Chapter 14 – And the Truth Shall Set You Free

The next morning he slept in, having played poker until almost dawn. All in all, not a bad night. It was the first time he'd slept late in weeks, and it felt good just to lie in bed and know that he'd worked out all the inconsistencies and inaccuracies that had plagued him; he was confident he was right. Bess Dupree had insisted on hiring him to do a job he didn't want to do. And whether she liked the end result or not, that's just what he had done.

It was past lunch time before he got down to the dining room, but he felt better than he had for a while. That voice in his head that told him he was a 'failure, worthless, no-talent drifter' had shut up, hopefully forever, and just to make everything feel right again, he'd heard from Brother Bret. He was in Willow Springs, as had been suspected, and would wait there for Bart to arrive. Then it would be on to Dallas to pick up Cousin Beau, with the three of them continuing to New Orleans. It was the first extended trip that Beau had taken since his wife's death, and the brothers were determined to show him a good time.

But first the matter at hand. As soon as he'd had a meal of some kind he'd go to the livery and take care of Noble, then ride out to Bess Dupree's ranch. There was just one stop he had to make on the way out to see her, but he hoped that wouldn't take long. The meeting with Bess, however, would probably occupy most of the day, and he would be glad when it was over.

Within the hour he was saddling the big buckskin gelding, who was once again acting like a young colt. "Gettin' spoiled, aren't ya old man?" Bart asked as he reached into his pocket for the awaited treat. "Think I oughta eat this myself?" He pretended to take a bite and Noble shook his head and nickered in protest. "You're right, I've already eaten. It's all yours," and he held the apple out for the gelding to take. Which he did, gently and carefully, and then nodded happily as he actually took the time to chew it. "Well, that's much more polite, even if ya did still eat the core," the gambler remarked, and the big buckskin eyed him as if to say, "Whatta ya want? I'm a horse!"

He made his stop on the way out of town and was surprised when it took him longer than he expected. What happened after he left was out of his hands – that decision belonged to the person he'd spoken to.

Noble was all over the road to the Dupree ranch, scooting and scampering everywhere, so happy and joyous to be out of the livery that it took the pair of them almost twice as long to get where they were going. When the ranch was finally within sight the gelding took off at a gallop and arrived by skidding to a halt in front of the house. When the cloud of dust settled from their arrival, Bart spotted Bess on the front porch laughing. "A little happy to be out of the livery, is he?" she called down, and all Bart could do was nod.

"Do you mind if I turn him out?"

"No, not at all. Maybe he'll work some of that energy off," she called. She watched Bart unsaddle the gelding and lead him over to the corral, where he turned the buckskin loose with a slap on the rump. Noble almost jumped and ran for the horses gathered at the other end of the fence.

Bess was still chuckling when Bart got back to the porch. She patted the seat of the rocker next to hers. "Come sit down. How about some sweet tea?"

"That'd be great, Bess. Thanks." The ranch owner got up and disappeared into the house, returning in a few minutes with two full glasses. "You're in a good mood," Bart pointed out when she returned.

"Why not? You're back; I assume you have answers for me."

Bart nodded as he took the glass of tea from her. "I do, but I'm not sure you're gonna like 'em."

"Are they the truth?" she eyed him suspiciously.

He removed his hat and set it on his lap. "They are. Lying to you would be foolish."

Bess smiled cryptically. "Yes, it would."

He started on the story, telling her about his trip to New Orleans and his never-ending search through the parish archives. He avoided telling her of the lack of divorce records for her father and hoped that she wouldn't question him any further on the matter, and it appeared that she wasn't going to. He was just as happy to gloss over that portion of her father's life; it would serve no purpose to inform her that her mother and father were illegally wed.

He continued, explaining what he'd learned about Helene, and then from Helene, omitting her married name and exactly where she lived. He also chose to overlook some of her uncle's vivid tales of Hanford's demeanor and manipulative ways. Again, the man was dead and he saw no purpose in disclosing some of the darker aspects of his character. He stopped before telling her anything about Dalton, the Dupree family, or George Henry; including who they actually were and how they'd come to be. He sat for a minute or two, letting her take it all in before he presented her with the piece de resistance – the truth she never expected to hear.

"Did you find my half-brother or not?" Bess finally asked.

"Yes," Bart answered, 'and no' he thought.

"Then where is he?"

"That's not important anymore," Bart began.

"YES, IT IS!" Bess all but shouted, the good mood entirely disappeared.

"Let me finish," Bart insisted. "Dalton Dupree didn't kill his father. The man you saw that day, the man that shot your father in the back, is –"

"MY BROTHER!" In her anger and hate for the man, even Bess had failed to call him her half-brother.

"No, Bess. The man that murdered your father is Pete Trainer."

"Wh – what?"

The gambler nodded, having confirmed the truth when he stopped at the sheriff's office before riding out to the ranch.

"Pete?"

"That's right. Pete Trainer. He had his reasons, Bess, but you have to ask him what they were."

"You . . . you spoke to Pete?"

He nodded again. "I did. Right before I came out to see you."

"And he admitted shooting my father?"

"Not quite that cut and dried, but yes, he admitted it."

"But – but – he was at the Ferris ranch."

"No, he went to the Ferris ranch when he was done here. That's why he rode east. He intended to go there when he left his office, but he stopped to see Hanford along the way. He can tell you the rest."

"Why, Bart? Hanford and Pete were friends."

"Why don't I hitch up the buggy, Bess, and take you into town? Pete can explain himself. I asked him if he'd tell you the story, and he promised he would."

She shook her head. Most of the anger in her had been replaced by profound sadness. "I don't know what to say to him."

He reached over and took her hand in his. She was shaking. "Just ask him your questions, Bess, same as you've asked me. He'll give you answers."

Bess Dupree hung her head and gripped his hand tightly. "Alright. I'll go with you. Leave your horse here?"

"I will."

XXXXXXXX

It was silent all the way into Delmont. There was nothing more for Bart to say, and Bess was too stunned to speak. When they pulled up in front of the sheriff's office, all the shades were drawn shut and Bart got down hurriedly and went inside to make sure that Trainer was still there. When he emerged from the office he helped Bess out of the buggy and followed her in, then turned to leave. Bess quickly reached for his arm and stopped him from going. "Bart, please stay," she begged softly.

He looked at the sheriff, and Pete nodded his approval. "Alright." And he took a seat on the other side of the sheriff's desk. Bess sat in the chair right next to the desk, but Pete remained standing, albeit facing the jail cells. No one said anything for a minute or two, then the sheriff slowly began his tale.

"I watched what Hanford did to that poor boy. What he did to Dalton was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. I couldn't let him do it to you, too. And he'd started to. I could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. He'd gotten so used to takin' everything out on Dalton that he couldn't stop. And when Dalton left and your mother passed, he only had you to abuse.

"I don't mean physically. Lord knows Hanford wouldn't raise a hand to you. He did it in other ways. The perplexed look. The sarcastic remark. The question asked in a baffled tone of voice. The unreasonable demands on your time and attention. I warned him, time and time again. I told him to stop. Begged him to stop. He would, for a day or two, and then the abuse started again. His only goal in life became to make you so miserable that you'd never look at another person with anything but pain and distrust. So that you'd be too uncertain of yourself to ever leave him."

"But I never would have!" Bess interrupted.

"Yes, you would. Remember Marty Powell?"

Bess had to think for a minute. "Marty Powell? When I was seventeen? It was a harmless crush, a girlish fixation."

"No, Bess, it was more than that. You loved that boy. I could see it. Hanford could see it, too. That's when he really stepped things up." Trainer had turned and was facing Bess as he talked. Now he leaned his hands on the back of his chair and gripped it as tightly as he could. "And I couldn't let it happen to you. You were so bright, so sweet and trustin'. You couldn't understand what he'd begun to do to you. Remember when you talked to me after church one Sunday? And a few weeks later when you came to town with Hanford? You were in tears because you didn't understand what was happenin' between the two of you."

Trainer stopped and waited for Bess to say something. At long last she did, very quietly. "I remember, Pete." She'd been looking down at the ground; now she raised her eyes and stared right at the man that shot her father. "What happened that day, Pete? Why did you shoot him?"

The sheriff let go of his chair and half fell, half leaned against the wall behind him. "I . . . . I didn't intend to. I stopped to see him, to try talkin' to him one more time. He laughed it off. Said you were his daughter and he was just tryin' to toughen you up to the ways of the world. Said as long as he was alive he'd act any way he wanted to. Turned his back on me, as if darin' me to do somethin', anything about it." The jail was deathly silent for a moment. "Then I did."

The three people in the room sat there, no sound anywhere except the ticking of the clock on the wall. Bart finally broke the silence. "Tell her the rest of it, sheriff." Trainer looked over at Maverick, and the gambler nodded. Pete pulled away from the wall, standing straight for a moment, then drew his chair back from the desk and sat down. When he spoke again, he was calm and subdued.

"I couldn't take the chance of him breakin' your heart, and your spirit. I was in love with you."