Stay Away From That City . . . They Call It Cheyenne (Code of the West) (18 page)

“Maybe he came up the trail. I’ll check him out.”

He tore off a huge hunk of sourdough bread and dipped it into the soup. Chomping into the bread, broth dripped across his chin. Tap wiped a faded red linen napkin across his face and brushed back his mustache.

Pepper pulled her elbows off the table. “A
ngelita came by this morning looking for you.”

“Did you ever see anyone quite like her? What did she want to sell us?”

“She did have an autographed picture postcard of Martha Maxwell, the lady big game hunter.”

“I bet she did.”

“But I really think she wanted to talk to you about her father. She worries about Baltimore workin’ down there.”

“I don’t blame her. With Merced at the reins, just a matter of time before it blows wide open. I’ll go talk to Balt
imore.”

“When?”

“After dessert.”

A smile cracked across his face and lit up his eyes and made her heart jump.

Lord, I really, really like being married.

Baltimore lounged on the front step of the marshal’s office smoking a long, skinny, loosely rolled cigar when Tap rode up.

“It’s mighty quiet around here.”

The deputy looked up and the down the street. “You’re right about that, Tap. Makes a man wonder what’s bein’ planned.”

“I think it’s about time for you and Carbine to call it quits. It’s not worth it anymore.”

“Would you quit if you was in my boots?” Baltimore asked.

“Probably not . . . but everyone knows I’m too pigheaded for my own good. Besides, you’ve got to think of Angelita. She’s worried you won’t live long enough to see her elected governor.”

“If I can keep her out of jail.”

“Don’t take chances with double-crossers like Merced.”

“Me and Carbine got it figured. Judge Blair wired that he’ll be comin’ in on the eastbound in the mornin’. We’re goin’ to see it through this one night and then find out what the judge has to say. We told Merced we’d work ’til noon tomorrow.”

“That means they’ll try something tonight.”

“I don’t think so,” Baltimore drawled. “We didn’t show Merced the judge’s telegram. We think the lynch mob will hold back until we quit and they have smooth sailin’.”

“At least that would give the judge some responsibility in all this.”

“That’s what we was thinkin’.”

“How’s Jerome doin’?”

“He’s cussin’, yellin’, and wantin’ a bottle. States that if he’s goin’ to be lynched, he wants to be drunk so he won’t feel it.”

“Merced didn’t volunteer to take the night shift?”

“Nope. That’s another reason we figure he’s plannin’ on t
omorrow night. He knows he’ll be by himself.”

Later in the afternoon, Tap rode Brownie south on Ferg
uson intending to turn toward the livery. Nagle and Whipple called to him from the street corner at 17th.

“Andrews, the city council wants to talk to you.”

“I don’t have anything to say. You fired me without even a discussion. I don’t owe you nothin’.”

“You owe us a marshal’s badge.”

“Where’s the meetin’?”

“Mayor Breshnan’s hotel—in fifteen minutes.”

“I’m takin’ Brownie to the I-X-L. Then I’ll come by. But I won’t be stayin’ long.”

Half an hour later Tap marched into the hotel owner’s o
ffice. Four out of the five city council members and the mayor waited for him. All five hovered about the mayor’s desk while Tap stayed close to the door. A large portrait of Abraham Lincoln hung on the wall behind the desk, peering over the men’s shoulders. Stale smoke lingered in the room.

“I’ll come right to the point, Andrews. We know we se
vered employment rather abruptly so—”

“That’s an understatement.”

“That’s exactly why we voted to pay you until the first of May. However, your lack of cooperation has—”

“Now you’re threatenin’ to take away my severance pay if I don’t give you a little tin badge?”

“We will,” Nagle puffed. “And we’re prepared to press charges against you if you don’t.”

“What charges?”

“False appropriation of government property.”

“You goin’ to serve the warrant? Merced’s afraid to come within three blocks of me.”

“You’re incorrigible, Andrews. We definitely did the right thing by letting you go,” Felix Goldstein huffed.

“I’ll tell you what you did.” Tap could feel his face flush with anger. He had a strong desire to pull his .44 from the holster and cock the hammer.

“You’re about to bypass the American judicial system and insure that Jerome Hager hangs by a lynch mob. You appointed a bigoted, gutless bully as acting marshal. Within two days Hager will be danglin’ from a cottonwood, and within a week any semblance of the law and order that Pappy Divide gave his life to sustain will have vanished.

"In addition, every gang of bummers headed for the mines or drovers going to the roundup will descend on Cheyenne to raise Cain. The footpads and sneak thieves will move across the tracks and invade those fancy Victorian houses of yours. And the cemetery will have to hire another crew.”

“You’re overreacting, Andrews.”

“Have you ever been in a town that lost all respect for the law?”

“That won’t happen. We just won’t let it.”

Tap whipped out his revolver and pointed the ba
rrel of it toward the hotel owner. “Is that your main safe?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then which one of you is goin’ to stop me from taking all the money in it?”

“What?” the mayor gasped.

Tap shoved his gun back into its holster. “That’s the point. Not one of you could stop me. That’s what it’s like in a town without respect for the law. I’m pullin’ out. I don’t want to watch Cheyenne get torn apart like that.”

“We want the badge, Andrews.”

“I don’t have it.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s not at my house, is it? Merced brought two men over to rip up the place lookin’ for it. You ever had the actin’ marshal hire men to destroy your house? It’s a mighty discomfortin’ feelin’ for your wife, let me tell you.”

“He did what? Can you prove that?”

“We had no idea.”

“I don’t care whether I’m actin’ marshal or not. But Simp Merced has the potential for lettin’ this town get out of control, and you men will get all the credit for appointin’ him. Your pr
ecious badge is layin’ on Pappy Divide’s headstone. The man who lifts it off that stone dishonors the best marshal this town’s ever had. I have nothin’ more to say to you.” He stomped toward the door.

“Since you are no longer under the employ of the city, I’m afraid you’ll have to vacate the house we provided.”

Tap spun around and glared at the men.

“Actually, you have until the end of the month.”

Several hours later Tap came home to an empty house. He found a note from Pepper on the table saying she’d be back by four. Tap sat on the front porch step to wait for her.

I need you here, Pepper girl, right now. Not in an hour. Not in ten minutes. Now. There are some things—important things—to talk about. You can’t just leave a note sayin’ when you’ll be back. I got to know where you are, what you’re doin’, who you’re with.

At least I ought to know which direction you went.

Lord, it’s time to shake the dust from my boots and leave. We don’t fit in here. I don’t fit in here anyway. Pepper's ge
ttin’ the hang of it. I guess I’m just a loner and a drifter and I don’t know how to be anything else. Maybe that’s why a ramblin’ man shouldn’t get married.

Where is that girl anyway?

Tap walked out on the boardwalk and looked up and down 17th Street. He tipped his hat to Mrs. Wallace, standing at her post in the upstairs window, and returned to the porch. Soon he sighted the yellow hat, yellow hair, and crackerjack smile.

“Hi, darlin. I missed you.” He pulled off his hat.

“Yes, it looks like you did. You look like a miner on payday.”

“We need to talk.” He held the door open for her.

“We certainly do.”

“Where have you been?”

“I was down at the depot seeing Savannah off. She went to visit relatives back east. Remember, I told you.”

“When did you tell me?”

“Right after dessert.”

“How’s she doin’ today?”

“Laughing, crying, thanking the Lord all at the same time. What do you think this is?” She held up a key tied to a black velvet ribbon.

“The key to your heart?”

“No, you already have that. Savannah wants us to keep an eye on her place while she’s gone. In fact, she begged us to stay there. She’d rather have someone live there than leave it vacant.”

“How long is she going to be gone?”

“A month or so. Would you consider living in the hotel? I just don’t feel all that safe since the sneakthieves broke into our house.”

“Maybe we should.”

“Really? I can’t believe it. I told Savannah there was no way you would want to stay at the Inter Ocean. You told me that you never wanted to stay in a hotel room again.”

“That was before the council informed me they were kic
king us out of our house.”

“When?” Pepper gasped.

“By the end of the month.”

“I guess that definitely means we’re moving.”

“Yeah. Is that all right with you, darlin’?”

“This cottage is too small anyway.”

“I can’t guarantee anything any better in Pine Bluffs.”

“Pine Bluffs?” Pepper grabbed his arm. “Did you talk to that man Tom Slaughter?”

“Yep. For about two hours.”

“Did he offer you a job?”

“Yep.”

“What kind of a job?”

“Brand inspector.”

“Did you take it?”

“Yep.”

“Will you have to be gone weeks at a time?”

“Nope.”

“Don’t you ‘yep’ and ‘nope’ me, Tapadera Andrews. I d
emand that you tell me everything.”

“Not here. Let’s do it over supper at the Inter Ocean.”

“Really? Can we . . . afford it?”

“Yep.”

“Are we actually going to stay in Savannah’s suite?”

“Yep.”

She slipped her arms around his waist and held him tight. “Did anyone ever tell you that what you lack in vocabulary you make up for in good looks?”

“Yep,” he replied with a wink, then jumped back to soften the blow of her fist punching him in the stomach.

Later that night Tap lay on top of the satin sheets of the bed in Suite G and listened to Pepper’s rhythmic breathing. A dream had jolted him awake.

He forgot what the dream was, but the room felt oppre
ssive, foreboding. He grabbed his revolver off the floor and fumbled to light a lantern. He swung out of bed and wandered out to the parlor, half expecting someone to be waiting in the shadows. When he returned, Pepper was propped up on one elbow.

“What’s the matter?”

“Something strange is goin’ on.”

“Did you hear something?”

“No . . . but I felt it.”

“Felt it? Come on back to bed. You were havin’ a bad dream.”

“No, it’s more than that.”

“What is it?”

“Something’s twisted, knotted up in my stomach—in my spirit.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s evil. It feels mighty evil.”

“I don’t feel anything. What is it?”

“I don’t know. . . . Something bad happened—something demonic.”

“But how can you—”

“Hager. Oh, Lord—that’s it. They’ve lynched Jerome Hager.” Tap groaned as he pulled on his trousers and reached for his boots.

8

T
he six-foot walnut grandfather’s clock in the hall between the tiny kitchen and the parlor of Savannah’s suite had just begun its midnight chime when Tap left the room, tugging on his coat and checking the chambers of his Colt. He was surprised to discover that the night clerk had abandoned his post.

The streets were lit with the flicker of Thomas Edison’s amazing bulbs, but not one person could be seen anywhere. The normal din and roar from the saloons along the tracks was absent, and the air hung heavy.

Lord, it’s like the sulfur in the air before a fox-fire summer lightnin’ storm out on the plains. I don’t know why You woke me up to tell me about this. I can’t do anything about it now . . . can I?

Turning east on 15th Street, he saw a mass of men near the depot. There were no street lights along the railroad tracks, and in the obscurity of night every man’s clothing looked murky, every face shadowy, every expression ho
stile.