It's Your Misfortune and None of My Own (Code of the West) (7 page)

“You see,” put in Quail, “the old boy who had this place last was a little careless about his friends. Some say a band of ru
stlers and bank thieves were campin’ in here. So Casey felt he needed to have control down here too.”

“And if he gets liquored up,” Quail added, “he’ll pull a gun to get his way.” He downed his coffee and walked toward the door. “We’d better be headin’ back.”

“You boys are welcome to stay for supper. Can’t promise it will be too fancy.”

“No, sir .
 . . eh, Tap, it will be after dark before we make camp as it is. But we surely do thank you for the welcome.”

They all hiked back out to the yard.

“Water up those ponies and grab a little hay from the barn,” Tap offered.

“Thank ya, we’ll do that. Say, you’ve spent a little time pus
hing someone else’s cattle, haven’t ya?”

“Many a long, long day, boys. Now whenever you need to come this way, plan on pu
ttin’ up with us. There isn’t room in the house, but you can always camp out in the barn, whether we’re home or not.”

“We? You got family, Tap?” Quail mounted the gray horse.

“Not yet. But I’m seriously thinkin’ of takin’ a wife.”

Wiley grinned. “Oh, that’s fine, mighty fine. And if you throw a big dance, be sure and send us up an invite.”

“I’ll do it, boys. And thanks for the visit.”

They left the barn and waved at Tap who tugged the ma
ttress off the porch roof. He watched them ride north.

They certainly think I’m Hatcher. I hope Miss Su
zanne Cedar from Kentucky is as easy to fool, ’cause I sure am startin’ to like this place.

That evening Tap checked on the horses and examined the corrals, which he found in good shape. He cooked hi
mself a little supper, trimmed up the four lanterns he found in working condition, and fed the cat some scraps. She took up residence in front of the fireplace.

By the time the sun sank behind Pinkham Mountain, Tap had washed up and flopped into a chair he had dragged out on the front porch of the ranch house. He sat staring to the south. The hot coffee from the thick porcelain cup, which had a chip out of the handle, steamed his still unshaven face.

“You know, Hatcher, no wonder you hated dyin’. Heaven can’t be a whole lot better than this. And that other place—the one down below—it’s got to be just about the opposite of this ranch. No matter what Miss Suzanne Cedar looks like, you have yourself a gold mine of contentment.

“This is all I ever wanted. Just a place to take care of, an o
peration that pays the food bills. Some place out of the way, where I’m free to laugh and love and raise a family. A place where no one tries to run my life.”

Leaning back in the chair, he noticed the gray and white cat had come out the partially open door. He patted his lap, and the cat i
mmediately jumped up and settled down.

“Now look, cat. I don’t have much use for your type, so you’ll have to toe the line.” Tap petted long strokes down the an
imal’s back. “And I can’t name you until Miss Suzanne gets here. I don’t want cat hair spread all over my house, or you’ll be living out there with Brownie and Onespot. Have you got all that?”

The cat purred.

That’s what every man wants. A quiet place of his own. That’s what drove Daddy to the gold fields of Tuolumne Creek in ’49. He was goin’ to make it big and then settle down. That’s all Mama, bless her métis soul, ever wanted. She followed Daddy to every gold and silver camp in three counties. She would have loved to come out on this porch and just sit. That’s what Stoddard was after. Three more years in the army, and then he would have retired. But the Second Cavalry, D Troop, fought at Rosebud with General Crook, and he took it full in that handsome face of his. Maybe someday down the line, I could bring his remains down here and bury him on this mountain.

Tap Andrews the cowboy, gambler, s
aloon owner, hired gun. That old boy at Mexican Wells called me a ladies’ man. All I ever wanted was one to settle down with. But I never had anything to offer her. A man’s got to have something to bring her home to.

I could make her a good husband. I really could. But she d
eserves something better than a lyin’ drifter. Tap, she wouldn’t give you the time of day if she knew who you really are. Your type’s down there in the cantina at Mexican Wells.

Shoot, maybe Miss Cedar will sell me the ranch. But I don’t have any money. Maybe she’ll go back east and let me run the place. Then I’ll ride back down to Arizona and find a wife and .
 . . no. I can’t go back.

This is it.

This is my one chance.

I don’t plan on missin’ it. Miss Cedar, you’re expecting a fine, upstandin’ Christian gentleman rancher, and that’s e
xactly what you’re goin’ to get. Sittin’ on my porch. Enjoyin’ the sunset. I do believe this is why I was created.

“You know, cat, by tomorrow this dream might all be smoke, but I am going to enjoy it tonight.”

Until it got too dartk to see, Tap cleaned his rifle and his revolver. With a buckhorn folding knife, he scraped a dozen brass casings clean and carefully reloaded the shells. His bullet belt was filled when he re-entered the house.

That night Tap lay in bed reading Zachariah Hatcher’s B
ible. He started out trying to memorize the whole Hatcher family, whose names were inscribed on the first few pages. Then he began to scan the text and read a few of the verses Hatcher had marked.

Finally, he carefully laid the Bible on the long dresser and turned off the lantern. Moonlight filtered through the cu
rtain-less window.

“If she quizzes you about the Bible, you’re in big trouble.”

He cocked the Winchester ’73, set the hammer on safety, and leaned it against the log wall by the headboard. Then he hung his holster and bullet belt on the bedpost.

He pulled out the Colt, opened the cylinder, slipped one more .44-40 into the sixth cha
mber, and dropped it back into the holster.

He crawled under the covers, lay on his back, scrunched the worn-down pillow under his head. In an instant he dozed to deep sleep.

Stack Lowery was not noted as a conversationalist. He had the unusual dual talents of playing the piano and throwing drunks out of saloons owned by April Hastings. Pepper and the other girls knew he was the only man alive who would literally die to protect them. Stack was every girl’s loyal brother. It was well into afternoon before Pepper got him started talking.

“You know, Stack, this sure is beautiful country out here, isn’t it? Just look down there at that va
lley. Why, some big old ranch house would make it sort of look like Heaven. You know what I love about this country? It’s big and fresh and clean. Sometimes I feel kind of dirty out in the open . . . like I better scrub up, or they won’t let me live here.”

“Where you going to go, Miss Pepper?” Stack asked. “I sure hate to see you leave Miss April. Maybe you could go back and talk to her. You and her’s been together for an a
wful long time. She’s more reasonable in the mornin’, you know.”

“Stack .
 . . I want something better than that dance hall. All of us do. Me, Danni Mae, Nevada, Paula, even Selena. It was supposed to be a place to work until something else came along. Nothin’ came. Not eight years ago, not this year. So I’m goin’ to find somethin’ else.”

“I hear Bob McCurley got his place open near the North Platte. I’m going right by there. I did him a favor last spring. I could ask him to give you a job.”

“I’m not workin’ in any more saloons or dance halls. I’m not goin’ to do it. I knew it last night with Jordan Beckett. That’s the last man who’s ever goin’ to lay a hand on me without me invitin’ him first.”

“Miss Pepper, maybe you ought to go back to Denver. I hear they got all sorts of respec
table jobs in Denver these days.”

“No cities. No saloons. No crowded rooms. I want the wide open skies and a warm fir
eplace. This is big country. . . . There’s got to be room for everyone out here. Even someone like me.”

“You know, I heard a man say that up in Wyomin’ there’s some women homesteadin’ their own place. Maybe you could go up there. Say, you got any money, Miss Pepper? I got five cash dollars, and you know you’re we
lcome to it.”

Pepper gazed back at Suzanne Cedar’s leather valise.

“No, Stack, thank you. I have some money. Now what did you tell me about this McCurley fellow’s place?”

“I hear he opened a nice little hotel and eatin’ place over by the North Platte. It ain’t no dive.”

“Could you drive me over there?”

“Surely. You want that job after all?”

“No, I want to rent a buggy. Do you think he’ll have any horses?”

“I reckon so, Miss Pepper. You fixin’ to go for a ride?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a ranch I’ve just got to take a look at. Stack, I’ve got to ask you to do me a big favor. Can you help me?”

“Yes, ma’am .
 . . I’ll help if I can. What do you want me to do for you?”

“Lie.”

“Come again?”

“I need you to tell this Bob McCurley fellow that my name is Suzanne Cedar and I just came in from Denver. Please, Stack, can you do that?”

He was silent for a couple minutes.

“Sure, Miss Pepper, I’ll tell him. Shoot, how do I know what your real name is?”

“It’s Aimee. Aimee Paige.”

“That’s a pretty name. It sounds like one of them San Fra
ncisco society ladies. You don’t think my mama named me Stack, do ya? My real name’s Henry.”

“How did you get the name Stack?”

“I was bouncing drunks in Seattle. You ever been there? Don’t go there, Miss Pepper. It’s a mean town. Every night I’d haul out five or six and just stack them up like cordwood on the wharf. So they started calling me Stack. How about you; how did you get to be Pepper?”

“I don’t remember too much. On my first day in school, when I was just a little girl, this big kid grabbed my pigtails and teased me about my yellow hair.”

“So what did you do?”

“I busted his nose ’til it bled, and he ran home crying. From then on, everybody just seemed intent on calling me Pepper.”

“So now you’re going to be Miss Suzanne Cedar and find a rancher husband? Danni Mae told me a little about that gal we buried.”

“I’m going to give it a try, Stack. I could make a man a good wife. I can cook. I can sew. I can ride. I can work hard. And you know I can dance.”

“Miss Pepper, you can dance like no other girl can dance.”

She took a deep breath and sighed.

“Am I just kiddin’ myself, Stack? Do you really think I could pull it off?”

“Yep. Providin’ that he don’t pull your pi
gtails and make fun of yer yeller hair.” He grinned.

It was almost dark when they rolled into Bob McCurley’s place. It was the proprietor himself who met them at the st
able.

“Stack Lowery, I never thought I’d see you this far west.”

“Oh, the pass got washed out, and we need some supplies, Mr. McCurley.”

“You’ll be spending the night then?”

“I’ll just bunk in the barn, if you don’t mind. But this lady will need a room for the night.”

“Surely.” McCurley tipped his hat to Pepper and stared at her. “Eh .
 . . it seems like I should know your name, ma’am. Have we met? I’m Bob McCurley.”

Sitting straight-backed and tipping her head only slightly, she smiled. “I’m Miss Suzanne Cedar. I’m afraid I’m so new around here I don’t know a soul.”

“I knowed it. I knowed it! Why, I almost guessed you was the one.”

“The one what?”

“The one with golden hair and green eyes. Early this morning a fella came in for supplies. He just bought a ranch north of here, and he said he was lookin’ out for a green-eyed, golden-haired lady by the name of Suzanne Cedar. And, ma’am, you’re jist as pretty as he described. Let’s see, what was his name? Hancock? No, Hatcher. That’s it. Zachariah Hatcher.”

“He was here?”

“Yes, miss, and I do declare he was anxious to see you.”

“Is it possible to ride out to that ranch this evening?”

“I’m afraid it would take the most part of a day. And I’m not real sure where the place is, but from the description, it would be just about on the state line.”

“In that case, I’d like to have a room for the night.”

That evening at the supper table Pepper was introduced to the other guests as Miss Suzanne Cedar. The meal was tasty, the conversation light and pleasant, the company congenial.

Later, in her well-furnished large room, she lay under clean cotton sheets amidst ruffles and lace and stared at the dark ceiling. Ever
ything seemed so peaceful.

No shots fired in the street.

No fights downstairs.

No women screaming, cussing, or crying.

And none of the men tried to waltz her up to her bedroom.