I'm Off to Montana for to Throw the Hoolihan (Code of the West) (12 page)

Tap scooped oats into a bucket. “Ezra, you and your fa
mily are welcome here. No apology is needed. Are any of them hurt?”

“No, we escaped unharmed. But they did their best to frighten us.”

“What happened?”

Ezra Miller followed Tap from stall to stall. “They came back the next night and rode right up to the barn—set it on fire and scattered the stock. Peter—that’s my eldest—and I tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen to reason.”

“Reason?” Tap shook the oat bucket in front of Onespot. “They only listen to the roar of a shotgun or a .44-40.”

“We don’t believe in violence, Brother Andrews.”

“Don’t you think the Lord wants you to protect your family?”

“My family is safe. They are all here with me.” Miller unbu
ttoned the sleeves of his wool shirt and rolled them up. “The Almighty be praised.”

Tap stared at the bushy eyebrows and beard of the broad-shouldered man.
Lord, I don’t understand this way of thinkin’.
“How did you make it to the ranch?”

“The only stock they left us were the draft horses. So at da
ybreak we hooked up the wagon and came looking for your ranch.”

“Were you able to save your belongings?” Tap asked.

“You mean, bring them with us?”

“Yep. Could you salvage your personal things?”

“Oh, we only brought a few things. Peter and I will go back today and round up the stock. Then we’ll rebuild the house. Actually, only the canvas and some of the furnishings burned. We’ll cut more timbers and finish the house.”

Tap grabbed a pitchfork to muck a stall. “You’re goin’ to move back?”

“It’s our farm. I’ve got the papers. I’m not the type to just walk away.” Miller pulled a rake from the wall and began to help Tap.

“Ezra, this is wild country out here. I was born and raised here. It’s all I know. I’ve learned you can stop good men with reason but bad men only with force—and violent men with a .44-40.” Even though it was a cool morning, Tap sweated through his cotton shirt. He pulled off his canvas jacket.

“God will provide for us,” Miller assured him.

Tap grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow and shoved it out the open barn door. “A man’s got to follow how the Lord’s leadin’ him. I’ve learned that much. I guess He sort of leads di
fferent people in different ways. Whenever you’re ready to ride back, I’ll saddle up and go with you. I’ll help gather your stock.”

“Thank you, Brother Andrews. Mrs. Miller was right. She said you would offer to go with us. But I can’t ask you to do that. It’s a long trip. We might be gone for several days. You have family respons
ibilities here.”

“Things are startin’ to settle down.” Tap dumped the load and r
eturned to the barn. He led Roundhouse to one of the horse corrals as Miller tagged along behind him. “Mr. Odessa and his wife will be back to the ranch today or tomorrow. And Howdy is here, so I can take a day or two to help out a neighbor.”

Miller chewed a piece of straw and waved his strong, ca
llused hand. “If I might be so blunt, I don’t want your help. I have to know if I can take care of my family on my own. If my peace and success is based on the firearms of friendly neighbors, then I might as well take up a violent life myself. I’ve got to prove to myself I can handle this. Do you understand?”

Tap rubbed his neck. He could feel his icy cold fingers and the stubble of a one-day beard. “I reckon I do. You’re about as stubborn as I am.”

“It’s my stubbornness brought us here. Mrs. Miller wanted us to settle with a colony of Friends in Nebraska, but I insisted we push on and find a better land. If I had listened to her, we would all be safe, I suppose.”

“Well, safety isn’t the highest of virtues.” 

“Now that is something we completely agree upon.”

“So what can I do to help?”

“Your hospitality for my wife and younger children is an un-repayable debt. If they might stay in your bunkhouse until Peter and I return, you will be a blessing from heaven.”

“I haven’t often been called a blessin’ from heaven. It goes wit
hout sayin’ they can stay. You got enough room? The cows got in there the other day and I tried to clean it up.”

“It’s a very large room. Each child had a bed last night. They think it’s a mansion.”

“What time will you be pulling out?”

“Within the hour.”

“Take a grub bag with you. Howdy can help you out.”

“We have supplies at the farm.”

“They might have burned those up too.”

“Why would they do that?” Miller asked.

Tap shook his head and sauntered back into the barn to get Onespot.

Ezra Miller and his son Peter were hitching their team to the farm wagon when Angelita ran out. Tap was in a corral exa
mining a swollen leg on one of the horses in the roundup string. She wore a long off-white dress, black high-top lace-up shoes, and two pigtails that hung down her back to her waist.

“Mr. Renten brought us over some breakfast. Mama said to call you in.”

Tap climbed the four-rail cedar fence and jumped down next to Angelita. “You ladies feelin’ rested after that big day yesterday?”

“I’m sure I look very cute today, but I do feel tired. How’s your arm?” Her words were directed to Tap, but her eyes searched the yard, especially the Miller wagon.

“It’s ugly and it hurts. Pepper must have poured half a bottle of iodine on it last night.”

“I know.” Angelita’s voice came out almost like she was sin
ging. “I heard you scream.”

“I didn’t scream.”

“You hollered.”

“I might have grimaced a little, but that’s all.”

“You grimaced very, very loudly.” Angelita skipped on ahead of Tap and stopped near the Miller wagon.

“Hello, I’m Angelita Gomez. I’m staying with Mr. and Mrs. A
ndrews. They treat me like I was their daughter.”

Tap trailed along behind her. “This is Mr. Miller.”

She rolled her brown eyes in disgust.

“And I believe this young man is named P
eter,” Tap added.

Angelita curtsied as Peter Miller blushed. He tried to look busy with the rigging of the wheel horse.

“Are you twelve years old?” she demanded.

“Me?” Peter gasped.

“You certainly didn’t think I was addressing your father, did you?”

“I’m almost thirteen.” He looked down at his worn brown boots.

“I’ll be twelve next year, although I look older. But if you’re going to live around here, there is something you need to know. The man I marry has to own a gold mine.”

“What?” Peter Miller choked.

“I’m sure you’re disappointed, but I think it’s important to be honest right from the start.” Angelita took off on a run to the big house, leaving Ezra Miller and Tap to stare at each other.

Tap swallowed hard. “Eh, she’s not the bashful type.”

Pepper and Angelita sat at the big oak table when Tap entered the dining room wiping his wet hands on a flour sack towel.

“Look at this.” Pepper spread her arms across the food on the table.

“Howdy?”

“He delivered it all in a basket. I feel guilty,” Pepper admi
tted.

“How guilty?” Tap prodded.

“Not too guilty.” She flashed him that dimpled smile that always reminded Tap why she was the queen of every dance hall she ever worked in. She broke open a raised flour biscuit. “I heard you and Angelita visited with the Quaker family.”

“Eh .
 . . sort of.” Tap scooted into a chair across from them. “Mama, you need to talk to little sis here. That poor Miller boy almost blushed himself to death.”

With blonde hair hanging past her shoulders and still clothed in her gray wool robe, Pepper scowled at Angelita. “What did you do to him?”

Angelita folded a strip of thick bacon, wedged it into her biscuit, and then crammed it into her mouth. “He umphh, nat massful.”

“What did you say?” Pepper asked, holding an egg-laden fork in her hand.

Angelita swallowed hard. “He’s too bashful. Obviously he hasn’t spent much time around beautiful women.”

As they ate breakfast, Tap relayed the conversation he had had earlier with Ezra Miller. He was finishing a second cup of coffee when Angelita pushed back from the table and packed the dishes out to the kitchen.

“Mama, when are you and I going to visit the Millers?” she called back.

“Peter’s going with his father back to their farm,” Tap i
nformed her.

“I know that. I wanted to meet all his family.”

Tap had Roundhouse saddled and bucked out when Howdy Renten wandered out of the cook shack and over to the corrals. “It’s goin’ to rain before the day’s out,” he announced. “Better take your fish.”

Tap gazed up at the clouds loosely stacked above the brown-grassed hills. “You might be right. I’ve got my slicker tied on the cantle.”

“You and Odessa plannin’ on takin’ care of them cows all winter by yourself?”

“We might pick up a hand or two, but I’m in no hurry. When we bring up the rest of the stock in the spring, we’ll need a full crew.”

“You want me to ride out with you today?”

“No, I need you here. We’ve got a hacienda full of women and kids. I need someone to keep the wolves away.”

“Two-legged or four-legged?”

“Both.”

Howdy rubbed his face. “I feel nakid as a baby without a beard. I should’ve never shaved. Don’t know what got into me. A bath and a shave, and it’s only September.”

“October.”

“Whatever.” Renten brushed his teeth with his finger and then spat. “You want me to feed the horses?”

“I did that this morning, but I would like you to rearrange the barn to make room for Selena’s deluxe new carriage.”

“You really expect them back today?”

“Yep.”

“How come?”

“’Cause I only paid for that fancy room for one night. Did you ever know Lorenzo to have more than ten dollars in his pocket?”

“Ten? I never knowed him to have more than two.”

Tap cinched his saddle down a little tighter and then walked around and mounted Roundhouse from the right side.

“You ridin’ an Indian pony?” Howdy queried.

“That’s what I surmise.” Tap spun Roundhouse to the right until he settled down. “I’m headed east to the edge of the ranch, then up to the tree line, and back to the ranch. Should be home by early afternoon. I want to see how far I can let them drift in a storm wit
hout gettin’ into trouble.”

“You goin’ to ride up and check on the Quaker and his son?”

“Nope. It’s too far away, plus he doesn’t want my help. Told me so himself. I respect that.”

“This is pretty tough country to just turn the other cheek.”

Tap pulled his black hat down and slid the keeper on his horsehair stampede string tight under his chin. “Each man finds his own callin’, I guess. Providin’ it’s the same God callin’.”

The squeak of saddle leather sounded good to Tap’s ears a
fter a day of riding bent-legged in the buckboard. He stretched his long legs in the stirrups and trotted Roundhouse to the east. Most of the 500 head were scattered between the headquarters and the river. The grass was buckskin-brown but thick. Tap figured it hadn’t been grazed for almost two years.

He and Roundhouse meandered through the cattle. Both man and horse seemed to be memorizing both ends of each longhorn. Co
ming to the edge of the grazing herd, he hazed a few stragglers back to the west and then spurred the gray gelding east. Tap figured he was about four or five miles from the Yellowstone River. He rode parallel with the river, about halfway between it and the Bull Mountains. He couldn’t see a tree, a building, or an animal between the river and the mountains, except for Castle Butte, standing like a rocky pimple on the brown face of the sloping prairie. The wind was at his back, and the clouds had bunched up tighter than earlier in the day.

This is what I love, Lord. Ridin’ for miles on our place and never seeing a soul. Pepper’s right. I get along better wit
hout many folks around. Just me and a good horse, some cows, and a good woman . . . a beautiful, good woman . . . a beautiful, good woman who’s expecting. Except, Lord, she’s miserable, and I can’t do a thing about it.

Even though the clouds blocked the sun, Tap calculated it was a little past noon when he came to a steep gulch he and Stack had fi
gured several weeks ago was the eastern edge of the ranch. Spying a trail down the side of the coulee, Tap spurred Roundhouse down the sandy path until he came to a dry creekbed.

“Those are fresh tracks, Roundy .
 . . one Indian pony maybe. At least one wasn’t wearin’ shoes. Looks like a busy thoroughfare. They could probably ride up this coulee to the mountains and be hard to spot. The last ones through were headed toward the river.”