It's Your Misfortune and None of My Own (Code of the West) (20 page)

I can’t tell him now. I’m so tired .
 . . I wouldn’t explain it right. Just a little rest. He’s so . . . so tough . . . and yet tender. I saw his tears. What will he do when he learns that the proper Eastern lady that he dreams about died in my arms? Will he rant, or will he weep . . . or will he do both?

Pepper pulled off her dress and laid it carefully over a Queen Anne green velvet chair. Her heavy eyelids stayed open long enough for her to brush down the dress. Sitting on a stool at the foot of the bed, she unlaced her black boots, tugged them off, and removed her stockings. Wiggling her toes, she went to the window and drew the white lace cu
rtains closed. Then she folded back the comforter on her bed and crawled between the covers.

Looking back, she didn’t even remember laying her head on the pillow.

No worry about hidden secrets.

No planning a wedding.

No dreams about a dark-haired, brown-eyed man.

Just sleep.

“Pepper? Pepper, dear? Are you feeling well?”

The room was dark. Too dark.

She sat up in the bed and pulled a flannel sheet around her.

“What? What is it?”

It was Mrs. McCurley’s voice filtering through the door. “Pepper . . . will you be taking supper downstairs?”

“Supper? Is it that late?”

“You were very tired.”

“I’ll be down. Can I have a few minutes?”

“Certainly. The others are eating now, but there will be plenty.”

After a few hurried moments of dressing, she stood at the mirror combing her hair.

Maybe I should leave it down when I talk to him? It’s more . . . informal. Or . . . maybe I should just reach up and let it tumble down right before I begin to explain. Yes, that would be much more theatrical.

No .
 . . not that. You’re right, Lord. He told it to me straight, and I’ll do the same with him. But it’s harder for me. He’s always been one to tell the truth. I’ve spent my whole life lying to myself and to the men. Lord, it’s not easy talkin’ about the truth ’cause there isn’t very much that’s true about me that I like. I’m better at lyin’ than truthin’.

With her hair pinned back and her dress in place, Pepper descended the stairs and entered the dining room. The men stood to their feet as she entered. She nodded to signal them to be re-seated.

“Is someone leaving?” she asked Mrs. McCurley after she was sitting down. “I noticed the trunks in the hallway.”

“Those are yours. They came over on the stage today, but I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Mine?”

“Yes. From Fort Collins .
 . . and some mail.”

“So soon? I hardly wrote.”

“I guess when the stage delivered your letter, they were happy to get the trunks out of their way and sent them back on the same stage. Robert will help you get them up to your room after supper.”

Pepper glanced around at the guests in the dining room.

“Are you looking for Mr. Andrews?”

“Andrews?” Pepper sounded startled. “He told you about himself?”

“Oh, yes, he explained the whole thing to Mr. McCurley and myself. You know, Robert wasn’t a bit surprised. Said he knew Tap didn’t handle those guns like an ordinary drover. One thing I can tell you . . .”

She leaned over and spoke in hushed tones. “He certainly is taken with you. Why, he carried on and on like a schoo
lboy. You wouldn’t think such a tough man would say such sweet things.”

Pepper smiled. “He’s full of contrasts, isn’t he?”

“Yes. That’s it. Now I don’t think that stunt of pretending to be Hatcher was very honest, but it was terribly romantic. He said he fell in love with you reading the letters. Can you imagine that? I’m sure you can.”

“It has been a very interesting relationship. Mrs. McCurley, I don’t see Tap. Has he already eaten?”

“He went back to the ranch hours ago. He didn’t even stay until noon.”

“Oh?”

“He said he was so excited he couldn’t rest. He wanted to go clean up the house. I hear they made a horrid mess.”

“He’s really .
 . . not . . . here?” Pepper stammered.

“After telling us his story, he bought some groceries and some boards, borrowed our buckboard and Mr. McCurley’s carpentry tools, and scooted off to the ranch. He is very i
ntent on gettin’ it all fixed up for you. I’d say you got yourself a real worker. My Robert—he’s a real worker, too. Honey, there’s nothin’ on earth worse than a lazy husband. Take my sister, Sarah, for instance. She up and married—”

“But , we needed .
 . . I mean, I wanted—”

“Dear, you do look pale,” Mrs. McCurley o
bserved. “Have some more boiled potatoes and gravy. Did I tell you that’s an elk roast? The gravy is superb, if I do say so myself.”

“When is he coming back?”

“Mr. Andrews? Why, I don’t know that I heard. Robert? Robert, did Tap say when he was coming back?”

Bob McCurley looked up at his wife with a bite of roast the size of a small apple speared on his knife. “Tap? Oh, he’ll be back when he gets those repairs made, I reckon. Evenin’, Miss Cedar.”

“Evenin’, Mr. McCurley.”

“He was worried about all you went through. Figured you needed plenty of rest. Why, he told us all about the shoo
tout. My, that does sound frightenin’. He was mighty proud of you that you didn’t faint. Most ladies from the East would have outright fainted.”

“Actually, by the time I got there, most of the shooting was over,” Pepper explained.

“Oh, yes . . . he said he had the girl in the blue dress over his shoulder when you drove up.”

“He told you that?”

“He also mentioned how upset you got when he kissed that poor hurt dance-hall girl.”

“I can’t believe he told you all this.”

“Like I said, my Robert and I think Mr. Andrews is a very fine fellow. We certainly wish you two the best. Frankly,” she whispered, “having a man like that is almost like having a sheriff in the area. If you catch the drift.”

“Did he tell you what happened in the buggy on the way home?” Pepper asked.

“Ah.” Mrs. McCurley touched her hand to her mouth. “So, what happened?”

“Oh, nothing.”

At least he knows how to keep some things private.

After supper she supervised as Bob McCurley and a
nother man hefted two trunks to her room. She carried in her hand two -letters.

After she was alone, Pepper stared at the trunks.

“Now, Lord, I’m going to send all this stuff right back to her mother, but I don’t have any address to send them to. So as soon as I find that little coin purse with the keys . . .”

She began to dig through her own belongings in a dresser drawer. “I’ll peek inside long enough to know where to return them. I’ll have to write a letter explaining her death. Oh, I wish I’d had Rev. Houston write a letter.”

Both trunks were filled with neatly packed personal items. Dresses, shoes, hats, gloves, undergarments, books, pencils, stationery, several photographs, a sewing box, and jewelry. She sorted each trunk slowly, holding every item up to her in the mirror and trying to imagine how it would be to wear.

This would look lovely at a party. I wonder if they have pa
rties out here? Sure, we can have a party at the ranch and invite the McCurleys. There has to be other people around here too. Nice ones, that is.

I’d wear the yellow to church, but we don’t have a church. I’ll just wear them every day. That ought to keep him comin’ in early.

And this, oh, my, is this the way it goes? I’m goin’ to wear it anyway. Providin’ the shutters is all drawn.

Suzanne Cedar, I’m not playing with your valuables. They’re just so pretty. This is more clothing than I’ve ever owned in my whole life.

She dabbed a little perfume on her wrists and smelled it.

“Suzanne, girl, I’m glad you aren’t around. You would be hard competition. This stuff would attract every man for thirty miles.”

But neither trunk contained any address of Miss Cedar’s mother or any other relative. Having folded and repacked everything, she closed and locked the lids.

After an all-day sleep, Pepper didn’t feel tired, but she slipped into her flannel gown and carried the lantern to the bedstand. She set Suzanne Cedar’s Bible down on the bed and retrieved the two letters. Climbing up on the comforter, she sat cross-legged and stared at them.

Finally she spoke aloud, “Suzanne, look, I can’t send your trunks back, or your mail, or your money until I have an a
ddress. So I’m going to open these letters to find out where all of this goes.”

She slowly unfolded the heavy parchment letter and held it over to the light to read it better.

Dearest Suzanne,

Honey, I hated so much to see you leave for fear I would never see you again. We must all release our loved ones into God’s care, but I have had such a struggle since your father’s death that I sel
fishly wanted you to remain, although the quarters here, as you know, are quite cramped.

I didn’t want to tell you while you were here that I have had a real heaviness of heart and pains in my chest of late. I will see a doctor tomorrow and write to you about it.

I am thrilled with your Mr. Hatcher. He is a very fortunate man to steal your affections as he has. Darling, I’m sure you’re doing the right thing. If I were your age, I would hope to have the nerve to do the same. I would like to think there’ll be a day I can come west and meet him, but I have serious doubts that such a day will arrive.

With your father gone, I feel so empty inside. I’m not sure he ever knew how my every thought was on him. I hope you will feel that way someday about your Mr. Hatcher. The love was so sweet that it well compensates for the sorrow I now feel.

Write to me as soon as you get settled.

With much love,

Mother.

Write soon to where? Where’s the address? You don’t write a letter and not put on the address.

Obviously Suzanne knew the address.

She picked up the other letter and immediately reco
gnized that it was different handwriting.

Suzanne, child,

I’m sorry to have to tell you such sad news, but your mama died last Monday. The doctor said it was a heart attack, but I do believe it was a combination of losing your father and then you running off and breaking her heart.

Young people seem so bent on going their own ways. We did not think it proper to wait for your r
eturn, so we had her buried here in Chicago. Doctors and burying is expensive here, but don’t worry, your mother’s savings covered it. I’ll store her things in the attic, but I don’t expect you’ll want to come back now.

Sincerely,

Aunt Pearl

She died? Just like that? Dead, buried. Gone? No a
ddress? Lord, there’s no address! What do I do now?

Pepper laid back on the pillow and picked up Suzanne Cedar’s Bible. She flipped it open to the New Testament and began to read the verses that had been underlined.

It was well after midnight, and she was on her second lantern when she finished reading some verses in the last two chapters of Revelation—and a note Suzanne had scrawled on the bottom of the page: “Lord, help me keep at least one sinner from facing Your just wrath.”

“Suzanne girl, you might have got that prayer a
nswered.”

She rested the open Bible on her chest and closed her eyes. Then she sat straight up. “That’s what I’ll do.”

Jumping out of bed, she opened one of the trunks and removed several sheets of paper and two pencils. Then she began a careful inventory of every item in each trunk, describing them in detail. When she completed this, she counted and stacked the inheritance money on the dresser and any other personal effects of Suzanne Cedar’s.

It was two hours later when she completed the list and i
nserted it in the Bible. She turned out the flickering light and crawled underneath the covers. Then she quickly slid out of bed, grabbed up the Bible, and in the dark knelt beside it.

Lord, it’s me, Pepper. I’m not botherin’ You, am I? I could talk to You in the mornin’ if you want, but I couldn’t figure any way to return these things that belong to Miss Cedar. So I’ve made a list, and if You bring someone along that lays claim to them, I’ll return every last item and every last penny, no matter how many years I need to work. But in the mea
ntime, I’m going to use them like they were . . . sort of, loaned to me from You. I won’t sin with them, and I’ll try to do the kinds of things Miss Cedar would. Thank You, and good-bye. I mean, in Jesus’ name, amen. Oh . . . yeah . . . I’m going to tell Tap the very next time I see him, I promise.

For over an hour she practiced each line she would use to tell him that she was not really Suzanne Cedar. She finally fell asleep, thinking of strong arms and a gentle kiss.

Tap was halfway back to the ranch before he realized how tired he was. In the buckboard he had packed supplies to rebuild the ranch house and resupply the pantry. Brownie was tied behind the wagon.