We went down to the dining room and Bret requested the private room, which we got. It was a nice change to eat a meal and not worry about somebody seeing me. Coffee and steak and potatoes, and I was hungry enough to even eat some dessert. Bret, for once, seemed to have little or no appetite. He picked at his food and spent most of the meal just pushing it around his plate. After he explained everything that had gone on with Pappy and Althea, I understood why.
"So Pappy's just about back to normal?"
"Yeah," Bret answered, "but we almost lost him, Bart. And it was all my fault."
"Bret, there's one thing I've learned over the years when it comes to our father – nothing is ever all somebody else's fault. Somewhere, somehow, Pappy always has a hand in it."
He thought about that for a minute and brightened just a little. "Yeah, you're right. He wouldn't back off, no matter how many times I asked him to. And he just kept pushin'."
"There is one thing I gotta tell ya, though – I'd a given a lot a money to see you drunk."
I finally got a laugh out of him. "Yeah, it wasn't a pretty sight."
"Don't I know that. Down in Mexico – well, let's just say I had enough a those nights. And days."
He looked at me like he wanted to ask something, but he hesitated for a long time.
"Well, what is it?" I finally inquired. "I can't answer your question if you don't ask it."
"I got your note – the one you left in Momma's Bible. There's somethin' – did you really think about . . . tryin' to . . . . kill yourself down there?"
I picked up my coffee cup. It had taken a lot for me to admit that in the note I left for him, but it had taken a lot for him to ask me about it just now. So I finally gave him an answer. "Yeah, I did. I couldn't shake it, Bret. No matter what I did, how much I won at poker or how drunk I stayed – I couldn't shake the feeling that I shoulda died instead a her. One night I was so drunk that dyin' seemed like the right thing to do. And my gun misfired. That's the night I slept in the barn with my horse."
His voice was soft and low. "Why didn't you tell me?"
That was the question I was afraid he was gonna ask. I swallowed what little pride I still had and answered him. "Because I was ashamed. I couldn't tell anybody, especially you. What if . . . . what if you decided you were ashamed a me, too?"
"I could never be ashamed a you . . . . . you're my brother."
Lest we get too maudlin, I slapped him on the shoulder. "Let's get outta here, huh? I could use some sleep in a real bed."
"Alright. Tomorrow mornin' we gotta figure out what to do about Jed and Dickie . . . . and Everett Richards."
"Sounds like a plan," I told him.
XXXXXXXX
I was awake before dawn, wondering if Dickie and Jed were still chasing me, and if they were, how far behind me they might be. I got dressed and went down to the telegraph office and sent a wire to the marshal in Shreveport asking what he'd learned about the reward and the gang. I told him to wire me in Sioux Falls; I figured that was the best place to head right now. I didn't think the goons would follow me all the way up there; at least I was hoping they wouldn't. I had just turned the corner, headed back to Bret's hotel room, when I saw two familiar figures at the far end of the street, just now riding into town.
I ducked into a doorway and stayed there in the dark until they'd ridden past me. As quick as I could I hurried back to room 205 and wasted no time waking Bret. "They're here," I told him, and he immediately got up and got dressed.
'Where's Noble?" he asked me when he was almost ready to go.
"In a private stall in the livery."
"Alright, I'll go get the horses and meet you at the back door in fifteen minutes. And stay outta sight."
I winced. "Don't hafta tell me twice."
I waited until he'd been gone a few minutes and grabbed his war bag and mine. Unfortunately, I'd had enough practice at sneaking out the back door of hotels, and had no trouble finding my way down the stairs. In just a couple of minutes Bret appeared, riding a rather impressive looking black stallion and leading a disgruntled looking Noble.
"What'd you do to this horse?" Bret asked as I tossed him his bag and swung mine up across the saddle.
"Nothin'. Why?"
He kind of chuckled, softly. "He almost acted glad to see me."
"Dickie and Jed had him for a week. He's probably happy to see anybody that ain't those two."
"Sure was a nice change. Follow me, there's a back way outta town." Without any further warning Bret swung the stallion back the way he'd come. For the next few minutes we wound in and out of buildings, until we finally came out about two miles further up the road that ran north. "Kansas City?"
"Yep," I answered. "Sounds good. Wired Shreveport and told 'em I'd be in Sioux Falls. Alright by you?"
"Brrrr," was the only thing Bret said. I took that to mean 'yes.'
We rode, silently for the most part, as fast as we could safely push the horses. About fifteen miles north we ran into a little place named Bentonville. It wasn't much bigger than some of the small towns I'd found down in Mexico, but it had a café and a general store. It met all my requirements.
We bought supplies at the store and then hurried over to the café, determined to at least grab some coffee before heading north again. Once we got inside even Bret succumbed to the smells of breakfast, and we took a table near the back door and ordered food. "I'm gonna go get the horses," he told me, and hurried over to where they were tied. Like I said, the town was small and it only took him a couple minutes; by the time he got back food had arrived and we ate just like what we were – hungry men. I was happy to see my brother with an appetite. He finally looked up at me and grinned when he saw me watching him eat. "What?" he asked between bites.
"Welcome back, Brother Bret," I answered as I reached for my coffee. "I was wonderin' when you were gonna show up."
"Sooner or later," came the reply. "You happy now?"
"I do admit to feelin' better," I told him. "We need you at yer best."
He reached over and patted my arm. "Don't worry, son, keepin' us alive is my biggest concern."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I'm way past that wantin' to die stuff. Especially at the hands of either one a those two morons."
"Speakin' of which, let's get goin', huh?"
I paid for breakfast (I did send for him, remember?) and we slipped out the back door. We made good time, and by nightfall we were that much closer to Kansas City. I'd let Bret and the stallion lead most of the day; Noble seemed to be happier following. I pulled up even with him and gave him a choice. "We can keep goin' now and sleep later, or we can camp now and get up early."
"Your choice," he told me. "I'm good either way."
"Let's keep ridin' for a while. The more space between me an the boys the happier I am."
Bret nodded and picked up the pace a bit. Noble followed with no hesitation, and we rode for another two or three hours before finding a good spot to bed down. Supper was quick – beans and jerky don't take long – and soon Bret was asleep. I know because I could hear his snoring. I laid there for a while and thought about the last couple weeks. If I'd known what I was getting into I wouldn't have left Little Bend. For just a minute I wondered if my being around would have prevented or hastened the heartbreak inflicted on my brother, before finally deciding my presence wouldn't have made any difference. Bret was already head-over-heels for the girl before I ever decided to leave, and my staying might have only delayed the inevitable. But I mightn't be running for my life right now, I considered, and then finally gave up and let myself fall asleep. Too late to change anything, anyway.