One Went to Denver and the Other Went Wrong (Code of the West) (23 page)

BOOK: One Went to Denver and the Other Went Wrong (Code of the West)
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  “It’s a good day for it. I was thinkin’ of doing the same thing myself.”

  “Why don’t you crawl back there by Stack and rest? You’ve lost a lot of blood. I can drive the wagon awhile.”

  “You’re the one with a nasty bump on the head. You need the rest as much as I do.”

  Pepper slipped her arm into Tap’s. “How’s your hand feelin?”

  “It hurts. But as long I don’t bust out these stitches, I’ll survive. Besides, I can still wiggle my trigger finger.”

  “I think you ought to go back to the ranch and stay there until the weddin’.”

  “So you think we ought to go ahead with it then?” he teased.

  “The sooner the better. If I’m not out there at the ranch lookin’ after you, you’ll just get into more trouble.”

  “Me? How about you? Why, I can’t even leave you at McCurley’s without you wanderin’ off.”

  Tap felt the warming breeze in his face and squinted at the glare of the declining sun. “I guess we better not continue the direction of this conversation.”

  “I suppose we’d just end up yellin’ at each other.”

  “That would wake up Stack.”

  Pepper sighed, but kept holding tight to Tap’s arm. “It will be nice to live at the ranch. We can yell all day and not bother the neighbors.”

  “You suppose we’ll have days like that?”

  “Reckon so, don’t you?”

  “Yep.” Tap leaned over and brushed a gentle kiss across her temple. “Tell me about the weddin’ plans.”

  “I thought we were waitin’ until you solved that Arizona business.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “In that case, I’ve got an idea or two.”

  Tap pulled the wagon off the side of the road to allow a fast-moving, mud-tossing stagecoach to gallop past them. “Go ahead. What have you got in mind?” He steered the wagon back to the center of the road.

  “It’s got to be small. At the ranch. On Christmas Eve.”

  “Christmas Eve? That’s a month away.”

  “You can wait that long, can’t you? Bob McCurley agreed to give me away. Of course, we’ll ask the reverend to do the honors. Christmas is on a Monday this year. Did you know that?”

  “Well, no.”

  “I want Danni Mae to be my maid of honor. Stack could be best man, if that’s all right with you. I mean, if you wanted to have someone like Wade Eagleman, I’d understand.”

  “Stack will do just fine.”

  “I figure you’ll want to invite some of the boys up on the Rafter R, and I want to have some of the girls from April’s. Is it all right if I ask the girls to come?”

  “Does this mean that Selena has to stay back at the dance hall alone?”

  “I might invite her. She can sit there and eat her heart out.”

  “That’s mighty neighborly of you.”

  “And I’m going to make me a cream-colored wedding dress and you a shirt to match.”

  “Cream? Not white?”

  “Tap, you know I don’t deserve a white dress, even if the Lord’s forgiven me. Your shirt will have a high collar and sort of ruffles down the—”

  “No ruffles. Absolutely no ruffles.”

  “I knew you’d say that. I just knew you were goin’ to hate the ruffles.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Okay, no ruffles. But I want to decorate the house with pine boughs and cedar. Stack can play the music on the grand piano since neither you or me can make a decent note with it. Did you know Danni Mae can sing? She was a singer in New York City. Then she moved west with a man named Percy. He dumped her in Central City. Nice guy, huh? I met him one time. He seemed like a decent fellow, but you never know by lookin’.”

  “What’s she goin’ to sing?”

  "Amazing Grace. Is that all right with you?”

  “Yep. That's perfect.”

  “After the service, we’ll have a sit-down supper. I thought the wedding would start about 2:00 P.M. That way we can have supper and send everyone home early.”

  “Why would we want to do that?”

  Pepper’s elbow cracked into his ribs so sharp that he jumped to the side of the wagon seat.

  “Come back over here.”

  “Are you goin’ to clobber me again?”

  “Sooner or later.”

  “I think there’s a stage stop hotel up there on the top of that next pass. How about calling it a day and gettin’ a fresh start in the mornin’?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Pepper yawned. “I surely didn’t get much sleep last night.” She released Tap’s arm and scooted over on the wagon bench. She tried to pull her hair back up in the combs.

  “Is that it?” a voice from the back of the wagon rumbled.

  Tap glanced back. “Stack! What do you mean, is that it?”

  “I been back here faking to be asleep, and all I see is one little peck on the cheek that looked like you was a visitin’ your old maid aunt.”

  “Boy, you’ve been hangin’ around those dance halls too long,” Tap quipped.

  The conversation continued light through supper at the small one-story roadside hotel. The sun had set, and Stack had retired when Pepper suggested a walk.

  “It’s still mild out there. It might be the last decent evening ’til spring,” she reasoned.

  They hiked up the hill west of the hotel. At first the setting sun was blinding, and they tramped slowly. Pepper held on to Tap’s arm with her right hand. Her left hand lifted her dress up out of the mud. Soon the sun dropped behind the Rockies. They stopped to get their breath and survey the road and hotel below.

  “Aren’t these chinooks something? Within hours the temperature shot up thirty or forty degrees.”

  Pepper took a big deep breath and stretched her arms out. “It’s wonderful. You know, everything always looks and feels so much better when you’re out on a hillside. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yep. You can see things clearer. Both the things around you and the things in your mind. I could never live in a city like Denver.”

  Pepper turned back and studied the dark shadow of the snow-capped mountains. “I lived in Denver for a while once.”

  “When was that?”

  “Oh, a few years ago. Remember, I mentioned when Dillard helped me. I only stayed there about . . . nine months or so. I didn’t like it at all.”

  “Why in the world did you live in Denver?”

  “Oh, me and April had a big argument, so I went to Denver. But, I didn’t stay long.”

  “So what secrets do you have hidin’ in your pretty head?”

  “Don’t ask.” Pepper laced her fingers in his.

  They walked along the ridge toward the south, until Tap  spoke up. “I guess .
 . . you and me . . . there’ll always be secrets for the other one to discover.”

  Pepper pursed her lips. “There are just some things too horrible and embarrassing to mention to anyone.”

  “This is the way I figure. The Lord knows all about every one of those sins in our past. And He knows our weaknesses now. Plus He understands what we will face in the future. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And knowin’ all that, He figures you and me can make it anyhow.”

  “And God’s never wrong.”

  “So, we’re stuck with each other.”

  Pepper started to poke him, then remembered the bandanna wrapped around his right hand.

  “How’s your wound?”

  “Let’s take a look.” Tap pulled off the stained bandanna and held up his hand. “Stitches still look pretty good. And it’s not puffin’ up. Actually, it’s doing better than I thought. Mainly it’s just stiff.”

  Pepper seemed to be staring right through him. “What is it?”

  “I was just wonderin’. How many times over the years will I have to look at your fresh wounds?”

  “It’s a wild and rugged land. Until it settles down, there’ll be some rough, rugged folks. Some of them will be rogues. Some of us will have to make a stand against them. Ever since I began to believe, I’ve determined that my stand is going to be on the side of doing right.”

  “I know. It’s the way I want it really. It’s just that I worry about some drifter shootin’ you in the back.”

  Tap grinned. “I’m not Bill Hickock or someone like that. Just a small-time cattle rancher from northern Colorado.”

  “Come on, Mr. Small Time. We better get down the hill before dark.”

  Tap pulled her back. “Wait a minute.”

  “What for?”

  “Do you know how this day started?”

  “Yeah. I was in the train station sleeping on a bench in the middle of a bunch of drunks.”

  “And I was in a hayloft being shot at. Then we spent the morning yelling and hating each other and the noon hour in a fight at the depot.”

  “Not to mention being kidnapped, threatened, and knifed. It wasn’t boring. Is that your point?”

   “Nope. My point is we’ve been so busy we’ve neglected the most important thing of all.”

  “And what’s that, Mr. Andrews?”

  Tap slipped his left hand on the back of her waist. His bandaged right hand cradled her blonde hair.

  Pepper closed her eyes and felt his warm tender lips press against hers. When he finally pulled back, her eyes popped open.

  “Maybe we don’t have to get back to the hotel so quickly.”

  She threw her arms around Tap’s neck and kissed him long and hard.

  Lord, let there be a whole lot more times like this and a whole lot fewer times like this mornin’.

  It was totally dark by the time they returned to the hotel. They stood for a moment outside Pepper’s door.

  “What time are we pullin’ out in the mornin’?” she asked.

  “I’ll get up early and get the rig hitched up. A lot depends on Stack. If he needs more rest, maybe we’ll take a little extra time.”

  “If the chinook’s blowin’ still, we could go for another walk.”

  “Now look, lady, do you really like the exercise, or are you just tryin’ to get me alone on that hillside so you can kiss me on the lips?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.” She stuck out her tongue and slipped inside her room.

  Tap collapsed in the bed and slept so deeply that he didn’t wake up until almost daylight. Stack snored away, so Tap dressed quickly and scooted out of the room. He tried not to make too much noise with his jingling spurs and thumping boot heels.

  Carrying his Winchester in his left hand, he grabbed a tin cup of coffee from the hotel kitchen in his right and backed his way out the door, strolling out into the yard in front of the hotel.

  The warm chinook wind still drifted up from the southwest. The skies were so clear he felt he could reach up and touch the snow-capped Rockies. To the east the sun had not yet risen, but an orange glow on the horizon signaled that it was only moments away.

  Tap stopped by the corrals and looked over the horses. Leaning the rifle against a post, he sipped his coffee.

  Lord, this is like August—not November. Last August I was sweatin’ down in Yuma at the Territorial Prison. That was a lifetime ago. Almost like lookin’ back on a different person. I am a different person. I did a lot of dumb things in the past, and I’ll have to live with the consequences. Just help me not to do dumb things in the future.

  Thanks for a new day . . . and a new chance.

  “Brownie, let’s go home. Onespot will be missin’ you, and Sal will be tired of eatin’ nothin’ but mice. I’ll grab that tack, and we’ll get you suited up for the day.”

  Balancing the empty tin coffee cup on the top of the corral post, Tap stepped into the shadow-darkened barn.

  The first blow struck just above his shins. It felt like an axe handle or rifle barrel. Falling to the dirt, he reached for his Colt but felt the cold steel of a revolver crash into the side of his head.

  Trying to roll out of the way, he managed to get his hand to his holster—only to find it now empty. Protecting his injured right hand, he defended himself with his left hand. He warded off one kick to the face but took hard blows to the stomach and kidney. Gasping for breath, Tap made it to his hands and knees and then felt something slam hard against the back of his head. He collapsed face-first in the dirt, straw, and manure of the barn floor.

  Catching his breath and adjusting his vision to the darkness, he felt someone yank his hands behind him and tie them with a leather strap.

  “He don’t look like much now, does he, Dillard?”

  Tap could feel blood trickle into his left eye from a wound inflicted by a kick in the head. Even with his hands tied, he rolled over and tried to prop himself up against a barn wall. Through blurred vision he saw Junior Pardee approach him with a carbine in his hand. He raised the barrel, and Tap braced himself for yet another blow.

  “Leave him alone, Pardee,” a deep voice shouted.

  Pardee spun toward the other man. “What difference does it make if he’s awake or cold-cocked? You’re goin’ to kill him anyway, right?”

  “It makes a lot of difference. I want him to know who it is that outsmarted him.” Carter Dillard stepped into sight.

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