My Foot's in the Stirrup . . . My Pony Won't Stand (Code of the West) (12 page)

Angelita’s bright brown eyes grew wide. “Why?”

“They didn’t get the letter,” Baltimore explained.

“But I mailed it myself,” Posse insisted.

“Well, they didn’t get it, and I’ve got a lot of explainin’ to do.”

“In that case, I’ll definitely let you alone to visit.” Posse flashed a relaxed smile of straight white teeth.

Pepper caught a flash in Baltimore’s eyes.

The afternoon passed quickly with a running dialogue b
etween Baltimore, Angelita, Pepper, and Mrs. Posse Baker. The long summer twilight at the base of the Rockies had begun when the two visitors began their long walk back to the hotel. They held hands and strolled leisurely as they enjoyed a slight breeze that made the hot July air more bearable.

“This has been quite an afternoon, young lady.”

Angelita held her hat by the neck ribbon and twirled it around. “Did you ever have a time where it seemed like you were just standing back watching yourself? That’s the way this afternoon has been. I didn’t think my father would ever want to get married again.”

“Mrs. Baker seems sincerely fond of your father and is wil
ling to take care of him,” Pepper commented.

“Can you imagine a stepmother named Posse?”

“I’ve been called Pepper all my life. It’s not all that different, is it?”

“Pepper is a great name. It means you’re hot-headed and spicy.”

“It does?”

“That’s what Mr. Andrews told me it meant. But Posse means a whole bunch of men chasing a bad guy. What kind of name is that? My mother’s name was R
achel.”

“You could call her Mrs. Baker.”

“If they get married, then I’d have to call her Mrs. Gomez. That’s dumb.”

“I suppose you could call her Mama. I’m sure that’s what her children call her.”

“She isn’t my mother.”

“She’s a nice lady. And a hard-working woman. It’s not easy for a woman to support five children.”

“What’s a
nymph du prairie?”
Angelita asked.

Pepper stopped walking. “What?”

“The other day Mr. Andrews said that when he knew Posse, she was one of those. Is that sort of like a dance-hall girl?”

Pepper tried to brush her blonde hair back behind her head. “It’s similar to a dance-hall girl in some ways.”

“You used to be a dance-hall girl when you were younger, didn’t you?”

“How did you know that?”

“Mr. Andrews told me.”

“What else did he tell you about me?” Pepper quizzed.

“He says that you are the prettiest woman he ever met in his life and that his heart does a little jump every time he hears your voice.”

“He told you that?”

Angelita skipped as Pepper walked. “Yeah. Last winter in Cheyenne I asked him how to know which person to marry, when that boy Milford fell out of the wagon on his head and spent two weeks saying he wanted to marry me.”

“I don’t remember that. Whatever happened to Milford?”

“He got better.”

“Your father is old enough to know what he’s doing. He can’t stay in the hospital much longer. The city of Che
yenne has set a limit as to how much financial help they can allow.”

“I don’t want to live with all those kids.”

“But Posse’s oldest daughter is just a year or so older than you. It might be nice to have a close friend.”

“Did you ever have an older sister?”

“No,” Pepper admitted.

“I don’t want someone else telling me what to do.”

“Your father said you could stay with us until school starts again.”

“Do you think perhaps tomorrow I could talk to my father alone?” Angelita asked.

“I think that’s a very good idea.”

“Without ‘her’ around either?”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“Good, because I’ve got a thing or two to tell him. Som
etimes a man needs a woman around to tell him what to do.”

“I believe that’s what your father thinks also.”

Supper at the Alexandria Hotel reminded Pepper more of McCurleys’ Hotel than the Inter Ocean in Cheyenne. Big family-style tables. Piles of plain but very tasty food. Deep laughter. Active conversation.

Pepper and Angelita were busy talking to a couple from England when a deep voice from somewhere behind her caused her to drop a fork in her china plate and spin around in the polished oak chair. The tall man at the door was dressed in a stiff white shirt and long black topcoat. He held a fine black beaver hat in his hand. With gold studs lining his shirt, he looked ready to attend the opera.

The square jaw.

The weathered lines flaring from the soft brown eyes that looked out under full, bushy eyebrows, the politeness in his tone, even though most would concede to him solely b
ecause of this strength.

“It’s Stack,” she murmured to Angelita.

“Who?”

“A very good friend of ours. You’ve heard us mention his name.”

“Oh, yes . . . Mr. Lowery. He’s the one who visited us last May.”

“Excuse me just a moment,” Pepper requested of the couple si
tting across from them. She stood just as the tall man’s eyes met hers. An ear-to-ear smile swept over his face as he handed his hat to a waitress and waded through the crowd to reach her.

“Pepper darlin’, how are you?” He started to hug her, then backed away.

“My-oh-my, it looks like you and that no-good Arizona gunslinger came through the winter well.”

Pepper could feel her face blush.

“When’s the glorious event?”

“It’s still a couple months or so. I’m getting fat, Stack.”

“It sure ain’t like the last time.”

Pepper drew a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “There is not
hing about it that’s like the last time. Praise the Lord.”

“I can’t believe I’ve found you here. Where is that Tapa
dera?” Stack searched the room.

“He’s up in Laramie County checking on cows. This is our good friend, Angelita Gomez. You might know her father, Baltimore.”

“Just a little.”

“He’s recovering from a gunshot wound at the hosp
ital here, and we took the train down to visit him. Now you’ve got to tell me about yourself. Last we heard you were freightin’ up to the Black Hills. And here you are dressed for the theater.”

“Ain’t this somethin’? It’s all kind of crazy, Miss Pepper. Did you ever have times that you just sort of stood back and watched yourself go through the motions?”

“I have,” Angelita called out.

“This is a long story, and I hardly believe it myself.”

“Sit down and join us for supper. I’d like to hear all about what caused Stack Lowery to dress up like he was attending a mine owners’ convention.”

Stack slipped down beside Pepper, careful not to crack his knees on the table. He nodded at the couple across the table. “You aren’t goin’ to believe this, Miss Pe
pper. I hardly believe it myself.”

“What is it?”

“I’m attending a mine owners’ meeting.”

“No. Really?"

“Yep.”

“Is some pretty lady involved?”

Stack’s face turned as red as a ripe watermelon as a waitress poured him a steaming cup of coal-black coffee. Pepper thought of the times she and the other dance hall girls teased him about which woman he should marry.

“Ain’t no lady .
 . . yet. But I’ve been givin’ it some mighty serious thought.”

“Oh? Is she anyone I know?”

“No. I didn’t mean I had one picked out. I've just been thinkin’ that it’s time to find myself a good woman and settle down.”

“Don’t look at me,” Angelita blurted out. “My father won’t let me get married until I’m at least sixteen. Besides, I’m g
oing to marry a man who owns a gold mine.”

“Miss Angelita, you certainly know how to break a man’s heart.”

“Into every life comes occasional bitter disappointment.” She jabbed her spoon into a large lump of brown gravy-laden mashed potatoes.

“So you’re looking for a wife. I think that’s great, Stack.” Pepper touched her hand to his arm. “But that still doesn’t tell me what you’re doing at a mine owners’ meeting. Is there something you’re ashamed to tell me?”

Again he blushed. “I just ain’t used to it yet. I know I look out of place.”

“What is it that you’re not used to?”

“I’m half owner of one of the largest gold mines in the Black Hills.”

“You’re what?” Pepper choked.

“You own a gold mine?” Angelita squealed. “I might be able to talk my father into letting me get married at fifteen. Really.”

Pepper glared at Angelita.

“That was too obvious. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it. Really, I’m just a kid.”

“How old did you say she was?” Stack asked.

“Ten going on thirty. How in the world did you end up with a gold mine?”

“Half a gold mine.”

“Tell me the whole story,” Pepper demanded.

“You two go ahead and eat. I’ll have them start cookin’ my chop while I explain.”

“Good. Now the last thing we knew, you were hauling freight between Cheyenne and the Black Hills.”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s right. My little sister’s husband landed me a freightin’ job, and it pays real good, too. I’d been savin’ ever’ penny all winter and spring and had come up with a tidy poke. Thought maybe I’d buy myself a store or som
ething like that. Then I got to Deadwood about the first of June with two heavy wagons of cash-on-delivery mining equipment. Took me six extra days, the goin’ was so slow.

“I got to Pharaoh’s Gulch, and a man by the name of Whip Bi
tters told me it all belonged to him, but he couldn’t pay me. He wanted me to give him credit, and he’d give me half interest in this mine he was diggin’.”

“He tried to stiff you?” Angelita broke in.

“One thing’s for sure, he didn’t have the money. He and two others was sleepin’ out on the ground in front of the mine shaft hopin’ to strike color. I couldn’t imagine cartin’ that gear back to Cheyenne, so I figured maybe the freight company would take the shares.”

“And when you got back, they said the C.O.D. was co
ming out of your poke?” Pepper guessed.

“Yes, ma’am. Took ever’ penny I had saved for six months, plus I had to haul three loads for free. I liked to starve to death. But about the first of July, I was up in the Black Hills, and this Whip Bitters sent word for me to come see him at the Cosmo Hotel. When I went in, he was sittin’ there dressed like a Cal
ifornia banker.”

“Like you are now?” Angelita asked.

“Yep. Bitters was talkin’ to some San Francisco men about selling the mine. He called it the Sphinx. He had struck a big vein at two hundred feet and was gettin’ ready to sell out to these big shots. He told ’em I owned half interest, and they offered me $50,000 for my share.”

“Wow, $50,000,” Angelita squealed, then put her hand over her mouth.

“That’s wonderful, Stack. You’ll be able to buy a store and everything.”

“You know,” Angelita broke in, “I have very big feet.”

Both Stack and Pepper stared at her.

“Don’t I, Mrs. Andrews? Everyone says I have large feet, and that means I’ll probably grow very tall . . . by the time I’m si
xteen.” She ignored Pepper's glare. “Eh, can I have some pie?”

“When you have finished eatin’ everything on your plate.”

“Even this slimy green stuff?”

“But spinach will help you grow tall.”

“Oh.” She took a small, sample bite.

“So you sold your share for $50,000?” Pepper quizzed.

“No, ma’am. I got to figurin’, and, shoot, I kind of like being a gold mine owner. So I told them men I’d like to just let it ride.”

“So you still own it?”

“Half of it.”

“Is it payin' off?”

“Four weeks ago they broke into a cavern the size of this room with gold flakes piled on the floor and hangin’ from the ceilin’. For eight straight days they scooped it up in gunny sacks and sent it direct to the smelter.”

“Wow!” Angelita’s eyes grew big. “Did you make more than $50,000?”

"I’m making so much money I’ve got to sit around every day just tryin' to figure what to do with it. That’s why I’m here at this mine owners’ meetin’. I even had to hire me a full-time lawyer to help me keep track of it. Oh, and tell Tap that Wade Eagleman’s back in Denver. He and Miss Rena are doin’ well.”

“Wade’s your lawyer?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you spend any of your money yet?”

“Angelita,” Pepper scolded.

“I did buy my sisters new houses.”

“How many sisters do you have?” Angelita asked.