me up and got my arm over his shoulders.

"C'mon, give it a try." I took a step with the bad leg and my knees buckled. I hung onto my brother for dear life, and the next thing I knew Jenkins was on the other side of me, helping hold me upright. I saw figures that resembled Frank and McGinty, hands behind their backs in handcuffs, and I couldn't help but smile. My mouth felt like somebody had hit me with a brick, but it was worth it. They were going to jail, and I was going – home?