Chapter 2 – Payback

Beauregard's sons had gone to bed, but Beau and Ben were still sitting in the dining room drinking coffee. Ben made a statement, and Beauregard wasn't sure he'd heard it correctly. "What did you say?"

"I thought you weren't worried about Vic."

"Hmph. What gave you that idea?"

Ben lowered his voice. "You did, Beau."

"Not real smart, was I?" He pulled out a cigar and lit it, then took a deep draw before setting it down in what passed for an ashtray. "Ben . . . do you think he's really followin' me?"

"Can you afford to take the chance?" It was impossible to read Beau's eyes. They were so dark that typically no visible emotion showed there, and right now was no exception.

"Nope. But there's only one way to find out. I'm gonna hafta talk to him."

"You could be walkin' into a trap. He might not be alone."

"I'm not alone, either."

"No. You're not." They hadn't been as close as they could have been growing up, but the older they got the more time sealed the bond the brothers had. Beauregard had been vital in opening Ben's eyes to the feelings he had for both Abigail and his newborn son, and Bentley was the only one who understood the depths of Beau's despair over the loss of his beloved Isabelle. Just like Bret and Bart, they would do anything to protect each other. "When?"

It was an unexpected but easy answer. "Now, Ben."

Bentley looked up and straight at the man that stood in the doorway to the dining room. He laid his hand on his Colt under the table before realizing that Hansboro wasn't heeled, and slowly relaxed. "You want me to stay?" he asked quietly as Vic strode towards them.

There was a calmness and an attitude in his brother's eyes that hadn't been there moments before. Beau shook his head. "No."

Ben left his napkin on the table and stood up. "I won't be far."

As Vic got to the table, he nodded his head slightly. "Maverick."

"Hansboro." Bentley ambled away from the table and back across the room. He got to the doorway and stopped, looking back at his older brother, then disappeared around the corner.

"Sit down, Vic," Beau invited. "Want some coffee?"

"Thanks," came back quickly as Vic pulled a chair away from the table and turned his cup over. Beau signaled the waitress and she brought over a fresh pot, filling both cups before she left.

"Been a long time."

"Almost twenty years."

Beau studied Hansboro's face. There was no sense in playing games, might as well get everything out in the open. "You come here to kill me?"

"Nope," Vic replied, and Beau started to relax. "I came here to kill your boys."

XXXXXXXX

"Bret."

"Yeah, Bart."

"You notice anything strange about Pappy?"

Bret chuckled and rolled over in bed. "When have I not?"

"No, I'm serious."

Bret thought back over the events of the morning. "You mean the way he kept lookin' around and pickin' at his food?"

"Yeah."

"He wasn't like that last night."

Bart sat up in bed. "No, he wasn't. Somethin' happened while we were playin' poker."

"Uncle Ben seemed alright. What do you suppose . . . "

"Happened with Pappy? Who knows? But I didn't like the feelin' I was gettin'."

Bret rolled out the other side of the bed and started pulling his pants on. "I didn't either, but I didn't wanna say anything. Besides, he wouldn't have given us a straight answer anyway."

"So whatta you propose we do about it?"

"Get your lazy ass outta bed and go ask him what's goin' on."

"What makes you think he'll give us a straight answer now?" Bart moved to the edge of the bed, slipped on his shirt and began to button it.

"I don't, but it's worth a shot, ain't it?"

"Maybe we're imaginin' it." Bart glanced at his brother and saw the worry there.

"Maybe we're not," Bret replied as he slipped on a boot.

XXXXXXXX

"You ain't serious," was the first thing out of Beauregard's mouth.

Vic said nothing, just took a swallow of coffee and set his cup back down. He watched the emotions play across Maverick's face and knew he'd hit a nerve. Sometimes over the years relationships between fathers and sons changed – good to know theirs hadn't. He'd been waiting too long to extract his revenge.

"Did you really think they'd take them kids away from you? And do what with 'em, exactly? They'da threatened you with anything to get you to testify. I sat in that jail cell and listened to 'em plot, one thing right after another. I tried to tell you that, but you wouldn't listen. All you could think about was them boys. So instead of gettin' two years in prison, me and Tyler got ten. Three years later Tyler was dead."

'Dead?' Beau thought. "What happened?"

"His cell mate tried to bust out, and he got away. But Tyler got killed. He'da been free if it weren't for you and your brother."

"What about Bentley? You gonna try to kill his boy, too?"

Vic had to admit, Beau had gotten his emotions back under control. His face betrayed no panic, and his voice sounded perfectly calm. But Hansboro knew better than to believe he hadn't seriously disturbed the gambler, and it did his soul good to know he'd rattled the psyche of one of the most unexcitable men alive.

"I haven't decided yet. He ain't here, is he?"

"No." There was no sense in lying to Vic, it would be easy enough to discover the truth.

"I saw both of yours. Good-lookin' young men, oldest one looks just like you. Pretty good poker players from what I seen, too. Won't be too hard to get rid of 'em."

"Hansboro . . . I don't care what you do to me. Maybe I deserve it, maybe I don't. But you got no cause to harm them . . . they never did a thing to you."

The former convict finished his coffee and pushed his chair back from the table. "No. No they didn't. But their Pa sure did."

Just as the man that had announced his intention to kill them disappeared, Bret and Bart Maverick re-entered the dining room and found their father sitting exactly where they'd left him more than an hour ago. "Pappy, you alright?" Bret asked.

It took more than a minute for Beauregard to answer Bret. "I'm . . . fine, boys. I thought you two were in bed." A long pause, and then, "Did you happen to see your Uncle Ben out there?"