Death Has Its Price

Chapter 22 – Bartley Jamison Maverick

It took two days of long, hard riding to get to Tucson. Amy proved as adept at sleeping on the trail as Bret and Doc, but all were glad when they reached the 'city' and could get hotel rooms. Amy persuaded the hotel clerk to let her check the register and make sure Bart wasn't staying there. If he caught a glimpse of her or Bret in the hotel without an explanation he might disappear, never to be seen again.

Doc was the only one that could prowl the saloons and hotels looking for him. That was a dangerous task, given Doc's proclivity to sample the whiskey in every saloon before leaving. At the end of the second day they finally hit pay dirt when Doc discovered his 'brother' registered under 'John Holliday' at the Silver Dollar Hotel. It was the middle of the afternoon and Doc sent a message up to the registered room, with no response. The front desk clerk offered that "Mr. Holliday is probably next door at Jake's, considering the time of day."

Doc walked next door and took a long look around. He'd almost decided the clerk was telling him stories when a man at the far table stood and picked his winnings up, put them in his wallet and turned around to leave the saloon. Doc had to stop himself from running up and throwing his arms around the figure, who looked right at him without a flicker of recognition as he walked out the batwing doors. Dressed a little more like Doc would dress and a little less like himself, it was definitely someone he hadn't seen in almost a year – Bart Maverick.

For once Doc didn't even take the time to order a drink. He followed his confused friend out the doors and watched as Bart walked into the hotel and headed upstairs to his room. Doc kept walking, down the street and around the corner to the Tucson Arms Hotel and up the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him. He pounded on Bret's door, room two twenty-six, and then on Amy's, two twenty-eight. Both doors opened at almost the same moment and the occupants didn't need to ask any questions. From the look of Doc's face, they both knew that the missing man had been found at last.

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Three very nervous people stood outside room two-fourteen at the Silver Dollar Hotel, Amy strategically placed in front, so that she would be the first person seen when the door opened. Doc and Bret exchanged looks, Bret as nervous as he was the first time Momma had shown him his baby brother.

Amy knocked on the door. At first there was no response, so she knocked again. Finally a muffled voice asked, "Who's there?" and she answered "Room Service."

The door was quickly pulled open. "I didn't order – " and the rest remained unsaid as Bart took one look at Amy and picked her up and kissed her, sweeping her into the room. "What – Why – Where did you come from?" He hadn't been this happy in days. Thank God she hadn't listened to him and had followed him! And then he looked at the door and quickly pulled the derringer. "Who are you? And what do you want?"

Bret stared at the man in front of him. He didn't know whether to laugh and shout with joy or cry bitter tears. His brother Bart was alive – and didn't know who he was. Doc was gripped by similar, albeit not as strong, emotions. And then he glanced at Bret, who he'd grown close to over the past year of the never-ending search, and his heart broke. Bret's face was an almost unimaginable mixture of agony and ecstasy.

The derringer wavered slightly. "Somebody say something," the man holding it commanded.

Finally, Amy spoke. "John, put the gun down. Do you remember Bret Maverick? He came by the ranch looking for his brother? And this is a friend of his. They're with me, John. Can they come in? The three of us have something to talk to you about."

Bart backed up to the other side of the room, taking Amy with him. "Alright, Amy, but I want an explanation." He kept the gun pointed at the two men.

"I think we better all sit down, I've – we've – got a lot to tell you."

He pulled two chairs out from the table. "Amy, take these over to Mr. Maverick and his friend. I'd rather they stay over there until I get some answers."

Doc pushed Bret, who was almost frozen in place, into the room. "He's gotten smarter in his old age," he whispered to the older brother.

Bart pulled out another chair for Amy. "Stay here with me," he told her. Then he looked at the two men on the other side of the room. "Who's gonna explain to me what this is all about?"

Bret seemed in a trance, so Doc started. "A year ago my friend Bart Maverick was in Apache Junction with me. We were trying to shake loose a cowboy who was making us crazy by exchanging identities and convincing him that I was Maverick. So we traded wallets, to have physical proof for the cowboy. We convinced him and laughed about it, then left in the morning for the next town – without giving the wallets back. We were almost halfway across the Superstition Mountains when a rockslide hit. I broke an arm and got knocked out. Bart was separated from his horse somehow and swept down the mountain. When I came to I looked for him but couldn't find him, then rode back to Apache Junction to gather a search party. By the time they got back to the mountains, there was no trace of him. I've spent the better part of a year lookin' for him, along with his brother," and he pointed his thumb at Bret.

"What has that got to do with me?" Bart practically snarled at them.

Doc started to reach inside his coat and Bart nervously pointed the derringer at him. "Whoa, son, I'm just reachin' for a wallet. I've still got his on me." He pulled out the wallet with 'Bart Maverick' engraved on the outside flap.

"So?" Bart asked.

"So he's still got mine. It says 'J.H. Holliday' on the inside flap." Doc threw the engraved 'Bart Maverick' wallet over to the man with the gun. "Take a look at that."

Bart picked up the wallet and looked at it. While he was examining it, Doc continued. "So I understand you have the 'Holliday' wallet in your coat. I'd like to have it back. The contents belong to you, Bart, but the wallet's mine."

Bart dropped into the chair, not believing anything he'd just heard. "And you expect me to believe that?" He looked over at Amy without lowering the derringer. "Do you buy all this?" he asked her.

"Yes, I do." It was not the answer he expected from her.

"Why?"

She was determined to explain it to him. She couldn't begin to imagine what he'd gone through, waking up and not knowing who he was. Until she convinced him he was Doc Holliday.

"Can you remember those first few days after I found you? You didn't know who you were. You didn't remember anything about what happened. I'm the one who found the wallet in your coat and convinced you your name was John Holliday. And there's one more thing. The picture I found in the wallet? The blonde woman that you didn't remember? Do you still have the photo?"

He pulled the wallet out of his coat pocket and opened it. Right inside, just where he'd left it, was the photo Amy was talking about. He took it out from under the flap and tossed it on the table.

"Do you know who that is?" Amy asked.

"Nope."

She turned to Bret and asked the same question. "Do you know who that is?"

Bret nodded and tried to find his voice. "Yes." He shifted his eyes from Amy to Bart. "It's your late wife, Caroline Crawford Maverick."

If Bret expected some kind of a reaction to the news he was sorely disappointed. There wasn't even a flicker of recognition from his brother. "Prove it."

"I can't prove it, Bart."

"Don't call me that," his brother spat out. "My name's John."

Bret shook his head sorrowfully. "No, it isn't. It's Bartley Jamison Maverick. I'm your brother, Breton Joseph Maverick. Our Pappy is Beauregard and our Momma was Belle. We have one uncle named Bentley and another named Micah, and we had an aunt named Jessie. Our Cousin is Beau and our sister's name is Jody. We were born and raised in Little Bend, Texas. We're professional gamblers by trade, and have been most of our lives. You were married once, briefly, to a woman named Caroline Crawford. She was shot and killed in front of you. I've spent most of the last year looking for you. And I have something I want you to see." Bret pulled the picture he'd shown Amy out of his coat pocket, then stood up and took it over to Bart, in spite of the fact that the derringer was still pointed at him. "Here, take a look at this." He handed the photo to Bart, who took it and stared at it, much as Amy had.

Finally, the derringer was lowered. Long minutes passed as they each sat there, all four lost in their own thoughts. Then the former 'John Holliday' spoke, at last. "My name is . . . . .Bart?"