Chapter 29 – Smoking Cigars
It was almost two hours before Bret got back to Ben's house. By that time Ben and Lily Mae had conspired to solve the bathing problem, and Beauregard was feeling much better in clean clothes. Bret had also managed to get washed up before returning, among other things, and came back with his war bag full of necessities and a smile on his face. Pappy didn't need to ask why he'd been gone so long.
A nap was required after the effort of the bath, and soon after lunch was ready. As promised, Bret went down to the kitchen and took the tray from Lily, knowing that Pappy would have a fit when he saw the bowl of soup and only one of Lily's biscuits. And to add insult to injury, a glass of water. Much to Bret's surprise Beauregard smiled and ate what he was given, never uttering a word of complaint or protest. Bret sat in silence while Pappy ate and wondered what had brought about this change in attitude.
"He's so happy yer back, even if it's temporary, he's like a different person," Lily Mae informed the oldest Maverick son. "I near scalded him with the bath water and he never so much as 'ouched.'"
"Got to be more than that," Bret muttered as he went back upstairs. When he got to Beauregard's bedroom he found his cousin Beau sitting by Pappy's bedside, and they were LAUGHING. Together. "Bret, just in time. Uncle Beau and I were just chatting about a stroll around the house. How about it? I think it would do him a world of good to get outside, at least for a few minutes."
Bret nodded. "We talked about that. I think it's a good idea. How about it, Pappy? Once around the block? If you behave, we can sit on the porch afterward and have a smoke."
"I'm ready, boys. Let's go." Beauregard threw the covers back but quickly discovered that it wasn't quite so easy to get out of bed. First was the task of putting on socks and boots. Once that was accomplished, it took some struggling and an assist from his son and nephew to actually get him up and on his feet. At best he was unsteady but willing, swaying slightly but too stubborn to not stay at least semi-upright. A coat came next, and then a blanket for good measure, and he took several wobbly steps before actually reaching the door to the room. As he stared down it, never had a hallway looked so long.
It was slow going, but the steps were wide and eventually they all reached the front door. Before they could leave Bentley's voice was heard from the study. "Beau, I need to talk to you about this horse you bought."
Beau turned to his Uncle. "Sorry, Uncle Beau, duty calls. Bret, you be okay?"
Bret nodded. "Fine. What horse did you buy, anyway?"
Beau gave a lopsided grin and explained as he was walking away, "He's a champion stud. Thought I might like to try my hand at breeding horses for a while. They're a lot more gentle than steers." He headed for the study. "Coming, Father."
Bret and Pappy looked at each other. "Breeding horses?" Bret questioned.
"Beau's just lost," Pappy replied. "I know how he feels. After your momma died . . . . . . "
"What? You had poker, Pappy, and you had us. Not that we could be much help."
"No, boy, it was me couldn't be much help. I didn't know where to begin. But I did have you an yer brother, and that kept me gettin' up at night and goin' to bed in the mornin'. Beau doesn't have that. He needs somethin' to hold onto. I never realized . . . . . "
"Let's sit down out here for a minute, Pappy. That was a big staircase." Bret could see that his father was having a hard time catching his breath, and thought a few minutes in one of the rockers might benefit him. Beauregard was agreeable, especially since he knew that Bret always carried cigars with him. Sure enough Bret pulled out two and lit them, then passed one to his father. They sat for a few minutes, smoked and rocked, rocked and smoked, before anyone spoke. "What were you sayin' about Cousin Beau?"
"I never realized how much he loved Georgia. You were with him when she passed, weren't you?"
Bret took a draw on the cigar and nodded. "Yeah. It was rough. Beau and Jody were destroyed. And I wasn't a lotta help. All I could think about was findin' Bart."
"At least you were there."
"Physically. Not mentally."
"Maybe somethin' not tied to Georgia would be a distraction. Ya know, not like the saloon. Too much a her there."
"So, maybe breeding horses. Do you suppose that means he's not goin' back to Montana?" Bret posed the question.
"Don't know. What are you gonna do, Bret?"
"Sit here an smoke the rest a this cigar."
Pappy shook his head gently. "You know what I mean. You an Althea."
"Funny you should bring that up. Didn't that start all this mess?"
"I'm not pokin' in yer life, boy, I just wanna know what yer gonna do."
Bret took a deep breath. "I . . . . . . . I don't know yet, Pappy."
XXXXXXXX
Althea sat in front of the window and looked out at her ranch. Her ranch. At least she had a foreman, now, who was going to start tomorrow. Convincing her to keep the ranch instead of selling it was the best thing Bart Maverick had done for her. Besides lend her his brother, because that's what it was beginning to look like he'd done. She could just hear Bart now. "You can have him for a while, Althea. Until I need him. Then I want him back."
Only it wasn't Bart that wanted him back. It was his father. She'd thought that the love they had for each other was strong; strong enough to withstand anything, be it gossip, no marriage in their future, or Beauregard Maverick. She was beginning to think she was wrong.
Oh, there was no doubt that Bret was his own man. But there was a caveat to that – family came first. His family, the one he was born into, not the one he'd created. And when they needed him, which they seemed to do frequently, he went. He just wanted to get his father well, he promised. Then he'd come back to her. Until the next one needed him, and there was no doubt there would be a next one.
She loved the man, plain and simple. Maybe more than she'd loved Fred. Life with Bret would be exhilarating and worrisome, always wondering if he was going to come home or stay with his mistress, poker. But that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted peace and contentment; marriage and children. All the things she wouldn't have with Bret, but would have had with Fred Taylor. She thought about the other difference between the two men that had been in her life, and blushed.
Fred was a quiet, almost passive lover, gentle to a fault. He was nice, pleasant. Bret was something she had no idea could exist. Passionate and tender, exciting and insatiable, everything he did left her breathless. They were as different as night and day. But the question remained in her mind – could she ever really possess Bret Maverick, or would she always come second to his 'real' family?
She'd been sitting there for a long time when she thought of Simon. Funny, happy, caring Simon. He made her laugh, he complimented her, he noticed her. He sat and talked with her; he wanted her ideas, her opinions, her thoughts, her attention. He was flirting with her, wooing her from a distance. Much as she was enjoying it, she knew it had to stop. Simon wasn't Bret, and she was in love with Bret. Wasn't she?
