Chapter 5 – Travelin' Man

Back in his hotel room Bart started putting all the pieces of the puzzle together and admitted there was too much he didn't know about Dalton Dupree. There was only one way to fill in the gaps, and that was a trip to New Orleans. And then Lake Charles. Better ride out to Bess Dupree's and tell her he would be gone for a while.

He went to the livery to collect Noble and took his time saddling the gelding. His horse was in a playful mood and nudged Bart several times until the gambler finally produced the apple he'd been hiding in his jacket pocket. The horse grabbed the piece of fruit, his favorite, and took only seconds to eat the whole thing, core and all. "What'd I tell you about not doin' that?" Bart asked, and the gelding looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Gonna leave you here for a while, old man. I need to go a couple places and you don't hafta make the trip. I'll be back for ya before ya know it." Noble nodded and whinnied, acquiescing to the fact that Bart would be missing for a while. "You ready?" asked the man that talked to rabbits, and the horse snorted as he was mounted.

This time there was no interruption by any of the wildlife and Bart checked the road carefully, especially the spot where Bess had purported to see her half-brother fleeing the Dupree home. It was possible to see and not be seen if the rider was headed in an easterly direction. He'd have to ask her when he got to the ranch.

Bess was out front, talking to a cowhand that Bart assumed to be Jack Ford, her ranch foreman. She smiled as he approached and waited to make introductions. "Bart, this is Jack, my manager. Jack Ford, Bart Maverick."

"Ah, the man who's taken on the search for Dalton. You've quite a task in front of you," and he offered his hand to Bart. The gambler took it and shook hands with Jack.

"I'm pretty good at finding people; especially those that don't want to be found. I've had lots of practice."

"I hope you're successful," Jack said as he nodded towards Bess. "Miz Dupree deserves some peace of mind, that's for sure. Well, got work to do. Pleased to meet ya, Mr. Maverick," and Ford headed off towards the barn.

"Seems friendly enough," Bart told the girl. "No thoughts of sending him after Dalton?"

"He lacked one of the primary qualifications for the job."

"Which is?" Bart asked.

"No personal stake in the hunt."

"Ah, yes. About that. I'm not expectin' to find any of the money he took from me or the folks in Wyoming."

"Do you really think it's all gone?" There was an incredulous tone in her voice.

"Somethin' tells me the answer to that is yes."

"Would it matter to you if it is?"

"Yeah, I'd like to get some of it back. Any of it. The money he stole from Wyoming almost cost me . . . "

"What, Mr. Maverick? Some sleepless nights playing poker? Some of your time? What exactly?"

"My life. Not to mention the woman I was gonna marry."

She was startled. That was not an answer she'd expected.

"Come on, Miss Dupree. You researched me, checked my background, my life. You mean you missed that?"

"I did," she answered very quietly. "How did it happen?"

He answered her almost as quietly. "I was beaten and poisoned. When I recovered from the poisonin', I'd lost the memory of wantin' to propose to the lady in question. It was months before I remembered that I had a ring for her, and by then it was too late."

She looked him in the eyes, and he saw genuine regret there. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Worse than what he took from me, the rest of the money belonged to the Wyoming Stock Growers Association. It was supposed to help fund their drive for statehood. Which still hasn't succeeded, by the way."

"It was over one-hundred thousand dollars, wasn't it?"

'"It was. The money I won for them in a poker tournament. That George Henry ran off with."

"What would you do if you could recover it?"

"Don't know. Never thought about that."

"Would you like some coffee, Bart? I have a fresh pot inside."

"That would be nice, Bess. I have a couple more questions I need to ask, anyway." He offered his arm and she took it. For the first time since he'd met her she almost seemed . . . normal.

Once inside they sat at the table and drank coffee for a minute before anyone spoke. Finally Bart started. "No Selma Jean today?"

Bess shook her head. "No, only when I have guests over. The rest of the time you're looking at the entire staff."

Bart had to chuckle; Bess was funny, whether she intended to be or not. "Well then, staff. Tell me about the day your father died. When you came back from town and spotted Dalton riding away, which direction was he headed in?"

"What an odd question. He was headed towards Jonesville, so that means he was going east. Why, what difference does it make?"

"Just askin'. And there was nothin' missin' from the house? Money, guns, jewelry, nothin'?"

It took her a minute, thinking back to that day. "No. Nothing missing. Not that I ever noticed, anyway."

"How did the house look? I mean was there any kinda disturbance inside, like a fight or a struggle?"

"No."

"Anything that you noticed out of place, inside or out?"

"No. Nothing."

"And where was your father, when you found him?"

Bess scowled as if the memory was painful. "Follow me." She walked into the drawing room, over to the spot a sizeable rug occupied. Without saying anything she pulled a corner of the rug back, revealing a large, murky stain on the floor. "It wouldn't come out. So I covered it after a while. I couldn't stand to look at it, day in and day out."

She dropped the rug back to where she'd found it, and wilted into the nearest chair, her head pointed down. Even after all these years had passed it was still agonizing to think about, much less discuss. "I'm sorry to dredge all this up for ya, Bess."

She swallowed and looked back up. "It's alright, Bart. I know the reason you have to ask."

He squatted down next to her chair and took her hands in his. Hers were as cold as ice. "Can I ask one more?" She nodded, not trusting her voice to answer. "How was he layin'? Face up, face down, on his side, how?"

Her voice broke as she answered. "He was . . . he was face down on the ground."

"You're sure?"

"Yes," she whispered. "When I turned him over, his eyes were open and he looked startled like it was unexpected. Doctor Miller said he was shot in the back. He was facing the window like he'd been staring outside."

Bart pulled her up out of the chair but kept hold of her hands. "Come back to the kitchen with me." He led her out of the room and back the way they'd come, and didn't let go of her until he'd seated her at the table. She looked young and frightened, vulnerable in a way that she hadn't been before this very moment. He poured another cup of coffee and put the warm cup in her hands. "Drink this. It'll warm you."

Bess did as she was told and drank the whole cup straight down. When she'd set the cup back on the table she cleared her throat and told him, "Thank you. I didn't know it would be so hard."

"I'm sorry it was. I've nothin' else to ask. But I am gonna leave Delmont for a while."

"Oh? Oh. Business or pleasure?"

"Dalton Dupree."

"Dalt – where are you going?"

"To New Orleans. And Lake Charles. And maybe Jonesville."

"Looking for Dalton?"

Bart had to chuckle a little. She was quick, he'd have to give her that. "Among others."

"Be careful?"

"I plan on it."