Bart didn't sleep well at all. He tossed and turned, waiting for the sunrise. Not long after sunrise, he knew, Dave would walk across the street to Sawyers and get two breakfasts, one for him and one for Bart. And a pot of coffee, steaming hot. Then after breakfast, all he could do was sit and wait; wait for Travis Cole to show up and raise some more hell; wait for Smithson Talbet to come by and run Cole out of the office; wait for Bret to bring Doralice. That's what he remembered most about sitting in a jail cell, the waiting. That's all you could do. Although Dave did play checkers; maybe if Marshall Cole would stay away he could convince Dave to play a game.
Sunrise came and went, and there was no sign of Dave . . . or anyone for that matter. Seven o'clock passed by, then eight o'clock, and finally around eight-fifteen Dave appeared, laden down with two breakfast plates, little Susie Callaway right behind him with a coffee pot and two cups.
"I thought you got waylaid, Dave. Never known you to be so late." Bart told Sheriff Parker as he set one breakfast plate on the desk and passed the other through the bars to Bart.
"Yeah, well, blame it on the Marshall. I had everything all set to go and he came into Sawyer's and started raising a fuss. Sawyer had to cook two new breakfasts by the time I could get out of there. Coffee?"
"You know it." Parker poured him a cup and handed it through the bars. "Thanks."For the next few minutes it was quiet, while the two men ate their breakfast. Bart finished his first and inquired about more coffee. "Sure, there's plenty," is the answer he received, along with the coffee.
"If Cole's here when Bret brings Doralice, I'll get him to leave so you can have some privacy. You don't know what time they're comin', do you?"
Bart shook his head, then realized Dave wasn't looking at him and he had to answer out loud. "No, I don't."
The morning passed peacefully. Marshall Travis Cole hadn't shown his face by the time Smithson Talbet arrived, and all three men were grateful for that. "Well, I'm glad to see that we don't have to fight with the marshall. I've got some more questions to ask you. You up for it?"
"Sure, but I don't know what more I can tell you. It sounded like Bret filled you in on everything."
"I'm interested in what you were feeling and thinking."
"The night I shot Logan?"
"First tell me about the night Travis locked you in the cell and left you there."
"I don't . . . I don't remember much. He clubbed me on the side of the head and I went down and out. When I woke up, I was in the same jail cell I'd been in on the murder charge . . . and I lost it. I'm not proud to say I vomited, then I screamed and yelled for Travis Cole; I shook the bars of the cell and cried like a baby; then I dropped to my knees and lay on the floor for a while. Finally I pulled myself up onto the cot and shivered until I passed out again. I don't remember what happened next . . . I think Bret came and got me out of there the next morning . . . but I'm not sure what happened after that for two or three days . . . and when I finally came to it was like I was living in a fog. I was that way for days."
"Understand a doctor was there and saw you like that?" Talbet persisted.
"Correct. Beckham Dooley. He's my brother-in-law now."
"Was he at the time?"
Bart very quietly answered, "No."
Smithson was taking notes and he paused for a moment. "Tell me about the shooting."
"There was a family dinner that night. I offered to keep the saloon open so everyone else could attend the dinner."
"Why?" Talbet asked.
"I couldn't face all my relatives. They all knew what had happened."
"So what time did you lock up the saloon?"
"I locked the doors and left about twelve-thirty. I got all the way to the hotel room before I realized I'd left somethin' in the saloon."
"What?"
Bart shook his head. "I don't remember."
"And then?"
"I went back to the saloon. When I got there, I found Logan Duran pointing a gun at Marybeth Canton, forcing her down the stairs. She was carrying a kerosene lamp, he was carrying the cash box that I had just locked in Jody Mayfield's office before I left. I ducked behind the bar and waited for them to get closer. When they did, I stood and told him to drop his gun and take off his gunbelt. He shot first – no, I shot first, and missed. Then Duran shot twice, and Marybeth dropped the lamp, which shattered and burst into flames. I inched around the bar but Logan came around the same way and caught me with a round in the shoulder. He had me right in his sights when Marybeth jumped out in front of him and took the bullet meant for me."
"What then?"
"Logan stood to shoot and I got him instead. I ran over to the bodies and Duran was dead, but Marybeth was still breathin'. The whole place was on fire by that time; I picked up the girl and carried her outside. She took a breath and coughed out, "Bret. I love him." That was her dying breath."
"The saloon burned down?" Talbet questioned.
"To the ground."
"Where was Duran's body?"
"Inside."
"So it burned, along with the saloon."
"Yes."
Smithson stopped note-taking and sat back in his chair. "Cole maintains that you ran back inside, found Duran still alive, and finished the job."
"That's impossible. By the time I got outside with Marybeth's body, the whole building was engulfed in flames. First of all, Duran was dead when I shot him, and second of all I couldn't have gotten back inside if I'd wanted to. Besides, where'd he get a story like that? He wasn't even there until the fire was out. Then he came down from the marshall's office to see what was left of the place."
"So Travis never saw Duran's body?"
"Not unless he saw the charred remains. And there was only one bullet in it. "