And the Devil Makes Five

Chapter 3 – Georgia on My Mind

They'd been on horseback so early that there'd been no time for coffee or much of anything else. Bret wanted to get to what used to be Nuevas Piedras before sunrise and by pushing on through the dark they did. There was nothing left of the little town that had once thrived in the middle of the desert but some old crumbling buildings and a large herd of wild mustangs, and they found a suitable place to camp and stay cool during the worst heat of the day.

By nine o'clock Bart was working on the second pot of coffee and everyone else had eaten. Doc was already in sleep mode and Beau was not far behind; the brothers were left to discuss plans with no interruptions.

"So you really believe it's there? This isn't just some wild goose chase we're on?"

"No, Bart, I think Rafael was telling the truth. I spent a lot of time with him in that cell in Abilene; we got to trust each other. It was only after I told him about Montana that we started talking about the gold down here. He can't run the risk of coming back, and I was his best chance of taking care of his wife and child. By that time he knew me well enough to know if I gave him my word about something I'd keep it, and that's how I came by the location; a simple exchange. I got the whereabouts, his family gets his share. It's there alright."

"At least there's nobody trying to kill me, for a change. So far, at least."

"I don't think murder is the point of anybody that's gonna be after us; I think the only thing they'll want is the gold." Bret paused and looked over at the sleeping figure dressed in black. "Unless they're after Doc."

Bart started to laugh and then stopped. His ribs were still sore, even after all this time. "I've no doubt Doc has enemies everywhere. But you'll never find a better friend."

"I'm surprised he came with us. Lookin' for phantom gold certainly isn't his usual pursuit. He must think pretty highly of you."

Bart guffawed. "It was an excuse. Doc said it himself, last night. Get's him out of that jam he was in with the girl in Dodge City."

Bret shook his head. "You'd think by now he would have learned to tread lightly with the women."

"Doc doesn't know how to tread lightly with anybody, especially women."

Bret glanced over at their cousin. "What's with Beau? Did he say anything to you?"

"About?"

"Anything," Bret answered. "He just seems - like somebody besides Beau."

"That's what marriage'll do to ya." One of the things Bart hadn't forgotten was his own marriage, however brief.

"It's more than that," Bret responded. "Somethin's botherin' him. I can feel it. He hasn't said something?"

"Nope. Not much of anything, as a matter of fact. I thought it was just bein' around Doc at first, but that shoulda worn off by now. Maybe somethin's wrong with him and Georgia."

"Hope not. He fought too long for that weddin' to take place."

Bart leaned back against his saddle and pulled his hat down over his eyes. "How far from here, Brother Bret?"

"Couple miles, off to the north. We'll go at dusk. Really? You goin' to sleep on me, too?"

"Yep." A yawn could be heard. "Can't think a much else ta do. I'll be around later."

XXXXXXXX

Bart woke just before twilight. The heat of the day had already broken and the night air brought its own kind of chill. He looked around before he sat up. Doc was crouched by the fire, drinking what was probably a coffee and whiskey mixture; Beau was saddling his horse. His brother was nowhere in sight. That was enough to make him sit up quickly. "Beau?" he called out.

Their cousin turned as he pulled the cinch tight around the horses girth. "Don't know," he answered the unspoken question. "He was gone when I woke up. Doc?"

"Nope. Same here. Gone when I woke."

Bart was on his feet in an instant, his gun drawn. He moved carefully to his horse, grabbed a piece of mane and swung up bareback. "I'm goin' with you, Beau. Doc, if we're not back in an hour . . . . . "

"Send for the cavalry?" Doc asked brightly.

"Yeah," was the only answer. "Pronto."

They rode north, the way Bret had spoken of going, with Bart and the horse moving together in a natural rhythm and Beau close behind. Beau envied his cousin his comfort level on a horse; he'd forgotten how many times he and Bret had saddled up as kids while Bart just jumped on his mount and rode bareback.

They'd gone about a mile when Bart saw something on the horizon and kicked his mount into a full gallop. Beau followed but couldn't catch up until Bart pulled his horse to a stop. Bret was coming down the next hill, with something across the front of his saddle. By the time the three riders converged Beau could see that there were two, and they were black-tailed jackrabbits.

"Thought they'd make a decent supper," the oldest Maverick explained to the other two riders. "Brother Bart, you reliving your youth?" He was referring to the bareback ride.

"Yeah, well, you disappeared."

"Once again, supper?"

"How was I supposed to know?" Bart urged his horse forward and headed back towards camp.

Bret just shook his head. "He's worryin' too much these days."

"What do you expect?" Beau responded. "Everything that could go wrong has. Now all he anticipates is trouble. When we woke up, you were gone. That's why I saddled up. You know your brother, he wasn't gonna wait around to see if I could find you."

"I know, Beau. This was just somethin' to do while everybody else slept. One of 'em ran across the desert near camp and I gave chase. He took off and I took off after him. Thought maybe I'd catch us supper. I was sure I'd be back when you all woke up. Didn't mean to cause such a commotion."

Beau watched the back of Bart's horse race away from them. "He'll be alright, Bret. Just give him time."

Bret turned to look at his cousin as they rode back towards camp. "What's goin' on with you, Cousin Beau?"

"Why, whatever do you mean, Cousin Bret?"

"That crap, that's what I mean. You haven't given anybody a straight answer to a question since we met you in Denver. Somethin' wrong with you and Georgia? Or the saloon? What's goin' on?"

Beau glanced in Bret's direction. "Am I that obvious?"

Bret laughed and nodded his head. "Yes sir, to the boys you grew up with, yes."

"Bart's noticed too?"

Bret laughed while the horses walked along. "Did you think we wouldn't?"

Beau spoke slowly and carefully. "Georgia's sick. She's been feeling poorly for weeks and I finally got her to see Beckham right before I left. I was gonna send you a wire and tell you I wasn't coming but she wouldn't hear of it. Jody's with her, but I should be there, too."

Bret pulled his horse up and waited until Beau had done the same. "Go on home, Beau. You've got a wife to think about. This stuff will all wait."

Beau shook his head. "If I go home she'll never speak to me again. She made me promise I wouldn't say anything." He leaned against his saddle horn. "I'm worried, Bret. She's never sick. She tried to ignore it, but it just wouldn't go away. She's got a cough, just like Aunt Belle had. What if . . . . . . ."

"Nope. Don't think that way. She'll get better, she has to." A pause, and then "Are you gonna tell Bart?"

"No." The answer was swift and decisive. 'He's had enough to worry about. He doesn't need this, too." Then a look at his cousin that could only be called resolute. "Don't you say anything to him, either. I mean it, leave the poor man be for a while."

They rode on for a few minutes and their camp soon appeared. Bret finally spoke. "Alright. I'll keep quiet. I leave it up to you."

"Thank you. Hopefully he'll never have to know."

XXXXXXXX

Bart came tearing back into their encampment, kicking up a cloud of dust that fortunately drifted away from Doc. The gambler dismounted slower than he'd gotten on, and Doc waited until Bart had returned to the fire before saying anything.

"I take it that God's lost tribe of Israel was found?"

"He went out to catch rabbits."

"And you're upset because - "

"Because I thought the worst." Now that Bart said it out loud it sounded foolish. Maybe it was; but he and Bret had been through so much lately; and so much of it bad. He walked over and grabbed a coffee cup; Doc had started a new pot. Doc tried to hand him the flask, Bart waved it away.

"He doesn't like to be kept track of?"

Bart took a swallow of coffee and made a mental note: 'Do not let Doc make coffee under any circumstances.' "Says I worry too much."

Doc grinned. "Gamblin' man's right. You DO worry too much."

Bart didn't find Doc's humor funny just then. "Can't help it. This isn't exactly a church social we're on."

"No, it isn't. We'd have better food." Doc grabbed the coffee pot and filled his cup halfway. Then he opened the flask and poured the other half full.

Beau and Bret rode up slowly and dismounted. Bret dropped the rabbits over by the fire and then wearily climbed back on his horse. "Douse the fire, Doc. I'll skin those and cook 'em when we come back. Let's go for a ride, gentlemen."

Bart threw the rest of his coffee in the fire and walked over to his brother's horse. "Bret – "

The older brother looked down at the younger brother. "Forget it, Bart. It's not important."

Bart smiled. "Okay, Pappy." This time he picked up his saddle.

1