And the Devil Makes Five

Chapter 5 – The End of the Dream

Bret was right about the rabbits; they made a delicious supper. He was pleased to find Bart in a better frame of mind upon their return; no matter how much his brother protested that everything was fine, Bret knew that wasn't true. Maybe time alone with Doc had been productive after all.

There wasn't much to do besides play poker or lie around and sleep during the heat of the day; once again at dusk the band of fortune hunters packed their mounts and headed north. Supplies needed for digging and excavation were unloaded into the farthest corner of the adobe shack; then the real work began. Doc had it easy, all he had to do was make sure they weren't being watched. The Maverick boys had the tough part, digging into the hard packed dirt and transporting it to the shack. They used a blanket secured to each saddle as a sort of makeshift wheelbarrow; that way, with every trip that was made, each horses tracks were obliterated. By the time dawn came there were three exhausted and filthy men more than ready to sleep.

After all their hard work they'd only succeeded in digging down about four feet. Bart shook his head wearily. "This could take forever."

His brother had to laugh. "That's only the first night. Talk to me in a week."

They were almost back to camp and the horses weren't moving much faster than they were. "Uh, boys?" Doc suddenly came to life.

Beau saw them first, just over the next ridge. A half-dozen or so of the region's finest banditos, sitting almost motionless on their horses, watching the small procession inch its way back to the ruins of the once thriving community. They made no move, just sat and watched as the group moved closer to the abandoned town. "Ride past camp," Bret suggested, and since no one had a better idea, that's what they did.

When they got to the last crumbling building and it appeared that they were simply riding through Nuevas Piedras, the banditos turned their horses and rode the other way. Bret, in the lead, kept going for a few hundred feet until the horseman were out of sight and then pulled up. "I wonder how long before they're back?"

Doc spoke up. "They'll give it a couple days. Then if we're still here they'll pay closer attention."

"Doc's right. We haven't got much time before they figure out what's goin' on. Then even darkness isn't gonna help," Bart added.

"Then we just have to make the most of the time we do have, don't we?" Bret responded. "Get there earlier, work faster, whatever it takes, or we'll leave empty handed. I sure don't wanna do that, if what Rafael said was down there actually is."

Beau turned his horse around and headed back to their camp. "All well and good," he said, "but I can't keep my eyes open another minute. I'm goin' to sleep."

The other three riders circled their mounts to follow the transplanted Texan. Whatever each of them believed, they agreed that sleep was the next order of business. 'Damn,' thought Bret, 'Rafael was right. He was sure the bandits would find us first.'

Bart was convinced they'd walked into another pile of trouble. After everything he'd been through in the past few weeks he just wanted some peace and quiet, and this might be the first sign there was none of that to be had. Strong as the bond between the brothers Maverick was, he would only follow Bret so far on this one. Right now was not the time to make a decision like that, he reasoned, the only thing on his mind was sleep. Once they reached camp he dismounted and unsaddled his horse, then carried the tack over to the other side of the soon-to-be-extinguished fire. Some nights his saddle wouldn't do as a pillow; this wasn't one of those nights. Food didn't matter. Every bone in his body ached from shoveling dirt and ferrying it to its new resting place and the only thing he wanted was sleep. So when he saw Bret headed his way he braced himself for a discussion he was in no mood to have.

"You don't look very happy."

Where had Bret been the last ten hours? "No? I'm exhausted. What do you need?"

The look on Bret's face never changed but his tone did. "Just wanted to make sure you were alright. You were awful quiet out there tonight."

He heard the concern in his brother's voice and thought back to the protective way Bret acted in Cheyenne. "I'm alright. Just tired. Got a lot of things on my mind."

"Oh? Did you and Doc talk when we were in Santa Pietro?"

Bart instinctively knew what was going on. "Yeah, we did. He gave me some things to think about." Bart deliberately changed the subject, he really hadn't had time to consider his conversation with Doc and he didn't want to discuss it with Bret right now. "Anything interesting in Santa Pietro?"

A smile spread across Bret's face as he considered the question. Actually he smiled as he considered the Señorita. Oh yeah, she was definitely interesting. "Not much," he told his brother. "It's so small if you sneeze you'll miss it." Bart wasn't the only one that could keep secrets.

Bret's last remark brought a grin to his brother's face. 'Must be a woman,' he thought to himself. He could usually tell when Bret wasn't giving him a straight answer, and this was one of those times. "Next time we need supplies I'll go with you."

There was an almost imperceptible change in Bret's demeanor. "Sure. Fine with me." All of a sudden it seemed like an excellent time to go to sleep and let Bart do the same.

As his brother started to walk away, Bart called out, "Bret."

He stopped and turned around. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"What for?"

Bart had to smile again. "Everything."

XXXXXXXX

He was in an immense field, with wheat as tall as his chest. Off in the distance he could hear Georgia's voice, and he tried to move towards it, but it seemed like he only got further away no matter which way he ran. He could hear her desperate "Beau! Beau!" but he couldn't get to her. After a long struggle he escaped the wheat field and found himself on one side of a handsome meadow. Again he heard Georgia's voice call him; when he finally saw her, she was on the opposite side of the field. By the time he reached the spot she'd been in, she was gone.

He looked around in confusion and heard a different voice, his stepdaughter's voice. She was crying and calling "Mama" and he was no longer in the meadow, but in town, in a room he didn't recognize, and there was a coffin at the end of the room. The lid was open and he could smell roses and prairie flowers, but he couldn't see who was in the casket. He walked towards the coffin slowly and as he got closer the body inside became more distinct until he could see it clearly – his beloved Georgia.

"NO!" He yelled at the lifeless form and scooped her up in his arms, trying everything he could think of to bring her back to him. Nothing worked and he wept; suddenly he was back in the meadow, and Georgia was nowhere to be seen.

He woke with a jolt and sat bolt upright, soaking wet with sweat. It was almost twilight and his body hurt as if he'd been beaten with the shovel instead of simply using it to dig. It took more than a minute for him to realize he was in the middle of the Mexican desert and not at home in Montana. He blinked and looked around, left and right, but the only thing he saw were his cousins and the horses. No Georgia. No Jody. No meadow or funeral home. He finally breathed, realizing it had all been a nightmare.

He got to his feet and looked for the canteen, cupping his hand to catch the water he spilled out and splashing it on his face. The cool liquid felt good and it brought him fully awake. Bret had just saddled his horse and was tightening the cinch as Beau approached him; his cousin stopped what he was doing when he saw Beau's face.

"My God man, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Beau collapsed back against Bret's horse limply. "I have, Bret. Georgia's ghost."

"What?"

"You heard me. I dreamt my wife was dead."