"So, Constance, I heard that June and Rally Simmons are engaged. I thought you didn't want your sister to marry him." Bret shot me a look that I ignored, and Constance never batted an eye.
"I didn't. I thought Mr. Simmons was just after her money."
I pushed on. "Have you changed your mind?"
Connie smiled as she replied. "Let's just say I'm willing to take another look at the situation."
Bret finally spoke up. "Why is that, Constance?"
For the first time she hesitated. "Things . . . . . . things have changed somewhat."
"You mean because June's moved in with Rally?" I saw a small opening and I took it.
"Not exactly."
I waited to see if I got anything else. When Connie continued sipping coffee quietly, I made my move. "What did you and Rally talk about when you caught him out at Farrel's property line?"
Connie almost choked. "Whatever gave you that idea? Bret, what is Bart talking about? You were here with me all day, tell him."
Bret moved in for the truth. "You were seen with Rally that day, Constance. Remember, you had your office door closed most of the afternoon. I was tryin' to play one-handed poker."
She looked at Bret and something changed in her eyes. Her voice was quieter, softer, and full of regret. "Alright, I did catch Rally out at the Farrel's. I wanted one more chance to try and talk him out of seeing June. It didn't work."
Something was going on between the two of them and I wasn't sure what it was. Trust? Friendship? I couldn't imagine that Bret was in love with Constance; he was still mourning the loss of Althea. Respect? Mutual dependence? Whatever it was, I was going to try my best to take advantage of it. "Is that all there was, Connie? Just talk about June?"
"No."
"What else?"
"No. Nothing."
"What else, Connie? What aren't you telling us?
"No . . . . . no . . . . . nothing . . . . . . no."
"Come on, Connie, the truth."
"I . . . . . I can't. I can't."
"It isn't gonna go away until you talk about it."
"No. . . . . . I can't. It's so awful . . . . . I can't.
Bret asked her then, "What did you do, Constance?"
Suddenly Connie's head was in her hands and she was almost sobbing. "There was . . . . . there was . . . . oh God, I didn't mean for there to be . . . . . but he wouldn't . . . . . and then I couldn't . . . . . . and I just reached for it . . . . . . and he wouldn't answer me . . . . . and I . . . . . I just . . . . . . I just hit him with it. And I couldn't stop . . . . . . even when he . . . . .when he went down. And I kept hitting him . . . . . and then he didn't move . . . . . and I kept on . . . . . . I kept on hitting him with it . . . . . until . . . . . until I couldn't anymore . . . . and after that . . . . . I left him . . . . . I just left him there."
Bret and I looked at each other; then he moved around the desk and took her in his arms and let her sob until she couldn't any longer. I just sat there, stunned beyond belief. I hadn't for a moment expected what we'd just heard; a confession from Constance Morgan that she was the one responsible for nearly beating Rally Simmons to death.
XXXXXXXX
I don't know how much time passed before Connie calmed down enough to talk to us. Not much in this world shocks me anymore; what she'd just choked out qualified. I'd been so convinced that the punishment inflicted on Rally had to be perpetrated by a man that I'd never for one moment considered a woman capable of it. From the way Bret reacted, he was about three steps ahead of me on this one.
I went out to the bar and brought back brandy and a glass, which I poured half-full and handed to my brother. He got some of it down her, and it seemed to settle her a bit. Enough that the hiccuping and coughing abated and the three of us were left sitting there, wondering what to do next.
"Can you talk about it calmly now?" Bret asked.
"I . . . . . I honestly don't know," Constance answered. "I'll try."
"Did you go out there intendin' to hurt Simmons?"
A shake of the head. "No." She took another swallow of the brandy but continued to sit there with Bret's arms around her, almost as if he was protecting her from herself – or the truth.
"Tell us what happened, Connie."
She swallowed and started. "I went out there because I wanted to put a stop to him and June. I was sure he was after her money. I caught up with him right at the edge of the Farrel's property. He wouldn't even talk to me at first like there was something else on his mind and he couldn't deal with me just then. I kept talking, and talking, and yelling, and I picked up the whip and threatened to hit him if he didn't answer me. I don't know if he didn't hear me or just ignored me . . . . . and I then hit him. And still he said nothing."
"Then what happened?" Bret prompted her.
"I kept hitting him. He wouldn't talk to me. Why wouldn't he talk to me? And . . . . . I . . . . . just . . . . kept . . . . . . hitting . . . . . . him. Even after he collapsed and fell out of the buggy. I just . . . . . I just . . . . . ."
Bret got Connie to take the rest of the glass of brandy before he looked at me. Connie started crying again, not hysterically this time, just softly and quietly, and Bret gave her his handkerchief.
"What do we do now?" I asked, not expecting any kind of an answer but hoping for one.
"I think we should all go see Rally Simmons," my brother replied, and after a moment or two, I agreed with him.
XXXXXXXX
It was an odd-looking procession we made, me walking first followed by Constance and Bret, with his arm tightly around her shoulders supporting her. Fortunately, there was no one on the street save for a cowboy on a ratty-looking bay mare, and he paid no attention at all to us. Rally's house sat on the second street behind Main Street and seemed to be a pleasant enough place. It wasn't big and grand, just a well-maintained home of average size. I stepped back and let Bret walk Constance to the front door, which was answered by a Mexican housekeeper. She ushered us into a small parlor and went scurrying off, presumably to the bedrooms, and in just a moment June Morgan appeared.
June looked at Bret, and the grip he had on her sister, and then her eyes wandered to me. I smiled to try and reassure her and Bret finally spoke. "June, we need to see Rally. Alone."
I reached out and took hold of June's hand. "They just need to see him about a financial matter, June. I'll stay out here with you if you'd like." That seemed to allay any fears June might have, and she disappeared behind the bedroom door again. She was back out in a few minutes and held the door open for Bret and Connie, who went inside and closed the door behind them. I took June's hand again and we walked back into the parlor, where she watched me intently. "They're not here to cause trouble for you or Rally," I told her. "Constance needs to discuss something with him. That's all, honey. Everything will be fine."
June gave me one of her "If you say so," smiles and we sat without talking for almost thirty minutes. June had a death grip on my hand the entire time, but that was the only indication that she was worried or upset. Finally the bedroom door opened and Connie emerged, with Bret right behind her. There was a small smile on my brother's face and Constance looked more 'settled' than she had when they went in.
When they got to the parlor, Constance reached for June's hand and she released her iron grip on me. "I didn't mean to worry you, honey," Connie told her sister. "I had to talk to Rally about something. It's all settled now. I understand you have a wedding to plan, and I hope you'll let me help you. I was wrong to stand in your way, and I told Rally that very thing. I hope you can forgive me."
The biggest smile I'd ever seen spread across June's face. It was quite a change to see her so happy. "I can. I will. I do. Forgive you, I mean. If Rally's fine with it, then I am too." She pulled away from Constance and rushed over to me, planting a big kiss on my cheek. "I was right about you, Bart Maverick. You're nice."
I left then, and Bret followed after, holding Connie's hand. Once we were back out on the street Bret mouthed 'Later' to me and I nodded my head. I needed to hear the rest of this before I passed judgement on whatever had been negotiated in the Simmons bedroom.