Once outside his 'prison', Bart had to stop himself from reflexively taking a deep breath of the fresh air, not wanting to risk losing his breath on the hospital doorstep and being dragged back in.

The other two Mavericks could plainly see the relief on his face. "Glad to be out of there?" Bret asked.

Bart smiled. "You have no idea. No idea."

Beau slung one arm around each of his cousins. "I'd say this calls for a drink...of coffee! Anyone for breakfast?"

"Always," said Bret, predictably.

Bart smiled and they headed for the hotel directly across the street. It wasn't far, but it was the furthest that Bart had walked since his chloroform overdose, and he was breathing fast by the time they arrived.

Both of the other Mavericks shot him concerned looks, but he shook his head to tell them that he was fine. Once inside, he was relieved to sit down and blinked a few times, feeling a little lightheaded.

Bret and Beau were staring at him again, each one noticing that he looked pale.

"I'm fine," Bart told them, just as a waitress arrived. She took their orders, gave them coffee, and headed for the kitchen.

They were mostly quiet through their meal, not wanting Bart to waste precious air by talking. They were glad to see more color in his face by the time they were finished, and all three of them headed for the stairs.

Bret stopped Bart at the bottom. "You should stay here."

Bart shot him an indignant expression. "But—"

"Eleven steps, Bart," said Beau. "Eleven."

Bart looked at the staircase and quickly counted them himself: eleven indeed. He wasn't surprised at all that his cousin knew how many there were. "But—"

"I already packed everything," Beau continued. "Bret and I just have to go get the bags."

What could Bart really say? They didn't need three people to bring down three suitcases anyway, and there really was no way that he could climb eleven steps at the moment. "But—"

"I will," Bret said, knowing that his brother was asking him to make sure nothing of his was accidentally left behind. "Have a seat, we'll be right back."

Bart nodded and obeyed, walking to the nearest chair and sitting. As his brother and cousin walked upstairs, Bart had to smile and shake his head, amused at the one-sided conversation where Bret and Beau both knew what he was trying to say without him having to say it.

Bret and Beau were back a few minutes later, and they left the hotel. Bret tried to get Bart to stay where he was rather than go with them to collect their horses from the livery stable, but Bart quietly shook his head and followed anyway. Rather than make his brother waste breath arguing, Bret submitted since it wasn't far.

Bart was out of breath by the time they arrived, but trying to hide it. His horse nickered the instant it saw him, and Bart smiled, running his hand down the sickle-shaped mark on his forehead. "Miss me?" he said.

The horse nickered again.

At the sight, Bret had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. Things could've turned out so differently...

Beau could tell what Bret was thinking, and clapped him on the shoulder before going over to Bart to intercept him before he could grab his saddle. Buckling it wouldn't impede Bart's breathing, but lifting it certainly would.

Bart let him, and seemed surprised that they were at least letting him fasten it. "Thanks," he said.

Beau gave him a bright smile and clapped his shoulder too before saddling his own horse.

Minutes later, they were riding out to head to the train station—after Bart declined their help to mount—and Beau suddenly said, "Bret, look."

Bret and Bart followed Beau's pointing finger, to see a man walking down the other side of the street towards the hospital, holding a Bible. "That's him," Bret said to Bart. "The preacher." Bart steered his horse to cross the street, and the other two followed.

The pastor—whose name they didn't even know—looked up when three horses neared him. He instantly recognized Bret and Beau, and he smiled wide when he saw Bart. "Mr. Maverick!"

"That's me," said Bart, smiling back.

The pastor reached out to shake Bart's hand. "I was just on my way to the hospital, wondering if I would find you still there."

Bart shook his head. "I just got out."

"Leaving town so soon?"

"Taking a train out of Denver," Bret answered for Bart, not wanting him to have to talk too much. "The thin air isn't good for him."

The pastor nodded, smiling up at Bart again. "God obviously has His hand on you. When I saw you last week, you didn't look long for this world, son."

Bart nodded. He could only imagine.

"I prayed for you all week," said the pastor. "I knew that I would get good news today. God hears our prayers."

Bart smiled again. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Same here," Bret told him. "You have no idea."

The pastor nodded. He could tell that the three Mavericks were very close.

The train suddenly blew its horn, indicating that its passengers should board.

The pastor reached up to shake Bart's hand again. "The next time you're in Denver, visit the church. In the meantime...stay away from dark alleys."

Bart chuckled. "I will."

"Dark alleys and Mavericks don't mix," said Beau.

The pastor smiled as he shook Beau's hand next. "Then I will keep you all in my prayers!"

Beau smiled. "We need it!"

Bret gripped the pastor's hand tightly when it was his turn. "Thank you," he said, sincerely.

The pastor smiled. "Anytime. Now hurry before you miss your train!"

The three Mavericks all said goodbye and rode off to the train station, the pastor's words echoing in Bart's mind. With all of the awful situations that he'd managed to survive, he wondered if God really did watch over him...

THE END