The Secret Bliss of Calliope Ipswich (19 page)

BOOK: The Secret Bliss of Calliope Ipswich
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Again Calliope giggled with delight. “Yes. Let’s do just that!”

*

“Mornin’, Rowdy,” Sheriff Montrose greeted as Rowdy stepped into his office in the jailhouse.

At first, Rowdy was a little uncomfortable that Judge Ipswich was with the sheriff. But then he figured it was better to kill two birds with one stone—not to mention less time consuming.

“Mornin’, Sheriff,” Rowdy greeted in return. He nodded to the judge. “Mornin’, Judge.”

“Good morning, Rowdy,” Judge Ipswich said, offering Rowdy his hand.

Rowdy struck hands with the judge and then Sheriff Montrose.

“What brings you by?” the sheriff inquired.

Rowdy inhaled a deep breath, exhaling as he said, “Well, I might as well get right down to it, Sheriff. And I’m glad you’re here too, Judge…because I think we’re about to have some trouble here in
Meadowlark Lake.”

Sheriff Montrose frowned, and so did Judge Ip
swich.

“Have a seat, Rowdy,” the sheriff said, nodding toward a nearby chair.

Sheriff Montrose leaned back against his desk, and Judge Ipswich remained standing.

Almost collapsing into the chair, Rowdy suddenly realized how tired he really was.

“Why do you say that, Rowdy?” Sheriff Montrose asked.

“I’ve seen a horse in town. A couple of times now I’ve seen it,” Rowdy began. “It’s an appaloosa.”

Sheriff Montrose nodded. “Yep. I’ve seen it too. It’s a nice mount. Very distinctive.”

Judge Ipswich folded his arms across his chest. He nodded in the direction of the diner across the street. “Chestnut and white, right?”

“Yep. That’s the one,” Rowdy said, encouraged that Sheriff Montrose and Judge Ipswich were such watchful, wary men. “It belongs to an outlaw. Arness Morrison.”

Sheriff Montrose stood straight then. “Arness Morrison? He’s one of the Morrison brothers outta
Tombstone, ain’t he?”

“Yeah,” Rowdy confirmed. “And the fact that he’s been comin’ through town…I’m thinkin’ he’s lookin’ for someplace to hole up.”

Judge Ipswich frowned. “He’s looking for a town with lawmen who will allow him to tarry amongst good people while he does his outlawing elsewhere,” he stated.

“I think so, yes, Judge,” Rowdy admitted. “I talked to Lou Smith this mornin’. Seems he asked the fellow with the appaloosa…well, he asked his name this time around, and the man said his name was Arness. And I…well, I know for a fact that Arness Morrison owns a chestnut and white appaloosa named Pronto. And I know that appaloosa we’ve been seein’ in
Meadowlark Lake is it.”

Sheriff Montrose exhaled a heavy sigh, removed his hat, and raked his fingers back through his hair.

“Arness Morrison. He rides with two of his brothers, ain’t that right?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Rowdy answered. “Carson and Walker Morrison.”

“So we’re expecting three outlaws to ride into Meadowlark Lake and ask the sheriff to give them asylum then?” Judge Ipswich inquired.

“At least three,” Rowdy confirmed. “Maybe more. Arness and his two brothers, they’re just the ringleaders. Sometimes they have two, maybe three other men ridin’ with them.”

“I don’t like to hear this, that’s for dang sure,” Sheriff Montrose grumbled.

But it was Judge Ipswich who asked the question Rowdy expected to be asked.

“Tell me, Rowdy,” the judge began, “why do you know so much about Arness Morrison and his brothers?”

Rowdy inhaled a deep breath of courage. Then he answered, “They tried to kill me once.”

CHAPTER TEN

 

Lawson Ipswich arched his eyebrows, astounded, while Sheriff Dennison Montrose’s mouth hung agape for a moment.

“They tried to kill you once?” Dennison finally managed to ask.

“Yes, sir, they did,” Rowdy confirmed. “They gave me a hard beatin’, tied me up, drug me behind a horse for about a mile, shot me twice, and left me to die in the desert.”

Lawson exchanged glances with the sheriff.
An unspoken understanding passed between them, both accepting that Rowdy had told them all that he wished to tell them about how he recognized Arness Morrison and his horse—at least for the time being.

Sheriff Montrose nodded
and then asked, “When do you think they’ll come askin’ to hole up in Meadowlark Lake?”

Rowdy shrugged.
“I don’t really know. But since he’s been here twice already that we know of, I’d expect it would be pretty soon. And he won’t approach you alone, Sheriff. He’ll have his men with him…for purposes of intimidation.”

“Well, they ain’t gonna hole up in my town,” Dennison Montrose strongly affirmed.
“I won’t have them even ridin’ through.”

Rowdy nodded
, and Lawson saw the relief in his expression.

“You’re a good man, Sheriff,” Rowdy said.
“I figured you wouldn’t want to have nothin’ to do with it.”

“But how do we prevent it?” Lawson inquired.
“I’m assuming Morrison and his men will plan to use more than mere intimidation to secure their wishes.”

Again Rowdy nodded, saying, “Yes
…they will.”

Sheriff Montrose was undaunted, however.
“Then we deputize every able man in town and have them ready for a confrontation.”

“Maybe,” Rowdy agreed
, though halfheartedly. He frowned, sighed, and shook his head. “Of course, maybe Arness is truly just travelin’ through. Maybe he just went one way, stopped here for the night. Then when he went back…he stopped again.”

Lawson’s eyes narrowed as he studied Rowdy for a moment.
The fact that Rowdy referred to the leader of the Morrison brothers’ gang of outlaws by his first name was disconcerting. Rowdy Gates seemed to know a wealth of detail concerning Arness Morrison’s horse as well.

Yet Lawson’s instincts told him that Rowdy Gates was just what he appeared to be—a good, hard-working man who had seen a bit of trauma in his past.

“But then again, you might be correct that Texas John Slaughter finally had his fill of the Morrison brothers and banished them from Tombstone, and they’re looking for some other town to loiter in,” Lawson suggested.

Rowdy nodded.
“Yes, sir. Maybe.”

Sheriff Montrose exhaled a heavy sigh of discouragement.
He removed his hat, tossed it on his desk, raked his hand through his hair again, and said, “Let me think this through for a bit. I don’t want to alarm the entire town. But I need to be prepared too.”

Lawson nodded.
As disturbed as he was—as worried as he suddenly felt over his own family’s safety, as well as the safety of the other citizens of Meadowlark Lake—he knew the sheriff needed some time to take a breath and strategize.

The
sheriff looked to Rowdy then, offering a hand and saying, “Thank you, Rowdy. If you hadn’t had your eyes open and your wits about you…well, I surely would not have been prepared if Arness Morrison and his men do come callin’.”

Rowdy shook the sheriff’s hand and said, “I hope I’m wrong, Sheriff.”

“I do too,” Sheriff Montrose agreed. “But my gut tells me you’re probably not.”

“Rowdy,” Lawson said, offering his own hand to Rowdy then
, “you’re a good man. A man to be admired and emulated. I’m grateful to you as well.”

Rowdy accepted Lawson’s hand, giving it a firm shake.
Lawson smiled. He could tell a lot about a man from the way he shook another man’s hand. Rowdy’s grip was strong, straightforward, and confident. It was the handshake of a good, honest man with a clear conscience, and Lawson was further assured that Rowdy Gates could be thoroughly trusted.

“Well, as much as I hated to be the harbinger of bad news, Sheriff
, I feel a might better knowin’ that the lawmen of the town are aware of things,” Rowdy said. “I best get on with my day. Let me know if there’s any way I can help.”

“I will, Rowdy,” Sheriff Montrose assured the man.
“I most surely will.”

Rowdy turned to leave but paused.
Looking back to the sheriff and Lawson, he said, “I might as well tell you now…I’m a good shot. A
very
good shot. So if there comes a need, I’ll do what I need to in defense of our town.”

Sheriff Montrose nodded.
“That’s good to know, Rowdy. I appreciate your willin’ness, where all this is concerned.”

“As do I,” Lawson said.

Rowdy nodded then and left.

Lawson looked to Dennison.
“Now that I think about it, Dennison—was he offering to be deputized, or warning us that he would do whatever needed to protect Meadowlark Lake regardless of the lawfulness of it?”

The
sheriff shook his head. “I don’t rightly know. But if Arness Morrison and his brothers mean to corrupt Meadowlark Lake, I gotta be honest. Shootin’ them all dead might be our only option.”

“I know,” Lawson agreed—dishearte
ningly.

Judge Lawson Ipswich had sentenced outlaws before—many of them to hang.
But somehow he imagined that an outlaw gang like the Morrison brothers would choose to go out shooting rather than to be captured and stand before a judge. His anxieties over the safety of his family heightened.

“So
…what do you think, Judge?” Sheriff Montrose asked, nodding in the direction of Rowdy’s exit. “Former lawman? Or former outlaw?”

Lawson considered Dennison’s question.
Rowdy Gates was a good man; and least he was in the present time. Lawson really couldn’t imagine Rowdy running with outlaws.

“Former lawman,” Lawson answered at last.
“Why else would the Morrison brothers try to kill him?”

Sheriff Montrose sighed.
“Well, in my experience, outlaws like Arness Morrison are capable of anything…even killin’ their own men.” He paused a moment, however, and then added, “But I think you’re right. Rowdy Gates strikes me as a man with a sound mind as well as a sound moral character.” He nodded. “Yep, I’m with you on thinkin’ ol’ Rowdy Gates was a lawman at some point in his past life.”

“Well, I’ll get back to the courthouse and to my own work for the day, Dennison,” Lawson said.
“I know you have a lot to consider. Just let me know what you decide when you decide it.”

Lawson struck hands with his friend, and the
sheriff said, “I will, Judge. As soon as I figure it all out.”

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Lawson said.

Leaving the jailhouse then, Lawson headed back to the courthouse. Off in the distance, he could see Rowdy Gates riding in the direction of his home—not toward the mill.

*

“After all, Dodger,” Rowdy said as he sat under the willow next to Dodger, “I own the mill, don’t I?” He shrugged, adding, “Of course, no one but me and Ben Mulholland know it. Still, as the owner, I oughta be able to take a mornin’ off to catch up on some sleep, right? I did send that Ackerman boy over to the mill to tell the boys I’d be tardy. So why not have me a little rest here in the shade, right, boy?”

Dodger didn’t answer, of course.
But Rowdy looked over to where he lay resting in peace all the same. He chuckled when he saw fresh flowers had already been put in the old medicine bottle at the head of the grave.

“That little
Ipswich girl…she sure gets out early in the day, doesn’t she?” he chuckled. He laughed out loud and then said, “That poor cat of hers! I ain’t never seen a cat go through what that feline does. I wonder how that leashed-up cat feels about walkin’ out here to put flowers on a dog’s grave.”

Rowdy closed his eyes
, a smile lingering on his face. Thoughts of Shay Ipswich always led to thoughts of Calliope Ipswich. He could see her in his mind at that moment—the way she’d looked the day before when he’d shown her and her little sister how to sail frogs. She’d been barefoot, and several blades of meadow grass still lingered in her beautiful hair here and there, evidence she’d been stretched out on the ground at some point. Calliope’s smile had been as bright as the summer sun and her eyes as blue as the summer sky. And Rowdy Gates decided to let the loveliness of Calliope Ipswich linger in his mind, instead of thinking about the fact that Arness might be back.

“Calliope,” Rowdy mumbled as he began to drift into a light slumber.
“Even your name is pretty.”

*

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, hold still, Warren!” Sallie ordered her little brother. “I swear you’re as wiggly as a worm in a rainstorm.”

But
Warren frowned. Looking to Calliope, he asked, “You sure I ain’t gonna look like a fool in this getup, Calliope?”

Calliope smiled at
Warren, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand with reassurance. “I’m certain of it, Warren. Why, you’re going to be the handsomest groom anybody has ever seen!”

Warren
blushed and asked, “Do you think Shay will think I’m handsome?”

Calliope’s smile widened.
She exchanged amused glances with Sallie.

Leaning closer to
Warren where he stood on the stool being fitted for his suit coat, Calliope whispered, “She already does,” and winked at him. His blush deepened, and Calliope was delighted.

BOOK: The Secret Bliss of Calliope Ipswich
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