Chapter 11 – A Shot in the Dark

Bret knocked on the back door around ten o'clock, with a smile on his face. Lily Mae opened the door and handed him coffee, and remarked, "You and Miss Ginny busy this morning?"

Bret just grinned and drank the coffee. "Is Doralice up?"

"Yes, sir, Miss Doralice and the twins are out front gardening. Go on out, they were expecting you a while ago."

"I was busy," Bret answered.

"I just bet you were," Lily Mae mumbled.

Bret went out the front door to find all three ladies on their hands and knees planting a whole new flower bed. "Good morning, ladies," he called out as he stepped outside.

A chorus of "good morning" answered him.

"Give us a few minutes to finish this, would you?" Doralice asked.

"No problem," Bret answered, "I'll just go up and see Bart. How is he this morning, by the way?"

"Feelin' better," Doralice responded.

Bret bounded up the stairs and stopped at Bart's room. To Bret's surprise his brother was sitting up in bed, trying to hold a book and read. "Well, you look a whole lot better. How do you feel?"

"Is that coffee in your cup? Please tell me you've got some left. Doralice wouldn't let me have any."

"Not much, but you're welcome to it," Bret responded as he handed what was left to his brother.

Bart drank greedily, and a smile of satisfaction spread across his face. "I don't suppose you'd get me some more?"

"Nope, but I will convince Doralice to let you have some with lunch. How's the shoulder doin' this morning?"

"Better. I suppose you're here to pick my brain."

The older brother nodded. "I wanted to talk to you before I spoke to the girls again."

"The girls? Maudie and Belle? What are you takin' to them about?"

"What they saw and heard."

"Leave 'em alone, Bret, they've got nothin' to do with this."

"Au Contraire, dear brother, they have a lot to do with this."

"Dear God, you sound like Buckley."

"Nevertheless, the twins are involved."

Bart handed the empty cup back to his brother. "How?"

"Maudie saw part of what happened, and Belle knows something she has yet to divulge."

"What could she possibly know?"

"I don't know, but I'm about to find out."

"Bret . . . " Bart started to protest, as Bret got up to leave the room.

"I'll talk to you later, Bart."

Bret hurried out and down the hall, where he took a seat and waited in the twins room. Within a few minutes the three ladies came in, laughing and giggling. Good to see them in a better mood than yesterday. "Well, you three seem to be having a fine time."

"Yes, we were. We needed it," Doralice explained. The girls sat on their beds and Doralice sat next to her brother-in-law. "Belle, honey, tell your Uncle what you told me last night."

"I . . . I . . . saw . . . Daddy shoot Marshal Cole, not Momma."

Bret's first impulse was to jump up and shout, "No, no, you must be wrong!" But he stifled that urge and sat quietly, with his hands folded. "Are you sure?" he asked instead, in a quiet calm voice.

"Yes, sir. Daddy shot the Marshal."

"Then he had the shotgun in his hands when he opened the door."

"I – I guess so."

Bret proceeded cautiously. "You guess so? You're not sure?"

"No, I'm sure. He must have had his shotgun in his hands when he opened the door. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to shoot the gun before he collapsed."

Doralice looked at her brother-in-law. "Come out in the hall." The two adults walked into the hall and closed the door behind them so that the girls couldn't hear. "Puts a different spin on things, doesn't it?"

"Quite different. I think we need to see if Bart remembers it."

"Do you think Dave will have to arrest Bart? Or that the judge will want to put Bart on trial?"

Bret shook his head. "Don't know. Cole came out here with the sole purpose of killing Bart, no matter what anyone says. It was a clear case of self-defense."

"Bret, Travis was a U.S. Marshal, crazy or not crazy."

"I know. That's what I'm worried about."

"Let's go talk to Bart."

They were halfway down the hall when Bart let out a bloodcurdling scream, and the two took off running. They found him thrashing around in bed, sound asleep, and Bret proceeded to shake him gently. "Bart, wake up. You're havin' a nightmare."

Bret shook until Bart's eyes popped open. "What? Huh? Oh, Lord, I was dreamin' about Travis Cole."

"Anything useful?"Bret wondered.

"I . . . I don't know."

"Honey, get settled again and then we'll talk," Doralice attempted to soothe her husband.

A few minutes later Bart was calmer and could be talked to. "Do you remember anything more from the other day? Anything that can help us?"

"I'm not sure. Is it possible that I shot Cole?"

Doralice sat down with her husband. "It's not only possible, honey, it's probable."

"Are you sure?"

"Belle saw you, honey."

"Does Dave know?"

"Not yet."

"Do you think he'll arrest me?" Bart asked.

"He won't arrest you while you're recuperating," Doralice insisted.

"And you shot him in self-defense," Bret reminded him.

"But he was a U.S. Marshal," Bart reminded them.