Chapter 14 – No More Tears

"How is he this morning?" Clay DuPont asked his wife.

"Still unconscious, if that's what you mean. Seems to be a little feverish, too. I tried to get some more water down him, but a swallow or two was all he could manage."

"You got any of that aspirin left over from the last time I was sick?"

Jean shook her head. "I already looked. There ain't none there. There's a swallow or two of laudanum, we can give him that if you'll help."

"Sure. Maybe I can ride into town today and get some more of that stuff from Doc Hastings." Clay figured if the man had been left in their care, they should do everything they could to help him.

"Laudanum. That ain't a bad idea. Let's go give it to him, and then I'll make you some breakfast."

"Alright. Coffee's on. Let's go."

It only took a minute or two to get the stranger to swallow the medicine. Once again his eyelids fluttered, and the DuPont's really thought this time he just might wake up . . .but the activity ceased after a few seconds, and the man lay deathly still once more.

"Well, I guess he just ain't ready. Come on, fried eggs and bacon this morning?"

As the husband and wife left the bedroom, the man in the bed's eyes popped open and reflected fear and panic for a few seconds, before unconsciousness overtook him again.

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Richie and Jackson cut the dozen purebred Morgan horses out of the herd and headed towards Fort Worth. Decker and Collins were left with the Arabians and the crossbreeds, including LuLu and Spreckles, while Hampton and Melrose went into town to make some money. They had no idea half-a-dozen men were waiting for them, including one of the ponies owners.

The posse took up places along the fence, waiting for Bret to give them the sign that he'd spotted his horses. They ran through three different herds for sale before Bret saw one of the Morgans. He waited until he'd seen a few more of the B Bar M animals, then he took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve, the pre-arranged signal. Dave Parker jumped down from the fence, into the auction ring, and called out, "You there with the horse on the rope. You're under arrest for horse theft. These animals are not for sale, gentlemen, they were stolen. Jerry, grab that fella tryin' to run away. Let's get ropes on all of 'em and get 'em out of the ring."

It was chaos for a few minutes until all of the horses were rounded up and the outlaws were handcuffed. "Where's the rest of 'em?" Parker demanded of Richie.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about," Richie answered sarcastically.

"And where's my brother?" Bret got up in Richie's face, demanding his brother's whereabouts.

"I don't know nothin' about no brother."

"You liar. I oughta . . . "

Jackson spoke up. "He's tellin' you the truth. Neither one of us knows nothin' about no brother."

Beau pulled Bret away from Richie. "Do you believe me now, Bret?"

"Where's the rest of your people?" Parker questioned.

"Don't know what you're talkin' bout, Law Dog."

"Jerry, Lawton, stay with these two and the horses. The rest of you come with me."

Parker took Bret and the men and headed south. They rode about two miles before they heard horses, and Dave and Bret dismounted and walked through the trees until they could see the rest of the herd. There were two men visible, but no Bart. "I don't see Bart anywhere, Bret."

Bret's voice had a tremor in it. "I know, Dave, I don't either."

"Those are your horses, aren't they?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go find out what happened."

Parker gave the signal and before Collins and Decker knew what was happening, they were surrounded. "Put your hands up, you're under arrest."

Once again Bret charged forward and got his hands around Collins' throat. "Where's my brother?"

Collins cast a quick glance at Decker and saw that Art was about to talk, so Collins jumped in ahead of him. "You mean that rancher we shot? We dumped his body in the Brazos River. You'll never find him."

Bret went stiff for just a moment but never made a sound. Decker saw the look that flashed across his face and knew that it was too late to say anything now. Beau walked up behind him and put his hand on Bret's shoulder; the senior Maverick shrugged it off. Bret turned and stared at his cousin, then walked back to his horse and mounted. He sat deathly still until Parker gave directions to his deputies, and then fell into formation around the horses.

No one spoke to Bret until they'd merged the two herds together and had all four rustlers in handcuffs. Then the sheriff tried to find out where Bret wanted to ride. "I'll take point," Bret responded. He rode point on the herd all the way back to the ranch. At night he lay, wide awake, and spoke to no one. He ate nothing and drank only coffee all the way back to the B Bar M.

The last night Parker tried talking to Beau, hoping that he would get some kind of response out of at least one Maverick. Beau sat and listened to Dave, but couldn't at first do much more than say 'yes' or 'no.' "Ain't there any way to get through to him, Beau?" Parker finally asked.

"No, Dave, I don't think so. I don't believe he's gonna say much until he has to tell Pappy."

"I was gonna do that."

"I don't think he'd let you. I think he's trying to gear himself up for the reaction he's gonna get."

Beau proved to be prophetic. When the herd got to the ranch, Beau took charge of getting the horses back into the corrals, and Bret went straight to his father's house. He was tying his horse up to the hitching post when Pappy and Maude came out onto the porch. Bret turned to face his father and took two great strides across the porch, stopping right in front of the man that had given him life. Beauregard looked into his son's eyes and collapsed into his arms. Bret picked him up and carried him into the bedroom, where he laid his father gently on the bed. He looked at Maude and nodded, then left to go talk to Doralice.

She was sitting on the porch of Bart's house, rocking. Bret crossed the expanse between the two houses and sat down beside her. She looked up and asked, "No body?"

"They said they dumped him in the Brazos."

She let out one gasp and fell into Bret's arms, and he stroked her hair while she cried. After a minute she stopped and sat up straight, and he wiped her tears away. "Will you help me tell Maudie?"

"Yes."

Doralice cleared her throat. "Maudie, come out here, please."

From inside the house, she heard her daughter's voice. "No, I ain't comin' out there."

"Why not?" Her mother asked.

"Because you're gonna tell me Poppy's dead."

Bret tried. "Maudie, your mother asked you to come out."

"N-n-n-n-no. Now I'm sure he's dead."

"Maudie, please come out." Doralice tried pleading with her one more time.

Slowly and quietly the girl crept out onto the front porch, and when she got there she collapsed into her Uncle's arms. "He is, isn't he?"

"Yes, honey, he is." Bret gave her his handkerchief, and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose before she stood up straight.

"Daddy wouldn't want me to cry."

"No, babydoll, he wouldn't."

"Then I won't." And she walked back in the house, tall and straight, and didn't shed another tear. She was indeed Bart Maverick's daughter.