Chapter 2 – You Know Me As . . .
"How nice of you, Mr. Maverick, to bring a gift," Bessie Dupree smiled graciously as she accepted the bottle of wine. "Shall we open this and have a glass?"
"I think that's an excellent idea, Miss Dupree," he answered, and followed her into the kitchen. "May I?" he asked before starting on the bottle.
"Please," she answered, and momentarily left the room, to return with two crystal wine goblets. Bart opened and poured, and handed the first glass to his hostess. "Oh, quite lovely," she pronounced after taking a sip. "I can taste the cherries and blackberries. You have excellent taste, Mr. Maverick."
"Please, Miss Dupree, call me Bart. I tend to look around for my pap . . . father when I hear Mr. Maverick."
"Alright, then, I am Bess. I never did care for the longer familiar of my name."
"Bess it is. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"You may escort me to the table, Bart. Selma Jean will serve dinner. I employ her whenever I have guests over. She knows my tastes and habits quite well by now."
He offered Bess his arm and guided her to the dining room, seating her at the head of the table with him to her left. A young mulatto girl brought in a platter filled with meat, potatoes, and vegetables, and Bart was reminded of Lonnie del Cantera in Natchez. Selma Jean was younger than Lonnie, but they shared the same cocoa colored skin and the fine aquiline nose. After the main dish came the biscuits, with fresh churned butter and silken gold honey. Bess raised her glass and Bart did likewise. "A toast to our future partnership," she announced, and once again he experienced that momentary chill that he'd sensed earlier in the day. There was something about Bess Dupree . . . . .
An hour later they were having a second glass of wine with the fresh cherry cobbler Selma Jean had served. "This is why I was so delighted by your choice of wine," Bess explained.
The liquor was indeed the perfect complement to the cobbler, almost as if some little bird had whispered in Bart's ear. 'Another coincidence?' he wondered. "Did you will me to bring that particular wine?" he asked, half-seriously.
Bess smiled shyly, and for the first time he didn't find it off-putting. "Must I tell you all my secrets? Speaking of secrets, you are still interested in the job I offered once before?"
"I'll be frank, Bess. Considering the string of bad luck I've run into ever since I turned you down the first time, I am most definitely interested. As long as you're willing to lift the curse you put on me when we met last."
"Oh? My 'curse' seems to have done what I intended it to do." And then she laughed, and Bart made himself laugh with her. Just in case.
"Just who is this person you want me to locate?" Bart finally asked.
"His name is Dalton Dupree. He's my half-brother. And he's wanted for the murder of our father, Hanford Dupree. There is a five thousand dollar reward for his arrest."
"And why do you think I can find him when the law hasn't had any success?"
"Because you've dealt with Dalton on a previous occasion. As a matter of fact, I believe he stole quite a bit of money from you."
"Me? Are you sure you've got the right Maverick?" Bart asked her, seriously doubting he was the man she thought he was.
"Quite certain. Of course, you know him by another name. The alias he uses most often is George Henry."
George Henry? Bart knew that name and knew it well. George Henry had been Seth Johnson's bodyguard, the man he'd played and beaten in a showdown poker game in Cheyenne, Wyoming. George Henry had stolen over fifty-thousand dollars of Bart Maverick's money; money he'd won fair and square in the poker match and then lost when the bodyguard broke into the Wyoming Stock Growers Association office and took it. Every red cent of it. Along with all the money that belonged to the W.S.G.A., money that was earmarked to be used in the fight for Wyoming's statehood. Was Bess Dupree serious? George Henry, the gunslinger, was really Dalton Dupree, her half-brother?
Bart sat there with the crystal wine glass in his hand and mulled over what Bess had just told him. Her revelation answered all the questions he had about why she offered the job to him – he had a personal score to settle, just like she did. But he had questions that needed to be answered.
"How did Dalton Dupree become George Henry?"
"Does that mean that you'll find my half-brother and bring him to justice?"
Bart hesitated for just a moment. "Do you have any idea what part of the country he's in?"
"I know exactly where he was two weeks ago." Bess's expression was one of utter hatred, and Bart was certain there was much to the story that he didn't know.
"I have more questions for you; questions I need answers to. But yes, Bess, I will take the job of finding your brother."
"My half-brother," she corrected.
"Your half-brother."
"Good," she replied. "I'll pay you five-thousand dollars to find him and bring him in, in addition to the five-thousand dollar reward offered by the state. Do we have a deal, Mr. Maverick?"
"We have a deal, Miss Dupree."
"When can you start?"
Bart chuckled, a sorry-sounding laugh. "I think I just did."
XXXXXXXX
Another midnight. This time he didn't feel quite so worthless; he was more angry than anything. And he completely understood why Bessie – he corrected himself, Bess – had wanted him and only him to take the job she was offering. But how did she know? That was one of the questions he had for her, and they'd agreed to meet for breakfast at the hotel at nine o'clock. After breakfast they could go anywhere he wanted to ask the rest of his questions.
Noble ambled slowly in the moonlight on an unfamiliar road. That was alright with the gambler, it gave him more time to think. There was something very odd about this whole arrangement, and he didn't yet know what it was. Maybe he felt that way because he still didn't know the whole story. Just who was her father, Hanford Dupree? It certainly didn't seem she was lacking for money, so he must have left her well-off. She said George – Dalton – was her half-brother. Older or younger? Who was his mother? And why had he killed their father?
There were a lot more questions than that scrambling around in his head, but he knew they'd have to wait until morning. He yawned and stretched, and the horse kept walking back the way he'd come several hours ago. Bart and Bess had spent the rest of the evening talking about his life, her life, the ranch, the town. Everything but Hanford and Dalton Dupree. That, she insisted, had to wait for their breakfast meeting. There must be a reason for the delay in filling in the rest of the story, but she wouldn't give him answers to any of the questions he had left. Alright, if that was the way she wanted it, that's the way it would be. All he had to do was go back to the hotel and get a good night's sleep. All he had to do.