It's Your Misfortune and None of My Own (Code of the West) (14 page)

I must leave in the morning no matter how bad the weather might be.

It was still very dark in her room when Pepper woke up and stared upward, trying to focus on her ceiling. She had purposely pushed back the curtains after she turned off the lamp the previous night so that the morning daylight might awaken her. But it was not daylight. The sheets felt cold at her feet, but the big bed was so soft and comfortable she didn’t want to get up.

Ranch wives get up early to .
 . . eh, feed the chickens or milk the cows or gather the eggs or something. Will Tap expect me to get up early? Maybe we shouldn’t have a bed this comfortable. My bed at Pingree Hill was so lumpy I had a backache by morning. I don’t want a lumpy bed.

With her hands she reached up from under the covers and combed back her blonde hair with her fingers.

Why does Miss Suzanne Cedar always have to pin her hair up? Why can’t she just let it blow in the breeze like a little girl? Someday I’m going to wear comfortable clothes and let my hair down. I’m goin’ to say, “World, this is Pepper Paige and . . .” I mean, I’ll say, “This is Pepper Hatcher and you better like me the way I am.” Pepper Hatcher? That sounds horrible. Maybe I should have Tap call me Suzanne after all.

She folded the covers back, slipped her wool-stocking-covered feet onto the cold hard wood floor, and felt her way over to the lamp. The bedroom filled with glowing light. Clo
sing the curtains, she shuffled over to the wash basin on the dresser and poured some water into the bowl.

As she washed, she stared into the mirror.

It ain’t been an easy life, old girl, has it? No, ma’am. But you’re doin’ okay now. You bring that parson back, and you could have a wedding in a day or two. You ride out and find him today no matter what.

She dressed methodically, and warm, checking out each layer of clothing in the mirror as she pulled it on.

I will wear my plain brown dress and my simplest hat. Perhaps I will remove the feather—especially if it’s raining. I can wear my cape and my long coat. I could borrow an umbrella, but not horseback . . . Okay, perhaps I could. Oh, it cain’t rain—not today, Lord, not today.

For a split second Pepper thought about praying .
 . . but instead, she mumbled to herself, “Girl, you ain’t prayed since your mama died. He didn’t answer you then. He sure ain’t goin’ to answer you now.”

She opened the curtains to reveal the first light of dawn and then sorted through the contents of her large handbag. The money was still there, as were several personal items and her small revolver. Several extra bullets were scattered about the bottom of the bag.

Walking down the curving staircase, she could smell breakfast cooking in the kitchen. Seeing no one in the parlor or dining room, she stepped to the front porch just as Bob McCurley drove a small one-seat carriage to the front of the hotel.

The early morning chill cooled her cheeks and hands. Pe
pper dug into her bag and pulled out some gloves.

“Can you saddle me a horse now, Mr. McCurley?”

“Nope.”

“But I told you I would need one first thing today.”

“Now, missy, you can’t go ridin’ out through these rain-slick hills on a pony. It ain’t ladylike, no matter how good a horsewoman you might have been back east. Besides, the only way over to that Reverend after a storm is to take the road to Fort Collins. When we get to Pingree Hill, we can check to see if the Reverend has made it that far. If he ain’t, we’ll turn toward Jack Rand’s place. If he’s already been there, we’ll chase him down even if we have to go to Fort Collins.”

“We? What do you mean, we?” she demanded.

“Oh, Mrs. McCurley and me has been discussin’ it, and we decided we couldn’t send you out in this weather with all the dangers around. I’m goin’ to drive you wherever you want.”

“Oh, no,” she groaned. “I must do it myself.”

“What kind of man would I be—sending you out into this?”

Sure. That’s all I need—having the McCurleys find out from April who I really am. I won’t go there with anyone from over here—ever.

“You aren’t sending me anywhere. I’ll be fine with the team. You will rent them to me, won’t you?”

“Rent? I ain’t rentin’ them. If you take this buggy, it’s on me. But I don’t think you understand the dangers.”

“Mr. McCurley, I understand the danger much more clearly than you imagine. I appreciate your concern, but I insist that I go alone, as I already mentioned.”

“I figured you’d say that, so I had the missus pack you a di
nner in a basket. And I’ve laid out a couple of lap quilts there for ya. Now I hope you ain’t offended, but there’s a short little ten-gauge shotgun layin’ on the floorboard. You just pump it once, and it’s ready to fire. Have you ever shot one of them?”

“More times than I’d like to admit,” she acknowledged. “You know—hunting back in Kentucky.”

Within a matter of minutes she had the one-horse buggy rolling out of the yard and up the winding road that led eventually to Fort Collins. She soon found that if she sat in the very middle of the seat, she was fairly safe from the mud that flew from the wheels, but that position made her susceptible to whatever was flung off the horse’s hooves. The only remedy she found was to sit in the middle and drive the horse slowly.

Mr. McCurley had drawn a map to Rand’s ranch, either by going to Pingree Hill or by taking another slower route. He also mentioned several families who might put her up for the night since it wasn’t possible to return in one day.

For several miles she bounced along, getting a feel for the rig. After a while she arrived at an understanding with the horse, who would go at a pleasant pace and then begin to veer to the right when he was tired and wanted a rest.

She hoped she would meet no one along the way, but she knew that was an impossibility. The few riders who passed her just tipped their hats and rode on.

As they should do to any respectable rancher’s wife, like myself. Well, almost his wife.

Pepper had convinced herself that she would take the slower route no matter how much longer it took. But by the time she rested the horse and ate her noon meal, she knew that she had to hurry to Pingree and determine whether the Reverend had passed through yet.

Danni Mae or Stack or someone will come to the porch, and I’ll ask them without even getting out of the buggy. I’ll need no more than a minute to figure it out.

The muddy road slowed her pace dramatically, and she was surprised that it was getting dark when she came down the grade and saw April’s Pingree Hill Dance Hall & Elegant Saloon come into view. She wished she were back in her warm, clean room at the McCurley Hotel, or even better, tucked away in her own home out at the Triple Creek Ranch. Some people named Kasdorf had a place several miles south on the road to Rand’s ranch, and the McCurleys had assured her they would be happy to put her up for the night.

She stopped the rig a mile before the dance hall and picked up the cold shotgun. After rechecking the chamber for a shell, she laid it on her lap between the two blankets.

Taking a deep breath, she slapped the reins and drove the team as close to the dance hall as the horses at the hitching rail would allow. The piano rang above the laughter and shouts. No one came to the door or seemed to notice her presence.

After several awkward moments, two men covered with mud from what looked like a long ride rode in from the east and pulled up at the end of the rail.

“Excuse me, could I have a word with one of you?” Pe
pper called.

The younger of the two strutted across the wooden porch in front of April’s, purposely banging his heels and ringing the jinglebobs on his spurs. He tipped his dark hat back, r
evealing a white forehead above a dirty, unshaven face.

“Now, miss, if you’re lookin’ for a dancin’ par
tner, you couldn’t find no one better than Tobiah Maxwell.”

“And I suppose you are Tobiah Maxwell?”

“Yes, ma’am. Now if you’ll just let my pard’ park that buggy, I’d be more than happy to acquaint you with the delights of this establishment.”

“Do you seriously think I look like the type of woman who would enter such a place as this?” Pepper raged.

“I thought you reminded me of . . . but I reckon you don’t. What was it you wanted?”

“I believe there is a piano player by the name of Stack Lo
wery inside. Would you please go ask him to step out here for a minute?”

The other man walked up to his side and gave Pepper a look. “Ain’t I seen you before?” he asked.

“Most assuredly you have not,” she insisted.

Looking up and down the road, the man grinned, expo
sing tobacco-stained teeth. “You know, we have ways of convincing you to come inside.” He leered.

Pepper pulled back the top blanket revealing the shotgun to the startled men.

“Yes, and if you try one of them, you will find yourself with a hole the size of a plate somewhere between your heart and your knees. Is that clear?”

“Eh .
 . . yes, ma’am, I’ll get the piano player,” the younger one stammered. “Come on, Boyd, this place is full of easy girls. Ain’t no reason to wrestle with a shotgun.”

Both men turned and went inside. In a few minutes she heard the piano cease, but the shouts and laughter conti
nued. Then Stack Lowery stepped out the door.

“Miss Pepper. Or is it Miss Cedar?”

“Miss Cedar, thank you.”

“Is everything going according to plan?”

“Actually, it is. I’m over here to find out if a Reverend has passed through here in the past couple of days. I need him to come over and do the weddin’ for us.”

“You really gettin’ married, Pepper?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that wild?”

“Do you like him?”

“Who?”

“That rancher. The one you’re going to marry. Does he treat you good?”

“Stack, Tap’s really a nice man, and I like him very much. He doesn’t treat me rough at all. ‘Course, I don’t know him much yet. But I need to know about a Reverend.”

“I just got back late last night myself. So I’ll have to ask. Let me check with April.”

“Don’t tell her I’m out here. I’m not interested in visitin’ with nobody.”

“She’s bound to see you sittin’ out here in the open. Why don’t you drive it over behind DiCinni’s barn? I’ll nose around and meet you there. Did you hear about Selena?”

“Did she run away?”

“No, but I guess a night or so after you left, Jordan Beckett came in here all fired up about someone shootin’ his horses. Some punchers started grindin’ on him about how a dance-hall girl buffaloed him the other night. He was lookin’ for you, threatenin’ to settle the score. When he found out you was gone, he went crazy, shootin’ up the place. I knowed I should never have left Miss April.

“I guess he picked out Selena for a dance and gets kind of rough. He was twistin’ her arm and tearin’ her dress. The others were afraid to stop him. She got where she wouldn’t take it no more and pulls a knife on him. He gained a couple of new scratches, and busted her across the face with his fist. She got pretty well beat up before the boys could pull him off. Yeah, Miss Pepper, I surely wish I would have been here.”

“It isn’t your fault there are jerks around like Jordan Bec
kett.”

“It’s almost sundown. You’ll need a place to stay for the night. How about me slipping you in the back door. You could hole up in my room. I can sleep out in the saloon.”

“Do you know some people named Kasdorf that live south of here?”

“I believe so.”

“That’s where I’m going to spend the night.”

“Good. I didn’t know they was friends of yours. They seem like sort of the religious type.”

“They are friends of the McCurleys.”

“Of course, that would be a mighty fine place to stay. Now pull over there, and I’ll see what I can find out. What was that feller’s name?”

“I believe it was Rev. Houston—a Methodist. But I’ll take any clergyman you can find. It doesn’t matter much to me. I don’t know one from another.”

Stack re-entered the dance hall, and Pepper drove the buggy behind the barn that served mainly as a livery for the dance hall and saloon. Seeing no one around, she let the horse drink at the trough and then climbed down and pulled some hay down for the horse. She peeked around the barn to see if Stack was headed her way. He wasn’t. She climbed back on the buggy seat, opened the dinner basket, and pulled out a stra
wberry-jammed biscuit.

She was starting to get quite cold when she heard foo
tsteps coming toward the barn. She slipped her hands under the blanket and clutched the shotgun.

“Miss Pepper?” Stack’s familiar voice rang out. “Miss C
edar?” He came around the corner. “Listen, I learnt that Rev. Houston is down at Jack Rand’s place, but should be headin’ this way. April sent word down to him that a woman died and didn’t have a proper buryin’. She’s hopin’ he’ll stop by and do the honors.”

“That’s good news.”

“About him havin’ a proper service for that Cedar girl?”