I wasn't yet awake when Bret first looked out the window the next morning. I was awake about thirty seconds later, when he let out the closest thing to a shriek that I've ever heard come out of his mouth. "What was that?" is what immediately came out of mine.
"Get up," he said, and it wasn't a request. I grabbed my coat; the fire had died and it was cold in the room. When I got to the window alongside Bret I almost made the same noise. Everything, everywhere as far as the eye could see, was white. And I don't mean white. I mean WHITE, buried under snow drifts as big as I'd ever seen. I looked up at what was supposed to be the mountain range we'd come through. I guarantee that nothing was getting through that road; not today, tomorrow or next week. The bad news was we're weren't going anywhere anytime soon. The good news was nobody that wasn't already here wasn't getting in, either.
That meant Jed and Dickie were trapped outside of Sioux Falls somewhere. Bret had the same thought at the same time, because he turned to me and grinned. "Maybe they'll freeze to death while they're out there."
"NO!" I cried.
"Bart, you aren't feeling sorry for those two, are you?"
"No," I replied, "for us. If they freeze to death out there, we won't be able to collect the reward on 'em."
He reached over and patted my arm. "There, there, Brother Bart, maybe we'll find the bodies."
"Hey, I never thought of that." My outlook on the situation had brightened considerably.
"Well, I sure hope they've got a lotta people in this town that like to play poker, cause we're gonna be here for a while."
"Won't be the first time we're stuck somewhere." Let's hope I could manage to avoid jail. I didn't want a repeat of Montana. "Now that you've got me up, how about breakfast?"
XXXXXXXX
The coffee and the food were average in the hotel dining room. The waitress, however, was above average. Matter of fact, she was downright outstanding. Beautiful dark brown curls, sparkling blue eyes, and the prettiest smile I'd seen for a while. Her name was Maggie, and she seemed pleasant but distant. I had the feeling I'd find out more about her later, and turned my attention to Bret, who was back to moving food around his plate without putting any in his mouth.
"What's botherin' you this mornin'?" I asked him.
"Nothin'."
I shook my head. "You're pretend eatin' again. Don't tell me nothin'. Pappy? Althea? Somethin' else?"
"You mean besides the two outlaws on our tails?"
"It's more than that, big brother. We've been in worse spots. What's got you so worried?"
He sighed. "Alright, I'm still concerned about Pappy. If you'd been there, Bart - "
"You know why I left."
"Yeah, I do, and I appreciate that. But I don't know if it solved anything. By the way, I brought the Bible with me. I think you should have it back."
"Didn't read any of it, huh?"
He made kind of a pained expression. "Nope."
"Alright, I'll take it. You got it in your saddlebags upstairs?"
"Yeah. Look, I need to get outta here for a while. I'm goin' down to Pete's. That alright with you?"
"You want company, or you tryin' to escape me?"
Bret gave me a funny look, almost as if he was afraid I'd be offended. "I'm not tryin' to escape anybody, but I need to play some poker and think."
"Sure, no problem," I told him. "I'll catch ya later."
He drained his coffee cup and left. I hope that he was telling me the truth. Every once in a while he gets real secretive and I have to figure out what's going on with him. This time, I had no idea other than everything I'd mentioned earlier. I wanted a cigar and something to do that didn't involve sitting upstairs looking out the window, so I headed down to see The Gilded Lady for myself.
Beautiful place. Whoever put it together had real good taste. There were only one or two things that I'd change, and they were small. There was one poker game going and it was full at the moment, so I went to the bar and ordered coffee, then sat at an empty table and played Maverick solitaire while I drank coffee and smoked my cigar. I was there about half an hour when a well-dressed man of about forty got up and left the game, and I picked up my cup and what was left of the cigar and wandered over. "Gentlemen, you mind if I join you?"
I was welcomed in the way most new money is and within a few minutes knew everybody's name. Joe Mercer was to my left; he was the barber in town. Today was his day off. To his left was Saul Bender, the owner of Sioux Falls City Bank, then Tom Miller, owner of Miller's General Store, and finally, to my immediate right, Calvin Smith, the undertaker. Somehow I always end up playing poker with the undertaker. I introduced myself and lit another cigar. We played for about an hour, back and forth with the winning, while I watched all four gentlemen carefully.
Joe played conservatively, like he was afraid to lose too much money. Saul, the bank owner, bet big and played big. Tom and Calvin were average at best. All in all it seemed a friendly group, and we played until almost one o'clock. I won more than I lost but nothing spectacular. The group finally broke up for the afternoon and I was invited to join their game again, including the man that had left earlier, to resume at ten o'clock that night at the Lady, as everybody referred to the place. I accepted the invitation. The missing player was Rally Simmons, an investment speculator, and a fine fellow according to the rest of the group.
Tom invited me to join him for lunch at Minnie's Café and it sounded like a good idea, so I walked three doors down with him to a pleasant little spot. We chatted while we ate and I heard most of the local lore, including how Tom was planning on selling the store in the spring to a friend and was heading out to Carson City.
"I've got a friend out there I can put you in touch with," and I told him about Anderson Garrett and some of the locals. I did not tell him about Rose. That one he could find out for himself.
Tom wouldn't let me pay for lunch, and finally he left for the store. Had to relieve the morning man, he told me. He was a nice enough fellow, but I wouldn't feel a bit sorry about winning his money. I followed a few minutes later and went back to the hotel, expecting to find Bret in our room. He still wasn't back, so I decided a nap was in order. The rude awakening from this morning had gotten me up before I was ready, and an hour or two more of sleep sounded good.
I don't know how long my nap was before I heard urgent knocking at the door. I didn't want to answer it; knocking like that is never good news. I grabbed my Colt and got out of bed; the knocking persisted. Finally from outside I heard "Bart Maverick, this is Sheriff Manning. I have to talk to you."
I kept the gun out and opened the door. It was, indeed, Sheriff Manning, and he looked none too pleased. "Sheriff, my brother?"
Manning shook his head. "Yer brother's fine. It's Tom Miller that's dead."
.