Poker doesn't help the buzzing in your head when you lose. That's what was going on with me. I was thinking about so many different problems that my almost-favorite-thing-in-life didn't get the attention it deserved, and my poker partners were the beneficiaries of my distraction. And they knew it.
About five in the morning Joe Mercer finally asked the question. "What's goin' on with you, Bart? Your heads not in this game."
It took me a minute to come up with an answer that would provide an explanation without revealing too much. "Sorry, got too many things on my mind tonight. Shoulda sat this one out."
Everybody but me found that funny. They were all happy that I'd played, distracted as I was, since my money was now residing in their pockets. I couldn't keep punishing myself like this and I set my cards down. "I'm done for the night. Deal me out." They accommodated me, and I put my coat on and left. I had no desire to stay at the Lady when I had no desire to play. And this was one of those times that it didn't matter how cold it was outside, I needed some space between me and everything else.
I went to the livery and spent some time grooming Noble, who let me know in no uncertain terms that he wasn't happy with my lack of attention over the last few days. Once I'd made peace with my rather prickly gelding, I saddled him and we went out for a slow walk in the snow. I had no idea where the Bar J Ranch was but I decided to try and find it, and it only used about an hour of time before there was somebody's spread in sight. Since it was passed sunup at this point, I didn't feel too bad about playing 'lost traveler' and eventually arrived at the main house. I know, careless move, taking a chance like that, but I never pretended to be a genius at this sort of thing. Sometimes I think I stumble through life by dumb luck. Sometimes I'm sure I do.
I tied Noble up out front and crossed the porch to knock on the door. "Coming!" I heard a woman's voice sing out. In a few seconds a lovely woman in her thirties opened the door.
With a "Yes?" I went into my best "I'm sorry ma'am, but somehow I'm lost" routine and bless her heart, she welcomed me in and offered me coffee before I went back on my way towards Sioux Falls. I introduced myself as Bartley Jamison, Bank Examiner, and confessed to going for an early morning ride and losing my way. She was Mrs. John Farrel and was more than happy to assist 'the poor confused' soul who'd shown up at her door.
We talked for a few minutes and she joined me in drinking coffee. The unfortunate woman probably felt sorry for the idiot that couldn't remember which direction town was in, and I found her to be pleasant, concerned, and chatty. We finally got around to her husband (who was off tending to some lost cattle - guess I'm not the only thing lost this morning) and the sad fate that had befallen the last man who'd come to visit.
"I've met Mr. Siimmons at the bank. He certainly seemed to be a pleasant enough fellow. I can't imagine something that awful happening to an innocent man." I gave her my best sympathetic smile and waited for a response.
"I know, it's just terrible," Clara (her given name) agreed with me. "And Rally was just here right before it happened. He and Johnny have been friends for a long, long time. They knew each other back in St. Louis, before Johnny and I ever met."
I shook my head in sympathy. "Who would do such a thing?" I asked innocently.
"Well, one of the ranch hands said he saw a woman drive up in a buggy and join Rally as they got to the edge of our property. I don't know if that's true or not, of course, but Bobby isn't given to exaggeration. So I suspect he was being honest."
"I can't imagine a lady driving out to meet someone unless it was for something . . . . . . "
Clara jumped in eagerly. "I know. Something that a lady shouldn't be doing. Of course, there's no way to find out who it was, now, since Bobby's out with my husband looking for lost cows. Awful beasts, those things. They just wander off with no rhyme or reason."
It was evident Clara Farrel didn't know Bobby wasn't off with her husband. We chatted for a few more minutes and I finished my coffee and made ready to leave. I didn't think I could get any more useful information out of Mrs. Farrel and wanted to get back to town. She was still talking and I hadn't been paying attention until I heard the name "June Morgan."
"I'm sorry, what was that about Mrs. Morgan?"
"Not Mrs. Morgan, Miss Morgan. I said it could have been June Morgan, since it's well-known around town that she's been throwing herself at poor Rally. Of course he's too much of a gentleman to outright reject her advances, but I'm sure he wasn't interested. June Morgan is a little . . . . . . well, you know. Not quite right in the head."
"No, I didn't know that. Mrs. Farrel, thank you for your kindness. I appreciate the coffee and the directions back to town. And the information regarding Miss Morgan. I shall certainly . . . . . be aware of the situation from now on." I tipped my hat and made my way back outside to Noble. Clara Farrel had been a treasure trove of information and I wanted to get back to Sioux Falls so I could send another wire to St. Louis. I needed to know who killed Rally Simmons.
XXXXXXXX
After I wired Buckley, I went back to the hotel to see about breakfast and that ever elusive object called sleep. If I knew Dandy I wouldn't get an answer until tonight at the earliest, and I was still exhausted. As soon as my belly was full I headed upstairs and found Bret just getting ready to leave. He was actually glad to see me.
"I was worried about you, Brother Bart. I went down to pay the livery this mornin' and found Noble gone. Where in the world did you go in this weather?"
"I had an errand to run." That was all the information I was gonna give him until I got some answers to my newest questions. "Where are you off to this early?"
"Breakfast with Constance. I'm meeting her at the saloon and then we're goin' to Minnie's. You headed to bed?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna try this again. Maybe my nightmares won't wake me up this time."
I got a look of sympathy from my brother. He knew all about my nightmares, having lived through them with me as we were growing up. And I hadn't told him half of the ones I'd had as an adult. Something in my expression must have tipped him off that this wasn't your ordinary run-of-the-mill bad dream, because he didn't push me for an explanation, just put his left arm around my shoulders and squeezed.
"Thanks," I told him. And then he was gone, and the bed and I were left to do some serious conversing.
This time I actually got to sleep until I woke up of my own free will. No nightmares, no strangers banging on the door, no brother bringing in you-must-read-this-now telegrams. I was surprised, to say the least, but I finally had a clear head and a functional brain. Well, functional for me. I needed to talk to somebody about all the information I had, and I wasn't sure who I could trust besides my brother. I assumed him to be up at Pete's with Constance, so I grabbed my coat and headed there. To my surprise, neither one of them was in and the bartender professed not to have seen them for quite a while. I thought about going to the Morgan house but thought better of it. If Bret and Constance . . . . . well, let's just say I wasn't inclined to interrupt anything that might or might not be going on. I guess I was gonna have to figure this one out for myself.