It's Your Misfortune and None of My Own (Code of the West) (16 page)

“You mind if I hang around and wait to see him?”

“You really want that horse that bad?”

“Yep.”

“You can’t stay in here. This is for customers only. But there ain’t no harm in you hanging out around the barn. You put your horse in the woods?”

“How’d you know?”

“
’
Cause that’s what I’d do if I were you. You ain’t really plannin’ on buyin’ that horse, are you, mister?”

“No, actually .
 . .”

Stack motioned him outside. “I’ll walk you out to the barn. Bring your coffee if you want.”

Once outside Tap glanced up at the big man. “What’s this all about?”

“Didn’t want none to hear inside. You’re Hatcher, ain’t ya?”

“You know me?”

“Ain’t met you but, a lady in a buggy came through here last night. She happened to mention a rancher by the name of Tap Hatcher.”

“Miss Cedar? She was here? Why?”

“Lookin’ for a parson.”

“Where did she go?”

“She was headed down the road south to some folks called Kasdorf. But if she didn’t find the Reverend there, she was going to ride all the way to Jack Rand’s place. That’s a good twenty-five or thirty miles away.”

“Thanks, Stack. I’m glad to hear that she’s safe.”

“Mister, don’t take
’
em all on yourself. Someone will slip around and shoot you in the back.”

“I’m goin’ to catch a nap back in those trees. If you ha
ppen to see Beckett or one of the others before I do, give me a shout or something.”

“If I catch Beckett alone, there won’t be nothin’ left of him for you to shoot. He shouldn’t have gone and beat up on Selena like that.”

Tap checked on his horses, led them deeper back into the trees, and found some fairly dry ground under a big fir tree. He unrolled his bedroll part of the way and sat on it leaning against the tree trunk. He could see the road leading into Pingree Hill, both from the east and from the west. His view of the dance hall itself was partially blocked by the trees.

The day blew clear, but the breeze was strong and cool. With his Winchester rifle across his knees, he sat perfectly still and leaned his head against the tree, flattening the back brim of his beaver felt hat.

If Beckett isn’t coming back for some time, I should ride south and find Pepper. But that would leave this undone. I can’t have this horse-stealin’ hanging over me.

Miss Cedar, why on earth didn’t you just wait at McCurleys’? You can’t go runnin’ around the countryside any old time you want. There’s a plan to all of this, woman. I can take care of you if you follow the plan.

He tried to focus on watching the roads, but the thoughts of Suzanne Cedar riding off into the wilds of the Rocky Mountains kept nagging at him.

Tap, just forget about them wrecking the house and stealin’ your horse. Go find her .
 . . Go find the parson. Get yourself married, boy. Don’t let this blow up so close to the finish line.

Within minutes he had a dozen reasons bouncing through his mind why he should go on and find Pepper. But none of them convinced him to leave his position.

Now, Lord, this is me—Tap Andrews. I ain’t prayin’ for myself, mind ya. I don’t got no right for that. But, Pepper, you know, Miss Cedar? She’s one of yours and she doesn’t know this country. It attracts some of the best men and some of the worst. And bein' from the East, it will take her a while to tell the difference. So protect her and help her to do the right thing.

Tap let his mind roam back to other times he had prayed. In prison, when Stuart Brannon had him pinned into the rocks outside of Prescott. When his mother died. He a
lways figured that if there was a God, He was a long ways off.

But this time it felt different.

It’s almost like God is listenin’. It’s a little scary. That would foul things up. I surely don’t need a guilty conscience over this trick I’m playin’ on Miss Cedar.

Tap pulled his hat low over his eyes and leaned his head against the tree again.

I’ll just close my eyes for a minute and give my mind a little rest.

It was like a distant Fourth of July celebration. Som
ewhere through the trees a muffled “pop,” “pop” and then a cheer. Or a shout. Or a screech.

Tap leaped on his feet with his Colt drawn before his eyes ever focused. No more gunfire, but the screaming continued. Swinging himself and his gear into the saddle, he saw se
veral riders gallop east on the Fort Collins road. He reined up hard in front of the dance hall where several women were crying and in near hysterics.

“They took Selena. She’s gone. They’ll kill her. April’s been shot. Where’s a doctor? We have to have a doctor!”

Tap grabbed the sobbing girl by the shoulders and shook her. “Where’s Stack? Did they kill Stack?”

“He’s on the floor. It’s awful bloody. He’s in there,” she cried.

Dashing inside, he found the big man sprawled near the piano with a couple of girls and one short man mopping blood off his head.

“Is he shot?”

One of the women looked up. “Who are you?”

Tap kneeled down beside the man. “A friend of Stack’s.”

“They snuck up behind him and cold-cocked him with a carbine barrel. Then they robbed April and grabbed Selena. When they were leavin’, April ran to the porch and shot at one of them. She missed, but Payton didn’t.”

“Payton? Was it Jordan Beckett and that bunch?” Tap asked, as he lifted the man’s head.

“Oh, it was Beckett, all right. He threatened to kill every person in the building.”

The big man blinked a couple of times, then opened his eyes.

“Stack? This is Tap . . . remember? We had breakfast this mornin’. Look, you’re banged up, so you take care of April. I’m ridin’ after them.”

“You’ll .
 . . need help . . . ,” he stammered.

“I’ve handled them before.”

“I’m goin’ with you.” He struggled to his feet, staggered over to a chair, and then sat down hard.

“You stay right here.”

“Hatcher,” Stack hollered. “I got to go, and you know it.”

“Take care of April.”

“If she’s shot, I cain’t do a thing for her that these girls cain’t do better. Now you might not need my help, but I’ve got to go. I ain’t of no use to April and the girls if I can’t take better care of ’em, and I ain’t no use to myself if I let them get the drop. I got a feelin’ you understand what I’m sayin’.”

Tap stopped wrapping the white bandage around Stack’s head and gazed at him.

“Yeah . . . you’re right. You do have to come. Which is your horse?”

“I’ll take the biggest one at the rail and defy any man here to protest,” Stack announced, standing to his feet.

Tap mounted up. The sun was straight up, and the breeze was at their backs.

“They got us beat by fifteen minutes,” Stack hollered.

“And they probably have relays.”

“We ain’t goin’ to catch ’em, are we?”

“Stack, they surely aren’t going to Fort Collins?”

“Nope, I reckon they’ll turn north and slip into Wyomin’. That’s the easiest.”

Tap reined up.

Stack slid his horse to a stop alongside. “What is it?”

“That gang is wanted up in Wyomin’, right? They been comin’ down here to hide.”

“Yep, that’s what I’ve heard.”

“Then it doesn’t make sense for them to go north.”

“You figure they’ll swing south?”

“Yep.”

“But there’s nothin’ down there but a few ranches.”

“Exactly. That’s why we’re going south. It’s our only chance of catchin’ ’em.”

“What if we’re wrong? What about Selena?”

“I don’t even want to think about it. Is there a trail that swings south on down that road?”

“There’s a trail south at Brush Creek. I’ve heard that it swings around to the west and joins up with the Mineral Springs road, but I’ve never been on it.”

“Mineral Springs?”

“Yeah, that’s the road south of April’s place.”

“And if we cut straight south over that mountain, we should hit that trail?”

“I suppose.”

“Are you feelin’ like a hard ride?” Tap asked.

“I’m feelin’ like makin’ somebody pay.”

“Let’s do it.” Tap turned his pony south off the road and sprinted toward the mountains.

It was a hard hour of riding and then a hard hour of wal
king the horses to the top of the ridge that looked down on a thin trail by a creek below.

“That must be the Brush Creek trail.” Tap pointed.

“Look down there to the west. That’s where it meets the Mineral Springs road.”

“Those aspen seem like a good place to set a relay team. Let’s go take a look.”

Riding down the grade of loose rock, they slid their way to the bottom.

“Stack, don’t ride on the trail. I don’t want any hoof prints to give them ideas.”

“Look up there. Looks like some horse are stashed.”

Riding up the edge of the Mineral Springs road, they tro
tted the horses south to a small grove of aspen and found six horses in a picket line.

“These mounts are fresh. They sure haven’t been here yet. You was right, Tap. They are comin’ south. How did you know that?”

“’Cause that’s exactly what I would have done.”

Stack pushed his hat back and scanned the horizon.

“What are we going to do now?”

“We’ll cache our horses down in that draw and hike back up here. Bring that carbine and your revolver. We’ll wait until they start to pull saddles off before we make a move. That way they can’t ride out on us.”

“But with our horses down there, we can’t ride out either,” Stack cautioned.

“I wasn’t plannin’ on leavin’ until they’re all down. And you?” Tap quizzed.

“You’re right. We ain’t leavin’ until we win.”

Tap stationed Stack Lowery behind some rocks b
etween the Mineral Creek road and the aspens. Anyone who tried to make a break on horseback would face the .44 and the wrath of Lowery. Tap crouched down behind some fallen timbers near the relay horses but out of sight of the trail. He filled the last hole in the cylinder of his Colt and checked to make sure the rifle was fully loaded.

Flipping up the Vernier peep sight, he rested the gun on a log and took aim on the trail. After a few minutes he pushed the sight down and pulled the rifle behind the log.

You can only get one of them out there, and the others will scatter. We’ve got to fight them close range on the ground. And you have to make sure that girl doesn’t get hurt worse.

Pepper’s down that road someplace. She’s busy makin’ we
dding plans and thinkin’ about the future. If this backfires, she hasn’t got any future. Not out West, anyway. This is crazy, Tap. You could just get on your horse, ride down there, and have the weddin’ right now. Within an hour or two you could be married . . . or you could be dead.

I’ve got to tell her the truth. I can’t keep lying. I’ve never lied about myself before. I’ll spend my whole life trying to cover it up. Just get through this. Then ride down there and tell her. Ask her to forgive you and give you a chance to prove yourself.

Riders coming over the Brush Creek trail from the east interrupted his thoughts. He signaled Stack with his hat.

God .
 . . this is Tap again. I’ve got some things I need to take care of—important things . . . so if You bring me though this, I’ll come clean with Pepper the first time I see her again.

The first rider was holding a gun on Selena, who was forked on the front part of his saddle, her dark dress shoved up to her knees. Following in single file were five other ri
ders. One had a right arm in a sling, and another was bandaged on the right leg. They were the five he had faced down at the ranch. Tap didn’t recognize the final rider and assumed it to be Jordan Beckett.

The breeze rolled straight at Tap. He figured the horses might not catch their scent. Having faced the bunch before, he knew which ones would be the first to draw and shoot.

As they approached the aspens, the first five riders dismounted. The lead man pushed the crying girl to the ground.

“Don’t hurt me no more,” she pleaded.

Get down, Beckett. Get down! She cries once more, and I know I’ll move in on
’
em too soon. Git off that horse.

All the men but the one with the wounded arm began to pull their saddles and toss them on the new mounts. The wounded man stood over the girl waving a revolver in his left hand.

“Jordan, you want me to finish her off now?”

“No,” The man called out.

“But there ain’t no one followin’ us. You said so yourself. What do we need her for?”

“We don’t need her. But there’s no reason to waste a bu
llet and alert someone out on the road.” Beckett slid out of the saddle and pulled an ivory-handled knife out of his boot.