One Went to Denver and the Other Went Wrong (Code of the West) (11 page)

  It would break his heart.

  It would break my heart.

  Please, Lord. I just want to go back and hide in Medicine Bow Mountains.

  For the rest of my life.

  Every bounce and jar from the rig seemed to displace her from what was happening. Pepper felt as if she were reading a very sad novel, and she was in it. Her breath fogged in front of her face as she turned to the carriage driver.

  “Dillard, I told you back at the springs, I’m not going through with this. I’m goin’ to catch a coach in Denver for Fort Collins. Then I’ll take the stage back to McCurley’s. You can tell anybody anything you want. It’s just not worth it anymore. I just shouldn’t be here with you. And you have no legal right to force me.”

  “You’re getting to be a boring and tiresome woman. It will be a delight to get rid of you. But not before we go to the governor’s party. So forget it. We’re not ridin’ around that mountain again.” There was no emotion in Dillard’s voice. “Don’t act like you’re too good. I know what kind of woman you are. You owe me, and I’m collectin’.”

  “Don’t give me that cart load of guilt. I pay my debts. But you have no right to ask this. Look, figure all the money you spent on me and the baby. Give me a statement. I’ll start tryin’ to pay it off. If it takes fifty years, I’ll pay you back every penny."

  “There’s no way to calculate. Besides the considerable amount of money, how about all my time? And stress? And damage to my reputation? How do you figure the cost to my stature?”

  “Your reputation? There is no way helping me lowered that.”

  “Dance-hall darlin’, it’s not worth the effort to argue. You’re going to Denver. You’re going to dance with the governor. You either do that, or I send you home . . . with the boys.”

  “You promised me a carriage.”

  “Only if you followed through.”

  “I came to Hot Springs with you.”

  “But you haven’t danced with the governor.”

  “So, you'll sick Junior Pardee and his gang on me.”

  “Angel, you used the dog analogy, but I suppose it fits, doesn’t it?”

  Pepper’s tight right fist flew out of the blanket and caught Dillard hard to the bony part of his chin. He lurched back and jerked the reins tight. The rig stopped. Pepper’s left hand flailed his way and he dropped the reins. Dillard tried to grab her gloved hand before it smashed his half-frozen face. She pulled back. He held nothing but the glove.

  Dillard’s left hand clamped onto her right wrist before she could land another roundhouse. She swung the gloveless left. The slapping motion glanced off his hand and plowed bloody fingernail furrows that gouged the soft part of his neck.  Beneath the left side of his jaw.

  Junior Pardee and four other riders galloped toward the carriage, several hundred feet behind. The noise of thundering hooves pounding half-frozen road caused the two carriage horses to bolt off the roadway and into snow-covered brush.

  The bouncing wagon jolted its passengers to fall back on the carriage seat. Dillard grabbed for the reins and yelled at the horses.

  Pepper reached for the Colt .45 holstered at his hip, but Dillard shoved her hard. Her feet tangled in the blanket that draped her legs. She flailed wildly to clutch anything to prevent her falling out of the runaway rig.

  For a moment she held onto the wool sleeve of Dillard’s heavy overcoat. He slammed the palm of his right hand against her left ear. She tumbled out of the carriage.

  She screamed above the roar of the carriage wheels. But the sound grew distant as her head hit something. Very hard.

  The little boy ran through tall summer grass that lapped above his waist. Pepper couldn’t see his feet or legs. Only the fresh long-sleeve, collarless cotton shirt and the brown leather suspenders. He was laughing. Or singing a song. Or both.

  His mop of blond hair hung almost to his shoulders, but it was neatly combed back behind his ears. His face was scrubbed clean. A touch of summer tan in his cheeks. His mouth was small, round, and constantly in motion.

  For some reason Pepper expected that his eyes would be blue or maybe green. She was surprised to see they were dark brown. They seemed to dance. He shot a quick glance at the horizon, then at the sky. Then toward Pepper. A hummingbird that paused in midair caught his attention.

  Pepper scooted through the tall grass to catch up with the boy. She wore a bright peach-colored dress with wide white cotton belt. A straw hat was pushed back on her head. She carried a closed parasol that she used as a walking stick.

  Such a beautiful child. He’s so alert. So active. But he could get hurt out here. Where are his parents? He must have wandered off. Perhaps they’re back in the trees. I’ll just watch him for a while. He’s so adorable. He acts like he doesn’t even see me.

  The boy, who seemed about three years old, stopped running and picked up a stick. Holding it in his chubby little hand, he tossed it through the green weeds. Immature heads of wild oats burst into the blue sky.

  A gentle, cool breeze swept up from the slope of the rolling hills forming a wave in the weeds. The little boy threw the stick, ran to retrieve it. Then threw it again. This game was repeated over and over across the crest of the mountain.

  The little boy picked up speed as the downward slope increased. Pepper wanted to call out for him to slow down, but she couldn't speak. She panicked when she spotted him headed to a cliff that overlooked a mountain stream that coursed through the rocks and boulders below.

  She tried to cry out. But he didn’t seem to hear. It was as if she was not in the scene. She ran fast now. The stubble and pebbles of the hillside ground into her bare feet. The little boy was completely out of control. He stumbled down the steep hill toward the cliff. He yelled with fright.

  “Throw yourself down,” she cried.

  But the boy still ran.

  She reached the edge of the cliff at the same time as the boy. Pepper slowed to keep herself from plunging off the edge. The little boy lost his footing.

  “Mother,” he shrieked in panic. He stretched out his chubby arm.

  Pepper spun around to look for the boy’s mother. No one could be seen anywhere. When she turned back, the boy had slipped over the edge. She lunged to reach his hand, but felt only the finger tips that slipped through hers.

  With absolute terror in his eyes, the boy looked straight at Pepper. He wailed, “Mother!”

  The room was extremely dark. Her flannel gown was drenched with sweat, and the back of her head pounded with a deep, throbbing, mind-numbing pain. She knew her eyes were open, but she lay there for a long time trying to remember.

  Where am I?

  How did I get here?

  What happened to my head?

  Where’s April?

  Was there a fight? Did someone hit me with a chair?

  Stack? Where’s Stack. Why didn’t he pull them off me?

  Tap? Did I get shot? Was it Beckett? No, he’s dead.

  Where’s Tap?

  The boy. Oh, Lord. The little boy again. I still couldn’t save him. Lord, I couldn’t do anything about it. I really couldn’t! You’ve got to believe me. Please believe me.

  Pepper sobbed and real tears rolled off her cheeks. She reached up and felt bandages wrapped tight against her hair.

  Lord, why do I keep dreaming of that little boy? I don’t even know who he is.

  A dim light filtered through curtains of an extremely tall window.

  Oh, Lord, I don’t even know where I am.

  Pepper began to cry again. .

  Because of the intense pain.

  Because she felt alone and lost.

  Because the little boy had called her mother.

  Then a tall door opened. A soft-burning lamp entered the room, followed by a blue flannel-robed arm and a brown-skinned, wide-eyed, wide-faced woman with long, black hair. "Señora, are you awake?”

  Pepper wanted to sit up, but her head felt as if it weighed five hundred pounds.

  “Lie still, Señora. You are hurt very bad, I think.”

  Pepper tried to wipe her eyes on the bed sheet. Instantly the woman set the lamp by the bed and began to wipe Pepper’s face with a damp cloth.

  “Who are you?” Pepper asked.

  “Oh, I am Rebecca Maria. I work here.”

  “Where am I?”

  “Why, you are in the governor’s house, of course.”

  “In Denver?”

  “Yes. Now lie still. The doctor warned you must not roll your head to the right or to the left. It could be very dangerous.”

  “What happened? How did I get here?”

  “You must have forgotten the carriage wreck. A bear spooked the horses, and your husband could not keep it in control. You were thrown out and hit your head on a rock.”

  “My husband? Where’s Tap? Where is he?”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Andrews.”

  “You mean, Mr. Dillard? Don’t worry. He is all right. He only had a bad cut on his neck.”

  Dillard? He shoved me out of a wagon. He tried to kill me. And that was no cut on his neck.

  “Yes. Where is Mr. Dillard?”

  “He mentioned he would sit up with you, but he must have grown tired and laid down in the next room. I will go get him for you.”

  “No, that’s okay. You don’t need to . . .”

  “Remember,
              do not move your head, or you will vomit again.”

  “Again?”

  “That is the third set of linens and the fourth nightgown.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Three sets of linens? Nightgowns? How long have I been here? 

  Pepper gazed at shadows flickering across the high ceiling until Rebecca Maria returned, scooting across the hardwood floor.

  “He is not there. He must have .
 . . Maybe he was worried and went out for the doctor.”

  And maybe he didn’t give a buffalo chip whether I lived or died. A grieving widower could grab a sympathy contract.

  Rebecca Maria touched her forehead. “Don’t worry. I will sit up with you.”

  “I would really appreciate that.”

  “Your gown is wet. Can I get you another?”

  “It’s all right. Did you say this is my third gown?”

  “Fourth.”

  “But I only brought one.”

  “The governor’s wife had several extras. I wash them out and dry them by the fire.”

  “But who dressed me? Put me in the bed, and all? Was it you?”

  “Oh, no. I was in the kitchen when they brought you in. Your husband placed you in the bed, I think. But I’ve been the one to change you since then.”

  Oh, sure, Dillard stripped me down. What did he do? Invite all the boys in?

  “The doctor was with your husband. He is a very good doctor, I think. He looks after the governor’s family.”

  “What time is it? Is it late?”

  “It is after midnight. But you have been asleep for a very long time. I was worried you might never wake up. They brought you in yesterday evening before dark.”

  “Yesterday? Did they have the dance already?”

  “Oh, no. It was postponed because of your accident, I think. It will be tomorrow night downstairs in the ballroom. But I heard them say you will not be allowed to attend.”

  That’s the best news I’ve had in days.

  Rebecca Maria added wood to the fire that glowed in a small white rock fireplace at the end of the room. Then she returned with a fresh gown. She patiently tugged off the soaked one. After a sponge bath, she gently pulled a fresh yellow cotton gown on Pepper.

  “Is that better?”

  “Oh, yes. I can’t thank you enough. I’ve never in my life had someone help me like this.”

  “Besides your husband, you mean?”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  Rebecca Maria brought Pepper a drink of water. She  held her head by lifting the thick down pillow as she drank.

  “The doctor says you are not to eat until he arrives in the morning. He’s afraid it would cause you to vomit again.” The Mexican maid pulled a high-back chair next to the bed and sat down facing Pepper. “You go ahead and sleep. I will sit here.”

  “I’ll be all right now. You have taken very good care of me. You can go back to bed.”

  “No, no. I would not sleep for worry over you.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yes. If you have changed a woman’s gown four times, you begin to feel like you know her quite well.”

  Pepper flushed.

  “For instance, I know that you were once knifed just under your shoulder blade on the right side of your back.”

  “I guess I’ve got no secrets from you.” Pepper tried to smile.

  “Did someone try to rob you? I am always afraid to walk across town in the dark.”

  “No. There was this girl working at the dance hall. She .
 . .”