Death Has Its Price

Chapter 8 – Hiding in Plain Sight

He would have been hard-pressed to determine who was the most worn out – him or his horse. They'd been another God-knows how many more miles that day, stopping at every ranch, farm, shack, lean-to or piece of property that looked even vaguely inhabited, just to see if anyone had information about his brother. So when he rode onto the Stanhope Ranch property, it was just another stop on the list. No one knew how close he would be to finding everything he was looking for . . . . . .

A tall, older man walked out of the ranch house, followed by the younger man he'd first seen as he rode up. Before he dismounted they were joined by a petite blonde, a good-looking girl of twenty-something, who wore the only smile in the group. Apparently the older man's daughter, she hurried over and grabbed his horse's reins as he got down from the saddle. "Hi, welcome to Stanhope Ranch. Can we help you with something?"

"Yes ma'am, sir, my name is Bret Maverick, and I'm lookin' for somebody. He may have been severely injured in the rockslide that happened a few weeks ago. The one up in the Superstitions? Seen anybody around here like that?"

He was tall and good-looking, but he was trail-dusty and looked exhausted, and there was a profound sadness in his eyes, like he'd just about given up hope of ever succeeding in his quest. He tipped his hat to her, then took it off and slapped it against his leg to shake the dust off of it. The questions sounded like he'd asked them over and over again, always getting the same answer.

"Glad to meet ya. Gage Stanhope, this is my daughter Amy. Who's this your lookin' for, son?"

"It's my brother Bart, Mr. Stanhope. He and Doc Holliday were riding through the mountains when the slide hit. I haven't been able to find any trace of him since."

"I don't mean to sound cruel, Mr. Maverick, but did it ever occur to you there might be a reason you can't locate him?"

"Daddy! Stop it. The poor man is tired enough as it is without you adding to his burden! What's your brother look like, Mr. Maverick?" Amy asked in all seriousness. If someone had been riding with John, why hadn't their visitor said anything about it? Was there really a missing man named Bart Maverick? Or was this stranger just trying to find Doc for some other reason? A misplaced grudge or just a desire to be the man who killed Doc Holliday?

"Not quite as tall as me, Miss Stanhope. Brown hair, brown eyes. On the thinner side. Couple years younger. Great on a horse. Practically lives on coffee."

Amy searched his face. The description fit John, but it would fit a lot of men. And if there was no 'Bart Maverick' and he was really looking for Doc Holliday, he'd know the description anyway. She turned her back to him and glared at her father, who looked like he was getting ready to say something. Lest he give away their guest's location and identity, Amy turned back to the stranger quickly and gave him the same answer he'd gotten for weeks. "Sorry, Mr. Maverick, haven't seen anybody like that. Are you sure he was coming this way?"

Bret took a good, long look at Amy Stanhope before answering her. There was something a bit odd about her reaction to his description of Bart, and yet . . . . . . what reason would she have to lie to him? He shook his head as if trying to dispel the odd feeling he was getting. He'd been too many places and talked to too many people, and it was finally beginning to dawn on him that Bart could be anywhere by this time. It was apparent that something drastic had happened to his brother, and for some reason he couldn't or wouldn't communicate. Bret sighed; just another dead end in a long string of dead ends.

"No, Miss Stanhope, they were on the way to Mountain City. I was just hoping . . . . . . do you mind if I water my horse before I go? He's about as tired as I am."

Gage Stanhope spoke up. "Go right ahead, Mr. Maverick. Anything else you need? Got enough supplies? I assume you're not ready to quit looking?"

"No, I'm not. I've only got one brother, Mr. Stanhope. I don't believe he's gone. He's out there somewhere, waitin' for me. I'll find him, however long it takes. Thanks for the offer of supplies – I'm all set." He reached over and took the reins back from Amy, then tipped his hat to her. "Miss Amy, I'll be goin'. If Bart should turn up, you can contact me in Apache Junction, general delivery. Thanks for the information." He mounted his horse and headed back out.

As soon as he was out of hearing range, Amy turned her father's way. "Were you going to tell him about John?"

Gage shook his head. "Nope. Much as I believed him, I don't trust people I just met. Story's got too many holes. Why would anybody in their right mind go over the mountains when they could go around? But I'd like to hear from Doc if he knows this Bart Maverick fella. Has he said anything to you, daughter?"

Amy shook her head. "Not a word. Maybe he doesn't remember."

"Maybe he doesn't want to remember."

She looked her father right in the eyes. "Maybe he doesn't."

Sandy went back to the corral and Gage and Amy walked into the house. Amy was shocked to find John, with the crutch, leaning up against the wall by the window. Where he'd seen and probably heard everything that went on outside. He looked as worn out as the poor man that had just left. The first words out of Amy's mouth were, "Time for you to get back to bed."

She walked beside the still-recovering man as he made his way slowly back down the hallway. Once they were out of earshot of her father she quietly asked, "Do you know the man he was looking for? Bart Maverick?"

John shook his head. "Nope."

"Are you sure?" His answer hadn't sounded that way.

They turned the corner into his room and he collapsed onto the bed. More walking than he'd done in weeks, and he was thoroughly exhausted. And in a lot of pain from the exertion. "I'm not sure of anything, Amy. But the name's not familiar. And I've never seen that fella before in my life. If I knew Maverick, wouldn't I be familiar with his brother?"

She agreed with him as she tucked him back in bed. "That's what I thought, too. Could you have played poker against him?"

"Don't know. Maybe. But I didn't recognize the name. Bart Maverick, didn't he say? Not at all familiar."

"What if he was here for some other reason?"

John shook his head. "What reason? To outdraw Doc Holliday? That wouldn't be much of an accomplishment, the shape I'm in. No, maybe he is just looking for his brother. Maybe Bart Maverick was riding with me. Did you see a trace of anybody else when you found me?"

Once again Amy had to shake her head 'no.' "But we didn't find any kind of a mount with you either. Or any way you got where you were."

There was that look again, she'd seen it before and recognized it. That look of sadness, and melancholy, and despair that overcame him sometimes when he thought she wasn't looking. The look that told her he couldn't remember who he was, or where he came from, or the things he'd done. The look that made her feel like all she wanted to do was take him in her arms and hold him; tell him that everything would be alright, and soon he'd remember his life before the slide; but until he did he was safe and protected. That she wouldn't let anything that got near him hurt him, that she'd prevent the Bret Mavericks of the world from causing him any more pain. Then the look would be gone; he'd know that she was watching him, and he'd hide the anguish and suffering behind the mask he wore. That's when he became Doc Holliday, the gunfighter, the man that let no one touch him. That let no one get near enough to hurt him again.

She far preferred the man she'd come to know as John.

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Bret watered his horse before leaving the ranch. He rode out slowly, and couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him. But who?

Had he grown jaded and suspicious while looking for his brother? Or had he always been that way and just not realized it? The Stanhope's had given him no reason to doubt them, yet something kept nagging at him. If they'd seen Bart why wouldn't they tell him? Maybe his brother had died and they were afraid he'd blame them. Maybe. . . . . . .

Maybe he'd gotten paranoid and distrustful of everyone. Maybe he was just exhausted. The Stanhope's seemed like nice, honest people with no reason to lie to him. Yet there was something in Amy Stanhope's voice that gave him a feeling, a feeling that he couldn't shake.

He was bone-tired and weary of everything, including being on a horse and going over the same territory day after day. He needed a change of scenery, a change of purpose, anything to reshape his life. His feelings hadn't changed – he knew that Bart was still alive and out there somewhere. But he was getting nowhere fast, and his funds were beginning to run low. If he intended to keep on searching, he was going to have to take a break and play some poker, and maybe that was a good thing. It would force him to concentrate on something other than the missing Maverick.

He kept riding towards Apache Junction with a new goal – to make enough money at poker to continue the hunt. Maybe Doc was right – maybe it was time to head to Tucson and try his luck there. If half of what he heard was true, he could make enough money in a short period of time to resume the search. He wouldn't give up – he'd never give up. Just take a break and return when he had a better bankroll.

It sounded like a good plan. All he had to do was talk himself into it.