Chapter 7 – Like My Pappy Always Said

"Good grief, man, do you own anything else black? You look like yer goin' to a funeral." Bret was right. Black on black on black. Seemed appropriate.

"I am," was my response.

"That's today?"

I nodded my head. "Assuming they can get him into the ground." I thought about Bret's 'grave' in Dodge City and shuddered. He watched me carefully and I wondered if he knew what I was thinking.

"Where's the graveyard?" he asked me.

"Don't know. I imagine Maggie'll know." Now I waited for the questioning to begin.

"Maggie? That pretty little thing in the dining room?"

"The same."

"How'd you manage that one?"

"She works part time at Minnie's and part time at the hotel. She was there last night when we went in after poker. She mentioned going to the funeral, so . . . . . . "

"You gallantly offered to take her."

"Yep. Gotta go find out about a buggy."

He decided by be helpful. "Livery's down by Pete's. Don't get lost."

"I'll try not to, thanks." I grabbed the thick coat and left, stopping at the front desk. "Where's the cemetery?" I asked the clerk.

"About two miles east of town," came the reply.

That made the decision for me. I definitely wasn't walking two miles in this weather. "Thanks," I answered, and followed Bret's direction to the livery. I made arrangements for the buggy and agreed to pick it up at eleven o'clock. Then I hurried back to the hotel to collect my brother for breakfast. When I got back to the room he was gone, so I left the coat and went back downstairs. Maggie wasn't working this morning and the fella that had taken her place didn't have much to say.

I ate a nondescript breakfast and drank three cups of coffee, then returned to our room. I hadn't retrieved Momma's Bible from Bret's saddlebags last night and I did that now, running my hands over the almost smooth black leather cover. It seemed proper to sit down and read some and I had the time, so I did.

Before I knew it, the time had passed and I needed to go get the buggy. I put the coat back on and added gloves, then went back up to the livery. Charley (he'd introduced himself earlier) had almost finished hitching up the horse and I paid for the rental and drove down to Minnie's to pick up Maggie Sawyer. Since I was considerably earlier than I needed to be, I tied up the horse and went in for more coffee.

Maggie was there and joined me at the table. She looked twice as pretty as she had last night, even if she was dressed for a funeral. "I like that," she told me as I pulled out her chair. "A man that's early and has manners."

"The ladies in your life always come first," I told her. "And my Pappy always told me, the only time you should be late is to your own funeral."

"Wise man," she remarked.

I had to laugh, quietly. "Sometimes. Tell me about Maggie Sawyer."

So she did. Youngest of three children, the rest of her family had lived in Sioux Falls for years and then headed for California. Maggie couldn't bear the thought of leaving, so she stayed put, living in the little house she'd grown up in. She'd worked at the hotel for two years but had recently taken a part-time job at the café, waiting for a full-time job to open up. Wages, conditions and the food were all better at Minnie's, and it was much more pleasant working for Minnie than Bert Ingram, the owner of the hotel.

"And no beau on the scene?" I asked curiously.

"Rally Simmons, if I'd let him," she answered. "Rally seems nice enough, but he's a little old for me. And there's something . . . . . . " her voice trailed off.

"Odd about him?" I finished for her.

"You noticed it, too?"

I nodded. "Can't quite put my finger on it, but yeah, I noticed it. Just the tiniest bit off."

"Okay, I've told you all there is that's interesting about me. What about Bart Maverick?"

So I gave her the short version of my life so far, omitting Jed and Dickie, since I didn't think they were anywhere in the vicinity. "And if you promise not to fall in love with the dimples that my brother Bret got and I didn't, I'll bring him in the next time you're working and introduce him."

"That's who you were with the first time I saw you, isn't it? I could see the resemblance."

"Funny, people have started tellin' me that recently. Personally, I don't see it. Especially the dimples."

"Dimples are overrated," she pronounced, staring right into my eyes. And then she smiled.

XXXXXXXX

Somebody had managed to dig a grave in the cemetery, and Tom Miller was laid to rest beside his parents. A fierce wind came up during the burial and it got colder, if that was even possible. On the way back from the funeral, Maggie told me that Tom was a Sioux Falls native, just like she was, and she'd gone to school with his younger brother, who'd left for California years ago. "I guess Sammy will inherit the store now," she stated. "There's no one else. I wonder if he'll come back here or just sell it?"

"Tom was planning on selling in the spring, he told me yesterday at lunch."

"He's threatened that before," Maggie said, "but this time I think he meant it. He was ready to leave Sioux Falls for good."

"Why do you stay here? It's too cold to even breathe."

She halfway shrugged her shoulders. "No reason to leave. Everything I know is here."

"There's a big wide world out there, Maggie. Lots of places to go, things to see. You could go anywhere, do anything."

"It's too hard for a woman by herself. I wouldn't try to go across the country alone."

"What if somebody went with you?" I had said it before I realized how it sounded.

Fortunately, she laughed. "I assume you didn't just volunteer?"

"Uh, well, I, uh . . . . . . no."

"You're a nice man, Bart Maverick. How is it you don't have a wife following you around? Or do you?"

I shook my head. "No, just a brother. And he usually follows me around to keep me alive. Where do you want me to take you today?"

"I've got a shift this afternoon at the hotel. Come have a cup of coffee?" she asked.

"Ah, you've found my weakness," I told her. "I'll be in as soon as I return the buggy to the livery. Before the poor horse freezes to death." I pulled up to the hotel and helped Maggie out, then drove back to the livery and did what I intended. The wind had gotten even colder and I ducked into Pete's to momentarily escape it.

Pete's was obviously the older of the two saloons, and a lot more 'rustic.' Not the kind of place Bret would usually take to, but when I walked a little further in I understood why. It didn't look serious, but he was sitting at a table with a woman that reminded me of Maude Donovan, only she was closer to Maude's daughter Doralice in age.

Bret looked up as I got to the table. "Brother Bart, just in time. Constance Morgan, this is my brother Bart Maverick. Bart, this is Constance Morgan. She's the owner of Pete's."

"And what happened to Pete?" I asked as I tipped my hat to Miss Morgan.

"He was my father. When he died he left the saloon," she explained. "I took over. Your brother just consented to work for me so that I can handle everything but the saloon itself."

"Why Brother Bret, you've taken a page from my book and gotten yourself a j-o-b. Better not tell Pappy."

Constance gave him a strange look and said, "Pappy?"

Bret quickly explained. "Beauregard Maverick, bless his soul, who told us never to drink whiskey or take a steady job."

I stepped in at that point. "Yeah, I don't think that's worked out real well for either one of us."

"If we're gonna be here any length a time, I need somethin' to keep me busy. Constance has agreed to let me play poker when things are slow, so I can stay sharp. I can't just sit in that hotel room, Bart."

I nodded; I understood the problem. "You go right ahead, big brother, and ruin the Maverick reputation by being gainfully employed. Me, I'm gonna avoid that for now. I just wanted to let ya know I'm gonna be in the hotel dining room if ya need me for anything."

"Alright, son, see ya later." And he went right back to talking to Constance.

Well, I pondered to myself. Who woulda thought? Brother Bret had broken two of Pappy's biggest rules in the same year. What next? Was he gonna get married, too?