My Foot's in the Stirrup . . . My Pony Won't Stand (Code of the West) (16 page)

“You aren’t goin’ anywhere .
 . . yet.” Tap laid the barrel of his pistol on the temple of the younger man. “What are you Platte River Boys doin’ up here? I told you at Shaver’s I’d shoot anyone who followed us.”

“We ain’t followin’ you. Besides, we have a right to eat an
ywhere we want. That is, if we was hungry, which we ain’t.”

“Since you lost your appetite, you just walk real slow out to the corrals. I don’t want to shoot you right in front of the cafe. It might spoil someone’s supper.”

“You ain’t goin’ to shoot us,” one man cried out.

“You were ready to ambush me.”

“It ain’t nothin’ personal. We get fifty dollars each if we shoot you.”

“Who’s goin’ to pay you that?”

“Don’t tell him nothin’, Cotton.”

“You ain’t got the gun aimed at your head, Utah.”

“He won’t shoot you.”

“He shot Texas Jay.”

“Who’s goin’ to pay you?”

“Banner. Colton Banner said he would give us fifty dollars each if we killed you.”

“Cotton, shut your mouth.”

“Utah, ain’t you goin’ to do nothin’ to help me?” the younger one pleaded.

“I ain’t goin’ to do nothin’ to get your head shot off neither. Mister, we didn’t pull a gun on you, and we didn’t threaten your life. We told you the truth. Now we jist want to git on our horses and ride out of here. Ain’t no crime in that, is there?”

“If you come at me again, I’ll shoot you on sight. You know that, don’t you?”

“Mister, there’re easier ways to earn fifty dollars. You won’t see us.”

“Get out of here.” Tap motioned with the .44.

“Yes, sir. Come on, Utah, let’s lift some dust.”

“He’ll shoot us in the back with that Winchester.”

“That’s better than being shot in the head from only an inch away. Come on.”

Tap walked the men to their horses, his gun still pointed at them. As they rode south, he walked behind the hitched horses and shu
ffled around to Roundhouse’s right side.

If they swing back, I could be pinned in from both sides. And if they’ve got friends inside, it’s going to get mighty da
ngerous. Maybe I ought to sneak around to the back and pull Odessa out of there.

Tap had just loosed the big gray’s lead rope and looped it on the horn when two gun blasts sent him diving to the dirt in the street. Roundhouse reared, and Tap rolled in the dirt to keep from being trampled. He yanked his gun and pointed it toward the front door, but he could see nothing. The front doors of the cafe remained closed.

Inside? They’re shootin’ inside. Lorenzo? What’s he done? Maybe those two really were workin’ on their own. The others don’t even know I’m out here.

Grappling to his feet, Tap brushed the dirt off and glanced around to see if anyone was watching him. He quickly retied a jittery Roundhouse. His left leg almost gave out as he struggled up the steps. The front doors of the cafe swung open, and several men hu
stled out. All three went straight for their horses, ignoring Tap and leaving the front door open. With black hat pulled low and right hand on the walnut grip of his holstered .44, he slipped into the cafe.

Almost every gun in the room was pulled and pointed at the rear of the building where a man, holding a badly blee
ding shoulder, sprawled across the worn green felt-covered table. Standing at the back door, Lorenzo Odessa faced the crowd with his hands in the air and his pistol in his holster. The bitter taste of black powder filtered through the tobacco smoke. Wes Cabe was not in the room, nor was Colton Banner or Selena.

Tap slipped his gun out of his Mexican loop holster and pointed it at Odessa just like the others.

“Good work, boys,” Tap shouted. “You caught that polecat Odessa. Ought to be a reward for someone.”

An older man pointed to the wounded man. “Big Earl spo
tted him first.”

“Good work, Earl. You better get a doc to look at that shou
lder.”

Tap moved through the crowd toward Odessa. “You go for that gun, Lorenzo, and I’ll gut-shoot you and let you die a pai
nful death right on the floor of this cafe.”

“Andrews, you ain’t ever stopped me before, and you cain’t stop me now. Come on, let’s go outside. I’ll take you on one to one.”

“You aren’t takin’ on anyone. You’ll swing from the lamppost at Pine Bluffs when they find out the biggest rustler in the territory is caught. Where’s that no-good partner of yours?”

“He’s got a partner?” one of the men asked. They turned their guns on each other, scouting the crowd.

“A burnt-faced gambler with slick hands and a weak back. Wears a round brown hat and goes by the name of Wes Cabe. I’ve been followin’ his buckboard. It’s out there next to the corral. None of you happened to shoot him, did ya? There’s a reward for him, too.”

“I sold him a horse,” one man shouted.

“How do you know so much about rewards?” another asked.

“Because brand inspectors are supposed to know those things.”

“You claimin’ to be a brand inspector?”

“Hey,” a thin man at the back responded, “didn’t you used to be a deputy in Cheyenne?”

“Yep.”

“You the one that laid Del Gatto in the grave?”

“Yep.”

I have no idea if they are Del Gatto’s friends or enemies.

The man drawled, “I ain’t goin’ up against the man that leaded down old Alex Del Gatto.”

Several in the room holstered their guns. Some sat back down to supper.

“You say there is a reward for this hombre?” someone shouted.

“I guarantee that every penny I make off him I’ll send to Big Earl.”

“Go on, take your prisoner, brand inspector,” another man called out. “Besides, Big Earl drew first. He ain’t exactly the smartest man in Wyomin’.” Muted laughter sprang up around the room.

“What happened to Cabe?” Tap asked.

“He rode off with Banner.”

Cabe partnered up with Colton Banner? And I just sent Ba
nner’s boys down the trail to warn them. That was real smart.

“What about Miss Selena? Was she with them?”

“That purdy black-haired girl?”

“Yeah, what about her?” Tap demanded.

“I reckon she went with ’em. She’s been sick in her room for a couple of days. Ain’t none of us seen her.”

“They travel in a carriage?” Tap asked.

“No, sir, they all bought horses. My best bay mare, in fact. And two fast black geldings.”

“When did they leave?”

“Last night. You goin’ after them?”

“Depends on when I decide to shoot Odessa.”

“You goin’ to kill him?” one grizzled prospector with bright red hair asked.

“Not until he tries to escape. That reward is only good if he’s alive to testify in court.”

A big man with a long beard and rope suspenders boomed out, “I ain’t trustin’ him. Think I’ll just ride back to Pine Bluffs with ’em and collect that reward money myself.”

“Partner, that’s fine with me. Since you’re taggin’ along, how about you leadin’ Odessa’s blue roan around to the rail in front where my pony is hitched. He’s tied up in back, but don’t try to ride that horse. He’s too hot-blooded.”

“Horse ain’t been made I couldn’t ride,” the man blustered. His greasy britches were tucked into new stove-top black boots.

“Maybe so, but whatever you do, don’t mount that horse.” Tap insisted as he began shoving Odessa toward the front door.

“I’ll kill you, Andrews,” Odessa shouted. “So help me, I’ll tie you to a wagon wheel and burn your skin off just like those Apaches.”

“Odessa, I surely wish you’d just make a break for it so I could shoot you right now and save the county some money.”

Everyone in the room followed Tap and Lorenzo out the door to the porch. Most had their guns jammed back into their holsters. The bearded man meandered around the corner of the building leading the blue roan, who plodded along, head down, ears tucked back.

“I thought you said you could ride that horse, Owen,” som
eone shouted from the crowded porch.

“If a man tells me not to ride his horse, I don’t ride it. That’s the code,” he explained.

“Ride the outlaw and get your head busted up. I don’t give a hoot,” Odessa challenged.

“Don’t do it, Owen,” Tap protested. “He’s just tryin’ to get you hurt.”

“He gave you permission,” someone shouted.

“I heard him. I heard him!”

Owen grabbed the latigo with both hands and tightened the cinch. Then he looped the reins in his large, callused left hand as he grabbed the horn and jammed his left boot into the stirrup. Just as his full weight settled into the oxbow and he began to throw his right leg across the saddle, the blue roan broke loose, twisting to the right and kicking his hind legs skyward. On the third frantic buck, Owen catapulted right over the horse’s head and landed in the dirt on his right shoulder. The horse continued to buck and twist, spinning 180 degrees. Owen tried to sit up and caught the full force of both hind hooves right under his back shoulder blades. He flew through the air about twelve feet across the street, jumped up with nothing but the whites of his eyes peering out of his head, then fell unconscious, face first, into the street.

“I tried to tell him,” Tap shouted. “I guess this means Owen won’t be travelin’ with us. Keep Odessa covered.”

Tap led Roundhouse out to the middle of the street and mounted from the right side. The horse stood and waited for a signal.

That-a-boy. One bad horse is enough. Just stay calm, big boy.

The blue roan stopped bucking and stood deceptively calm in the middle of the street. Tap rode Roundhouse over behind him and pulled out his rifle. Flipping up the upper tang long-range peep sight, he motioned to the others with guns still drawn. “Let Odessa mount up.”

“What if he makes a run for it?” someone shouted.

“Then I get to shoot him.”

Odessa sauntered by Tap. “I kin hardly wait to put a knife in yer back, Andrews.”

“Just don’t get bucked off,” Tap grumbled in deep tones with his teeth clenched.

The blue roan didn’t buck a bit when Lorenzo Odessa mounted, but he did take off on a gallop south. Roundhouse immediately bolted right behind him. Tap clamped his knees tight and raced after Odessa.

They didn’t slow down until the buildings at Running Water sank out of sight on the northern horizon. Tap led them off the road to the east. They finally stopped on top of a ridge and looked back at the road.

“Anyone followin’ us?” Odessa asked, wiping the sweat off his face with his bandanna.

Tap took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “Nope.”

“I can’t believe we’ve been together only one day and a
lready had to make a break out of town.”

Tap shrugged. “Running Water’s not what I call a town. But I did have to bail you out. What in the world happened in there?”

“I just slipped in the back door, leaned up against the wall and watched the poker game, waitin’ for you to come in. This greasy-headed hombre with the Montana crease hat, the one they called Big Earl, looks up after losin’ a substantial pot. He spies me and yells, ‘You!’ Then he jumps to his feet and goes for his gun. Naturally, I decided it would be to my advantage to shoot first.”

“Who was he?”

“Don't know. We’ve been around too long, Tap. I don’t even remember ’em anymore. When I walk into a room, I can’t tell if it’s filled with friends or enemies. I didn’t reckon anyone knew me up here. I guess he didn’t like my looks.”

“That’s understandable.”

Odessa turned his horse and trotted alongside Tap as they headed east. “What took you so long, Andrews? Seems like I was camped in there with a room full of guns pointin’ at me for a long time.”

“I ran into a couple of the Platte River Boys standin’ on the porch who told me Banner had a fifty-dollar bounty on my head.”

“No foolin’?” Odessa pushed back his hat and grinned a mouthful of straight white teeth. “Fifty ain’t much, but it would buy me a new saddle and some tobacco.”

“You aren’t goin’ to collect it.” Tap frowned.

“What happened to those two on the porch?”

“I ran ’em off.”

“Without firin’ a shot?”

“Not ever’one has to shoot their way out of a fix.”

“He drew on me, Tap. What choice did I have?” Odessa griped. “So they hightailed it back to the North Platte to warn ’em all that you are on the trail.”

“At the time, I didn’t reckon Cabe had partnered up with ’em. Sounds a lot like two snakes sharin’ the same hole. I didn’t figure right.”

“Yeah. I didn’t calculate you’d sit out on the porch visitin’. I thought you’d bust through that door after you heard the shootin’. What were you waitin’ for—a formal invitation?”

“I .
 . . eh, I was flat on the ground.”

“Did they pin you down?”

“No. When I heard the shots, I surmised someone was throwin’ lead at me. I couldn’t figure why others weren’t coming out the front door. By the time I realized what was goin’ on, they had you nailed to the back wall. That’s not exactly what I planned on us doin’.”