They stared at each other for a long minute before anyone spoke, and the silence was broken by the little girl. "Bart brought us to town so Mommy could have the baby."
The new father offered his hand, and Bart stood from the chair and took it. "Thank you, but who – "
"I'll explain later. Go see your wife and baby."
Still looking as confused as Bart felt, Dalton carried his daughter into the exam room and closed the door behind him. The gambler knew from the squeal Sara Beth emitted that she'd gotten exactly what she wanted – a baby brother. He heaved a great sigh of relief and sat back down. In a few short minutes Doctor Fager came out from behind closed doors with a big grin on his face and a clean towel in his hands. "Good work, Mr. Jamison. You got her here just in time. We mighta had some problems otherwise."
"It's a boy?"
"Yep, a healthy baby boy. Everybody seems delighted. Of course, nobody can replace Thomas, but this goes a long way towards makin' that family whole again. Did you know Thomas?"
Bart shook his head. "No, I didn't."
"Fine lad. It was a real shame what happened. Now maybe the good Lord can finish his work with 'em. You'll excuse me?" The doctor went back into the exam room, and a few minutes later Dalton re-emerged still holding Sara Beth.
"Daddy, I don't wanna go to Aunt Julia's. I wanna stay here with you an mommy and the baby an Bart."
"Sara Beth, you hafta go to Julia's. Your mommy's got her hands full right now, and Bart and me got some things we gotta talk about." He turned to the gambler. "I'll just be a few minutes, alright?"
"Take your time," came the reply.
Dalton left carrying Sara Beth and Bart sat back down. He was glad to be alone, with no one to worry about, for a few minutes. His mind was whirling with possibilities, none of which seemed plausible at this point. If this was Dalton Dupree, where was George Henry? And who was George Henry? And if this man really wasn't the missing Dupree, who was he? Had Bess and almost everyone else been wrong?
Bart leaned back in the chair. He gave up trying to figure it out; he was still missing too much information. He'd waited this long for an answer, it wouldn't hurt to wait a little longer.
A few minutes later he went outside to smoke a cigar and watch for Dupree's return. It was about half gone when he saw the man walking up the street. He took another draw on the stogie and threw the rest away. Dalton seemed every bit as confused as Bart; that was evident from the look on his face.
"Is there someplace we can talk?"
Dupree nodded. "Doc's got a back room he rarely uses. I'm sure we can talk in there." The two men walked back inside the doctor's offices; Dalton knocked on the door marked 'Private' and stuck his head in. Bart could hear the soft hum of voices and in just a minute they were both headed for the back room.
Once inside, Bart closed the door and leaned against one of the boxes that Doc had stacked against the wall. "I'm sure this'll sound as funny out loud as it does in my head. I know who you are – but who are you?"
The other man laughed. "One things for sure – I'm that new baby's father. Don't you know? I'm Dalton Dupree."
Bart quietly responded, "Dalton Dupree and George Henry, notorious gunslinger, are supposed to be the same person. You're not George Henry."
Dalton laughed again. "Ah, how do you know I'm not?"
"Because George Henry was employed as a bodyguard by a miserable human being named Seth Johnson for a poker match in Cheyenne. When it was all done and I'd won, Henry stole over one-hundred-fifty thousand dollars of the Wyoming Stock Growers Association money. Some of that money belonged to me. You're not the man that stole it."
"And just who are you? Because I got the feelin' your name ain't Bart Jamison."
Bart's turn to laugh, but he thought better of it before answering. "That's where you're wrong. My name is Bart Jamison. Bart Jamison Maverick."
"Maverick? The gambler?"
"One of 'em, yeah. That still doesn't answer my question. Who are you?"
There was only one logical explanation left, and Bart knew he had to be right before Dalton ever admitted to it. "My real name's George Henry Bowers. Guess we both did the same thing, huh?"
"No, we didn't. If you're the real George Henry, then who . . . . . . . "
"The real Dalton Dupree."
XXXXXXXX
"It's a long story, so I'm glad you were willing to come back out to the house with me. I'd rather not explain everything where someone that shouldn't hear it could."
"Does that include your wife?" Janie Dupree and her new baby boy were sleeping soundly in their room; Sara Beth playing happily in hers. Bart and Dalton had worked together and gotten all three back home safe and sound.
"No, Janie knows who I was before I met her. But she's the only one that does. And now you. I hope once you've heard the whole story you'll keep the truth to yourself, Bart."
"I'm not promisin' anything. But I'm willin' to listen." They were sitting at the kitchen table, each one nursing a cup of coffee.
"George Henry Bowers was raised on a pig farm in Georgia. His mama and daddy decided to go west to Texas, and packed up everything when he was just nine. George Henry got to Texas alive; his mama and daddy didn't. They got caught in an Indian raid and died right before George Henry turned ten. He didn't have no other relatives, so he went to work for a cattle rancher. Mean bastard named Silas Dodge. Silas taught him to ride an rope, to shoot a gun, and the most important thing of all – to hate. George Henry got real good at all a those, and when he was old enough, he killed Silas and fled to Colorado. He made his reputation as a gunfighter, then a hired gun, then a contract killer. When he was twenty-four he met a pretty little thing named Janie Milburn and fell in love. I mean head-over-heels, once in a lifetime love. And that was a problem, because he wanted to marry the girl, and he couldn't as long as he remained George Henry.
"Two or three years pass, and he runs across another kid with a similar feelin' story. Father deserted mother, married somebody else, disappeared out of the boy's life – when the kid gets old enough he goes lookin' for the old man, an finds him. Settles in to try and help the father and his second family – and the abuse starts. Finally he can't take anymore and runs away, becomes part of a gang out of Wakestone, Texas. The same gang that George Henry is ridin' with. They get to talkin', comparin' lives. They're not so very different. George Henry's fast with a gun, so's Dalton Dupree. George Henry's tired of hatin' the world; Dalton Dupree's just gettin' started.
"And then one of 'em has an idea. It don't matter which one has it, he talks to the other one about it. The more they talk, the better it sounds. It just might work. They talk about it some more. They talk about it for the next six months. They start tellin' each other their life stories. They just keep talkin' about it. And then one day somethin' happens; it don't much matter what it was. They decide to do it, and they assume each other's identities. They both leave the gang. One heads to Kansas and gets a job as a hired gun; the other one goes back to Louisiana and finds out that Janie Milburn still ain't married. And he tells her all about his new life, and new name, and asks her to marry him. And to his surprise, she says yes. And George Henry, now Dalton Dupree, marries Janie Milburn and settles down on a farm in Lake Charles, Louisiana. And pretty soon they have a boy they name Thomas. Thomas Henry Dupree. And then a few years later they have a girl named Sara Beth Dupree. I believe Janie Milburn Dupree told you the rest of the story."
"You really do work as a cotton broker?" Bart asked.
"That I do," Dalton answered. "And I work the farm. And I built the church. And I'm getting' ready to start addin' on to the house. I thought at first I'd die after we lost Thomas, then I wanted to kill somethin'. I'd been workin' on the church but I didn't really believe in God, but after Thomas was gone somethin' changed. I saw what the Lord could do inside me, if I'd just let him, and that's what got us through. Seems to me George Henry could use some a that, if he'd lose that hate he carries around inside him."
"Was it George Henry that killed Hanford Dupree?"
Dalton shook his head. "I don't know for sure, I can only assume so. I haven't seen him in years. When we were puttin' the church together somebody wired the buildin' fund one thousand dollars, with a telegram that just said 'Thanks.' I assume it was him.
"That's all I can tell ya, Mr. Maverick. I'm sorry for George Henry stealin' from you and the cattlemen, but nothin' I could say or do would make a bit a difference. It seems he embraced his new identity just like I embraced mine. He is George Henry and I am Dalton Dupree. Unless you blow the whistle on us."
Bart sat for just a minute, contemplating his choices, then raised his head. He reached his hand across the table and shook hands with the man that had told him the long, long story. "I'm pleased to finally meet you, Mr. Dupree."