Death Has Its Price

Chapter 26 – Three Riders and the Way Back

It was barely dawn as the three riders made their way up the road. One had come this way a year earlier, barely alive. One had come this way twice, lied to the first time but told the truth on the second trip. The third one had only been down the road recently, and he was perhaps the happiest to be leaving the same way.

Their departure was far more subdued than their arrival had been, only two days earlier. Doc Holliday would be happy if he never traveled this way again. Bret Maverick was thankful his hunch had paid off and he'd finally found his missing brother. And Bart Maverick . . . . . Bart Maverick was a myriad of conflicting emotions.

He'd said his goodbyes the night before. He thanked Pete and Jess and Sandy for the friendship they'd shown him, even when they thought he was nothing more than a professional killer. He and Gage Stanhope had a private conversation about many things, one of which was Gage's willingness to let him recuperate for months on end without expecting anything from him. He saw Amy, but there was little to be said. They loved each other, but each loved something else more.

He didn't sleep, wondering if he'd see her again before they left. Then she came running down the stairs one last time and threw her arms around him, then pulled his head down to hers and whispered something before kissing him. There were tears in her eyes as she fled to her room, and tears in his as he walked out the door for the last time.

So the three horsemen rode in silence, each with his own feelings about leaving Stanhope Ranch. Back the way Bret and Doc had come with a slight alteration – Bart needed to see the spot where he'd been found. Doc had no objections – he was curious about how far down the mountain the slide had beaten and battered his friend. Bret wasn't thrilled with the idea but understood his brother's need to visit the place he'd almost died.

They arrived at the gully on the mountain and Bret pointed out the exact spot where he believed his brother finally came to rest. Doc took a long look but couldn't see the place where he'd been felled by the tree that split in half. Bret, who'd followed the trail from Doc's injury to Bart's stopping point, estimated the distance to be a full mile or more. Doc shook his head in wonder. "Surprised you didn't break every bone in your body," was his comment on the whole unfortunate incident.

"I'm not sure I didn't," Bart offered. "It sure felt that way. How far up did you say you found my horse, Doc?"

"Real close to where I went down. Do you remember what happened?"

Bart shook his head no, but the look on his face told a different story. "I remember she wheeled around, trying to get away from the slide, then she fell and I went with her. That's all until I woke up down here."

"She's buried up there, ya know."

"She is? Up where we went down?"

A nod of the gunslinger's head. "Yep. Broke her neck. She never felt a thing."

"That's where I found Momma's Bible," Bret explained. "Must have come out of your saddlebags."

"Momma's Bible?" Bart asked, apparently not remembering the significance.

"Yep," the dark head nodded. "She taught us to read using that Bible. It almost got destroyed in the fire I told you about at Samantha's ranch. You carried it with you everywhere. I found it right where you went down. It's back in Apache Junction."

"Oh. I don't remember."

"You will."

"Do you want to go up there? Might help you remember."

"Can we? Doc, do you want to stay here? We can pick you up on the way back. It won't be an easy climb."

"I'm sick, I'm not dead. I'll go with ya."

The three set out on the climb. Bart was right, it wasn't easy, especially on foot, but all three made it back to the spot where the year-old odyssey had begun. It was once again fall and there were dead leaves everywhere; it took a little searching, but the grave was finally found. Bart handed Noble's reins to Bret and bent to run his hand over the dirt mound – when he looked up his eyes were full of pain and regret. "She was a good horse. I'm glad she didn't suffer."

"Sure caused you a lotta pain," Doc observed.

'Kinda like Amy,' Bart thought. "It wasn't her fault."

"Nope," Bret volunteered. "Some things just can't be helped."

Doc scoffed. "Well, this all coulda been. If I hadn't been so damn fool stubborn and listened to your brother we wouldn't have been on the mountain. Just to save three damn days I cost us all a year." Not often did Doc admit to regretting anything, much less apologize for it, but that's just what he did now. He turned to Bart with his hat in his hands before saying. "I'm sorry, my friend, that I didn't listen to you. This was all my fault."

Bart clapped his newly rediscovered friend on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Doc. I don't remember a thing." Then he looked over at his brother. "Now that we're up here – we're almost halfway. Let's just finish the trip across the Superstitions."

"Are you crazy?" Doc barked. "And give the mountain a chance to finish what she started? No, sir!"

Both Maverick brothers burst out laughing. "Even Mother Nature's not that vindictive, Doc!" Bart exclaimed.

"You're serious?" Doc asked. When he was met by two heads nodding agreement he threw his hands up in the air. "Alright! I give up. But don't blame me if we all end up dead!"

They continued walking for a while, across the mountain, until the footing got easier and they could ride without risking the horses slipping. Once mounted the effort became a whole lot easier for Doc, while Bret and Bart continued the trek in silence. So much had happened since the last time either was in these woods that it almost seemed sacrilegious to talk.

It was twilight by the time they reached the foot of the mountains and already dark as they rode into Apache Junction. Bart knew he'd been in the town before but nothing looked familiar to him, even when they rode up to the same hotel he and Doc had stayed in on their last night. All three men went in to check into rooms and the hotel clerk looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Mr. Maverick! Doctor Holliday! You found him alive! Welcome back to the living, Mr. Maverick!"

"Uh, thanks," Bart answered. He had no idea who the clerk was.

"Jimmy, we need three rooms," Bret told the clerk. "As close as possible."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Maverick," came the answer. "How about two fourteen, two fifteen and two sixteen?"

"That'll work. You still have all the belongings I left here the last time I was in?"

"Yes, sir, they're locked up in the manager's office. He'll be in tomorrow at nine."

"In the morning?" Doc asked incredulously. "What an awful time to be awake."

"Come on, Doc, I need some food," Bret complained.

"You always need food," Bart added.

Bret lit up like a Christmas tree. "That's my boy!" he exclaimed.

"I did it again?" Bart asked, assuming his remark about Bret and food was something he'd complained about in the past.

"Yep, you did!" Bret was delighted. "Fifteen minutes in the dining room!"

All three heads nodded and each went up to lay claim to a room. Bart looked around his room, two-sixteen, but nothing seemed familiar. He threw his bag and saddlebags on the bed and went to the wash bowl to rinse off the trail dust. Damn, when was something besides these little snippets of information going to come back to him?

He was back in the dining room first and ordered wine out of habit. Which made him think of Amy. To get his mind off of her, he took the photo from his wallet and stared at the beautiful woman that smiled at him. Why couldn't he remember her? Had he loved her like he loved Amy? More? Less? Longer? Was he going to spend the rest of his life trying to figure that out?

The wine came just as he heard Bret and Doc walking down the stairs. He poured a glass and tasted it – not as sweet as Gage's wine had been, but not as strong, either. He could see the slight displeasure on Bret's face as his brother sat down at the table. Doc, however, picked up an empty glass and poured it full, tasting it and making a different kind of face. "You're a lot more fun than you used to be, Bart," Doc quipped.

"Why, because of the wine drinking?"

"Yes, sir," Doc answered. "When did you start that?"

"I don't remember, Doc. Amy and Gage drank wine, so I tried it. It's not bad."

Bret held his tongue. If Bart would just remember Pappy and all the things he'd taught them – including not drinking at the same time as playing poker. The waitress came over and took their order, then went back to the kitchen to retrieve the coffee pot. "What're the saloon's like in this town?"

"Not bad for a small town," Bret finally said something. "As long as you all don't run into the same cowboy that started the whole identity switch."

"Ugh, don't remind me," groaned Doc. "That was your first taste of life as Doc Holliday, Bart. What'd you think of it?"

"Sometimes it came in handy."

"Oh?"

"Like when I'd win and nobody would accuse me of cheating just because I was Doc Holliday."

"Yeah, that is kinda fun. But then you run into people like our deceased friend in Tucson. That's only fun when you can outdraw 'em."

The memory of the cowboy that just wouldn't take 'no' for an answer had stayed with Bart. All too clearly he remembered the feeling that the encounter would not end well for either of them. He'd been the lucky one.

By the time supper came Bart had lost what little appetite he'd possessed to begin with. He ate what he could stand and left the rest, once again reminding Doc how two brothers could be so alike yet so different. There was one thing he was sure of – if it had been Bret lost and presumed dead a year ago, his brother Bart would have done the same thing he did – spent the rest of his life looking for Bret, if necessary.

Seeing that Bart had given up on his meal, Doc posed a question. "Saloon?"

"No," Bret answered. "Too tired."

"I'll go with ya, Doc," came from Bart.

"Alright, Mr. Maverick. But you let me be me tonight, huh?"

"No problem," answered Maverick the younger. "I'm done bein' John Holliday."

The bill was settled and Bret left for his room, Doc and Bart for the saloon next door, 'Apache Junction Card Palace.'

"You gonna play?" Doc asked his friend.

"Maybe in a while," came the reply. Bart ordered coffee at the bar and Doc found a seat at a table and ante'd up. Doc kept an eye on Bart for a while and then lost track of him as the game progressed. The next time he looked up Bart was gone, and there was no sign of him in the saloon. In a panic, Doc gathered his winnings and rushed outside, only to find Bart with a foot up on the railing, smoking a cigar.

"Aw, Doc, you missed me."

"You – "

"You don't have to babysit me. I'm not going anywhere."

"Not even back to Stanhope Ranch?"

"No. That's done."

"What happened, Bart?"

"A difference of opinion, Doc."

"She wanted to get married and you didn't?"

Bart blew the smoke out. Standing outside, in the dark, he felt . . . . . . something, but he wasn't sure what. "Nope, Doc. She didn't want to get married."

"She wanted to go with you?"

"Guess again, Doc."

"What the hell, Bart? I'm all out of guesses."

"She wanted me to stay there at the ranch with her."

"Forever?"

Bart nodded as he drew on the cigar. "Yeah."

"Coulda been a sweet life."

"What, while you and Bret and my unknown Cousin Beau ran all over the country without me?"

"I don't think Beau's gonna be doin' too much runnin' for a while."

"Why? What don't I know yet?" Bart knew, just from the tone of Doc's voice, that something was wrong.

"It's a long story. Bret'll explain it all." Doc reached in his own coat and pulled out a cigar, followed quickly by a match. He struck the match on his gun belt and lit the cigar. "You were there for almost a year. I figured the wanderlust was gone."

"It was for a while. Then you and Bret came along and told me all the stories about travelin' the country, and I knew I couldn't stay there anymore."

"Sorry. If we'd have known – "

"No, Doc, you did the right thing. I would've made a life with her there, and woken up one day an old man and hated myself for stayin' in one place. And I would've hated Amy."

Doc went into a coughing spasm, and when he'd stopped he turned to Bart and laughed, "At least you would've woken up an old man. I should be so lucky."

"Sorry, Doc. But you know what I mean."

"Yeah. Sorry it didn't work out."

Bart took another draw off the cigar. "You ever really been in love, Doc?"

"Once. When I was fifteen."

"Fifteen?"

"Yep. That was the last time I let myself fall in love."

"Okay. On that note, I'm goin' to bed. Night, Doc."

"Night, Bart."