I'm Off to Montana for to Throw the Hoolihan (Code of the West) (7 page)

Pepper kicked off her slippers and stared at her round, puffy toes. She wanted desperately to rub her feet, but she didn’t bother to try.

Should I make this bassinet slipcase pink or blue? Maybe You could just give me a hint about this baby I’ve been lugging around.

No?

I didn’t think so.

“Well, Lil’ Tap—or Tapina, you are going to wake up in a boring white-sheeted bass
inet.”
With ruffles on the slipcase. White ruffles.

Lorenzo toted his dinner plate to the barn, where he was r
epairing the saddle cut off the dead horse. Pepper ate alone and then dragged her sewing and a shawl onto the porch. Sunlight blanketed the yard. The shadows swung slightly to the east, reminding her it was a little past noon. For the first time since they had arrived, there was absolutely no wind. She faced the southwest, watching the trail where Tap and Angelita had departed.

This is not a good habit. If the wind picks up, it will blow right in my face. But .
 . . I don’t want to just sit around in the house. Out here the air is fresh and clean. And . . . there’s some potential for something interesting to happen.

She picked up her sewing and slowly rocked back and forth.

I am not going to spend my life sitting on the porch waiting for him to come home. Once the baby comes, I’ll be too busy. And I’ll have to help Angelita study her schoolbooks. And I’ll have a garden to tend. But today it’s nice to hear the birds in the sky, feel the warm autumn sun, smell the fresh air, taste winter coming on, and watch a rider come up the drive.

A rider?

Pepper peered down the gradual slope of the mountainside.
Wonder if Lorenzo sees him? Maybe I should call him. Or maybe I need to relax. This is our ranch. We don’t need to run. We don’t need to hide. We don’t need to grab a gun.

Do we?

From two miles away she could tell he was riding a black-and-white-splotched piebald. At one mile Pepper caught the reflection of sunlight off a silver saddle horn. At one hundred feet from the gate, she saw him pull off what looked like a yellow sash and stuff it in his bedroll. When he reached the gate, she spotted the carbine lying across his lap and a thick, drooping mustache peering out from under a dirty beaver felt hat with a Montana crease.

He dismounted, opened the gate, walked his horse into the packed-dirt yard, and then shut the gate. He mounted up and rode past the barn, the bunkhouse, the cottage—and right t
oward her.

“Afternoon, ma’am. I’m lookin’ for Mr. Tap Andrews. I was told this is his ranch.”

Pepper kept her fingers busy with the needlework but repeatedly glanced up at the man.
Who does he remind me of?

Unseen by the rider, Lorenzo Odessa hobbled toward the house, his revolver strapped to his side.

“Yes, this is his ranch. Actually it’s a partnership between my husband and Stack Lowery.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Andrews. My name’s Sugar Da
yton. I’d like to speak with your husband.” The man peeked through the front window of the house.

“My husband isn’t here at the moment. Perhaps you’d like to talk to Mr. Odessa, our foreman.” Dayton’s startled glance took in Lorenzo, who now stood behind him.

“You need somethin’, mister?” Odessa's hand rested steady on his pistol grip.

Dayton whipped around and almost yanked his revolver from the holster. “I’m runnin’ a place up in the mountains and when I heard Andrews was operatin’ the Slash-Bar-4, I decided to pay my respects. My brother was a friend of Tap’s.”

“Sorry you missed him. What’s your brother’s name?”

“Eugene Paul is dead. He got shot in Kansas. I b
elieve he worked with Andrews down in Silver City, New Mexico.”

“Eugene Paul Dayton?” Lorenzo shook his head. “Never heard of him, and I spent a lot of years ridin’ the high country down there with Tap.”

“I’m sure Tap would remember Eugene Paul. And I believe some of my men had a run-in with Mr. Andrews, mistaking him for a cattle rustler or land jumper.” Dayton looked around slowly, as if surveying the whole headquarters area. “I just wanted to apologize for their behavior.”

“You ain’t too discerning in who you hire,” Lorenzo o
bserved.

“They do get a little carried away. But I’ve straightened that out.”

“Did you ever work for any outfits down in New Mexico?”

“The Pitchfork, the Triple-T, the B-C-Connected.”

“Those are Arizona brands,” Odessa challenged.

“Yeah. I was back and forth across the line. Will Tap be home soon?”

“He could be gone ten minutes or ten days. No way of knowin’. But go pull your tack, feed your pony some grain, and grab a bite before you have to ride on. You were plannin’ to ride on, weren’t you?”

“Yep. Thanks for your hospitality.” Dayton tipped his hat to Pe
pper and rode toward the barn.

Lorenzo limped over and sat on the steps, stretching his splinted leg out in front of him.

“You look very nice clean-shaven,” Pepper commented.

“Figured I better commence to scrub for the weddin’. I’ve got to be spruced up when I wear that nobby suit of Tap’s. It’s mighty ge
nerous of you to lend it to me.”

“Tap hasn’t worn it since our wedding, nor does he intend on wearing it again. Of course, he got it a little muddy that day. It brushed very clean though. Well, what do you think?”

“About the suit?”

“No. About Mr. Sugar Dayton.” Pepper shifted her weight a bit on the pillow-stuffed rocking chair. “Why’s he looking over our place?”

“I don’t rightly know. It’s a cinch he didn’t come in here jist to apologize. I’d say, lookin’ at his hands and outfit, he ain’t worked cows in a couple years. He had that hog leg strapped like a show-off. Not many good cowmen put silver like that on their workin’ saddle. And he couldn’t remember any New Mexico ranches. He’s not tellin’ the whole story.”

“Mr. Odessa, there are some things in all of our pasts that should be kept hidden.”

“Yes, ma’am, you’re right about that. But I didn’t think we should let him stay at the ranch tonight.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. That’s the type when he walks into the dance hall, you’re hoping he finds some other girl.”

Lorenzo struggled to his feet. “I’ll go buddy up to him and see what I can learn.” He hiked halfway across the yard and then turned back. “You got yourself a gun in the house?”

“Do you think I’ll need it?”

“I’d feel better if you had a little protection. Until we figure this out, we’ve got to be cautious.”

“I’ve got Tap’s Greener loaded by the door.”

“That ought to do. Just don’t point both barrels at me. I don’t want nothin’ to cause me to miss my own weddin’. You know, I had a dream last night I was late for my weddin’, and Selena got so mad she up and married someone else. Don’t that beat all?”

“That is every nervous groom’s nightmare.”

“It is? Well, I’ll get there on time one way or another.”

“That you will. Now I’ll go warm up some dinner for our guest.”

Pepper saw very little of Odessa or Sugar Dayton after that. Lorenzo insisted on feeding the man in the bunkhouse, informing her “hired hands and drifters don’t eat in the big house—ever.” Odessa escorted Dayton on horseback to the east in the middle of the afternoon.

At sundown she was slicing apples for a pie when she was startled by a voice from the yard. “Ho, in the big house.” She expected it to be Lorenzo or even Tap and Angelita coming back from Billings. But a short man wearing a round hat stood by a tall, thin white horse.

I didn’t get this many visitors when we lived in Cheyenne.

She opened the front door, stepped out on the porch, and shaded her eyes. “May I help you?”

“Evenin’, ma’am. I didn’t want you to go takin’ no potshots at me. I’m your new bunkhouse cook and headquarters man. Is that the cookhouse over there?”

“Eh , yes.”

“You cookin’ supper already?”

“Yes, I’ve—”

“That’s okay. But if there ain’t any hands around, I can do the cookin’ for you all.”

Wearing an apron and holding a tea towel, Pepper walked gingerly down the steps and across the yard toward the man. “Did my hu
sband hire you?”

“Yes, ma’am. You’re Mrs. Andrews, ain’t ya?”

“And you are . . .”

“Howdy Renten.”

“Howdy?”

“That’s my Christian name. Mama named me after the first thing my daddy said when he saw me.”

“So Tap hired you today in Billings?”

“Yes, ma’am. Me and Tap go back to Arizona t
ogether. I wrangled horses and cooked chuck down on the Flying 11 Ranch. Tap and me worked several roundups. Sure was surprised to stumble across him in Billings. Told me he’d pay me a dollar and a half a day, providin’ I took a bath once a week.”

“Can you toss a hoolihan?” she questioned.

“Eh—yes, ma’am,” Howdy affirmed.

“Good. That’s very important, you know.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Pepper waved her arm toward the buildings on the far side of the yard. “There’s a little bedroom off the cook shack, I think. That’s for you. I really haven’t examined it. Our for
eman, Mr. Odessa, is out on the ranch, but he’ll be back soon.”

“Odessa? Lorenzo Odessa? He’s still alive?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Don’t that beat all? Did Tap ever tell you about the time I had to ride into Nogales and spring the two of them out of that Mexican jail after they got caught in Alcade’s daughter’s be
droom closet?”

“I don’t think he mentioned that.”

“No, I don’t reckon he would. I can tell you one thing, Mrs. Andrews.” Renten spat a wad of tobacco ten feet. “You got two men with sand at this ranch. They won’t back away from anyone or anything. I reckon I stumbled into a mighty good layout. Yes, indeed, a mighty good layout. I’ll go settle in now. What time’s supper?”

“I’m waiting for Tap and Angelita to return from town.”

“Oh, I plum forgot. Ol’ Tap ran across a little trouble in Billings. He won’t be coming home tonight.”

The skin around her eyes tightened. “Is he all right?”

“Yeah. There wasn’t much shootin’. Nothin’ serious. A couple hombres on the prowl. I ain’t much at readin’, but I think he explained it here in this letter.” He pulled a long brown envelope out of his pocket. “I’ll go put Saint Peter—that’s my horse—in the corral.”

Pepper ripped the letter open.

Pepper darlin’,

First, we are both doing fine, and there’s nothing to worry about. Don’t tell Lorenzo, but Selena had a little trouble here in town with a couple of drifters who used to visit her at the dance hall. Do you remember Jackson and Bean? It’s nothin’ I can’t handle. I just didn’t want to go off and leave her a day before her wedding in a town where she hardly knows anyone.

I’m sending Howdy to look after the place. Don’t let his looks or smell fool you. He’s a good man and will back you even with his life. You see Odessa gets all slicked up before you two bring the wagon to town tomorrow. Tell him I had some unexpected business in Billings.

We have a room at the England House, but I’m sticking Selena in with Angel-girl. I’ll take Selena’s room at the hotel in case these romeos try any late-night serenades. It will be a great delight to get these two married off and hide them out at the ranch where they can’t get into any more trouble.

See you in the morning, beautiful, if my heart doesn’t break of loneliness tonight.

Tap

Pepper lifted the hem of her dress and hiked back to the house. As she closed the big oak door behind her, the place suddenly seemed huge, cold, and very empty.

Tattered red, white, and blue banners still flagged in the wind as Tap and Angelita rode into Billings. Less than one month earlier, railroad tycoon Henry Villard, former Pres
ident U. S. Grant, and other dignitaries had gathered at Gold Creek, north of Deer Lodge City, and celebrated the completion of the Northern Pacific Railroad. Saint Paul, Minnesota, and Portland, Oregon, were now linked by a railroad.

All along the line, rail towns and tent cities gloried in the event they assumed would bring great prosperity to their r
egion. A large canvas banner reading Welcome to Montana’s Heartland, faded and wind-torn, still stretched across the railroad depot.

“Maybe we should stop so I could look at the railroad d
epot,” Angelita prodded.

“What? We haven’t been in town two minutes, and you’re already wanting to bilk some pilgrim out of two dollars? Your days of workin’ the crowd at the train depots are over, young lady.”

“I just thought I’d see if I could rile you,” she shot back. “You’re easy to predict, Mr. Tap Andrews. Now where are we going first? How do we find someone to hire?”

“We look for the Drovers’ Cafe.”

“Do they have one here?”

“It might have a different name, but it’s the same thing. But first we need to find Miss Selena and invite her to di
nner. What would you like to eat?”

“I’d like some lobster.”

“You’d like what?”

“Lobster. I read in the newspaper the train would soon be hauling in food from the East Coast. They said the day would come when you could go into a Montana hotel and order fresh lobster. So that’s what I want.”

“Beefsteak is what you’ll have.”

“Then why did you ask me what I wanted?” she pouted.

“Come on.” Tap trotted his horse to the rail in front of the New York Hotel.

He tried to brush the road dust off his jacket as he stood on the raised wooden sidewalk in front of the tallest building in Billings. Angelita, coat buttoned to her neck and wool hat pulled down to her ears, scampered into the lobby ahead of him.

The hotel felt hot and stuffy. Tap unbuttoned his coat and let it swing open as he approached the counter. Angelita was already in a heated discussion with the clerk.

“You got problems, lil’ darlin’?”

"Are you with her?” the clerk asked.

“Yep.”

“I was just telling this girl Miss Selena is in Room 24.”

“Thanks, mister.” Tap tipped his hat.

“Actually he was just tellin’ me they didn’t cater to my kind in this hotel,” Angelita reported.

“He said that?”

“Yeah, but he changed his mind when you unbuttoned your coat and showed your .44. What kind am I anyway?”

Tap stared down at her round, brown eyes and white-toothed smile. “Smart. They obviously don’t want too many smart people stayin’ here at once. It would make the help look bad.”

The clerk closed the registration book and dropped his pencil on the counter. “I presume you won’t be needing a room?”

“Mister, you’re gettin’ smarter by the minute.” Tap’s right hand rested on the polished walnut grip of his holstered Colt. “Maybe you aren’t a complete idiot.”

The smile slipped off Angelita’s face. “He didn’t say that because I’m Mexican, did he?”

“Oh no, I’m sure that wasn’t it.” Tap’s hand still rested on his r
evolver. “Was it, mister?”

Beads of sweat a
ppeared on the man’s brow.

“That permanent tan of hers sure is purdy, isn’t it?” Tap pressed.

“Why, certainly. Yes, it is.”

“Those pigtails probably fooled him, and he thought you were under age for checkin’ into a room by yourself.”

The clerk took a deep breath. “That’s a good way of putting it.”

“I thought so.” Tap took his hand off the gun. “Now, da
rlin’, how about you runnin’ up to Room 24 to see if Miss Selena’s available for dinner?”

Angelita scampered up the stairs. Tap turned to the counter, but the nervous clerk had slipped into a back room. Tap wa
ndered over to a table littered with several newspapers. The newest well-worn paper was dated April 4, 1883, St. Paul. He tossed them aside and studied a map on the lobby wall that showed the route of the Northern Pacific across Montana. Several hotel patrons filtered into the lobby.

Looks like Cantrell’s Siding will be the shortest route from the ranch to a railhead—if this map is right. Maybe we could ship cattle from there.

A commotion near the stairs caused him to spin around. Two men loitered at the bottom of the stairs talking loudly to Selena. Angelita stood a couple of steps behind her. Tap scooted closer.

“And I say you’re comin’ with us. You’ve got some dancin’ to do.” The speaker was tall and thin and wore greasy wool pants. A dirty red bandanna ringed his neck. He also needed a shave, haircut, and clean shirt. He wore no holster, but carried a co
nverted Navy Colt jammed into the front of his belt.

“You owe us, Selena,” the shorter man insisted. He looked as if he had just walked out of a clothing store—new suit, new hat, po
lished black boots, oiled hair, waxed mustache. His new Colt Peacemaker was cased in a stiff brand-new leather Wyoming holster. “You shanghaied us and lifted our pokes down in Colorado. We just want what we paid for, that’s all.”

Tap walked slowly across the lobby, trying to keep his spurs quiet. Several people scooted out the front door. The clerk peered out from the back room.

“I owe you nothing,” Selena insisted “I will not go anywhere with the likes of you two. If you continue to aggravate me, I have no choice but to use force.”

“Force? Did you hear that, Bean?” the taller one sneered. “She’s going to use force.”

“I guess that means she’ll pull that long, skinny knife out of her sleeve and try to stick us, like last time. It won’t work, dance-hall dove. We don’t scare off easy.”

Selena’s dark eyes flashed. She wore a white knit shawl over her green velvet dress. Her arms were crossed and her hands buried in opposite sleeves. “I assure you, if I had pulled a knife on you before, you wouldn’t be standing here badgering me.”

Tap moved directly behind the men.
She probably does have her hand on that knife.

“You’re comin’ with us now. I’m through talkin’.”

The man in the fancy suit awkwardly tried to pull the gun out of the new holster. Tap stepped up and smacked the man’s wrist with the barrel of his .44. The new pistol crashed to the floor, and its owner let out a howl. All in one motion, Tap grabbed the other man’s hair and yanked his head down until the .44 was jammed into his ear.

“Angelita, grab that pistol. Now you boys aren’t quite through talkin’.”

“What do you think you’re doin’, mister? You’re interferin’ in somethin’ ain’t your business.”

“Oh, it’s my business. Miss Selena is a personal friend of mine.” Tap kept his gun at the man’s head. His partner clutched a badly bruised wrist.

“Shoot, she’s a personal friend to ever’ man between the Rockies and the Pacific. She ain’t nothin’ more than a common—”

Tap pulled the hammer of his revolver back two clicks. “Choose your next word very carefully, mister. Now what were you goin’ to call her?”

“Eh, she’s a . . . a, eh . . .”

“What’s goin’ on here?” a voice shouted from the doo
rway.

Tap turned to see a wide-shouldered man toting a sho
tgun and wearing a sheriff’s badge.

“This drifter drew his gun on us,” Bean complained, still clutching his wrist.

“Put your gun down, mister,” the sheriff shouted.

“These men insulted this lady. I will not holster my gun until they apologize,” Tap asserted.

“Did they insult you, ma’am?”

“Yes, they did.”

“Then you better apologize to the lady or else I’ll just make my rounds and leave you with this hombre.”

The men glanced at each other.

“He said apologize,” Tap growled.

“Sorry, ma’am," Bean blurted out. "must have mi
stook you for someone else. Didn’t we, Jackson?”

The one with Tap’s gun shoved in his ear nodded slightly. “Yeah.”

“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Selena demanded.

Tap released his grip on Jackson. “Give him his pistol, A
ngelita.”

“I was hoping to sell it at the depot for four dollars,” she gru
mbled, handing it back to the man.

“Four? I paid sixteen cash dollars for this outfit.”

“What a waste.” Angelita shrugged.

“Come on, you two .
 . . out of the hotel,” the sheriff commanded.

“We’ll be around town, mister,” Jackson hissed to Tap. “We aim to see you again.”

“That would be a great mistake,” Tap assured him.

When the two men had left, the sheriff confronted Tap. “Mister, I don’t know who you are, but I don’t want any tro
uble out of you. Leave that .44 in the holster. If you have difficulty, you come look me up. But if you start pullin’ that gun ever’ time you walk into a building, I’ll have you locked up within the hour. Do you savvy?”

“Yeah, I understand. But if those two come after me with drawn guns, I’m goin’ to protect myself—and these wome
nfolk.”

“I’ll do the protectin’ around here,” the sheriff insisted.

Tap jammed the revolver back into his holster.

The restaurant at the England House did not list lobster on the bill of fare. Selena, Angelita, and Tap sat at a corner table and fi
nished a meal of beefsteak, boiled red potatoes, gravy, and beets. The coffee was pitch-black and thick. It took Tap three cups before he decided he liked it.

Selena listened as Tap explained the situation at the ranch and Lorenzo’s broken leg.

“This is the dumbest thing I ever heard of. He’s out there getting into trouble. I’m in here and trouble is searching me out. Why aren’t we together? Why did we have to wait for this wedding?”

“Because it’s the proper way to do things,” Tap reminded her.

“Why do I need to do things proper?”

“Because you are no longer the Selena those two old boys are lookin’ for, right?”

Selena’s dark eyes blazed, and then a smile broke across her smooth but seasoned face. “Okay, Andrews. You win. This time. Besides, I only have to wait until tomorrow. Not much can go wrong between now and then.”

Tap glanced at Angelita. She raised her thick black ey
ebrows and rolled her eyes.

After the meal, Tap walked Selena and Angelita back to the New York Hotel. Then he proceeded to survey the town on foot. It didn’t take him long to discover the Bear Cub S
aloon and Cafe. A quick look around the crowded, narrow room, and Tap knew he was in the right place. These weren’t prospectors, Easterners, nor store clerks. A Friday afternoon room full of drifters, cowpunchers, gamblers, and horse thieves. It was Tap’s kind of place.

The bartender looked twice when Tap ordered coffee but came back and leaned against the polished mahogany bar with a cup of coffee for himself as well. Tap figured the man was six inches taller and about a hundred pounds heavier than hi
mself. The bartender stooped and put his elbows on the bar and looked Tap in the eyes. “If you ain’t goin’ to get soused and you ain’t eatin’, have you got somethin’ else in mind?”