Stay Away From That City . . . They Call It Cheyenne (Code of the West) (9 page)

“That might be, but Pappy didn’t. It seems like some of the boys in this room got the idea that back-shootin’ a ma
rshal ain’t a serious crime.”

“How about back-shootin’ a deputy?” A deep voice filtered across the room.

Tap whipped around. Most of the crowd were still seated at tables, although several stood at the back wall with their coattails tucked behind their revolvers.

“I hope one of you five at this front table said that,” he growled.

“Don’t look at us, Deputy. We’re jist sittin’ here eatin’ our biscuits and eggs.”

“That’s too bad because if even one shot is fired in this room, you five will be the first I shoot. Don’t figure I could miss from this range. It would be a shame for you to take lead for some lou
dmouthed jerk in the back row that doesn’t have the guts to face me one to one.”

“Who you callin’ a loudmouthed jerk?” A big man with a full beard stood up at the back of the room, his hand on his r
evolver. His belly hung over an empty bullet belt.

“It looks like you’re the one, partner. Now sit down and put your hands above the table before you go do something foolish and prove my words about you.”

The man sat right down.

Tap glanced around at the rest in the room. “Let’s get som
ethin’ straight, boys. I don’t favor those bummers down at the track. I don’t work for the rich folks in those three-story houses, and I don’t automatically side with driftin’ cowhands who spend only three weeks a year in town. If someone commits a crime, they ought to be fairly punished . . . that’s all. Don’t matter who they are.

“But you might as well know, I won’t hesitate to draw this gun and shoot any one of you in this room if needs be to u
phold the law. I don’t scare. I don’t back down. And there is nothin’ in the world that riles me more than someone threatenin’ me. I haven’t spent my whole life wearin’ a badge. You all understand what I’m sayin’?”

A man in the front row nodded. "Just one thing, Deputy, we could use a man like you up in Johnson County. You be inte
rested in rollin’ out with us?”

The tension in the room melted. The drovers roared with laughter.

Even Tap cracked a smile. “If you got a coosie that makes good bear sign, I might just look you up.”

Simp Merced met Tap on the boardwalk in front of the Drovers’ Cafe. “What were you doin’ in there?” he d
emanded.

Tap walked on by. “Talkin’ to TwoHoots.”

“Where’s Hager? You got to tell me where you’re keepin’ him. It ain’t right that I’m a deputy and don’t even know what’s goin’ on.”

“Count it a blessin’. That way no one will threaten you at the Drovers’ Cafe or ambush you on the trail.”

Merced grabbed Tap’s arm.

One fiery glare caused Merced to drop his grip and step back. “I’m goin’ to take this up with the city council. This is no way to run the marshal’s office.”

“Yeah, you talk to ’em.”

Tap sat at the counter of S. S. Ramsey’s restaurant on 16th Street drinking a cup of coffee and scraping up the last of his eggs.

A young voice called out from the door, “Hey, mister, you want to buy thirty prime feet of the Lost Gulch Mine?”

He spun around. Angelita stood giggling at the door.

“I thought I told—”

“Mr. Andrews,” she lectured, “must you take everything so seriously? You really should relax and enjoy life more. You are much more handsome when you smile. That continual frown is quite unbecoming.”

Tap broke into a wide grin and shook his head. “Judge Blair is just about ready to run you out of town, young lady.”

“It’s a sad world when children are victimized by our own legal system,” she pouted.

“Children? You haven’t acted like a child in ten years.”

“Then, a true gentleman wouldn’t leave a beautiful, young woman standing at the door of a restaurant. He’d i
nvite her in and offer to buy her a cup of coffee and a sweet roll.”

“A glass of milk and a sweet roll,” he corrected her.

“Whatever.” Angelita scampered into the cafe and leaped up on the stool beside him. “I want one of those big cinnamon ones with the sticky stuff and nuts on top.”

Tap nodded approval to the waitress and laid a co
uple of coins on the counter. “You’ll have to get along without my company. I have some marshalin’ to do.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever survive, my dearest.” She held her hands under her head and faked a swoon.

He tousled her hair. “Be good.”

“It’s boring. Where’s my daddy? I need to talk to him.”

Tap stood to leave. “He’s workin’ and can’t be bothered right now.”

“I have to see him. It’s extremely impo
rtant.”

“I’ll send him home about two.”

“That will be too late. Do you have a dollar I may borrow?”

“What for?”

“I need to pick up some printing, and I must have the money by noon.”

“What kind of printing?”

“I’m certainly not going to give away valuable business secrets in a public establishment like this. Do I get the dollar or not?”

“No.”

“Then perhaps I should go to your house and sit on the steps and cry until some kind person shows mercy on me.”

“I know where Hager is,” she mouthed.

Tap did a quick study of her coal-black dancing eyes.
Lord, have mercy on all the little boys.

He tossed a dollar coin on the counter and stalked out the front door.

It took less than ten minutes for Judge Blair to sentence, fine, suspend sentence, and release both Primo and Petey into TwoHoots’ custody. Tap rode behind the Bar 79 crew all the way to the north edge of town. He turned back when they dropped over the dark, cloudy horizon.

At the jail Carbine Williams slouched on the front steps rol
ling a quirley.

“Who’s spyin’ out the jail?”

“There’s a couple drovers that have been standin’ a long time in the cold on 19th Street. . . . And two loafers are sittin’ on the steps of the Catholic church over there. I suppose both will send runners if they see Hager around the courthouse. How are you goin’ to get him here?”

“I’m not sure, but go ahead and turn the drunks out. Empty the jail. Then scoot up to the roof of the courthouse with that ’73 and a box of shells. Keep out of sight until the time comes.”

“Which side am I supposed to shoot at?”

“Neither, I hope. What we want to do is get Hager into the courtroom. Whoever tries to prevent that will have to be dealt with. The judge is tryin’ to bring in some soldier boys from the Fort to help out, so we shouldn’t have any trouble once they arrive.”

Tap rode down to the south side of the tracks where he found Simp Merced talking to some men in front of Alex DelGatto’s saloon and dance hall.

“Simp, I need to talk to you,” Tap called.

“What about?”

“Marshal business.”

Simp Merced meandered over to where Tap sat on Brownie. The other men stopped their talking and watched Tap.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“I need you to go over to the Union Pacific Station and keep an eye on the waitin’ room, especially anyone totin’ a gun.”

“You fixin’ to move Hager out by train?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But—”

“I said nothin’ about Hager. All you know is that you need to make the lobby safe.”

“Okay. I'm glad you're finally pulling me in on this. How much time do I have?”

“Thirty minutes. Can you do it?”

“You can count on me.”

That’s what I’m hopin’, Simp.

He rode through two back alleys and tied Brownie up to a once-white picket fence that ran along only one side of the backyard of his house on 17th Street. He slipped around to the front door and knocked. Baltimore, with gun in hand, u
nhooked the latch and swung open the squeaking door.

“Lots of movement on the street—folks ridin’ and walkin’ by and gawkin’,” he reported.

“Bummers or drovers?”

“Both.”

“Any camped out on the street?”

Baltimore peeked out Pepper’s lace curtains. “There’s still someone in the attic of that house across the street. They’ve been watchin’ yer house all mornin’.”

“That’s Mrs. Wallace. She stares at us every day.”

“Nice neighbor. I don’t know her. What’s she look like?”

“Can’t say.” Tap shrugged. “She hasn’t come out her front door in three months—as far as we can tell.”

“And I thought things were strange on my side of town,” Baltimore grinned. “Now what’s the plan?”

“Go over to the courthouse and take that double-barreled
12-gauge and stand right inside the front door by that granite column. Don’t give anyone a chance to take a potshot at you. Carbine will be on the roof.”

“What about Merced?”

“I sent him down to the train depot.”

“What for?”

“To keep him out of the way.”

“Did he fall for it?”

“I surely hope so.”

“How long before you’ll be bringin’ Hager?”

“Tell the judge it will be about twenty, twenty-five minutes.”

Baltimore looked up and down the sidewalk and then stepped out on the uncovered porch. Sticking his head back through the doorway, he asked, “How you goin’ to do it, Tap? How you goin’ to get Hager to the courthouse? You won’t be able to get a buggy or wagon rollin’ without ever
yone in town knowing about it. After that deal with the laundry wagon, every vehicle in town is suspect, and it’s for dead certain they’re watchin’ the liveries.”

“Maybe I’ll just walk him down the middle of the street.”

“That ought to save the city court costs. No, really . . . what are you goin’ to do?”

“Whatever attracts as little attention as possible.”

The carriage jerked to a stop on the narrow lane that ran down the middle of the graveyard. Two men in canvas bibbed coveralls crawled out of the hole they’d been digging. Hats in hand, they approached the rig.

“Mornin’, Miz Savannah. We shore don’t have no plea
sure diggin’ this one. Pappy always treated us square.”

“Thank you, Clete. I just wanted to come by and see if the ground was too frozen.”

“No, ma’am. We made it through the frozen part without much trouble. Did we get the right plot? There’s a whole string of ’em here that belongs to you.”

“That’s the one I had in mind. I don’t suppose the ston
emason will have anything ready by this afternoon?”

“He put aside his orders and promised to deliver it by two o'clock. It’s just like these others, ain’t it?”

“Yes. Only the names and dates change. You buried my Drake and my Quintin, didn’t you, Clete?”

“Yes, ma’am. I surely hope I don’t have to bury any more of your men.”

“Thank you. That’s my hope also.” Savannah glanced back at Pepper, who held the reins of the rented carriage. “Do you men know Mrs. Andrews?”

“Deputy Andrews’s wife? Pleased to meet ya, ma’am.”

“And I, you.”

The shorter of the two surveyed Pepper. “I don’t envy that husband of yours. Sort of like being trapped on the edge of a canyon cliff by a grizzly bear.”

“Mr. Andrews is one man in this town that can handle the situation,” Savannah interjected.

“Yes, ma’am, I reckon he is. I surely pray I won’t be needin’ to dig a hole for him.”

Savannah looked the man in the eyes. “That reminds me, Clete, your Myrtle says such wonderful prayers for you at church each Sunday. Just when are you going to get serious with God?”

Pepper almost gasped.
No one ever accused Savannah of being too subtle.

“Ma’am, you surely put me on the spot.”

“I intended to. I’m much too fond of you and Myrtle to let something so crucial slide by.”

“I reckon I’ll give it some thought.”

“Good. We’ll see you this afternoon.” Savannah nodded at Pepper, who slapped the reins and drove the one-horse black buggy on down the lane.

Pepper held the reins in her gloved right hand and tried to brush her blonde hair back toward her hat. Her cheeks were cool, and she knew they had blushed red. “I think Clete was taken back.”

“You would think a man who spends his time digging graves would be more concerned with his own eternal destiny.”

“Savannah, have you always been so bold with your faith? This is all pretty new to me.”

“Bold? I’m a wallflower compared to my mother.”

Oh, dear.

“Pepper, darling, I figure you can either find yourself pushed along through life, or you can grab it by the reins and drive that sucker yourself. Lord willing, of course. And I aim to make the most of every day, every relationship, and every opportunity to share my faith. How about you? Are you just riding along in life, or are you driving?”