I'm Off to Montana for to Throw the Hoolihan (Code of the West) (10 page)

“He’s a beauty, isn’t he?” Bejeaux offered. “Figured I’d get top money for him over in the gold fields, but I don’t want to baby-sit him for weeks before I get there.”

“Well, junior, at least you weren’t stuck back here by yourself. This cute, little skewbald filly made you mind your manners, didn’t she?”

Tap stepped over to the other yearling, a brown and white bald-faced pinto. She was not as tall as the colt and tried to pull away.

“You a little nervous, darlin’? That’s okay. It’s a scary world.” Tap stroked her neck. “Especially for a young lady out on her own for the first time.”

The filly wouldn’t give Tap her foot, but she did allow him to look at her teeth and stare into her eyes.

“What are you lookin’ for?” Bejeaux asked.

“Their sand.”

“Their what?”

“Their sand, grit, determination, courage. That’s how you can tell if they’re naturally mean or just scared to death. If they’ll run or stand by your side. If they’ll push through a stormy night just b
ecause you ask them to.”

“You can tell all that by looking a horse in the eyes?”

“Yep.”

“What’s the verdict? You want to buy the horses?”

“It sure isn’t like buying a finished horse. They’ll need lots of work. But I might be interested if you give me an honest price.”

“Mister,” the drummer began, “you being an expert hors
eman and a local fellow know I could pull in fifty or sixty dollars for each when I reach the mines. But I’m not a greedy man. If you buy them both, I’ll let you have them for twenty-five each. That’s half price and you know it.”

“Twenty-five?” Tap shook his head. “You can buy any horse in this town for twenty-five, including my own personal mount.”
Especially my horse.

“These, of course, aren’t just any old horses. I believe their bree
ding and conformation demonstrate their quality.”

“I’ll give you ten dollars for the colt. The filly’s too an
xious,” Tap offered.

The drummer stepped back and looked up at the faded painted sign on the front of the building. “That does say Li
very, doesn’t it? Perhaps someone else here buys the horses. Ten dollars wouldn’t even cover my expenses.”

“Mister, look into my eyes,” Tap demanded.

“What?”

“Look me in the eyes. It’s like lookin’ at a horse. Now I’m goin’ to tell you somethin’. That colt is worth ten dollars, tops. I’m offerin’ to give you ten. I will not give you twenty-five, fi
fteen, or even eleven.”

Bejeaux turned back toward the foals. “You’re trying to steal these fine horses.”

“They aren’t fine horses—yet. And if you drag them behind your wagon, they won’t make it to the mine fields. I said ten and I meant it. Don’t waste any more of my time.”

Bejeaux started toward his wagon, then turned back. “I’m crazy for sayin’ this .
 . . twenty-five for the two of ’em.”

What am I going to do with a shy filly—even if she is a pretty horse? Maybe green-break her next year and sell her.
“Mister, I’ve got other things to do. I’ll give you eighteen for the pair.”

“Let’s split the difference,” Bejeaux offered. “Twenty-two.”

Tap waved his arms in disgust. “I’ll need you to move the wagon. You’re blockin’ my drive.” He turned around and sauntered toward the barn door.

One—two—three—four—

“Mister, did you ever sell patent medicines?” Bejeaux called out. “You’d be a natural. You’re breakin’ my heart. Come on, come get these ponies for twenty dollars.”

Tap didn’t bother turning around.
Five—six—seven—eight—nine—

“All right .
 . . eighteen. Come get them before I go completely delirious and sell my whole rig for a dime.”

Tap stopped in his tracks and shielded his wide grin.
I knew he would. I could see it in his eyes.

He led the colt into the smallest corral and turned him loose. The little palomino stood by the gate and stared out under the top rail. Then Tap led the filly to the corral. When he loosened the rope, she immediately sprinted for the fa
rthest corner of the corral and hid her head against the faded barn wall.

Antoine Bejeaux had crawled up into the wagon. Tap handed him a gold twenty-dollar double eagle.

“Keep the change,” Tap offered.

“What?”

“They’re worth ten dollars each. Keep the whole twenty. I trust you’re better at sellin’ patent medicine than you are horses. I’ll need you to sign a bill of sale. Wait here and I’ll go get one.”

Soon the wagon rolled and rattled down the street. Tap walked back to the corral to look at the two horses. The colt scampered to greet him and searched for a treat. The filly r
efused to leave the far side of the corral.

“Now I have to explain to Mama why I spent twenty cash dollars on ponies when we have a cavvy of ’em out at the ranch. I’ll just tell her there’s one for Lil’ Tap and one for Ta
pina. And she’ll say, ‘If you think I’m ever going through this again, you are a very deluded man.’”

Tap hiked back to Vanderwyck’s office. He swung the door closed, pulled off his canvas coat and hung it on a chair, and began to brush straw off of it with his hand.

Pepper wants me all purdied up.

He glanced into a broken fragment of a mirror on the wall next to a faded poster of a big black stallion.

Andrews, you’re about as purdy as a tree stump in a hay field.

“Mr. Vanderwyck, I’m sorry I’m late for work. I was bus
hwhacked. Unavoidedly detained.”

Tap swung open the door and stepped into the barn.

“You!” Bean shouted. “Where’s Vanderwyck?”

“He left me in charge. Said you were fired.”

Bean’s round hat was pushed back, revealing a large blue-black lump. He reached down to his side, but there was no fancy tooled leather holster. And no gun.

Bean yanked out a knife. “Mister, this is the last time I’m dealin’ with you. This time you’re a dead man.”

“Bean, surely you have something better to do than get yourself hurt again.”

Tap heard the muted sound of slow-moving spurs to his right. He stepped that way just as Bean lunged at him with the knife. He dove to the dirt of the barn floor and rolled to his back just in time to see Jackson try to hold back with the shovel handle that had been aimed at Tap’s head. Instead, it crashed into Bean’s shoulder, causing the knife to fly to the ground.

Tap scampered to his feet. The knife, blade first, pegged the toe of Bean’s polished black shoes.

“I stabbed myself,” he screamed. “You purtneer broke my shou
lder blade and made me stab myself.”

Lifting the shovel handle, Jackson lunged toward Tap. “I’m goin’ to kill you,” he shouted. “You coldcocked us and left us in the alley.”

Tap backed toward a stall, avoiding the swinging shovel handle. “I also stripped you and tied you up. My only mistake was not shootin’ you both. Now get out of here before I get riled. You two are like crazy horseflies that won’t leave well enough alone. Get out of here.”

“We ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Jackson snarled, lunging again. Tap dodged and came up beside Jackson and slammed his locked hands into the middle of the man’s back. Jackson stu
mbled, face first, into the muck of the barn floor. “Knife him, Bean,” Jackson called out as he struggled to his feet.

“I cain’t. I’m bleedin’ to death,” Bean cried. He seemed fr
ozen in place, the knife still piercing the blood-stained black shoe. “I’m goin’ to die right here, and I ain’t never seen San Francisco.”

Keeping an eye on Jackson as the man tried to regain his breath, Tap walked over to Bean and stepped on the toe of the injured foot. Bean let out a curse and scream, but stood in hel
pless fear and pain as Tap bent over and yanked the knife out of his foot.

“Stuff your bandanna in there and get yourself to a doc, Bean. It didn’t go in very far.”

“I’ll kill you,” Bean shrieked as he dropped to the dirt. He flailed frantically at the bandanna in his back pocket.

The shovel handle caught Tap in the small of the back. A mind-numbing pain shot straight up to the back of his neck. The knife dropped as he staggered forward, trying to avoid another blow. When he spun around, Bean was limping t
oward him, knife in hand, and Jackson had the shovel handle raised over his head.

“Okay .
 . . that’s it,” Tap hollered. “There’s nothin’ a man can do with rabid skunks but kill ’em.” Yanking a horse collar off a peg on a post, Tap charged a startled Jackson. The shovel handle bounced off the horse collar. Tap’s fist slammed into the man’s stomach with a thud. The second blow cracked like a thick stick breaking in two, catching the man on his jawbone. Jackson slumped to his knees, clutching his head in both hands.

The bloody knife blade ripped through the right arm of Tap’s shirt. The gray cotton cloth gaped open, and a thin line of blood popped out, trickling onto his shirt. The horse collar caught Bean in the nose with such force Tap instantly knew it was broken.

“Drop the knife, Bean,” he growled.

The man clutched his bleeding nose with his left hand and swung wildly at Tap with his knife-wielding right hand. This time the horse collar slammed into Bean’s ear. He crumpled to the ground. Whipping around, Tap shielded his head from a blow he expected from Jackson, but the shovel handle cracked into his shins instead.

Tap collapsed to the dirt, pinning the shovel handle beneath his throbbing legs. Both men rose to their knees. Tap’s right cross slammed into Jackson’s chin, and the left uppercut laid him flat on his back. Jackson struggled to prop himself up on one elbow, but Tap’s roundhouse caught him in the mouth. This time when Jackson hit dirt, he didn’t move.

“What are you doin’, Andrews? Takin’ ’em on two at a time on your knees?”

Panting for breath, blood seeping down his left arm, dirt from head to toe, Tap reached for his hat. “Stack! What are you doin’ here?”

“Watchin’ a fight,” the tall, well-dressed man replied. “’Course it wasn’t much of one.”

“How long you been there?”

“Since you took that blade to the arm.”

“And you didn’t step in to help?”

Lowery flashed Tap a full-toothed grin. “You didn’t need no help, did you, Andrews?”

Tap tried to stand but collapsed to his knees. “Nah, I had ’em from the first blow.” He reached for Stack’s arm. The former dance hall piano player and bouncer yanked him to his feet.

“Good. I didn’t want to get my suit messed up. I’ve got a weddin’ to go to.”

“You came in for Lorenzo’s weddin’?” Tap asked.

“I came in for Miss Selena’s weddin’. She’s one of my girls, you know.”

“The weddin’. Pepper will be here, and look at me.”

“Ain’t much different than your own weddin’,” Stack laughed. “I hope you ain’t offended, but if I ever get married, Pepper’s invited, but you have to stay at the ranch.”

“You got a prospect lined up?” Tap joshed.

“At least a man can hope.”

“Especially a man who owns a gold mine.”

“Half a gold mine,” Stack corrected.

Regaining a little strength in his throbbing legs, Tap wobbled beside the towering Stack Lowery out of the livery. A black leather carriage pulled by matching sixteen-hand black geldings waited in the street.

“Nice rig.”

“Just bought it,” Stack related. “Had it and the horses railed here from Kentucky.”

“I’d better clean up before Pepper sees me like this.”

“Too late. Looks like her and Odessa headed this way.” Stack pointed to the east.

Tap tried to brush the dirt off his torn wool vest as the buckboard rumbled up and parked. Pepper peered out from a well-rounded blanket and smiled at Lowery.

“Stack!”

“Miss Pepper,” Stack beamed. “You’re lookin’ very, very motherly. It wears good on you.”

“Sounds like Tap has warned you what to say. It’s wonderful you could make it.”

“You girls are family. You knew I’d be here.”

“I’m sure Selena was counting on it.”

“Odessa, you better take good care of my girl,” Lowery admo
nished.

“If I don’t bust another leg or have to wear Andrews’ Su
nday suit again, I think I can take care of her just fine.” Lorenzo grinned.

“Speaking of Mr. Andrews,” Pepper added. “I suppose that dirt-and-blood-covered object with the silly, toothy grin is my husband.”

“Sorry, darlin’, there was a little trouble. But it’s okay now.”

“What does the other man look like?”

“Other men,” Stack corrected her. “Two of ’em laid flat in the barn.”

“Are they dead?”

“Nope. Just knocked silly,” Stack reported.

“Can we get on with this wedding so I can take my hu
sband home and keep him out of trouble?”

“Shall we all meet at the courthouse?” Odessa asked.