Higher Ground

Chapter 8 – Crossing the Line

Maggie got off at six o'clock from the hotel and she agreed to accompany me to dinner at the best restaurant in town, the Cattleman's Table. She still had Tom Miller's death on her mind and I did my best to try and cheer her up. I even ordered us a glass of wine. While we were there, Rally Simmons came in for supper with three other well-dressed gentlemen and glared at me. I guess I'm not high on his favorite people list. There was nothing going on between me and Maggie, other than friendship. At least not yet. Rally and his party sat right in Maggie's line-of-sight and she couldn't help but notice them.

"Rally Simmons is here," Maggie finally announced to me, and I nodded.

"I saw him come in. He's not real happy with me right now."

"Why? You haven't done anything to him," she stated plaintively. "Because of me?"

"I suspect so."

"Because I turned him down before and went to the funeral with you?"

I answered her. "That started it. Now you're here with me for supper. He's not a happy man."

"I'm sorry that you seem to be in the middle of this," Maggie told me. "If you'd rather leave . . . . . "

I reached over and took her hand, then looked into those blue, blue eyes. "No, ma'am. I do not want to leave. I'll handle Mr. Simmons tonight at poker." I had no doubt that he'd be a lot less pleasant than he'd been last night. Right now I didn't care. Maggie was a sweet girl and I was enjoying her company. It had been a while since I'd had someone of the female persuasion to talk to. Or do anything else with, for that matter. Finally our dinner came, and it was pleasant to eat steak with someone that didn't scoff at my well-done food. She didn't eat hers cooked the same way as mine, but she didn't give me the Bret-Maverick-death-stare associated with steak dinner with my brother.

I told her more of my family stories (those appropriate to share with a lady) and had to paint a portrait of everyone in the extended Maverick clan. She told me more about her mother and father and growing up as the youngest in the family. We compared notes on that one; quite frankly I think I had it better than she did. Just as we were finishing supper she whispered, "He's still watching us."

"Of course he is," I told her, and picked her hand up off the table. "Don't act surprised." I turned the palm of her hand up and kissed it, and she smiled at me.

"Good reaction," I told her.

"Good kiss," she answered. And we both laughed.

After dinner I paid the bill, pulled her chair out, and helped her with her coat. Then I walked her a block south to the little house that had belonged to her family. "I'm sure it's not proper," she told me, "but would you like to come in for a cup of coffee? I know you have a nine o'clock engagement."

"Just with a poker game," I answered. "I'd love to." Maybe it wasn't proper, but I was enjoying being around her and didn't want to leave just yet.

It was a nice little house. It reminded me of Georgia Mayfield's home in Silver Creek, the one she'd lived in when we first met her. Maggie made a much better cup of coffee than the hotel dining room, and we spent a pleasant hour drinking it and talking about gambling, and why my poker playing didn't qualify as such. She asked what it was like to play cards for a living and I tried to answer her honestly. No sense painting some romantic picture of what could at times be a hard life. At quarter of nine I thanked her for the coffee and put my coat back on, then promised to come see her tomorrow afternoon at Minnie's. Yes, I kissed her, and it was a sweet, tender 'thank you' kiss for a lovely evening.

I was in a splendid mood, even though I knew that Rally was probably going to be a handful at poker tonight. This time I was paying attention as I walked, and I'd almost swear that I was being watched. Not followed; watched. I couldn't imagine who might be paying attention to me, as I assumed Jed and Dickie to be trapped on the other side of the mountains. There'd been no sign of them, and we'd been here almost four days.

That's when I heard the sound. It was high-pitched, almost whistling, but not like Bret whistled. This had an eerie tone and only lasted a few seconds. It wasn't repeated, and if it was a signal of some kind it wasn't answered. Or my imagination was working overtime. I didn't hear it again, and soon I was at The Gilded Lady.

Rally was already there, playing a quick hand of solitaire while he waited for everyone else. He looked up and glowered when I walked in, then quickly wiped the look off his face and smiled and nodded. "Maverick."

"Simmons."

"Did you enjoy your dinner?" Rally kept the sarcasm out of his voice.

"I did, thank you," I answered him, and indeed I had. Maggie was a charming and bright companion. The arrival of Mercer, Bender and Smith delayed any further conversation and frankly, I was relieved to see them. They brought a stranger with them, a shorter, older man. His name was Ezekiel Traxler, and he'd been invited to take Tom Miller's place in the poker group. Zeke, as he preferred to be called, was the owner of the Cattleman's Table.

"Quite a coincidence, Zeke. Rally and I both dined there this evening. The food was excellent."

"Ah, yes, you were there with Maggie Sawyer. Lovely young lady. Rally, didn't you spend an evening there once with Miss Sawyer?"

"No, Zeke, I did not. Miss Sawyer evidently prefers less well-established companions."

Ouch. I was right, Rally was not a happy man. Fortunately Calvin Smith had the deal and started the game. It was evident right from the first hand that Simmons allowed his emotions to affect his poker playing, because this was not the same man I'd played last night. He was distracted and uncertain, the way I'd played more than once, and he kept under and over betting his hands and losing. That was fine with me since I was the biggest beneficiary of his distraction. By midnight it hadn't gotten any better and Rally threw down his cards in disgust.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, I just can't focus on the game tonight. I have a rather large deal that's on the verge of falling apart and that's all I can think about. I beg your indulgence, but for everyone's benefit I should withdraw for the evening. Shall we resume at out regular time tomorrow night?"

Everyone nodded ascent, but I wanted clarification. "Is that at nine or ten o'clock?"

"Why Mr. Maverick, are you staying in town?" That from Rally as he gathered his funds and his coat. The implication was that I had worn out my welcome.

"Unless the stage arrives via dog sled tomorrow, Mr. Simmons, I most certainly am."

Mercer again spoke up. "Ten o'clock, Bart. You're a regular member of the group now, as long as you're here in Sioux Falls. You too, Zeke."

Calvin and Saul nodded their heads in agreement. Rally made some sort of disgruntled noise but raised no objections. In fact, he tipped his hat and said, "Good night, gentlemen," glared once more in my direction and left.

"Uh-oh," Calvin was the first one to speak after the doors to the Lady closed. "Our investment speculator has just been outmaneuvered by our poker playing friend. Things do not bode well for you, Bart."

"Crossed a line, did I?" I chuckled.

"Good that you see the absurdity of it, Rally won't. It was only a matter of time before Miss Sawyer began to see someone that wasn't Mr. Simmons, and he didn't take it well. Sorry for whatever comes your way, Maverick," Saul explained.

"As long as he doesn't bother Maggie, I'm a big boy," I replied.

"Just watch your back, is all we're tellin' you, Bart. Rally is a nice enough fella until you cross him. And even though you did nothing wrong, he thinks you did. Be careful." This last from Joe, the barber.

They were serious, so I took it seriously. "Alright, gentlemen, I'll keep that in mind. Now, shall we resume or have we finished for the night?"