I'm Off to Montana for to Throw the Hoolihan (Code of the West) (24 page)

“If you do, you’ll have to pull that hammer back another click. You have it on safety right now.”

“Tap,” Lorenzo protested, “do you know what you’re doin’?”

“I hope so.”

Peter used both thumbs and pulled the hammer back until it clicked a second time.

“Oh, no, no,” Dayton moaned.

“Peter, do you believe in heaven?” Tap asked.

“Yeah. But he’s not going there.”

“Nope, I don’t reckon he is. But is your daddy there?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he can see what’s goin’ on now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s suppose he can. What do you think he’d want you to do?”

“But I’ve got to do it,” Peter sobbed. “He killed my father.”

“We all know he killed your father. The Lord knows he killed your father. But you can’t do it. It will ruin your life.”

“Killing men didn’t ruin yours.”

“It didn’t exactly make mine wonderful. Besides, I’ve never shot a man who wasn’t shootin’ at me or someone else first. Hand me the gun now. Make your father happy.”

“I can’t. I’ve got to kill Dayton.”

“Any fool can pull the trigger. Look at these men," Tap urged. “If they were in your shoes, ever’one of them would pull the trigger. You mean to tell me Ezra and Lucinda Miller didn’t raise their boy any be
tter than these back-shooters and cattle rustlers? Let’s see what you’re really made of. It’s your day to become a man, son, to become the kind of man that would make your mama and daddy proud. Hand me the gun.”

“Listen to him, boy,” Dayton called.

Tap grabbed the man by the coat collar, almost lifting him off the ground. “Dayton, if I hear another word out of you, I’ll shoot you myself. Is that clear?” He shoved the man back to the ground so hard he fell over on his side.

“Peter?”

Young Miller lowered the gun to his side. “They’ll think I’m a coward if I don’t pull the trigger.”

“Who?” Tap quizzed.

Peter looked around at Lorenzo, then at the Indians. “How about them?” Peter waved the gun at the other bound men. Most of them tried to dive out of the aim of the cocked revolver.

“Who cares what they think? A good reputation lies only in the minds of honorable men. Give me the gun. You proved you could have done it, if you wanted to.”

Peter Miller gazed up at the star-filled sky. “Daddy, I wanted to shoot him for your sake and now I’m not shooting him—for your sake. I sure hope you understand.”

He gave the gun back to Tap.

Daylight was breaking behind them as they paraded out of the trees of the Bull Mountains and onto the sloping prairie of the Yellowstone River drainage. A cool, stiff wind blew into their faces from the west. Tap gazed at a distant column of smoke from the ranch headquarters.

Someone’s stoked the fire.

Tap led the procession on Roundhouse. Peter Miller rode Odessa’s roan behind him. Then the Miller wagon, driven by Lorenzo, lumbered along, loaded with eleven members of the Yellow Sash gang—four deceased. Their leader, Sugar Dayton, sulked at the front of the wagon. And trailing last were Jesse Savage and General Sheridan leading six saddled horses.

“You see that rider, Tap?” Lorenzo hollered from the wagon.

Tap strained to survey the distant horizon. “Where?”

“I do believe the old man needs eyeglasses. Peter, ride up there and show him.”

The boy kicked the roan and trotted alongside Roundhouse. “Look straight at the barn. See that draw? A rider will come over that berm."

Tap rode at a fast walk and waited for the rider to appear.
I don’t need eyeglasses. It’s just there is so much mud he isn’t kickin’ up dust.

“It looks like a black horse,” Peter added.

“It does, huh? It's probably Onespot. Angelita must be out for a ride.”

“At daybreak?” Peter asked.

“She’s been mighty worried about you.”

“She has?”

“Yep, but don’t you dare tell her I said that.”

“It’s not her. It looks like Mr. Renten.”

Tap turned back to the wagon. “I’ll ride up and see what’s goin’ on. You come in at your own pace,” he yelled to Odessa.

Roundhouse was ready to romp. Within seconds they were gallo
ping up to the oncoming rider. Tap reined up, and the big gray gelding shut it right down as they drew even with Howdy Renten on Onespot.

“What’s up, partner?”

“You bringin’ in that gang?”

“Yep.”

“They all alive?”

“Nope. Four drowned.”

“Drowned, you say?”

“What’s happening at the ranch?”

“Sheriff and a dozen-man posse showed up this mornin’.”

“Did you give them Jackson and Bean?”

“Yep, but the sheriff didn’t want to leave without talkin’ to you. That’s why I rode out.”

“What’s he want to talk about?”

“Jackson and Bean told him you took the two thousand dollars.”

“And he believed them?”

“All I know is we’ve got a posse parked in the yard.”

“How’s Pepper?”

“I ain’t heard nothin’, so I reckon she’s just as plump and purdy as ever.”

“I’ll ride in and talk to the sheriff. I’m glad he’s here. Keeps me from havin’ to take a trip to town.”

With most of the ranch buildings puffing smoke from their chimneys, two Indian lodges in the pasture, and a dozen men milling around the yard, the Slash-Bar-4 looked like a mountain town on the Fourth of July.

The sheriff waited for Tap at the gate. The lawman held it open while Tap and Howdy passed through.

“Good to see you, Sheriff.”

“Jackson and Bean claimed you took the bank money off them.”

“Yeah, and they told me you were a yella, monkey-faced coward. But I don’t believe a word of it.”

The flustered sheriff pushed his hat back. “That ain’t the point. Did you take the money?”

“Nope. But I can tell you exactly where it is. After you take these two, Sugar Dayton, and the entire Yellow Sash gang into town, you can ride out to the Pothook-H and pick up the bank money and a whole lot more.”

“The Yellow Sash gang alive?”

“Four of ’em drowned.”

“Drowned?”

“Am I pronouncin’ that word wrong? ’Cause ever’body keeps repeatin’ it. The money’s out at the old Pothook-H headquarters.” Tap dismounted with care, keeping his weight on his right foot.

“You shot?” the sheriff asked.

“I think that’s obvious.”

Angelita rushed across the yard barefoot, her long nigh
tgown held high. “Hurry, Mama’s gone into labor. I’ll get Mrs. Miller.”

Tap limped toward the house.

“Andrews, What about that money?”

“Lorenzo will tell you when he gets here. Wait for the wagon.”

“What about those Indians? It’s illegal for them to be on this side of the river.”

“They’re friends of mine. They came to help me celebrate the birth of my child. It’s all right, Sheriff. They have permi
ssion from General Sheridan.”

“They do? You know General Sheridan?”

“We’re good friends.” Tap hobbled to the front door.

Pepper had begun labor, but it soon became evident it wasn’t going to be a quick birth. Periods of pain followed  long stretches of rest. Tap stayed in the room with her, Mrs. Miller, and Selena.

Angelita spent her time giving progress reports to Howdy and Lorenzo. The Miller children played on the porch of the bun
khouse. The Crow families huddled around a campfire at the tepees. The posse and outlaws camped near the barn.

After a couple hours the pains intensified and quickened. But Pepper was determined not to cry out.

But that resolution faltered. She lay in the middle of her bed, her flannel gown unbuttoned at the neck, sweat beading her forehead.

“It won’t be long, darlin’. You’re doin’ fine,” Tap told her again and again.

“Fine? I’m being torn in two, and you say I’m doin’ fine.”

“Ever’thing will turn out mighty good. You just relax.”

“Relax? I’ve got a fifty-pound baby in here trying to get out, and you tell me to relax.”

“You don’t have to shout, darlin’. I’m right here.”

The sharp pain shot through her body so strong Pepper didn’t even know she screamed. Everyone in the room jumped. Tears poured down her cheeks as she searched the room for Tap.

“Shoot me,” she pleaded.

“What?”

“If you love me, you’ll shoot me and put me out of this mi
sery.”

“Now, darlin’, don’t you be—”

“Are you goin’ to shoot me or not?” she hollered.

“Of course not.”

“Give me a gun, and I’ll do it myself.”

“Nope.”

“Don’t just stand there gawking at me. Do something,” she screamed.

Tap stared around in desperation, feeling very helpless. “Why don’t you go down and make us all a hot cup of

tea?" Mrs. Miller calmly suggested. "And please take your time.”

“What? Okay, I’ll go. But please—”

“You’ll be the first to know, Brother Andrews.”

Tap thought about going back upstairs to be with Pepper. He considered going outside and sitting on the porch with Lorenzo and Howdy. He ended up limping back and forth in the living room, an empty coffee cup in his hand.

Now, Lord, I know I’ve been prayin’ a lot lately. And I hate to be botherin’ You all the time. But there was a whole bunch of years I never said much to You at all. So maybe I’m just tryin’ to catch up. But this time . . . if I only get so many answers to prayer in my lifetime, I’d like to cash ’em in right now. Give Pepper the strength she needs to bring baby into this world and give the little one a healthy body. You just have to make sure ever’thing’s all right.

Tap winced and paused at the bottom of the stairs every time he heard Pepper cry out.

Lord, it’s me again. I’ve been thinkin’, and I guess I don’t know how to pray. I know what my heart wants. But I don’t know what Your heart wants. You’re in charge. Just get me ready for whatever comes next.

Tap gaped out the window at the ranch yard. From the porch to the bunkhouse, to the barn and corrals, to the t
epees—dozens of pairs of eyes seemed to be staring back at him. He took a sip from his cup and never noticed it was empty.

Pepper’s long scream brought him back to the base of the stairs. A baby’s cry sounded through the house. He hobbled up the stairs.

“It’s a boy,” Angelita shouted as she ran out to the top of the stairs. “Tell everyone it’s a boy.”

Stunned, Tap turned to face the front door as it flew open. Both Lorenzo and Howdy rushed in.

“Well?” Lorenzo queried.

“It’s a boy,” Tap mumbled.

Howdy screamed across the yard, “It’s a boy.” Then Howdy and Lorenzo scurried out.

Tap heard the roar of the Sharps .50-caliber fired in celebr
ation. But he couldn’t move. He sucked air and wiped the corners of his eyes. The sound of Angelita running out to the top of the stairs caused him to turn back around.

“And it’s a girl,” she shouted “Really. A cute little girl.”

“You said it was a boy.”

“A boy and a girl—that’s called twins, you know.”

“Twins? But how can she do that?”

“When I have time, I’ll try to explain it to you. Now go tell the others, and when you get back, things will be cleaned up enough to come up and see your family.”

“Twins!” Tap felt completely glazed.

Angelita sighed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’ll go tell them m
yself. But you can’t go in there until they call you.” She scampered past him.

Soon Mrs. Miller hiked out of the room carrying a porc
elain basin stacked with soiled sheets and wadded-up towels.

“You may come in, Brother Andrews. It looks like they are all quite healthy.”

Selena met him at the doorway. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Congratulations, Daddy. We’ll wait out here. She’s pretty exhausted, so don’t plan to stay too long.”

Pepper was collapsed in the middle of the bed on her back. Bla
nket-wrapped and cradled in her left arm was a tiny person with a sweet red face, eyes pinched shut, and a shock of dark hair jutting out from under the wrap. In her right arm lay another round-faced cherub with closed eyes and a tiny pink bald head.

Bloodshot eyes. Her hair matted against her head. Chapped lips, almost white, e
xcept for a little blood on the lower one. But she showed a wide, dimpled smile. “They’re perfect, Tap. I looked them all over, and they’re perfect.” She started to sob.

“You done good, Mrs. Andrews. Really good.” Tap gawked at the two sleeping little ones. “Those have got to be the prettiest babies ever born on this earth.”