Chapter 17 – One Down, One to Go

"Good morning gentlemen and lady. Are we ready to get started? Good, let's begin. Bart, you were about to tell us what Marshal Cole's next retaliation against you was. I take it that it was quite complicated?"

Bart shifted in his chair. "Not really, Warren. Cole hit me in the head with his pistol, knocked me out and threw me in a jail cell."

"A particular jail cell?"

"Yes, the cell I spent several months in the first time we were in Silver Creek."

"Did he arrest you?"

"He tried, but there was nothin' to arrest me for. That's why he used the butt end of his gun."

"Why were you in that jail cell to begin with?"

"I was accused of murdering Edgar Pike, my aunt's consort."

"Did you?"

"No."

"Then why . . . ?"

"Because I was the most likely suspect."

"And were you charged with his murder?"

"I was. And tried. And found guilty, based on the most circumstantial evidence."

"Obviously you weren't hung."

"No, but I watched them build my gallows. I was very ill at the time. I almost died twice as the result of a severe pistol-whipping and an unfortunate aspirin allergy."

"Who were the actual perpetrators?"

"The three men that had given me the beating and almost killed me."

"And who caught the real killers?"

"My brother Bret and cousin Beau."

"Not the sheriff of Silver Creek?"

"No."

"And when did this happen?"

"When I was on the third step of the gallows."

"And you were freed?"

"Not immediately. But that same day, yes, and the verdict was reversed."

"Back to the incident with the Marshal. Did he arrest you?"

"He tried, and I protested there was nothing to arrest me for. That's when he cold-cocked me with his pistol. Threw me over his shoulders and carried me, unconscious, to jail."

"To the same cell you'd occupied on the previous occasion?"

"Yes. I'd had an abject fear of jails from then on."

"And when you came to?"

"I realized where I was and panicked. The lights were out and there was no one in the entire jail but me."

"What happened then?" Bart shuddered visibly. "If this is too difficult for you . . . "

Doralice leaned over and grabbed his hand. He looked at her with nothing but love and sat up straight. "No. I can explain. Like I said, I panicked. I screamed for Cole and got no answer, and I realized I was alone, all locked up in the same cell I'd spent months in. I rattled the bars and the door. I had to get out. I fell to my knees and vomited; I was shakin' with cold and sweatin' at the same time. I tried to get up but couldn't, and I vomited again but got nothin'. I finally got hold of the cot and pulled myself back up. I passed out eventually. I don't remember anything else until I heard Bret's voice. I woke up in the corner of the cell, on the flooring and whimpering. I don't know how Bret got me out. Next thing I remember I was in bed in the hotel room. I drifted in and out of consciousness for three or four days. When I finally did stay awake, it was like bein' in a fog. I was that way for weeks. I couldn't laugh, I couldn't smile; all I wanted to do was sit in my hotel room or play poker."

When Bart finished there was a stunned silence in the room. Finally the judge asked, "When did you come out of this 'fog'?"

"The night of the fire."

"The night you killed Logan Duran."

"The night I shot Logan Duran in self-defense."

"And when was the last time you saw Travis Cole?"

"That same night. Until the day he showed up at my front door, almost two weeks ago."

"Never in any of the years since?"

"Never once."

"Alright, Bart, that's all the questions I have. For now. I want to go over the things you've told me. I'm dismissing the warrant that was issued in Montana. It's quite obvious that you didn't murder Durant. I'm going to let the murder charges for Cole stand for the time being. He was a United States Marshal, and I'm not ready to do anything with them just yet. Give me until Friday, and we'll meet again here at ten o'clock. I'll have more questions for you at that time. I'll also hear all the witnesses we have, except your daughter Belle. Have Lucien Walters and your brother Bret come in separately, they shouldn't ride in with you. If you have any others, have them come along too. I'll see you all Friday morning."

Judge Collins left, and Smithson turned to me. "Tell everybody at the ranch I want them in your front room tomorrow morning at nine o'clock, and to not discuss it with each other. Have everybody there that so much as saw Cole ride by. I'll interview them one at a time. Sorry to do that to you, Doralice, but it's necessary. That includes you. See you tomorrow." And the attorney left in a hurry.

"Well, blue-eyes. Tomorrow should be fun, eh?"

"You have a strange sense of humor, gamblin' man. Lily Mae's gonna be one busy lady."

"Ain't she, though? Let's go home, I'm hungry."

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