He'd fallen asleep, and he had no idea for how long. He was just going to rest for a few minutes, and only because Althea and Simon insisted. His stomach growled for the first time in days and he was actually hungry. 'Why the change?' he wondered, and then he remembered the morning's events. He sat up and grabbed his boots, putting them back on a lot easier than the last time he'd tried it, and picked up his coat. He had to get back to his father.
The house was quiet, and since he had no idea what time it was he reached for his pocket watch. Almost two o'clock. He couldn't believe he'd slept that long. He arrived at Pappy's room and found the door standing open. There was no one inside except the man in the bed, and Bret walked in stealthily and sat down on the empty chair. He was startled to find his father's eyes open and immediately reached up to feel his forehead. It was considerably cooler than the last time he'd been in here and realized that Simon's earlier speculation about the fever breaking was correct.
"Pappy?" he asked when he realized that Beauregard's eyes were following his movements.
"Mmmmmm?" was the response he got, but at least it was a response of some sort.
"Pappy, it's Bret. Are ya with me?"
"Bret?" It was a whisper.
"You back with us?" He straightened the blankets while he waited to see if he got an answer of any kind.
"Mmmmhmmm."
"Pappy, you remember what I told you a while back? About being your son?"
"Mmmmmmm."
What did that mean? Yes or no? The eyes that watched him were noncommittal - there was no emotion of any kind in them, almost no recognition in them. Gradually Bret was aware of someone behind him and he glanced back quickly. It was his Uncle.
"Beauregard, it's Bentley. How're ya feelin'?"
"Bentley." That had a strange sound to it. Beau rarely called his brother by his full name, it was always 'Ben' or 'Bent.'
Just to be sure, Bret asked his father, "Pappy, what's your name?"
There was some hesitation. "Beau . . . . . Beau . . . . . . Beauregar . . . . . " He stopped before finishing. Bret wondered if he couldn't remember or it was just too much effort right now.
"It's alright, Pappy. We're just glad that your fever's gone." Bret patted his father's shoulder.
"Long?"
Bret almost chuckled. Why were the Mavericks always asking how much time had passed while they were unaware of what was happening? "Almost a week, Pappy. You had a long nap."
"Nap?"
Ben jumped in. "Just a joke, Beau. We're all happy you're back."
Bret got up and poured a glass of water. "Simon says you have to keep drinking water, Pappy. C'mon, I'll lift your head. Let's get some of this down ya." He handed the glass to Ben and slipped his hand under the pillow, raising Beauregard's head enough to drink. Ben put the glass to his lips and the Maverick patriarch drank almost a full glass of water. And promptly made a face when he was done.
"What was that for?" Bret asked.
"Coffee," was the answer he got.
"Not yet," Ben told him. "The next order of business is some soup. How about soup, Beau?"
"Food."
"Soup," was the reply this time. "I'll go talk to Lily Mae, Bret. Keep him awake."
Bret nodded, then turned back to his father. "Simon'll be here in a couple hours. We'll see what he says about what you can have and not have. That's the best we can do right now, Pappy."
"Belle?"
Oh dear. Did he not remember that Belle died over twenty years ago? "She's not here, Pappy."
"Bart?"
"He's out of town right now."
"Oh."
"Do you remember walkin' home in the rain?"
Beau looked towards the window. It was sunny outside. "Not rainin'."
"No, do you – never mind. Is there anything you want?"
"Sit up."
"You want to sit up?" Beau's head nodded imperceptibly. "I think we can do that," Bret answered, as he pulled the extra bed pillows from their storage spot. He lifted Beau's pillow off of the bed and put another one under it. "Hang on until Uncle Ben comes back. We'll give you some more. Anything else?"
"Talk."
"Do you want to talk?" his firstborn asked.
"No. You talk."
"Alright, I can do that. You haven't missed a whole lot. Althea hired a ranch foreman. Names Chad Summers. Comes highly recommended. She made the decision herself, cause I couldn't . . . . . wouldn't go back to the ranch with her to talk to him. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you first got sick. Althea and I went to Austin for two days. Got some good action on the poker tables over there. I . . . I just . . . that's about all there is, Pappy. I been here for three or four days . . . no, maybe five . . . . . I don't know anymore. Oh yeah, I borrowed yer shirt. I was startin' to smell like one a those squirrels Bart used to bring home. Sorry, I don't know much else."
"Althea?" There was definitely a blank look on Beau's face.
"Althea. You know, Althea. Fred Taylor's widow. The one Bart and I ran the trail drive for? I'm livin;' with her over at her ranch. Don't you remember Althea, Pappy?"
The blank look hadn't left. "No. Married?"
Bret let out a little laugh, finally. "No, sir. Not married. Remember, you made us promise? Not to get married till we're thirty-eight?"
"No. Why?"
"I don't know, Pappy. You never gave us a reason."
Again, that blank look from Pappy. "Us?"
"Me an Bart."
"Oh."
Lily Mae appeared at the door carrying a tray holding a bowl of soup, followed by Ben. The soup was chicken with noodles, Beauregard's favorite. She set it on the table next to the bed and sat down to do the honors.
"Lily?" Beauregard asked.
"That's me, Mr. Beau. I'm so glad to see you with yer eyes open. How about some soup? It's yer favorite."
Bret reached out and grabbed Ben by the arm. He pulled his uncle back out into the hall. "Ben, somethin's not right in there."
"What's not right?"
"He's hesitant about things he should know right away. He said he didn't remember Althea, and asked me if we were married. Didn't know why he told us not to get married till we were thirty-eight. And he asked about Momma again."
"Are you sure? Maybe he's just confused."
Bret nodded. "See for yourself."
Bret and Ben added the extra pillows to prop Beauregard up in the bed. Lily Mae began the task of feeding the world's normally crankiest man, who proceeded to eat the chicken soup, one spoonful at a time, without fussing or complaining in any way. They got through most of the bowl before Beauregard shook his head. "No more."
"Mr. Beau – "
"Let it go, Lily. That's pretty good for a first effort."
Pappy looked pleased.
"Say Beau, where's Bart?" Ben asked the innocuous question.
"Don't know."
"Who's Althea?" Ben asked next.
"Bret's girl," Beau answered.
"Pappy, who's Belle?" Bret questioned.
Beauregard got that blank look again. "Belle? My wife. Where is she?"
Ben turned his head and gave Bret a look. Pappy had closed his eyes again, and Ben said "Beau."
"Tired," came the reply, and the eyes stayed closed.
"Go on, Bret, get out of here for a while. I'll sit with him and try to talk to him when he wakes up again. I'll see what he remembers and don't remember."
Bret nodded. "Alright. I'm goin' downstairs with Althea. You holler for me if you need me before Simon gets here."
Lily Mae took the almost empty bowl and went back downstairs; Bret followed her. "What was all that about?" she asked.
"I wish I knew, Lily Mae. I wish I knew."