Chapter 5 – No Viable Option

Beauregard sat waiting in the Bella Union Saloon for almost an hour before Vic showed up. Maverick was on his fourth cup of coffee by that time and did little more than raise an eyebrow when Hansboro sat down at the table. "You sent for me?"

"You never were prompt, were you, Vic?"

"Hey, honey, bring me a coffee, would ya?" Vic called to the passing red head. Then he turned back to Beau. "I waited a long time for you, old man. You can wait an hour for me."

"What is it that you really want from me, Vic? I know you think you want revenge, but there's somethin' else, ain't there? Twenty thousand dollars, maybe?"

"See, I knew if I scared you bad enough you'd remember what was really important."

"I do remember what's really important, and their names are Bret and Bart. It's the Dallas bank robbery money, ain't it? Why would you think I had it?"

Vic was laughing as the girl brought his coffee. "Because Tyler told me he gave you instructions on where to find it."

"Was that before or after he died?"

"Don't be smart with me, Beau. There wasn't no reason for Tyler to lie to me."

"How did he get it to begin with?"

"Same old story. The posse was gainin' ground on us and I thought he had a better chance of gettin' away. I was wrong."

"The only time I saw Tyler after the posse hauled us back in was the day I testified in court."

Vic gave a little chuckle this time. "Wrong. You came to see him once after we were convicted."

"I came to . . . oh, Lord. I forgot about that. I did come to see him after the conviction, because he sent me a note askin' me to come. He told me his mama was sick and he'd written her a letter; begged me to git it to her. And I did what he asked."

"Sure, Beauregard. And what did the letter say?"

"I don't know, Vic. I didn't read it; it was for his mama."

"He told me it was directions to where he'd buried the money, and that you were supposed to get him and me broken outta jail. When that still hadn't happened three years later, he made other plans. And those plans got him killed." Hansboro finished the last of his coffee and waved the red head over. Once she'd refilled the cups and headed back to the bar he glared at Beau. "So where is it, Beau? What'd you do with it?"

Beauregard shook his head. "I don't have it, Vic. I never did."

"You expect me to believe that? I heard Ben's got a pretty fancy house. Is that where it went? Did you buy your younger brother a fancy house?"

"Ben bought that house right after him and Abigail got married. I didn't have nothin' to do with it."

They sat at the table for another five minutes before either of them spoke again. "You sure you wanna stick to that story? Really sure? 'Cause if you do, I'm gonna have to get my twenty thousand dollars some other way. The way we first talked about. You know, the ones named Bret and Bart."

There was a hissing sound in the air, and it took Hansboro a minute to realize it came from the man sitting across from him. "I'm gonna tell you this once, and once only, Vic. If you harm a hair on Bret or Bart's head – a single hair, Vic, that's all its gonna take – it's me you'll have to answer to. And I will show you no mercy, understand? No mercy."

The well-dressed gambler stood and slammed his fist on the table. "I told you once before what I'd do if you went after 'em, and I promise you now – I will kill you, Vic Hansboro. Without a second thought."

Beauregard walked out of the saloon and up the stairs, leaving a stunned cowboy at the table. By the time he opened the door to their room he was shaking, and he sat down heavily on the bed while three pairs of eyes watched him.

"How'd it go?" his brother asked, and he shook his head.

"We're in deep trouble."

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Hansboro sat at the table a long time after Beau Maverick stalked out. He knew the man had a temper, and a reputation for losing that temper, but he'd never seen anything quite like what he'd just witnessed. He almost believed his former friend when Beau insisted he didn't know where the money was.

Now what?

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"You want a drink of water, Pappy?"

"Or a cup pf coffee?"

"What I want," replied Beauregard Jefferson Maverick, "is a drink."

Stunned silence followed that pronouncement. "Calm down, boys, there won't be one taken here tonight. Ben, did you get an answer to your telegram?"

"I did, straight from the marshal himself. The twenty-thousand dollars has never been recovered. There's still a twenty percent reward for any part of it that's turned in."

"What about Hansboro?" Bret asked. "What did he have to say?"

"He thinks I've got the money. Says that Tyler told me where it was and I was supposed to get him out. When three years went by and that didn't happen, Tyler tried to break out with his cellmate and got killed instead. He wanted to know if I'd bought Ben's house with the money."

"Are you . . . serious?" Bart asked.

"I guess the next move is . . . Vic's." Beau stated solemnly.

Bret settled his hat on his head and grabbed his brother's arm. "Where are we goin'?" Bart asked.

"To see the marshal."

"Sit down, Bret. Goin' to see the marshal ain't gonna do any good."

"Then what're we gonna do?"

"What I shoulda done to begin with," Beau answered.

"Which is?"

"Kill the bastard."