One Went to Denver and the Other Went Wrong (Code of the West) (8 page)

  It took him close to an hour to finally get warm.

  It was even longer than that before he could get to sleep.

  Now, Lord, this is Tap, and to tell You the truth, things are gettin’ real confusin’. I mean, out at the ranch everything looks clear and simple. But here, it’s different. If I find Barranca, there’ll be a shootin’. If I kill him, there won’t be any way to prove that he’s the one that back-shot Billingsly. So that means Wade’s still goin’ to be hung, and I’m on the run out of Colorado.

  Shoot, maybe I’ll just tell Wade there’s nothin’ I can do and ride back to the ranch. Maybe Pepper’s right, Lord. The past is too messed up to try and straighten out. Maybe there’s a time to walk away from it.

  Tap rolled over in the dark room and let his hand drop to the floor. He could feel his Winchester. And his boots.

  Lord, You know I can’t do that. You been houndin’ me about Arizona. And now I can’t leave Wade in jail. He might not be a deacon in the church, but he’s my friend, and he’s been dealt a crooked hand. Help me figure this one out, Lord.

  What little sleep Tap could grab ended when the first ray of daylight filtered through the thin curtains of the barren room at the Drovers’.

  Within minutes he had dressed, grabbed his guns, and banged his boot heels down the hall. A blurry-eyed Maurice met him in the parlor.

  “Are you comin’ in or goin’ out?” he asked.

  Tap sighed and lifted his rifle from his shoulder. “I’m goin’ out, Maurice.”

  “Nothin’ in town open yet but the all-night saloons.”

  “I’m headin’ down to the jail to visit a friend.”

  “You comin’ back tonight?”

  “Yep.”

  “If I were you, I’d stay away from the Pearly Gate. It’s plumb cultus, if I do say so.”

  Tap broke into a wide grin. “You know, Maurice, you’ve warned me about that place so often I’ve just got to check it out. Couldn’t be any place north of Hades with that bad a reputation.

  “Who said it was north of Hades?”

  Tap didn’t bother wearing the store-bought suit this time. He entered the jail and asked a startled jailer if he could visit with Wade Eagleman.

  “At this time in the mornin’? Nobody allowed in until after 10:00 A.M. Mister, I ain’t even fed the prisoners breakfast. Is it daylight out there?”

  “It’s fast gettin’ that way.”

  “I guess you can wait out here. It’s better you came to see him today than a couple days from now.”

  “How’s that?” Tap asked.

  “The hangin’s goin’ to be the day after tomorrow.”

  “Hangin’? I thought the governor was reviewing the case.”

  “Don’t know nothin’ about that. But he’ll be hanging soon, that’s for sure. I’ll come get you when it’s visitin’ time.”

  “I’ll go to the livery and take care of my horse. Are you sure I can’t get in until 10:00?”

  “Yep.”

  Tap groomed Brownie, ate breakfast, and paced in front of the jail. Finally the jailor appeared at the door and signaled him in.

  “Just remember—”

  “Keep my hands away from the bars.”

  “And you can lay those weapons of yours right here on the table.”

  Tap did so and then sauntered down the stark corridor and stopped by Wade Eagleman’s cell.

  “Tap!”

  “I was afraid you’d be sleepin’.”

  “Oh, sure. No need to stay awake and worry. After all, I’ve got forty-eight hours before they hang me. What happened to those papers?”

  “I gave them to Mr. Whitney at the governor’s office. He promised he’d review the case. I told them this had to be taken care of immediately.”

  “If they take a couple more days, it won’t matter,” Wade muttered.

  “I’ll head right over to the governor’s office and see what happened.” Tap lowered his voice. “I know who shot Billingsly.”

  “Who?”

  “Barranca.”

  “Vic Barranca? But isn’t he serving time in Texas? Or was it New Mexico?”

  “Both. But he’s here in town, and your driftin’ accusers said it was Barranca.”

  “It doesn’t look good, Tap. I’ve got too much Indian blood. No one will give it a second thought. I’ve seen it before.”

  “Maybe I can round up a crew, and we’ll try to bust you out,” Tap whispered.

  “Right at the moment anything sounds mighty good.”

  “Look, I’ve got to go talk to that fellow Whitney and then confront Barranca. I’ll be back and let you know.”

  “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

  “Wade, I’ll be back or I’ll be dead. You can count on it.”

  “I know. Thanks. If I get out of this thing, I owe you a big one, partner.”

  “When you get out. I’ve got that big one already lined up.”

  Tap was standing on the front steps of the governor’s office when the first few staff members returned from their lunch break and let him in.

  “I need to talk to either the governor or Mr. Whitney.”

  An older gray-haired man flashed a pleasant smile.

  “Wait right here, please.”

  Tap waited. And waited.

  It was after 3:00 P.M. before the man returned to the hallway.

  “Now you wanted an appointment with the governor?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been waitin’ all afternoon.”

  “How is Thursday? At 10:30 A.M. What is the nature of your business?

  “What? I’ve got to speak to the governor today.”

  “I’m afraid that would be impossible.”

  “It’s a matter of life and death."

  “I’m certainly sorry for that, but the governor’s left for the day.”

  “How about Mr. Whitney?”

  “I’m afraid he’s gone too.”

  “So who’s in charge now? I brought some papers for a review of a hangin’ case, and I want to make sure something gets done about it.”

  “Calm down, sir. I’m very sorry. No one in the office is qualified to handle that kind of work but Mr. Whitney. And the governor, of course.”

  “You mean an innocent man could hang because everyone happens to be gone for the day?”

  “If you’ll come back on Thursday at—”

  “Next Thursday? Wade Eagleman will be dead by then,” Tap bellowed.

  “I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  “You’re goin’ to have to ask me to do a whole lot more.” Tap stopped himself, spun on his heels, and left the governor’s office.

  Lord, an innocent man’s about to be hung, and nobody cares. Nobody but You and me.

  The Pearly Gate Dance Hall lived up to its reputation. It was just getting dark when Tap finally found the place. Several men were passed out on the front porch in the cold November air. One man came flying out the door and landed face first in the street. He rolled over and crawled to the wooden sidewalk.

  The smoke and noise was so thick inside that Tap had to pause by the door and wait until he could distinguish the drunks from the dance-hall girls.

  He crowded up to the bar and shoved in between a bearded old man who appeared to be asleep and a man with a wispy goatee and a bright red face.

  “What are you drinkin’, mister?” the bartender hollered.

  “Just need to ask a question.”

  “If you ain’t drinkin’, get out of here.”

  “Look, would you just tell me which gal is Lena?”

  “Get out of here. The bar is for payin’ customers only.”

  “Set me up with rye whiskey,” Tap conceded.

  The man wiped out a used glass with his dirty apron, and filled it halfway. “That’s a dollar.”

  “What?”

  “You tryin’ to cause trouble?” the bartender growled.

  Just as the bartender reached for the coin Tap tossed on the sticky bar, Tap grabbed the man by the shirt collar. With one motion he dragged him halfway over the bar and  poured the drink over the man’s head.

  Those around him, except for the sleeping old man, pulled back and gave them room as the crowd’s roar ceased.

  “Now I asked which one of these gals is Lena.”

  A husky, yet familiar voice rolled across the crowded room. “You lookin’ for me, cowboy?”

  Dropping the grip on the bartender, Tap spun around and stared through the smoky haze.

“Rena?” he gasped.

  “Tap?” Her painted smile froze in place. “I thought you were still at A. T. P.”

4

T
he first night after Tap left for Denver, Pepper sipped coffee in the kitchen of the hotel with Mrs. McCurley until 8:00 P.M.  It was a cold night, but the kitchen was warm—at the verge of being too warm. To Pepper it felt like when she had one too many blankets on the bed—too comfortable to do anything about it, so just sweat a little.

  Her long, curly blonde hair wouldn’t stay back in the combs, and after helping serve the guests, she just let it drop down to her shoulders. She held a silver tray up like a mirror and stared into her green eyes.

  Twenty-five going on forty. Girl, you’re never goin’ to get rid of those crow’s feet around your eyes. Your nose is too small, your chin is too pointed, and your cheeks are too round. Not to mention a mouth too wide and lips too full.

  A broad grin relaxed her face.

  Other than that, you’re a real head-turner. Lord, what does Tap see in me anyway?

  Pepper hung her apron on a hook near the back door. She scooted through the near empty parlor and up the stairs to her room without speaking to anyone.

  For almost two months she had enjoyed the most peaceful routine in her entire life. She would ride out to the ranch to be with Tap at least once a week (and he would come see her every Sunday). Then there were occasional trips with the McCurleys to visit friends, some work at the hotel just to keep busy, and time spent reading Suzanne Cedar’s Bible. Before it got so cold, she took regular long walks along the river. And there was always plenty of time for sleep. She felt as if she was being allowed to catch up on every night of missed sleep for the past ten years.

  Shutting the door behind her, she turned up her lamp and closed the curtains on the twelve-foot by fifteen-foot room with a high ceiling that had been her home for over two months.

  She glanced at the mirror above her dresser as she slipped out of the long, green dress with lace collar and cuffs.

  Well, old girl, no drunk men to dance with. No jealous girls to scream at. No one crying in the room next door. No knifes, sneak-guns, or shattered glass. No rye-whiskey courage. Or opium-house depression. Or waking up feeling cheap and helpless..

  Yep. You’re goin’ to make it, girl. The Lord gave you a chance to walk away from it all. And you did.

  Thank You, Jesus.

  Still staring at the mirror, she recognized lines of worry creep back around her eyes.

  Lord, I want him back. I want him back right now. I want Tap to just burst through the door and say, “Pepper, the preacher’s downstairs. Let’s go get married.”

  I don’t know why he had to stir up this hornet’s nest in Arizona. He’s got to learn to just walk away from it all like I have.

  Pepper could hear the storm lash against her window.

  Keep him safe, Lord.

  And keep him out of Arizona.

  The early morning rap at the door caused her to sit straight up in bed. She clutched a hunter green quilt tightly around her shoulders. With cool fingers she rubbed the corners of her eyes and brushed her hair back over her shoulders.

  She had planned on sleeping late and joining Mrs. McCurley in the kitchen sometime between ten and eleven. The dark shadows informed her it was much earlier than that.

  Finally she offered a feeble, “Yes?”

  “Pepper, dear, there are a couple of men here who would like to talk to you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. They inferred they’re old friends from Denver.”

  There’s no one in Denver I ever want to see again. Besides Tap.

  “I don’t think .
 . .”

  “Shall I tell them to call back this afternoon?” Mrs. McCurley called from the hall.

  Whoever they are, I don’t want to see them. Oh, Lord, not Dillard. Please, not him.

  She sighed. “I’ll need a while to make myself presentable. Tell them I’ll be down shortly.”

  “Take your time, dear. I’ll feed them some breakfast.”

  Hurrying to get dressed, she thought of Carter Dillard.

  It’s him. I know it’s him. I told him three years ago the debt was settled. I don’t owe him a thing. He’s got no business interfering with my life. Not now. Not ever.

  She finally got most of her hair tucked up with combs and straightened her dress. Pausing at the mirror by the dresser, she noticed deep furrows forming at the corners of her eyes.