Chapter 4 – The Sam Winston
I sat down on the bed next to her and gathered her into my arms. I can't remember the last time I'd seen her cry, but I was probably responsible for it. "Doralice? What's wrong?"
There were no more tears, but she was still upset. "What if it's them, Bart? What if the Medina's are behind this?"
"Shhh, honey, I don't think it is. I just don't think they woulda waited this long to try somethin'."
"Neither does Maude."
I didn't wanna upset her any further, but she needed to know the truth. "I know. I talked to Maude. She wouldn't say much, but I did get that out of her."
She sat up straight and pulled away from me just a little. "You talked to Maude? What did she tell you?"
"That I should talk to you." Now it was up to Doralice. If she wanted to tell me about her marriage, the door was wide open. If not, everything would go on like before.
I guess it was time, because the story just started pouring out of her. How good looking Sergio was, how well he treated her, how much she loved him. And then, as time went by, how everything began to change. The drinking started, and then the gambling, and finally he was staying out all night, and smelling like the Señorita's when he did come home. Doralice begged and pleaded with him to stop, and he did, for a while.
But it didn't last, and when she protested, the beatings began. Why a man would ever hit a woman I will never understand, but especially that woman. It made no sense to me. She took it as long as she could, and then one day while he was asleep, she packed a bag and moved out. It took him almost two months to find her, and when he did, he was drunk and abusive. He demanded she sleep with him; after all, she was still his wife. When she refused he threatened to beat her until she did, and she pulled her derringer from under the pillow and pumped both barrels into him as he came after her.
She tried to tell me the rest of the story, but the tears had started again, and she was too upset to continue. I held her in my arms and rocked her until she calmed down, and finally reminded her that I had almost first-hand knowledge of everything else. "You were so different," she explained. "No matter what I said, no matter what I did, you protected me. You treated me like a lady, not like a common . . . "
"That was easy to do. You are a lady."
"I love you, Bart Maverick." She reached up and kissed me, and I kissed her back.
"I love you too, Doralice. In fact, there's somethin' . . . "
"Don't say anything else. Just hold me."
And my question was once again put on hold. For now.
XXXXXXXX
Cristian's trial lasted two days. While he was occupied with that, I went down to the LB Bar to spend an afternoon with Ray Ames. If there was anybody in this town that could give me answers, it was Ray.
I almost didn't recognize the place. The dirt floor had been replaced by wooden planks. All the old, broken chairs were gone, and the poker tables, while not brand new, were in a lot better shape than before. Even the bar was different. "Quite a change from what used to be here," I told Ray, and he smiled. Sort of.
"Yep, thought maybe Benny was gonna replace me with somebody new and shiny, too."
"Why didn't he?"
"Couldn't find anybody that'd work for him." That got a genuine laugh out of Ray.
"Ray, you been in town almost longer than anybody I know of. Tell me what you know about whoever it was Billy Flynn owed money to."
Ray shook his head. "Billy owed money to a lot of people."
"The one he owed when he finally sold the land to Maude."
Ray rubbed his chin, and I poured him another whiskey. If you were gonna pick Ray's brain, you were gonna hafta prime it with whiskey first. "Let's see, that was Sam Winston, I believe. Wait, now, give me a minute. Fred Little staked claim to all of what turned into Main Street, then he sold the north half to Walter Brown and the south half to Jed Wheatley. Walter sold acreage to Jackson Baker, then Frank Dunkirk bought the land and built the warehouse. Dunkirk had it for years and years, used the warehouse for grain storage, until he decided to go to California. Lester O'Day bought it, but Lester got killed by the last Comanche attack in the area, and the property just sat there for a few more years while the town built up around it."
"How'd Billy get the deed?" I asked, hoping that Ray would have an answer.
"Nobody ever found out. But it was verified as legal by the state court in Austin, before they'd let him start buildin' on the land. He was goin' along real good there for a while . . . then he got himself in some trouble over in Claytonville. Next thing anybody knew, he'd worked out a deal with Maude Donovan and disappeared. But I'm almost positive it was Sam Winston that he owed big time."
"The Sam Winston?"
Ray nodded. "There was only one that I know of."
I overheard a conversation about Sam Winston once when I was a kid between Uncle Ben and Pappy that I never forgot. Sam was one of the best card sharps in the South, and he was absolutely deadly with a gun. Uncle Ben got himself into a little bit of trouble with Winston, and Pappy almost couldn't get him out. I don't know how Pappy worked it, but he never let Ben forget just how close he came to disaster.
"How sure are you about that, Ray?" Not that I doubted Ray's word; just his memory.
"I'm sure, Bart."
"What happened to Sam Winston? Alive, dead, got any idea?"
"I heard he went to New York, turned into one of them eastern gentlemen. Even changed his name."
"Changed his name? Well, I guess you might if you didn't want your reputation to follow you." I chewed on that for a while. I could understand the necessity of a name change, but I couldn't imagine being called anything but Maverick. No matter what.
