I'm sure Doc Shandley was startled to see me back in his office so quickly. "It can't be six o'clock already, can it?" he asked me as I hurried in.
"No, sir, but I got some information I didn't like and wanted to get back here right away. Anybody been in to see my brother?"
There was an odd look on Doc's face as he answered me. "Yeah, matter of fact there was. Hank Manchester came by, said he saw you getting Bret in here and wanted to know if everything was alright."
"You didn't let him in, did you?"
"No, I saw no reason to. Your brother's asleep and he didn't need to be woken up."
There was nothing but pure relief in the breath I exhaled. Not that I thought Hank was there to do Bret any harm. I just wanted to be sure he was safe, at least for now. "Thanks, Doc. I'm goin' back to sit with him for a while if that's alright."
"Of course it is, son. Just try not to wake him. I'll be in my office if you need me."
Doc went one way, I went the other. Bret was turned to face the wall, the same position I'd left him in, but he was softly snoring and I'd never been quite so happy to hear that sound. I pulled up a chair as quietly as I could and sat down for double duty – to guard my brother and to think.
Hank's visit was probably exactly what it looked like – concern for someone he knew casually. It was Miguel's call on Aiden that had me most troubled. It sounded like the head of the Campos family was thinking about combining his ranch with the Sunday spread – again. Far as I could tell, there was only one way that was gonna happen; if Mateo Campos married Evy Sunday. I hadn't seen them together and had no idea how well they might know each other. Hell, for all I knew they might not be able to stand the sight of each other.
Then there was the coin Aiden found underneath Bret in the alley. Had it been accidentally dropped by his attacker, or carefully planted by someone trying to implicate one or the other of the Campos men? Or had it been there all along and just now happened to be found?
Mateo had seemed genuine enough in his admiration for Bret and his poker playing expertise. He almost sounded in awe of my brother for having defeated his own father. I couldn't imagine him trying to beat Bret's skull in with the heel of a shotgun, but I did allow for the remote possibility. That left Miguel, more than likely. Given the caring, compassionate man he'd seemed in my delirium, that almost didn't appear possible. 'This isn't the world in your head, Bart,' I reminded myself. 'This is the here and now. And this is a different Miguel Campos.'
'That different?' I wondered. 'From mayor to murderer?'
I sat there for an hour or two, running through everything that happened since we'd arrived in Las Cruces, and just couldn't come up with any kind of an answer that made sense. Then I started laughing, realizing that none of this made sense. Who dreams an entire life, right down to a girl you're gonna marry? For that matter, who dreams any of the things I had? It was warm in here, and my brain was goin' nowhere fast. Without realizing it, I fell asleep and stayed that way until I sensed there was someone in the room with us, and I jerked awake, grabbing for my gun as I did so.
"Slow down, cowboy, I'm not here to shoot you." It was Evy Sunday's voice, and I holstered the Colt. "I didn't mean to scare you like that."
"Sorry. Old habit. Once bitten, twice shy. What are you doin' here?" I stood up and gave her my seat, choosing to lean against the exam table.
Evy sat down and looked up at me. "He didn't look real good when you left earlier, and I wanted to see if he was alright. I went to your hotel, but there was no one there. This was my next stop. Looks like I guessed correctly. What happened?"
"Stitches pulled loose, and he was bleedin' again. The doctor told him to rest longer than he did, but . . "
"He's stubborn, just like his brother." She offered the words with such a pretty smile that I couldn't argue. I'd forgotten how sweet and loving Evy could be, knowing that what I'd seen and heard in my dreams wasn't real. Or was it?
"Evy . . . "
"Yes, Bart?"
"Are you really interested in my brother, or you just tryin' to make a point with Hank?" Her face never changed expression, but there was something in her eyes . . .
She sat and stared at her hands for a few moments, which were folded in her lap. When she answered me her words were soft and quiet. "You're very astute, aren't you? I like Bret. He's sweet, and charming, and awfully good-looking. And funny."
"But he's not Hank Manchester?"
"No, he's not."
I shifted positions and crossed my arms in front of me. "What happened, Evy?"
"I . . . I don't know. We were . . . I thought we were fine. He left town on business, and when he came back nothing was the same anymore."
"Do you still love him?" I waited a long time for my answer, and when it came I could barely hear it.
"Yes."
"Have you told him?"
Evy stood up and walked to the other side of the room. "He knows it." Then she turned back to face me. "It makes no difference. Whatever I did to upset or offend him – it must be so bad that he can't forgive me."
"I don't think you said or did anything to Hank Manchester."
She shook her head, and that chocolate hair swirled around her face, now visibly distraught. "Then why won't he tell me what's wrong?"
"Sometimes we have to do things to protect the ones we love."
It took her just a minute to figure out what I was telling her. "Then he might still . . . "
I nodded. "I think he does, Evy. I think he did it to protect you. You or your father."
"But who . . . why . . . ?"
"That I'm not sure of, yet. I'm still tryin' to put it all together, with some proof."
"Does your brother's attack have anything to do with Hank and me?" She pointed at the body of my brother, lying so still on the bed. Her words were pleading for the truth. So were those coal black eyes.
"I suspect so. When you turned your attention to Bret, he became a target."
"You mean I caused – " She was disturbed and rushed across the room into my arms, where she proceeded to give me a very wet shoulder. I held her and let her cry; this was as close as I'd come to her since we'd been here. When her tears finally stopped I gave her my handkerchief. "I'm sorry. It's just that I – well, Bret's so nice, and to think I'm responsible for this . . . "
"You didn't cause it, Evy. The person that tried to hurt him caused it, and I promise you that I'm gonna find out exactly who that is. But I need you to do somethin' for me."
"Anything."
"Keep this conversation just between us. Don't tell Hank, or Billy, or anybody. Bret's life and yours could depend on it."
She looked up at me and smiled, and for just a moment I remembered why I'd fallen in love with her. "Alright. I'll keep it our secret until you tell me otherwise." Then she turned to look at Bret's back. The snoring had stopped a long time ago, and I was sure he was awake and listening. I just didn't know how much he'd heard.
"Take care of him, alright? He's a good man." She stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. "And you are, too. I'd rather nothing else happened to either one of you."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll do my very best."
She left almost as quietly as she'd arrived, and the man in the bed stirred after a minute or two. "She's right, you know," I heard him say. "My brother is a good man."
"Just you keep that in mind the next time you wanna throw somethin' at me," I told his back.
"Can you get me rolled over?"
"That I can do, Pappy." I held his head while he turned his body to face me. It took us a bit, but we got him rolled. "How much of that did ya hear?"
"Enough. You've been busy." He coughed then, and I figured he needed some water, so I got a glass and helped him drink. When he was done I sat back down in the chair. "What time?"
Why we were always so interested in what time it was when we woke up I still don't know, but I pulled out my watch to answer his question. "Almost eight-thirty. You hungry?"
"I could eat. What about you?"
"Yeah, I could stand somethin'. I'm goin' to get the Doc and see what he says about where you're spendin' the night."
Just then the door opened and Doc Shandley stood in the doorway. "Thought you two might be getting hungry. I'll be here for a while if you want to go get some food, Bart." He looked down at Bret. "I'd feel a whole lot better if you'd stay here tonight. I had to re-stitch your head some and I'd like to keep an eye on you a while longer."
I expected my brother to give the doctor a hard time, but surprisingly he didn't. "The way my head feels, Doc, I'm not goin' anywhere."
That was my cue to leave. "I'll be back just as soon as I can," I told the two of them, then hastily added, "Don't let anybody in, Doc. No matter who it is."
The last thing I heard as I went out the door was my brother's voice. "Bart, be careful."