Chapter 10 – Two of a Kind

Well, that solved the problem of the headache nicely. When I woke later from sleeping in the chair, everything hurt. I got up to move to the bed and discovered a minor problem – Bret was gone. I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, in a bed this time, but I couldn't. Where was he – at what time of the night was it? I pulled my watch out of my pocket and looked at it. Almost five o'clock in the morning. God, I hate mornings. If Bret was here he could attest to that. He used to have a hell of a time getting me up to go to school.

I didn't bother with anything except the gun belt and the coat. The hallway and staircase were as quiet as they could be, given the time of night (or rather morning) it was. I stepped outside into the freezing air; it had stopped snowing. I personally think it was too cold to snow. I wanted a cigar but not at the expense of standing outside to smoke it. I walked quietly down to Pete's and could see from the window there was no one inside. At least not in the front, but it looked like there might be a light on behind one of the closed doors. I tried the front door; it was unlocked.

As soon as I got inside I could hear voices. One could be Constance Morgan's . . . . I hadn't heard her speak enough to be sure. It was definitely a woman. One I didn't recognize at all, but the third voice I knew real well – it was my brother's. It sounded like the woman and the new voice were arguing, with Bret saying something every once in a while. His was the only one that sounded calm and reasonable. Then the voices suddenly rose in volume and I heard something crash to the floor, followed by a gunshot and a yelp. My invitation to the meeting had just been issued.

I pulled my gun and went scrambling into the room, just in time to see somebody run out the back door, which turned out to be Miss Morgan's office. I would have gone after them but something caught my eye and I turned to get a better look. It was Bret, and he was down on his knees in the corner of the room, trying to pick up his gun with his left hand. His right hand hung limply at his side, and there was blood running down the sleeve of his coat. I paused long enough to yell, "You alright?" and the answer came quickly.

"No, damn it! Go after her, Bart!"

I took off running, following the track marks in the fresh snow. They went down the back alley and around the front into the street, where they mingled with horse tracks and I lost them. Whoever it had been moved quick enough to disappear through the fresh tracks and into a door somewhere. I turned around and double-backed to Pete's office door. As I came through it, shaking my head, Constance already had Bret's coat off and his sleeve rolled up, and was pressing a handkerchief against the wound. It was in his right arm, about six inches below the shoulder.

"You hold this and I'll go get the doctor," she told him, and hurried out towards the front door. He looked up at me as soon as she was gone.

"Lose her?"

I nodded my head. "Her? Yeah, she crossed through some fresh tracks and I couldn't trace her. Who was she?"

I didn't get an answer and I went over to see how bad the wound was. I swear the doctor must have been right next door and already dressed because he was back before I had time to do more than glance at the gunshot.

"Bret, this is Doc Demmers. Doc, this is my saloon manager, Bret Maverick. Oh, and his brother Bart."

"Come over here in the light, young man," the doctor ordered, as he was dragging Bret with him. "Mmmmn. Mmmhmmm. The bullet's still in there. Come with me, my office is right next door. I'll have that out in just a minute or two."

Bret made no protest and followed Doc. Constance started to go after him, but I grabbed her arm and kept her in the office with me. "I need some answers here, Miss Morgan," I told her.

"I can't give you any right now," she replied, and tried to pull away. I don't like forcing a woman to do anything she doesn't want to do, but I wasn't about to turn loose of her arm.

"Then you're not goin' anywhere until you can. Somebody just shot my brother, in case you didn't notice, and they might've killed him if I hadn't shown up. I'm in the middle of whatever this is now, and I wanna know what I've walked into."

"Please, let's go to the doctor's office. I promise I'll tell you whatever you want to know as soon as Bret's taken care of."

I know, I know. Even after being well-acquainted with Samantha Crawford, I still tend to believe a woman when she promises me something. Maybe I should put that in the same category as remembering to be careful when I walk past an alley. So I turned loose of her and we went to the doctor's office. It wasn't too long before Demmers walked Bret out into the front, arm newly bandaged and, I presumed, stitched. And in a sling for good measure. I took a look at the coat and shook my head. "Another one ruined," I told him. "How many is that this year?"

"I don't wanna know," was his answer. Constance and I followed him out the door. "Go back to the hotel," was the next thing out of my brother's mouth, and I shook my head which, of course, he couldn't hear.

"I don't think so. Somebody promised me an explanation once you were fixed. I'm not leavin' until I get it."

Bret shook his own head and went straight for the coffee pot. He wasn't real steady, pouring with his left hand, but not much spilled. He looked at me and I nodded, and he poured a second cup. I stood and waited for a few minutes, sipping coffee and pondering who was gonna speak first, when Constance finally gave it up. "Come on in my office, please, gentlemen."

She settled in at her desk and Bret and I took seats in front of it. He looked at her and I knew exactly what was going through his mind. 'Not my tale to tell.' Bret was always good for letting people explain themselves.

"I never intended for anyone else to get involved in this mess, let alone Bret's brother," she started. "I told you that my father left the saloon when he died. That was true, but I didn't say who he left it to. He divided it 50-50, between me and my sister, June. She had no interest in participating in its day-to-day operation, so I took over running things. I made sure she got her share of the profits, but in the last few months she's gotten more and more needy. She was secretive and wouldn't explain why she needed money, and quite by accident I found out. She's invested heavily with Rally Simmons. I understand that you know Mr. Simmons?"

"Well enough."

"Well enough to have an opinion of him?" she asked curiously.

"He's . . . . . . complicated."

Bret laughed. "That's all yer gonna get, Connie."

Constance Morgan nodded. Evidently she knew Bret enough to know what he meant. "I told her there would be no more money forthcoming, and she tried to mortgage the saloon without my consent or knowledge. She threatened me. My sane, sweet, gentle sister threatened me. I knew that I had to take some kind of action. Right about then Bret walked in and started playing poker." She stopped talking and I waited for my brother to continue the story.

"Right off I caught two of Connie's dealers cheatin'. I came to see her and told her what I'd seen, and pointed out to her how to catch 'em at it. She did and fired both of 'em."

"My sister had threatened their jobs if they didn't cooperate with her and skim money off the house percentage. So I started talking to Bret about investigating why she was so desperately in need of more money. It didn't take too much convincing to get his help."

"That's my brother. Always willing to help a damsel in distress." It's a trait that we both share. Me and Bret, I mean. But that still left a lot of questions that I needed answers to. "Is that why you were in Minnie's last night, arguing with Mr. Simmons?"

Constance looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "I wasn't in Minnie's with Mr. Simmons or anyone else."

"Miss Morgan, I saw you. The two of you came in, almost one o'clock this mornin', and sat there for a good ten minutes talkin'. Then you got upset with him, threw somethin' down on the table and left."

"I promise you, I wasn't there, Mr. Maverick." She was sincere when she said it. Now I was confused. I'd looked right at her, even if she hadn't seen me.

"Then your sister June - "

"Is my twin sister."