Chapter Two

Jack Vandergelt the Third was nervous. He paced about the hotel room, periodically crossing to the window and looking out at the dark night below. Then he snapped the curtain back into place just as quickly and turned away.

"Van?"

He turned at the sound of his wife's worried voice. Lydia had just entered from the bath, clad in a robe and towel, and looked highly concerned. "Van, what's wrong? You've been looking out that window ever since we got here. If those men who are after you don't already know you're here, you're certainly going to alert them!"

"Of course they know I'm here," Jack retorted in frustration. "They sabotaged our stage so we'd be stuck here!" He ran a hand through his hair. "Oh, I'm sorry, Lydia. I don't mean to be short with you." His shoulders slumped. "I'm worried about the man they were shooting at in my place."

"What?!" Lydia hurried over to him, her wet hair forgotten. "What man?"

"Beau Maverick," Jack sighed. "The insane thing is, he looks just like me!"

"Maverick?!" Lydia wailed. "Like that Bret Maverick friend of yours?"

"Now, don't be too hard on him, Lydia," Jack pleaded. "He did help bring us together. And yes, this is his cousin."

Lydia slumped back. "It figures we'd run into another Maverick." She frowned. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, I could just let him take the fall for me, but I've never been quite that ruthless," Jack said. "He went to talk with the man behind this whole mess. He said the man was a friend of his and might listen to him. He should have been back by now!"

Lydia sighed. "There's nothing you can do about it, Van." She started to run her hands over his shoulders. "It's late. Come to bed."

"I could go out looking for him," Jack retorted.

"No!" Lydia wailed. "Then you'd be found and killed!"

"It would still be the noble thing to do," Jack said.

"Forget that! I care more about keeping you alive," Lydia declared. "I could have lost you in that silly duel with Lucius. That was horrible!"

Jack had to smile a bit to himself. Lydia still loved her books, but she had started to learn that they weren't always the best thing to turn to when wondering about real-life. That was good. Jack appreciated books himself and had found them a solace during the long, lonely hours of his early life. But although they intrigued him, and although he had felt a kinship to Lydia because of their shared love of them, he had tried to not think of them as absolute reality.

"What should I do then?" he asked. "Just let him be caught or killed?"

"No," Lydia sighed. "But there must be some other solution than giving yourself up."

"I wish I knew what and I would do it," Jack said dryly.

A knock on the door startled them both. Then, tense, Jack slowly approached the door. "Who is it?"

"Beau Maverick," came an echoing voice from outside.

Lydia stopped and stared as Jack hurriedly opened the door and admitted a second Jack. "Why, Van really wasn't kidding!" she exclaimed. "This is just like a situation that could happen in a book! And if there isn't already such a book, someone should write it!"

Jack looked embarrassed. "You'll have to excuse my wife," he told Beau. "She likes to compare reality with novels."

"That's . . . quite alright," Beau said awkwardly. "It is a ridiculous situation; I can imagine someone writing a comedy about it. Anyway, I'm sorry to call on you so late. I've just come from Snakes Tolliver's."

"So you really know him?" Lydia frowned, coming around a chair to stand directly in front of Beau. "You must be as much of a character as he is. A criminal, too."

"Lydia!" Jack exclaimed.

"It could look that way," Beau admitted. "But no, I am not a criminal. I met Snakes when my cousin Bart was badly wounded and we took refuge, entirely by accident, in a town Snakes controls. He came upon us and helped us and we were at his mansion in town for several weeks. During that time I became quite close to him."

"Which is understandable," Jack interjected. "What happened tonight?"

"Well, I was right that this plan wasn't his idea," Beau said. "He's operating under the orders of his boss. Luckily, they don't want you dead. But they do want to hold you as a hostage to force your father to cooperate."

"How beastly!" Lydia fumed.

"Snakes really doesn't want to go through with it," Beau said. "He doesn't like working under someone else. He's in over his head and I promised to help him as well as you." He looked to Jack.

"And how are you going to accomplish that?" Jack asked warily.

"Well, I've been thinking about it on the way back over here and I do have a plan," Beau said. "For the time being, let's confuse the people after you."

"How so?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

"We'll both go around town. No one but Snakes knows that I merely resemble you but am not you. So you will seem to be in two places at once."

Lydia stared at him. "That's madness!"

"But it might work," Jack mused. "If we dress you like me, of course."

"And if none of my family show up," Beau muttered.

"It won't help anything long-term," Jack said. "But maybe if we could just stall for time a little bit longer. Do you think Snakes would give you some more information about his boss?"

"I told him I'd need to know more," Beau said. "He's reluctant to talk. Naturally he would be; if his boss learns he's talked, he'll be marked for death. He told me to come back in the morning and I'd have his answer."

Lydia looked cautiously hopeful. "If he's like you say, maybe he's a bad man with a heart of gold and he will sacrifice himself to save you, his friend!"

"Or maybe cowardice and selfishness will win out in the end and he won't do anything," Jack returned.

"I'm hoping more for a middle ground," Beau said. "I don't want him hurt."

"Well," Jack said, "we'll worry about that later. Let's focus on dressing you for the part, if you're to pass as me tomorrow." He crossed to the armoire and opened it, looking through the available outfits.

Beau slowly walked over to look as well. "I should probably go wash up in the bath," he said. "It was a long ride to this town." He couldn't quite bring himself to say its name.

"Oh. Yes, you should," Jack said. "Here, you can take these in with you." He handed Beau some clothing off the rack. "The room next-door is empty and there's a connecting door between it and here. You can stay in there tonight." He paused. "But what, exactly, are we hoping to accomplish with this charade? We'll need to do more than stall for time."

"Somehow we need to make your father's businesses undesirable to the crime syndicate," Beau said. "Exactly how to do that without blackening his reputation is something I haven't quite worked out yet. But if Snakes will tell us more about his boss, that might help us figure out how her mind works."

"Her?" Jack raised an eyebrow.

To his dismay, Lydia looked intrigued. "A woman in charge of a crime syndicate? She's really progressing with the times."

"Lydia!" Jack scolded. "She's responsible for all kinds of depravity!"

Lydia made a face. "I know. And I can't forgive her for wanting to hurt you, Van. But I'd like to see what a woman like that looks like. Maybe talk to her for a while."

"I doubt there would be any hope of reasoning with her," Jack frowned. "And I don't want you anywhere near her on general principle! She might decide to hold you hostage if she discovered you're my wife!"

"She'd find it wouldn't be so easy to hold me hostage!" Lydia declared, her hands flying to her hips. "I'd stand up to her all the way!"

Beau started to back towards the door. "Well, while you two sort out the pros and cons of speaking to a female crime boss, I am going to take a bath and go to bed. Goodnight."

Jack looked up, distracted. "Goodnight, Mr. Maverick. And thank you."

Beau gave an awkward nod and stepped into the hall with his armful of clothes. What, he wondered morosely, have I gotten myself into?

xxxx

It was pleasant to wash away the dust of the latest trip. Beau closed his eyes and leaned back, resting his arms along the edge of the tub. His hair slipped over his right eye, but he didn't try to push it back.

He winced slightly at the realization that the scar from the old bullet wound was touching the tub. Sometimes it throbbed, usually when bad weather was approaching, but also sometimes when he had been laying funny or when he couldn't explain the reason. He wondered now and then if it had truly healed properly, but since there was never any other discomfort, he really believed that it had.

He had been extremely lucky overall; not only had he lived and thrived, but the bullet hadn't hit his spine, a lung, or anything else vital. For some time he had suffered with emotional damage, but by now he felt that those feelings had mostly eased.

And what would happen to him now? Even though he was the most daring of the Mavericks, he still didn't want to get into a situation where he was likely to die. And he had the responsibility of looking out for the Vandergelts and Snakes as well. How would he ever come up with a solution that would save them all?

When he had dried and clothed himself, he took a deep breath and steeled himself for whatever he might find back in the Vandergelts' room. But to his relief they had quieted down and were both asleep, so he moved quietly to the connecting door and slipped into the next room.

There was so much to think about that he doubted sleep would come easily. In that he was mistaken; he dozed off within moments of lying down.

xxxx

The Vandergelts were awake and up and having breakfast in their room when Beau awoke the following morning and wandered through the connecting door again.

"Oh, good morning, old chap," Jack greeted, waving a butter knife in Beau's general direction. "Are you hungry? I tried to order enough for three."

Beau blinked the sleep out of his eyes. "Food sounds good. Thank you." He nodded to Lydia. "Good morning, Mrs. Vandergelt."

"Good morning, Mr. Maverick," she responded with a fairly friendly smile and a nod.

"It suddenly occurs to me that I never got around to having dinner last night," Beau remarked as he came to the table and sat down.

"It was rather hard to think of food then, wasn't it?" Jack mused. "Well, the day is fresh and new and hopefully our mad plan will work the way we want it to."

"After breakfast I'll go back to Snakes' house as promised and see if he's made his decision yet," Beau said. He spread a napkin on his lap and reached for the bread and bacon.

"I hope he'll prove to be the bad man with a heart of gold," Lydia declared.

"Don't we all," Beau said. "He already is that, though."

"You're sure you won't be walking into a trap by going back?" Jack frowned.

"I'm sure," Beau said firmly. He buttered the bread and spread some of the bacon strips across it. "Snakes is a dear friend of mine. You might not think it, but he values ties that he feels are genuine."

"And what if he doesn't feel they're genuine?" Lydia asked.

". . . He has no compunction about betraying them," Beau slowly admitted.

"Well, let's hope he will always consider your friendship true," Jack said.

Beau paused, regarding his double in wonder. "You know, it didn't occur to me last night, but now I have to wonder," he said. "It's uncanny that we not only look alike, we have the exact same voice. I spent five years in England, even though I was born in Texas. My uncle, whom I was named for, was rather appalled when I returned."

"He didn't like the accent?" Lydia asked.

"Or the mannerisms or the culture," Beau said with a bit of a rueful smile. "He said he hadn't helped raise his nephew to become part of the British high-class. But he's grown used to it now. Of course, he had little choice; my accent has never faded now that I'm back."

"It was seven years for me," Jack said. "I suppose I was lucky that my father didn't mind a half-British son so much. It's interesting how we brought a piece of England home with us, isn't it?"

"Very," said Beau. "America is still home, but I consider England to be home as well."

Jack raised his glass of orange juice. "Here's to multiple homes."

Lydia and Beau clinked glasses with him. "Hear hear," said Beau.

They ate for several moments in silence before Lydia turned to Beau with curiosity. "So tell me, Mr. Maverick. What's it like traveling the country, gambling wherever you stop, never knowing what's around the next corner? Don't you ever get lonely?"

"Sometimes," Beau admitted. "But I've found that most people are by and large welcoming and kind. And my cousins are only a telegram away. We always make sure to let each other know where we're going, just in case one of us needs help."

"Are you going to tell them you're here?" Jack asked.

Beau paused. "I hate to keep it from them, but in order for our scheme to work, they can't know I'm here."

"What will they do if they need your help?" Lydia worried.

"They'll cable my last known address," Beau said. "And of course, that won't be any help to them." He sighed. "Hopefully they won't need my help. We've already got quite a situation here without confusing it even further."

It was a problem he had been thinking about, however. Ever since the shooting, the boys had tried to keep in contact with each other more than before. If Beau could not be reached and several days went by, Bret and Bart would start to worry. He really needed to get a message to them somehow that he was alright.

Maybe, he hoped, Snakes would be willing to send one for him.

xxxx

Before Beau put on Jack's clothes to begin the charade, he attired himself in fresh clothes of his own to go to Snakes'. In the daylight with his hat pulled low, it was unlikely he would be mistaken for Jack when not dressed like him. Still, he kept mostly to alleys and side streets until he reached the mansion and went around to the window from before. He had agreed with Snakes last night to meet in the same room.

Snakes was ready and waiting. He threw up the sash as soon as he saw Beau arriving, his eyes filled with worry and nervousness. "You're late," he scolded.

"Sorry," Beau replied as he climbed in. "I didn't eat dinner last night and I made up for it with breakfast."

Snakes shut the window after him and pulled the curtains. "Did you figure out what you could do?"

"Only partially," said Beau. "To stall for time, I can temporarily pretend to be Vandergelt. We'll both go around town, seemingly in two places at once, and confuse your men."

Snakes shook his head. "You're nuts."

"I've been told that before," Beau said. "It may be true, but it's also true that we wouldn't be in this mess if not for your deeper forays into crime."

That brought a grimace. "I know, I know. I'd take over the syndicate if I could. Then I'd be top dog again."

Beau shot him a Look. "And just how would you do that? By murdering your boss?"

Snakes shrugged. "There's other ways. I wouldn't have to kill her. Although that would fix up the problem permanently so she couldn't come back to haunt me later."

"Do you really think the other board members would follow you?" Beau frowned. "They may have more loyalty to her than you do."

"Haven't you ever heard there's no honor among thieves?" Snakes said dryly. "People like that'll follow whoever's in charge."

"Oh Snakes." Beau shook his head. "Well, nevermind this for now. What did you decide about giving me the information about her?"

Terror flashed through Snakes' eyes. "I don't know what to decide," he admitted. "I want to help you. I know this is all my fault. But I don't want word to get back to her that I've talked. No one would even necessarily have to say I said anything; she'd just put the pieces together. It'd be easy enough for her to find out that you and I know each other, and that you rode into town and got caught up in this mess, and from that she'd figure out that I'm the one who caused everything to fall apart."

Beau sighed. "Well, can you at least think of anything Mr. Vandergelt Senior could do to make his businesses less desirable to her?"

Snakes paced the floor. "I was up half the night thinking about that. It's specific businesses she wants. Maybe if it looked like he didn't own them anymore, she'd back off. Say he made it look like a dummy corporation bought them out. She'd try to find out who owns those corporations and just go around in circles. Maybe in the process of all that, she'd slip up."

"It sounds risky," Beau frowned. "Especially since I imagine that in the end, Mr. Vandergelt Senior would be the owner of the dummy corporations."

"Yeah," Snakes nodded. "But that'd be buried under so much red tape and so many fake names that it'd take a long time to get to the truth of it."

"He'd surely have to tell his board of directors about the plan so they wouldn't think he was taking it upon himself to sell those businesses," Beau said.

"The only problem with that is, I'm not so sure he doesn't have someone on his board who's working for my boss," Snakes said. "It seems like when these kind of things happen, there's often an inside man helping to pull the strings."

"Well, that's not good." Beau leaned against the wall. "And he might not believe it if we told him we suspect one of his directors."

"Maybe you could make it look like Vandergelt didn't have any say about being bought out," Snakes said.

"But that would mean making it look like his businesses are in serious trouble," Beau objected. "Aside from the fact that he wouldn't want that, it wouldn't even be believable."

"Not necessarily," Snakes replied. "How about if somebody pops up with a document no one previously knew existed, showing that the last owner didn't have any right to sell to Vandergelt and these businesses are theirs?"

"Snakes, you are a devil," Beau commented. "But I wonder if there's any chance it might work. Not long-term, perhaps, but long enough to resolve this mess and turn your boss's interests to something else."

"I say it's worth a try," Snakes said. "Tell the other Vandergelt and maybe he can get a message to his father to come down. If he's not already on his way."

"I'll do that." Beau turned back to the window, feeling a smidgen of hope at last. "By the way, I need to get a message to Bret and Bart so that they won't get worried and come looking for me. Could you send a wire to them from Willow Tree Junction? That's where I was before this."

Snakes didn't look pleased at the prospect, but he said, "Okay. We sure don't need them blundering into this. Where are they?"

"Bret is in Virginia City, Nevada and Bart is in Stockton, California," Beau replied.

Snakes scrawled that down on a notepad on his desk. "You'd better give me the exact words you want. They'd probably be able to tell if it doesn't sound like you."

"Just say 'All is well. I can still be reached at Willow Tree Junction for the next several days. Beau.'"

"Alright." Snakes quickly wrote that down too. "I'll find a way to get it sent today. But how are you going to check back in case they send something?"

"I guess I'll have to get out of town every other day or so and go back there," Beau said. "Hopefully this won't take long."

"Hopefully," Snakes grunted.

"Anyway, thank you, Snakes," Beau smiled. "I knew I could count on you."

"Yeah, sure," Snakes said gruffly. "You just be careful, you hear?"

"I will," Beau called over his shoulder as he opened the window.

Snakes watched him climb outside and pull the window shut after him. Then, sighing, he crossed back to his desk and sat down, taking out a cigar. "You can count on me," he muttered as he lit it, "but can I count on me? I'm gonna burn for this, I just know it."