Death Has Its Price

Chapter 21 – Tucson on the Southern Route

Her father was horrified at the thought of allowing Amy to go to Tucson with two men he didn't know, one of whom was the real Doc Holliday. "Amy, it's not safe."

Bret spoke up. "Your father's right, Miss Stanhope. Tucson is no place for a lady."

Amy shook her head. "Please, call me Amy. Good thing I'm not a lady, then, isn't it?"

"Listen to Bret and your father, Amy. Tucson's not a fit place for anybody, much less a female. I ought to know." Doc was serious, and he didn't allow himself to get that way very often.

"But I'm the only one he knows right now. If he sees either of you before he sees me, he might run," Amy countered.

That was a point neither of the weary travelers had considered. "Could be she's right," Doc allowed. "Course he didn't see me the last time you showed up."

"True," Bret answered. "But you'd scare the devil on a good day."

"And I have on several occasions," Doc came back.

"You two argue this out. I'll be right back," and Amy was gone down the hall in seconds.

"What do you think?"

Gage answered that one. "I don't want her to go."

Bret agreed but disagreed. "Your daughter makes a good point, Mr. Stanhope. If Bart spots me or Doc he might run. What're the odds he'd run from Amy?"

"How do I know she'll be safe?"

Bret couldn't imagine what it was like to be a father and have a child to worry about, but he knew that hopelessness he'd felt during the last year of searching for his brother. "I give you my word, Mr. Stanhope."

"You promise you'll bring my girl back to me safe and sound?"

Bret nodded. "Yes, sir, I promise."

An enormous sigh from Gage Stanhope. "Alright, I don't have much choice. She's gonna go whether I want her to or not. Just take care of her."

Before Bret could answer Cora brought in huge bowls of stew, hot and steaming. "You both take care of my little missy, you understand gentlemen?"

"Yes, ma'am," Doc answered meekly.

Bret nodded as he ate. "Yes, ma'am, we will. Amy and Bart, safe and sound."

Doc couldn't resist one last remark. "You hope."

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John rolled away from Sascha and got out of bed carefully. She was sleeping and he didn't want to wake her. He put his pants on, then his shirt, and walked over to the window to stare out into the street while he buttoned it. He'd thought another woman would make him miss Amy less, but it had just the opposite effect. He was more thoroughly miserable now than the night he'd left the ranch. He couldn't continue to do this to Sascha, she at least deserved a man that could give her his full attention. That was never going to happen with John, his heart was too wrapped up in Amy.

What to do? Poker wasn't helping, nor was a woman. Maybe he could learn to tolerate the whiskey taste and drink himself into oblivion. That was not a happy prospect. Maybe it was this place. What did Tucson have to offer if gambling and whoring weren't going to work? Well, he could always give the drinking a serious try.

He found his vest and tie and finished dressing. He hadn't been wearing the shoulder holster and derringer before but he put it on now, out of instinct. He still wasn't wearing a Colt; that might prove too tempting a target for those who wanted to stake their claim to infamy.

He took a last look at Sascha, sleeping so peacefully, and knew he wouldn't come back to the room until she was gone. Whether he'd ever been good at goodbyes or not he couldn't remember, but he didn't like them now. He left and locked the door behind him, headed for the nearest saloon.

That would be Jake's, the one he'd played at two nights ago. He seemed to win everywhere he went, so it didn't much matter where he sat down. Jake's didn't have any saloon girls there this time of day, at least he could drink and brood in peace. There were no poker games going on, so he sat at a table and ordered a bottle. What was he going to do with the rest of his life? If only he knew how long or short that would be. As if to provide an answer to the unasked question, he started coughing. He poured a shot and drank it and that seemed to settle the cough down, at least for the moment. Damn, he still didn't like the way the stuff tasted, couldn't anybody do something about that?

He sat there for almost an hour, alternating bouts of coughing with bouts of drinking; the coughing wasn't getting any better and the drinking was getting worse. Finally somebody started a game and left an empty seat; John picked up his bottle and glass and walked over. "Open game?" he asked, and when the four other men at the table nodded ascent, he sat down.

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By the time Bret and Doc finished eating Amy was ready to go. The horses had been fed and watered and Gage had Cooper saddled for his daughter. He followed the three of them outside and kissed Amy on the cheek. "You stay out of trouble, you hear? And you listen to Mr. Maverick and Dr. Holliday and do what they tell you. I won't be happy if you come back dead."

"I promise I won't come back dead, daddy. And I won't bring John – I mean Bart, back that way, either." Cooper was more than ready to go, he hadn't stretched his legs since the last ride out to the mine. They took off down the southern road, the same way 'John' had ridden, and were soon out of sight. If he'd known what they were in for, would he have allowed her to bring the half-dead man home to nurse back to health all those months ago? Could he have stopped her? Would he have wanted to stop her? Given the way everything turned out, he knew the answer was no. Especially now that they knew the real identity of their extended houseguest.

'Please keep them all safe,' Gage thought as he went back inside the house. Since it hadn't been a Maverick that issued the silent prayer, maybe Lady Luck would choose to smile on them this time. Then again . . . . . .