Chapter 7 – Questions, Questions, Questions

Bret saddled his horse and rode into town, hoping he could get some information from Sheriff Parker that would explain why Travis Cole had come charging out to the B Bar M with murder in his eyes. As luck would have it, Dave was alone and filling out paperwork. The sheriff smiled when he saw who it was. "Guess you came to get some answers."

"I did," Bret replied. "Sure hope you've got some, cause I've got questions."

"Fire away."

"I take it that you settin' a thousand dollar bail for Bart is what set Cole off."

"Yep. He ranted and raved, and threatened to go out and shoot the 'escaped' prisoner and that's when I sent Eddie out to warn Bart. Cole waited until I was busy with somethin' and not payin' attention, and he strapped on his guns and left for the ranch. Once I realized he was gone, I grabbed my shotgun, locked the office and jumped on my horse. I was too late."

"Are you gonna bring charges against Doralice?" Bret was hoping that the answer was no.

"Not at the moment."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I have to wait until we get a new judge and see what he has to say."

"Surely he won't want to prosecute a woman for defending her husband's life."

"I wouldn't, Bret, but who knows what a brand new judge will wanna do."

"Do you suppose . . . "

"I'm not speculatin' on anything." Dave got up from the desk and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. "You want a cup?"

"Sure."

"How's Bart feelin'?"

"He's hurtin', Dave. And he don't remember what happened."

"That doesn't surprise me, what with all the head injuries he's had."

"I'm goin' over to see Simon, see if he's got any advice."

"Let's hope he's got somethin' constructive to say."

Bret finished his coffee and set his cup down. "Alright, I'll stay in touch with you."

He walked across the street and went into the doctor's office. Simon came out as soon as he heard the bell on the door. "Bret, I wondered if you'd be by. How's your brother doing?"

"He's hurtin', Simon. Can you send some ladanum home with me?"

Doctor Petry knew Bret well enough to know that there was something on his mind besides ladanum. "What's wrong?"

"Bart doesn't remember what happened."

Petry shook his head. "That's not surprising, considering what he's gone through in the past. He'll probably remember, given time. Unless there's a reason for the rush."

"There might be. We're not sure what happened, either, and a new judge is comin' to town to look over this whole mess. It should be a clear case of self-defense; women usually aren't charged. But Cole was a U.S. Marshal, and you just never know what a judge is gonna do. So it would be really helpful if Bart could remember exactly what happened."

"So you've come to the conclusion that it was Doralice that shot him." Simon wasn't asking a question.

"It had to be. Bart was shot and there was no one else in the house."

"You mean there was no one else on that floor."

It took a minute for Bret to realize what Simon was saying. "The only other people were the children upstairs. You're not implying one of them shot Travis, are you?"

"Think about it, Bret. Belle and Maudie are almost grown. They would do anything they had to do to protect their parents, especially their father."

"But Maudie was upstairs."

"Where was Belle?"

"I . . . I don't know." Bret was silent for a while. "Do you really think . . . ? No, you must be wrong. Belle couldn't possibly . . . "

"I'm not saying she did. But she could have. Don't be so quick to jump to conclusions. Any conclusions."

Bret thought about what Simon had said for a minute before saying anything else. "So you're telling me to investigate everyone that was in the house."

"Right."

"Including my brother Bart."

"Exactly."

"Would it be physically possible for him to have shot Cole?"

"Probably."

"Can I see the body?"

Simon had been waiting for that question. Under normal circumstances he would have said 'no,' but these were anything but normal circumstances. After all the grief that Marshal Cole had caused the Mavericks, they had the right to make sure he was dead. Simon led Bret back through the exam rooms until he reached the coroner's office. On the exam table in front of them lay a body covered by a sheet. Before he showed Bret the body, he wanted to make sure that's what Maverick really wanted. "You ready for this?"

There was a slight quiver to the answer. "Yes."

Bret wasn't entirely sure he was; he and Bart had assumed they were finished with the marshal a long time ago. But this was something he felt necessary, for his own peace of mind, if nothing else. He nodded to emphasize his answer, and Simon pulled the sheet down far enough to see the damage done. "Okay, now I believe he's dead."

The doctor suppressed a laugh. He understood Bret's need to ascertain that Cole was finally, irretrievably finished. He pulled the sheet back down and turned to leave; he was surprised to find that Bret hadn't moved. "Is there something else?"

Bret nodded again. "I have more questions."

Simon was slightly taken aback. He thought he'd answered all Bret's questions. "Alright, but let's go to my office."

On the way, Simon locked the front door. "I don't want us to be interrupted," he explained. When they reached the office Simon sat behind his desk, Bret in front of it. "What else do you want to know?"

Bret worded his answer carefully. "Would Bart be able to pick up the shotgun before he shot it?"

"I doubt it. According to Sheriff Parker's account of what Doralice told him, when Bart was hit he staggered backward. She never said anything about him holding the shotgun. He would have to be holding it to get a shot off."

"Yeah, but she don't remember what happened after Travis fired. Bart could have opened the door with the shotgun in his hands already."

Simon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Is that something he would have done?"

"It's possible."

"Sounds like you need to talk to a few people back at the house."

Bret blinked wearily. "Not tonight. We've all had enough for one day. I think bed is in order. Looks like you need some sleep, too."

Simon yawned while he shook his head. "The only bed I'm going to get is that." He pointed to a cot on the other side of the room. "I won't leave the body alone."

"Afraid somebody's gonna steal it?"

"I don't intend to find out the hard way."

Bret stood and stuck out his hand. Simon took it and they shook. The two men had come a long way since the days when they didn't speak to each other.* "Thanks for the help."

"Was it? Help I mean."

"Guess I'll find out eventually. Wanna unlock the door and let me out?"

Bret heard the door click as it was locked behind him. He had a lot to digest on the ride back to the ranch. Where was Belle when all the commotion downstairs was occurring? Was she capable of shooting a 12-gauge? Did Doralice pick up the shotgun and shoot the marshal? Or did Bart have it in his hands the whole time and manage to squeeze the triggers? Too much to think about. It would all have to wait until tomorrow. Right now the only thing on Bret's mind was sleep.

* To find out what caused the rift, please read 'Baby the Rain Must Fall'