Stay Away From That City . . . They Call It Cheyenne (Code of the West) (17 page)

“I’m the new acting marshal,” Merced insisted.

“That why you’re sporting that deputy’s badge?”

“Over here in my vest pocket,” Tap called out. All four men spun around.

Merced clutched at his revolver, but as soon as he saw Tap’s hand resting on his Colt, he backed off.

“Mr. Andrews,” Col. Hollings tipped his hat. “Nice to see you again, and how is Mrs. Andrews?”

“Fine, thanks. She sends her greetings to all the officers and gentlemen at the Fort.”

“My, can that woman dance.”

Merced interrupted. "Andrews, I've been looking for you. I want my badge.”

“You haven’t been lookin’ for me, Simp. Oh, you brought some bummers over to ransack my house, but that’s b
ecause you knew I was out of town.”

“Mr. Andrews, what’s going on here?” Col. Hollings pressed. “Who’s in charge of law and order in Cheyenne?”

Tap took a couple steps closer. Simp backed away, then held his ground. “The city council decided to fire me. Guess I wasn’t enough politician for the job. But I don’t figure anyone is in charge of law and order.”

“I’m the acting marshal, and you know it. I demand that you surrender my badge.”

“Come and take it yourself.”

“You can’t bully me,” Simp growled.

“A half-grown duck could bully you.”

Simp yanked at his revolver, but Tap’s had been pulled, cocked, and pointed at his head before the other man's cleared his holster.

“Gentlemen,” Hollings warned.

“Colonel, there won’t be any shooting at the Fort, but I don’t intend to stand here and let a man pull a gun on me, whether he’s actin’ marshal or not.” Tap released the ha
mmer and shoved his revolver back into the holster.

“You mean to tell me Mr. Merced really is the acting ma
rshal?”

“It’s an act, all right, but that was the decision of the city council.”

“Now are you goin’ to let me have Hager?” The bravado returned to Merced’s voice.

The commander of Ft. Russell threw up his hands in di
sgust. “I allowed you to bring him out here in the first place as a personal favor to Judge Blair and the memory of Marshal Divide. I can see that it was a mistake for us to get involved in civilian criminal matters. We’ll release him to your custody, but I will not, and I repeat, I will not send troops to town to gather him up at a future date. Understood, Mr. Merced?”

“Yes, sir. That’s all I’m askin’.”

“Lt. Morris, draw up the necessary papers for the transfer of the prisoner.” He cocked his head at Tap. “Where do you fit into all of this?”

“I gave my word to Hager that I’d see he stood trial. Think I’ll just ride along with Merced and make sure the prisoner is safely brought back to the jail.”

“I don’t need any help,” Merced protested.

“That all depends upon what you aim to do. If you want to get Hager into jail, you certainly need some help.”

“I don’t need to draw a big crowd like some. I’ll slip him into the city quietly.”

“Seems to me a man of Mr. Andrews’s proven ability would be extremely useful in sequestering a lynch mob,” Col. Ho
llings suggested.

“He’s goin’ to try to shoot me in the back—that’s what he aims to do,” Merced whined. “He’ll do anything to get a
ppointed acting marshal.”

“The only one who will be shot in the back is Hager. That’s why I aim to ride along.” Tap took one stride toward Merced, who again backed up a couple paces.

“Gentlemen,” Col. Hollings interrupted. “we're at an impasse. Lieutenant, draw up a van and escort. We will deliver Hager back to the courthouse where we picked him up. After that it will be up to the marshal, or acting marshal, to guarantee the prisoner’s safety until the trial date.”

“I don’t need a military escort.”

“You’ve got one, mister. Wait out here by your horse until they’re ready to pull out.”

The colonel turned to Tap. “What do you intend to do now?”

“Reckon I’ll mosey back to town. Sorry for this mess-up.”

“Give my personal regards to Mrs. Andrews.” The colonel tipped his hat and returned to his office.

Merced watched the officers walk back inside. “Andrews, I’m tellin’ you, I’m comin’ after that badge.”

“Anytime, anyplace. Let’s do it right here. You’re packin’ a pistol, and so am I. I got the badge. Come get it.”

“You ain’t goin’ to sucker me into a gunfight.”

“You meant in the dark of night. Shoot me in the back. I’ve seen a few pitiful lawmen in my day, but you might be the worst.” Tap walked over to Brownie.

That wasn’t too good, was it, Lord? I don’t have the temperament to be a good lawman. Too much gun smoke already in the air. A past with too many shots fired in anger, too many clowns holding .45s and fools with carbines tucked against their shoulders, too much stubborn pride. Ed Masterson . . . Old Bill Crowder . . . Pappy Divide—they had a lawman’s personality. They could handle it. They didn’t let it goad them.

’Course, they’re all dead now.

Law . . . order . . . justice . . . fairness. It looks like no one in Cheyenne wants ’em bad enough. There’s probably a mighty good reason this territory hasn’t qualified for statehood.

But it isn’t my fight, Lord. I just want to gather up that Pepper girl and ride away from it all. For the life of me, I can’t imagine why it is I’m stayin’. It’s got to be somethin’ more than a gunfight promise to a killer who I hope is goin’ to hang for his crime.

Between Ft. Russell and Cheyenne there’s only one draw deep enough to pull off an ambush. When Tap hit the Cold Springs Trail, he turned Brownie to the south where the little arroyo resembled a miniature canyon. With his rifle across his lap, he rounded the first bluff and came upon two shabbily dressed men sitting on swayback horses in the dry creekbed. One held a cap-and-ball revolver, and the other had a rusty Henry rifle in his lap. Both weapons looked more dangerous to the ones holding them than to the one being aimed at.

“You ain’t goin’ no further than this, Andrews,” one of the men announced, waving the Henry at him.

“How many you got up the arroyo, boys? It takes about two dozen of you to screw up the courage to shoot a man in the back, doesn’t it?”

“You don’t know who you’re dealin’ with, mister. Besides, you ain’t a deputy no more.”

“That’s right, boys. And do you know what that means? That means if you even point those guns toward me, I can shoot you down on the spot and claim self-defense.”

Both men glanced nervously behind them. “We don’t bluff down, Andrews.” The tone of the man’s voice betrayed him. Tap noticed both horses prancing.

“You two pretty experienced at this sort of work, are ya?”

“We been around.”

“Glad to hear that. Let’s see what kind of riders you are.”

Tap blasted three shots into the dirt in front of their horses. Both mounts bucked wildly. In less than half a dozen jumps the men were slammed to the ground, and the gulch filled with dust and gun smoke. Tap heard the sound of wagons and ri
ders bearing down on him. He swung down to the dirt, jabbed the rifle barrel in one man’s ear and stamped his boot heel against the other man’s neck. Holding his revolver in his left hand, he looked over at the incoming riders.

“Andrews, what in hades are you doin’ here?” a wagon driver hollered.

Strappler. Eden. Trementen . . . and all the DelGatto crowd—except the boss.

“At the moment I’m thinkin’ about puttin’ a 200-grain bullet through the heads of these two seasoned gunfighters. So I would encourage you not to do anything to imperil their f
uture.”

“Hold off, boys,” one of the downed men cried.

“You ain’t no deputy anymore. You got no business out here,” another yelled out.

“Neither do you,” he hollered back. “But the reason I’m here is to save your lives.”

“How do you figure that?” a man on a prancing spotted horse called out.

“In a few minutes a couple dozen soldiers from Ft. Russell will be ridin’ over that rise bringin’ Hager back to town in a military van. You boys attack that, and you’ll have to face the wrath of the entire United States Army.”

“An escort? Merced is bringin’ him back himself. We don’t believe you.”

“Why don’t we wait right here and find out?”

A man with a long, tattered topcoat and no shirt underneath rode forward. “We don’t aim to be standin’ out here in the clear.”

“Why not? If it’s just Hager and Merced like you say, who are you afraid of?”

“He’s right,” one of the men riding double concurred.

“But we’re supposed to stay out of sight,” another in the wagon protested.

Tap turned his pistol on the speaker. “Who told you that?”

“Eh .
 . . it don’t matter. He’s right. Boys, some of you line up on that side of the road,” Strappler commanded. “Andrews, let them two loose.”

“You mean it takes more than fifteen men to shoot Hager in the back?”

“You ain’t leavin’ this draw alive, Andrews. We got you outnumbered any way you count it.”

“Take a look up the road. I’d say it’s pretty even.”

“It’s the blue coats. Merced is with ’em.”

“Now if I were in your boots, I’d surely whip them old po
nies and broken-down wagons back to town and make sure I was out of range of those soldier boys with Springfields.”

The whole pack of men and wagons turned east, rumbling and galloping out of the draw. Tap swung up on Brownie, but he kept his revolver aimed at the two on the ground.

“Our ponies done ran off.”

“Then I suggest you do the same.” Tap waved his pistol in their direction. They scampered to their feet and stumbled up the bank of the draw toward Cheyenne.

By the time the troops reached the bottom of the arroyo, only Tap was left. Lt. Morris rode over to him as the others continued on to town. Simp Merced refused to even look in his direction.

“What was all of that about?” The captain pointed to the dust trail back to town.

“I guess it was a welcome committee.”

“What happened?”

“They didn’t feel welcome. Do you mind if a civilian like myself rides along with you to town, Lieutenant? I’d sure like to see Jerome Hager safely in jail.”

This time there were no crowds lining the streets for the e
ntry of Jerome Hager. Only a few people poked their heads out of shops, stores, and offices to watch the troops roll down 19th Street.

Baltimore Gomez and Carbine Williams stood guard on the steps of the jail as Merced signed some transfer papers and led a disgruntled-looking Jerome Hager into the buil
ding. Tap waited with the soldiers. After their departure, he spurred Brownie to a trot toward home.

Pepper met him on the front porch. “What happened?”

“Nothin’. Except Hager’s back here in jail.”

“Why?”

“So the lynch mob can get to him easier, I guess. It was Merced’s idea.”

“Did you talk to Merced about our house?”

“Eh . . . not much.”

“But you did talk to him?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“What did you discuss?”

“I think we left it that he was threatenin’ to come after me if I didn’t give him the marshal’s badge.”

“And what was your response?”

“‘Anytime, anyplace.’ If I remember the exact words.”

Tap followed her to the kitchen.

“I don’t think I like living in Cheyenne anymore,” she said. “We need to be out on the prairie where it’s just you and me.”

“I think you’re right, babe. As soon as we settle up some things here and—”

“Settle up what? Revenge against Simp Merced? Don’t take chances. You’re my whole world."

“You know, darlin’, we might spend our whole lives with nothin’ but each other.”

“Sounds good to me. How about you?”

“I’d probably get hungry after a while."

She stuck out her tongue. “I’m having ham and cabbage soup. Are you going to eat dinner with me?”

“What’s for dessert?”

“The usual.”

“I’m stayin’.”

“Where else would you go? You’re unemployed, the last I recall.”

Halfway through the meal Pepper jumped out of her chair and scurried to the front room. “I a
lmost forgot. A man came by to see you this morning.”

“Who was it?”

She carried a small scrap of paper back to the table. “His name is Tom Slaughter. He’s from Pine Bluffs. Said you could reach him at the Rollins House.”

“What did he want?”

“He didn’t tell me. Do you know him?”

“I don’t think so. Did he look like he was on the prod?”

“No, he looked like he’d been on the trail for three months.”

“Was he ridin’ a short Texas horse?”

“I guess so. I didn’t pay much attention. Why?”