Special Delivery

The next few days passed without much incident, except Maudie was diagnosed with colic. One thing you don't want to hear as a father, especially a brand new father, is that your child is sick. Then I found out exactly what that meant. It meant my daughter was going to cry, a lot, for no apparent reason, and there wasn't much we were going to be able to do about it. And continue to cry she did, usually at night. I felt like I hadn't had a decent night's sleep since the day Doralice had given birth; I could only imagine how Doralice felt.

Bret coming home turned out to be a blessing, and not just because I got to see my brother again. Once we found out about the colic, he started lending a hand at the saloon and I appreciated the help. I could now stay with Doralice without feeling like I was abandoning Maude, or send Maude to the house and go to the saloon without feeling like I was running away. I soon found out just how badly I needed my time at the saloon as it was about the only place I could go to get a break. I do love my girls, all three of them, but sometimes I just needed out of the house, and the saloon was one place I could run off to without anyone questioning why I was there.

Between trying to take care of things at the saloon and still trying to adjust to being a parent, I didn't have a lot of time to worry about Jim and the favor I'd agreed to. As a matter of fact, I hardly gave it any thought. It wasn't that I forgot about it exactly, but with so many other things going on, it certainly wasn't a priority. After nearly two weeks without hearing anything from Jim or anyone else connected with him, his visit was almost a distant memory. It wasn't until I was having breakfast with Bret one morning, about a week after he'd come home, that I let myself give Dandy's mysterious package any consideration.

It was Saturday morning, and Bret and I had just finished up a relatively quiet Friday night at Maude's. We had handled things at the saloon so Maude could spend the night with Doralice at the house. Neither me nor Doralice seemed to be able to do anything with Maudie at night. The girl cried and no amount of feeding, changing, walking, rocking, singing, or begging from her mother or father had any effect on her. Oddly, both her grandmother and her Uncle Bret always seemed to be able to calm her easily. At the very least they could turn her screams into whimpers. Bret obviously couldn't be of much help at night, but Maude had decided to start staying over when Doralice was feeling like she was being stretched particularly thin. On the whole, it was becoming a workable situation. Doralice was getting some rest, Maude was getting time with her granddaughters, and I got time away from the house without feeling guilty about leaving Doralice there alone. It couldn't go on that way forever, but Maude kept telling us colic didn't go on forever, either. It couldn't end soon enough for me.

Anyway, me and Bret were getting breakfast before going home and about the time we were finishing up Peter Hopkins from the telegraph office came in. "Bart," he said as he walked up. "I thought I might find you in here. Got a telegram for ya."

I thanked him and gave him a coin before opening the envelope. I must have had some kind of look on my face because Bret asked if it was bad news. I shook my head. "No. Least I don't think so. It's from Mr. Winters, Esquire, Biloxi, Mississippi."

"Oh. Well, that clears things up."

"It's the lawyer Buckley told me about. The one that's handling his inheritance."

Bret suddenly looked interested. "Does he say anything about what it is?"

"Nope. Just that he's coming in on the stage Tuesday, and he wants me to meet him to take delivery."

"He's delivering it personally?"

I shrugged and passed the telegram to him. "Apparently."

Bret read the telegram over and passed it back with a sigh. "I don't like this, Bart."

"Why? What makes you so sure this is going to be bad?"

"Because it's Buckley. He's tried to con and swindle us more times than I can count. Why should this be different?"

Truth be told, Bret had a point. Given some things in our past, including the last time I'd tried to help Jim, Bret's question was a fair one. I guess it would be just as fair to ask why I thought this wasn't going to be something bad. Maybe it's because Jim is a friend and I really wanted to believe he could be honest about something. Maybe I just wanted to be able to tell Bret I-told-you-so. Whatever the reason, I did believe things would be ok, and I was getting a little tired of feeling like I needed to justify trying to help a friend.

"Well," I said indicating the telegram. "He told the truth about the lawyer."

"Maybe. How do you know this guy is really a lawyer. He could be one of Buckley's . . . friends. Anyone could sign a telegram esquire."

I raised an eyebrow at Bret starting to feel a little exasperated. "That's a little much don't you think? Not that I'd put it past him in a swindle, but I doubt he'd go to those lengths with me. I told you, I don't think this is a swindle."

"Alright, so it's not a swindle. What is it?"

"Have you ever thought that maybe it's exactly what he said it was?"

Bret nodded. "For a moment, yeah. But I don't think he knows how to tell the truth."

"He's not that bad." Bret just shrugged, and I felt my irritation rise a little more. "Okay, what do you think it's about?"

"I don't know. I haven't been able to figure it. It can't be money; he'd have that sent directly to him."

"I agree." I put some money on the table, enough to cover Bret's meal too, and stood. I was ready to go home and I didn't really want to have this conversation in the middle of the café. "So it's somethin' besides money. But somethin' he said could be considered valuable."

Bret obviously sensed my mood because he waited until we were outside before he said anything else. "But what? Wouldn't he of had anything that had any value sent to him?"

"I don't know, Bret. All I know is what he told me." I held the telegram up as evidence. "And so far, things have gone the way he said they would. I'm not gonna assume he's lyin' just because you don't like him."

I hadn't intended to snap, but I must have because Bret sort of held his hands up in surrender. "No offense meant. I just know how he can be, and you've got a lot going on right now. It sounds a little suspect and I don't want to see you get mixed up in anything when you've already got so much to worry about."

"I appreciate that; really. But I'll tell you the same thing I told Doralice. I'm not gonna let myself get mixed up in somethin' that could hurt me or my family. At the first sign of somethin' bein' off, I turn it over to Dave and let Dandy deal with the consequences."

We'd just reached the house and Bret put a hand on my shoulder. "I know you won't let anything happen to them. But I'm still your big brother and I still worry about you sometimes. Forgive me?"

Bret talks about my puppy dog eyes, but he can look pretty pitiful too when he takes the notion. I already felt bad about snapping at him, once that look was added I really felt bad. "Sure I do. I don't mean to be so testy . . . ."

"You're tired. I know. I also know Maude wouldn't object to you takin' some time off until you and Doralice get settled in some. Why don't you take tonight off?"

"It's Saturday. I can't leave y'all on a Saturday." That was only partially true. I would have hated to leave them on the busiest night of the week, but I wasn't in any hurry to listen to Maudie scream all night either.

Bret smiled. "I knew you'd say that, but it was worth a try. At least try to get some sleep today."

"I will."

Bret slapped my shoulder. "Then I'll see you tonight. Get some sleep."

Thanks to Maude having stayed the night I was able to get some sleep, and Saturday night passed without any major mishaps. Sunday it seemed was declared visiting day and family was in and out of the house all day. Both Isabelle and Maudie were perfect angels; sleeping, cooing, and generally being the sweetest things Pappy had ever seen in his life. That lasted until everyone was gone, and the sun went down. Whatever colic was, and no one seemed to be able to tell me, it was turning the Maverick house upside down. But between me and Doralice, we managed to sleep a little and keep two babies mostly satisfied.

Monday Maude told me to take the day off, and I was glad I did. The day actually passed much like Sunday had and for the most part, the girls were a pleasure. I was starting to think maybe Doralice and I were getting better at this parenting thing, and then the sun went down again. I swear I didn't understand this colic. I tried to talk to Maudie about it while I was taking my shift with her but she wasn't inclined to tell me anything. By the time I made another escape to the saloon Tuesday just after lunch, I was feeling like I would never get the hang of being a father.

I had been doing paperwork in my office for a couple of hours when the yawning started. I hadn't realized I was tired before, but something about sitting here in the quiet with nothing more than figures to keep me company was making my eyes heavy. I checked my watch then looked over at the couch. I had nearly an hour and a half before I was supposed to meet the stage; that was more than enough time to slip in a short nap.

Standing, I slipped off my jacket and undid my tie before I stretched out on the sofa, intent on enjoying an hour or so of sleep. I no sooner shut my eyes, however, before someone started pounding on my door. I lay there sure they would go away but the knocking continued. After a minute I heard Bret calling my name.

I got up and staggered to the door, wondering what was so important that my brother would be disturbing me.

A look of relief crossed Bret's face as soon as I opened the door. "You alright? Why'd you lock the door?"

I stared at him. "Am I alright? Just tryin' to get some rest like you keep tellin' me to. Is there a reason you won't let me? That's why the door was locked so I wouldn't be disturbed."

"Well, I hate that I had to, but I been bangin' on this door for about ten minutes. You were supposed to be at the stage office fifteen minutes ago."

Again I stared at Bret, this time in disbelief. That couldn't be right. I'd only just laid down. Took my watch out again and checked it. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the time. Bret was right, I was late. I grabbed my jacket and tie up with a curse and rushed out the door trying to put myself back together as I walked. When we reached the boardwalk Bret grabbed my arm and stopped me.

"You're already late," he said as he helped straighten my tie. "Another minute or two won't matter."

"Why didn't you wake me?" I asked when we started walking again.

"I tried. Told you I knocked on that door for about ten minutes. You locked it remember? I couldn't get in."

I looked at my watch again and sighed. I couldn't believe I was so far behind. "Hurry up," I snapped.

"Nothin' like rushin' to your doom," Bret muttered.

I don't know if he meant for me to hear him or not, but I had, and it irritated me. "Why'd you come along then?" I asked irritably. I didn't mind him being there, but I didn't want to hear about what a mistake I was making the whole walk either.

"Morbid curiosity."

"What's that mean?"

"I want to know what he's up to. What would he have to have sent to you, that he couldn't get himself."

"He said he didn't have an address."

"Even so, it wouldn't be a problem for him to stay in one place long enough to get a package would it?"

I chuckled. "Maybe not for most people, but this is Dandy. He'd have to behave himself a few weeks."

Bret laughed too. "That would be askin' a lot of him, wouldn't it?"

We arrived at the stage office and I went inside, ready to make an apology, and found Hopkins deep in conversation with another man. I didn't recognize him and assumed it was Everett Winters, Esquire.

Hopkins look up and smiled. "Just the man we've been lookin' for."

The other man turned and I knew right away it had to be Winters. He looked to be in his mid-fifties with a slim build. He was shorter than me and Bret but still a fairly tall man, and he was clean-shaven although his once dark hair was now liberally streaked with gray. The suit he was wearing was dark and stylish but still conservative and professional looking. All in all, he was distinguished and very lawyer looking. He looked between me and Bret. "Mister Maverick?"

Bret grinned. "You found two of them."

"Mister Bartley Maverick."

I inwardly cringed at the name, but stepped forward and offered my hand. "That would be me. This is my brother Bret."

Winters shook both our hands. "I'm very glad to see Mister Maverick. I was afraid there might have been some confusion as to my arrival."
. I grimaced "No, Mister Winters, nothin' like that. I apologize I wasn't here earlier. I had twins born not long ago and sleep has been a little hard to come by lately. I'm afraid I overslept."

Winters actually brightened some. "A family man. Well, I'm glad to see Mister Buckley taking such care with his interest."

I thought that was odd but before I could ask, or even think too much about it, Winters continued. "I imagine you're a busy man so I'll make this as quick as I can." He opened the bag he had with him and began leafing through the papers inside. "I only need your signature, Mister Maverick. Merely a receipt of delivery stating that you're assuming responsibility until Mister Buckley returns."

I moved up beside Winters. "Is this a formality or does Jim think that much of this?"

Winters glanced up and gave me a strange look. "It is a necessary legal formality, but I should certainly hope Mister Buckley thinks a lot of this." He went back to digging in his bag and soon pulled out a piece of paper. "Here we are. If you'll just sign here, Mister Maverick, I can officially turn the child over to you."

I had the pen in my hand about to put ink to paper when Winters' words stopped me cold. I lowered the pen and looked at the lawyer. "The what?"

I got that look again. "The child, Mister Maverick."

I dropped the pen and straightened. "What child?"

Winters was now looking at me like I had lost my mind. "The child you agreed to assume responsibility for, Mister Buckley's son."

I heard a sort of strangled sounding noise come from Bret. I jerked around and found him staring wide-eyed at the back wall of the stage office. Almost afraid of what I was going to see, I looked around the lawyer. Leaning against the wall, watching us all somberly, was a boy about six or seven years old, and there was something strangely familiar in the dark hair and eyes. More than familiar actually, it was like looking at a very young Jim Buckley.

A rushing noise filled my head and I felt a little off-kilter. I grabbed hold of the counter to keep myself steady and turned back to Winters. "Ex-excuse me."