I'm Off to Montana for to Throw the Hoolihan (Code of the West) (6 page)

“They didn’t .
 . . eh, you know . . .” Lorenzo glanced at the basement. Several sets of young eyes spied up through the flickering light.

“Yep. They did. The whole place smells like a barn.”

Odessa whistled. “I’ll bet Pepper pitched a fit.”

“No, she was too tired. She just said that if a stall was good e
nough for the baby Jesus, it was good enough for Lil’ Tap.”

“You have a baby?” Mrs. Miller asked from the stove.

“Not for a few more weeks, but the way he’s growin’ in there, it seems to me the doctor could have been wrong in his guess.” Tap pulled his soiled gray hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. A drop of water splashed on his ear. He glanced up to see a small, round hole in the tent above where he sat. “Those bushwhackers been shooting at your tent?”

The big man with the jet-black beard slammed his fist into his hand. “Yes. It was not enough to burn our crops right b
efore harvest. They are trying to scare us out. The bullets sometimes catch the tent on fire, and we have to douse them with water. In the morning we will sew them up.”

“They do this every night?” Tap asked.

“This was the first night since last week,” Ezra Miller replied.

“I don’t know who they are, but they aren’t cowhands. No rancher I ever met would threaten women and children.”

“We have a legal claim on this land. Everything north of the Slash-Bar-4 to the ridge of the mountains is available according to the government maps,” Miller reported.

“Fire a few shots back each time. That ought to make ’em stop and think.”

“We could never do that. It’s not right to take up a gun against a fellow human the Almighty has created in His image.”

“I didn’t mean kill them. Just toss some lead in their dire
ction. It’s surprisin’ how far back a man will move when lead’s flyin’.”

“What if a bullet hit someone quite by accident? No, I can’t take that chance.”

“So you’ll just let them fire away until they hit the wife or kids?”

“The Lord is our protection. He will provide.”

“Maybe He provided you with a good rifle and a box of shells,” Tap suggested.

The man shook his head firmly, his face stoic.

Mrs. Miller set a plate of boiling stew and cold biscuits in front of Tap.

“Thank you, ma’am. Sure am sorry these old boys won’t let you alone. I should’ve plugged ’em when I had a chance.”

“Oh, my, no. We couldn’t bear to have that on our conscience.”

Tap ate then turned to Lorenzo. “Can you ride?”

“You bring me a saddle horse?”

“Peanut.”

“Let’s go.”

“It’s too dark to ride,” Mr. Miller protested. “Please stay the night.”

“Thanks, brother, but I’ve got a wife needin’ me home tomorrow, and Odessa here is gettin’ married on Saturday. We better head out.” He noticed Peter Miller by the tent flap. “Son, could you bring those two ponies around?”

The boy disappeared into the shadows.

“Ma’am, this is about the best-tastin’ stew in the territory. You are all invited to the headquarters on Sunday afternoon for a little shindig celebratin’ Lorenzo and Selena gettin’ married.”

“Thank you, sir, but we don’t travel on the Sabbath,” Miller r
eplied.

Tap took one more bite and then stood to leave. “I unde
rstand that, brother. But do come and see us sometime. Mrs. Andrews would be delighted to talk to someone who can give her some advice on deliverin’ this child.”

Lorenzo gathered up his belongings and hobbled out to the yard with Tap. Mr. and Mrs. Miller stood by the tent as Tap shoved Lorenzo up on the horse and then climbed up on his own mount.

Tap touched his spurs softly on Roundhouse’s flanks. The horse bucked once, then settled to a trot into the darkness.

3

W
hen the heavy clouds finally blew east, the temperature dropped. Tap and Lorenzo arrived back at Cedar Mesa about daybreak. Huddled around a small, hot fire, they boiled coffee in their cups and warmed their fingers and noses.

“I’ve been bouncin’ along on Peanut all night tryin’ to fi
gure out who was shootin’ at me, Tap. If they hate me that much, how come they didn’t try to finish me off? I don’t have any enemies up here. I haven’t been in the territory more than a couple weeks.”

“Don’t take it personal. I figure someone was tryin’ to steal a few cows. You caught up with ’em, and they dropped your pony so you wouldn’t follow them.”

Lorenzo’s streaked beard looked several days old. His bushy blond hair curled wildly out from under the well-worn wide-brimmed felt hat. “You got that right, partner. If they were wantin’ to finish me off, they could’ve just rode out there and plugged me.”

“But that doesn’t tell us who opened up the yard and house.”

“Nor why those old boys are so dead set at scarin’ off the Quakers. Welcome to Montana Territory, Tap. I guess it’s still a little wild up here.”

Lorenzo’s splinted leg stuck out to the side of him like a branch on a tree. Dirt caked Tap’s clothes. He could feel the dried mud on his face and neck, acquired from crawling through the brush. He began to laugh.

“Okay, Andrews, where’s the humor in this?” Lorenzo demanded.

“Look at us. Lorenzo Odessa and Tapadera Andrews, Mo
ntana ranchers. We both look like we’ve been drug behind a chuck wagon for forty miles.”

“Did you think this ranchin’ thing was goin’ to be easy?” Lorenzo challenged.

“Nope. But I did figure we were in charge of things. So far, all I’ve done is run around and try to straighten out one crisis after another.”

“But you ain’t bored.”

Tap took one last swig of coffee and then poured the grounds out into the fire. “No, never bored. Come on, partner, let’s get down the slope before Mama frets herself into labor.”

“Okay, Daddy. Whew-eee! Now there’s somethin’ that sounds really strange.”

“I’m kind of gettin’ used to it myself. Your turn is comin’ soon enough, Odessa.”

“It’s goin’ to be a wonderful weddin’ with the groom in a splint.”

“I got a pretty good idea Selena won’t complain at all. Come on, Limpy, let me shove you up into the saddle.”

“Yes, sir, Daddy Tap.”

The sun hazed straight above the barn when Tap and Lorenzo reached headquarters. The dull rays seemed to cool the bluish gray cloudless sky. Angelita waited for them at the gate.

“Mr. Odessa, what happened to your leg?”

“That worthless pony of mine decided to die right on top of it.”

Angelita swung open the gate. Both ponies promenaded through. “But what about the wedding? You can’t have a we
dding like that, can you?”

“I told you before, Angelita, I’m marryin’ Selena. Don’t you try talkin’ me out of it again,” Odessa teased. “You and me wouldn’t work out anyway. You’re too purdy, and I’m too mean.”

Angelita jammed her hands on her hips. “That’s obvious. I just can’t imagine how for a minute you’d think I could see anything in the likes of you.”

“You don’t cut an ol’ boy no slack, do ya?”

“No, I don’t. And you should say, ‘any slack,’ not ‘no slack.’”

“I’m beginnin’ to think I like havin’ our cottage way on the other side of the barn.” Lorenzo gazed in admir
ation at the small house.

“It won’t help, because Miss Selena said I could come visit you any time I wanted.” Angelita pulled herself up b
ehind Tap, and they rode to the big house.

Pepper lounged on a couple of pillows stuffed in an old wooden rocking chair.

“Are you two drifters lookin’ for a job? Have you worked cattle before, or did you just get trampled by a herd of buffalo?”

“Miss Pepper, surely good to see you lookin’ so—so—,” Odessa stammered.

“Watch your language, boy. You’re flirtin’ with death,” she warned.

“Lookin’ so .
 . . healthy,” Odessa concluded.

“Healthy? Is that another word for fat?”

Tap dismounted and let the reins drop to the ground. “Angelita, how about you dragging me and Lorenzo out a pan of biscuits and beans? We’re too dirty to eat in the house. I’ll put up the horses, and then we’ll tell you the whole story.”

Wrapped in a long dark green apron Angelita had to tie, u
ntie, and retie, Pepper carried dishes to the sink. “We’ve got a wonderful porch all the way around the house, and already it’s too cold most of the time to sit out on it. Winter’s not here yet, and I’m already wishin’ for spring.” From the kitchen window Pepper watched the sun slip beneath the western horizon.

“You look like you’re feelin’ better,” Tap commented.

“Yes, it’s surprising how a few nights in a featherbed will perk a girl up.” She meandered back toward the fireplace where Tap stoked the fire. “This seemed like a huge abandoned land when you were gone. But with you home and Lorenzo out in the cottage, it feels as safe and secure as McCurleys’ Hotel. Maybe more so. Around here I don’t have strange men always trying to make silly conversation.”

“You braggin’ or complainin’?”

Pepper stuck out her tongue and plopped down on the sofa. “Well, Mr. Rancher Man, what do we do now?”

“I’ve been surmisin’.”

“I figured that.”

Tap finished poking at the fire and stepped over next to her. “I’d like to ride into Billings in the morning early. I want to hire someone to look after the place, feed the horses, and cook for the bunkhouse crew when we have one. You know—a hea
dquarters man. We need someone who’s equally at home tossin’ a flapjack or a hooley.”

“A hooley?”

“A hoolihan. You know, when you rope a horse.”

“I’ve never roped a horse in my life.” She lifted her ey
ebrows. “Although I did lasso this Arizona drover one time.”

“Horses are tougher to rope than drovers,” he chided. “You can’t spin a loop ’round and ’round over your head and expect to catch a cayuse. A hoolihan is just one quick whirl and a toss at the pony. It takes skill to rope horses out of a pen.”

Pepper thought about trying to sit up straight and brush down her dress. Instead she leaned her head against the sofa cushion and closed her eyes. “You think you can just ride to town and find someone like that?”

“I’m hopin’, ’cause I’m not lookin’ forward to us all pullin’ out of here for the weddin’ on Saturday. Until things settle down to a ro
utine, I need someone here.”

“Will Mr. Odessa go with you tomorrow?”

“Nope. Figure he needs to rest up for the big day Saturday. And you’ll have Angelita with you. How does that sound?”

“Lonely.” She faked a pout.

“I’ll be home by dark, darlin’. I just can’t see any other way for all of us to go to the weddin’ and still keep the ranch safe.”

“Angelita will want to go with you.”

“It might seem strange leavin’ you here alone with a lame Odessa.”

“It would seem stranger leavin’ me here with a healthy Odessa,” she joked.

“Right at the moment you do look ravishing.”

“Love is truly blind. Right at the moment I look well-ravished. Really, Tap, why don’t you take Angelita? She’s been scrubbing this house for three days while I watched from a chair.”

“I’ll ask her. ’Course I don’t know if she’d want to travel with me.”

The high voice filtered downward from the top of the stairs like a feather on a light breeze. “I’ll go.”

“Lil’ darlin’, I thought you were in bed.”

“Obviously I’m not. Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll keep an eye on him and see he stays out of trouble.”

“I’m sure that should be a great comfort to me. But somehow sending the two of you to town seems kind of like mixing dynamite with matches. Sooner or later everything’s going to blow up.”

Right after daybreak Pepper waved from the window as A
ngelita and Tap rode saddle horses out the front gate. She thought about watching them until they rode out of sight, but the ranch house was built with a view down the slope of the mountainside almost to the river. After ten minutes of watching their backsides, Pepper returned to her sewing folded on the end of the brown leather couch.

Now, Lord, you know I’m kind of new at this faith bus
iness. I don’t know a whole lot about how You lead, but this place surely seems like home, cows in the kitchen and all. The minute I waddled in, I knew this is where we’re goin’ to stay.

That was what I thought about the Triple Creek Ranch down in Colorado too, but that was before I walked in this door. I just wanted to say thanks, Lord. A little over a year ago I was drin
king watered-down whiskey and dancing every night at April’s.

Please, Lord, let this baby be born healthy. I don’t think I could handle lo
sing another one. And then, Lord, when You come to take my Tap home, don’t let him die on some far-off lonely mountain. Let it be in my arms, Lord . . . please. The only thing scares me more than him dying is he might die all alone.