One Went to Denver and the Other Went Wrong (Code of the West) (3 page)

  “Tap Andrews, I told you I am not now, nor will I ever, go to Denver.”

  “What happened there?”

  “I’m not talkin’ about it. So you can just change the subject, thank you.”

  “Now you’re the one not makin’ any sense.”

  “Don’t you start yellin’ at me again.”

  “When you start makin’ sense, I’ll stop yellin’.” The fog from his breath floated like smoke across the porch.

  “I can’t go back to Denver. And that’s final.”

  Tap tried to lower his voice. “But what happened in—”

  “I’m not tellin’ you now. I’m not tellin’ you ever. There are some things that best remain hidden.” Her voice quivered, but Tap didn’t see any tears.

  “But I might be there several weeks.”

  “It don’t matter. I can’t go.”

  “But what if I get word that Brannon will meet with me? I might not have time to come back here and get you.”

  “Send word by stage. I’ll meet you in Durango or Santa Fe or wherever. But I’m not goin’ to Denver.”

  They sat in tense silence in the darkness until Mrs. McCurley interrupted from the door. "Come get some supper before it's all gone."

  Tap waited until the door closed. “I won’t go to meet Brannon without you.” He helped Pepper to her feet.

  “You promise?”

  “My word’s good.”

  “As good as this man Brannon’s?”

  “Eh, I hope so.”

  “Can you walk into any bank in the territory and borrow every last dollar with nothing more than a promise?” she teased.

  “Only if I have a gun in my hand and a bandanna over my face.”

  “I’ll worry about you the whole time you’re in Denver.”

  “You better. I’ll be anxious about you the whole time too.”

  “There ain’t no need for that. I’ll just be up in my room pinin’ away for some no-account, driftin’ gunman.”

  “I thought you were goin’ to be thinkin’ about me.”

  Tap jumped back to miss her swinging right arm and raked his spurs across the wooden porch. “You are the no-account.”

  “I’m the one who has a right to be concerned. Some smooth-talkin’, rich mine owner might pull up here in a big black buggy and talk you into movin’ into his mansion.”

  “Are you really worried about losin’ me?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause it will give you a reason to hurry back to McCurley’s.”

  “I’m not goin’ to stay in Denver one day longer than I need to. I want to get back before the passes snow in for the winter. Do you want me to bring you anything back?”

  Pepper’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, yes. Bring me some cream-colored satin and matching lace, mother-of-pearl buttons, and some thread and—”

  “Whoa. Write all of that down for me. And how in the world am I going to pick out stuff like that?”

  “I’m sure a millinery shop will be able to fill the order. Just give them the list.”

  They strolled to the hotel front door.

  “Now let me get this straight. We argued up and down about whether I was to go off and finally decided I should go and you should go with me. Only now you aren’t goin’ because you had a bad experience in Denver once?”

  “I had a livin’ nightmare in Denver. Sometimes I still wake up shakin' and sweatin'. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Let's eat. It’s gettin’ colder out here.”

  She winked. “Your lips again?”

  He brushed his callused hand over his chapped lips. “Yes, Miss Pepper, these lips are absolutely freezing.”

  “Mr. Andrews, if I were you, I’d march right in there and have a big hot bowl of Mrs. McCurley’s soup.”

2

A
n inch of fresh, wet snow dusted the yard as Tap Andrews stood in the doorway of McCurley’s barn with his bedroll over his shoulder. A slight crack in the heavy clouds pressing up against the Rocky Mountains caused the early morning eastern sky to take on a rose and purple color. The air was damp, frigid—yet clean.

  Brownie walked stiff-legged as he led the horse out of the stalls to the hitching rail in front of the hotel. Tap yanked on the latigo and retied it, leaving the reins looped over the saddle horn. With a small stick in hand he circled the horse, lifting each hoof to check the frog for stones and mud.

  For Tap the aroma of horseflesh and saddle leather was the smell of leaving. He glanced up at Pepper’s upstairs window but couldn’t see any light in her room.

  Lord, it seems like I’ve spent my whole life leavin’. I guess a man doesn’t remember the “howdys” as much as the “so longs.” Well, darlin’, I surely hope I know what I’m doin’. Sometimes doin’ the right thing sure does take a lot of figurin’. Now doin’ wrong .
 . . That takes no thought at all. I’m goin’ to miss you. I’ll miss that smile . . . and those eyes . . . and . . . and those sweet, soft lips.

  “Are you goin’ to stand there in the snow gawkin’ up at my window all day or what?”

  “Pepper?" She was wrapped with a quilt around her bathrobe at the front door of the hotel. Her wavy blonde hair combed down past her shoulders. “I didn’t think you were up yet.”

  “I’m not. I’m sound asleep. I surely don’t get up at this time of the day for just any old no-account drifter.”

  “Thanks. I was startin’ to miss you already.”

  “You aren’t goin’ to be gone all that long. Just pretend you’re burnin’ hair on them old longhorns or something. Here, I made you up a grub sack.” Pepper handed him a heavy flour sack.

  “What are you going to be doin’ ’til I get back?” he asked.

  “Mrs. McCurley’s hired me to help with some of the cookin’. I do know how to cook, you know.”

  “You’re goin’ to get up and cook breakfast?”

  “I didn’t say breakfast. My job will be to help with dinner and cook supper.”

  Tap stepped up on the porch and took the food sack. “Are you barefooted? You’ll freeze out here barefooted,” he chided.

  “It ain’t my toes that is cold.” She grinned.

  “If your ears are cold, perhaps you should wear—”

  “It ain’t my ears neither. Cowboy, it’s my lips that is freezin’.”

  “If I were you, I’d hustle right in there and have a nice, hot cup of coffee.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I ain’t you.” She threw her arms around him and kissed him.

  Tap figured the soft, warm feel of the kiss lasted just over the first hill east of McCurley. There a frigid northern wind caused him to tighten the stampede string on his hat and turn his collar up.

  The further he rode up the trail to the east, the lower the clouds seemed to hang. By noon he and Brownie were in a dripping, freezing fog that left his clothes soaked and his eyes stinging. He had just built a fire on the south side of the trail when a carriage drove up from the east.

  “You boys are welcome to noon it with me,” Tap called as they paused and waited for him to signal them in.

  “Much obliged, mister. It’s a miserable time to be comin’ over the pass. Yes, sir, a warm fire will take some chill out of my bones.” The lanky man spoke with a slowness of speech formed by years of working long cattle drives .
 . . or being on the run.

  Climbing out of the carriage, the two men joined Tap at the fire.

  “Help yourself to some grub.” He motioned.

  “We got our own fixin’s, but a cup of that coffee would be nice. They call me Pardee, and this is—”

  “He doesn’t need my name,” grumbled the big man with a thick mustache and gray hair at the temples.

  “Nope.” Tap sipped coffee from his blue-enameled tin cup. “But you can call me Tap.”

  “I suppose this is about the right time of the year for this snow. ’Course, I’d like to see it wait ’til after Christmas. I remember one year the passes snowed up by the middle of October . . . that was six, seven years ago, I reckon.” Pardee continued to jabber while Tap and the other man sized each other up.

  He probably carries a sneak gun and a knife. And that Colt ain’t parked on his hip just for looks. He’s the kind that thinks he’s suppose to win every hand he draws.

  “You all headin’ on west a spell?” Tap finally asked.

  “Where we’re traveling is none of your business,” the big man snapped.

  “Oh, don’t mind him. Yep, we’re goin’ west.” Pardee spit on the ground. “I hear a man kin catch a room at McCurley Hotel. Is that right?”

  “Yep. McCurley’s got a nice little hotel there. “’Course, he’s a God-fearin’ man who don’t put up with no slack, if you catch my drift.”

  “On a day like this one, all we need is a dry bed and meal. We aim to try and locate an old friend out that way,” Pardee added. “Can we get there by dark?”

  “You’ll have to push it in this weather. I don’t figure there’s enough daylight left,” Tap instructed him. “But the hot apple pie is worth the effort. You might not be too late for supper. Mrs. McCurley will stir you up something if you got the fare.”

  “Now that sounds mighty fine. It’s got to beat that supper we had last night.” Pardee pulled some jerky out of his grub sack.

  “You stopped at Pingree, I reckon.”

  “Yep. The likker and girls is fine, but that big old boy who cooked breakfast this mornin’ burnt them eggs harder than the streets of Denver.”

  “That must be Stack. He’s a good man to the bone. But he isn’t a cook. Grab another cup of coffee ’cause I’ve got to load up and be on my way. If this thing cuts loose and starts snowing, I’ll never make it to town.”

  “Thanks, mister. And if you make it to April’s dance hall, don’t eat them eggs.”

  Tap cinched up Brownie and loaded his gear. Mounting up, he swung back by the men at the fire before he rode up to the trail.

  “Thanks again for the fire,” Pardee called. “Take her mighty careful up there. You’re headin’ into the teeth of this thing.”

  “I hope you make it to McCurley’s. But frankly I wouldn’t travel with a man who keeps one hand always attached to a sneak gun in his coat pocket.” He nodded at the bigger man.

  “He what?”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t decide if he wanted to kill me or you.”

  “What’s he talkin’ about?”

  “I thought you were leavin’, mister,” the nameless man gruffed at Tap.

  “I aim to do just that. Well, Pardee, watch your back. Hope you find that pal of yours.”

  “Pal? We ain’t lookin’ for a pal. We’re lookin’ for a gal.”

  “Shut up, Pardee. You talk too much,” the other man snapped.

  Pardee reached for his revolver. Then he backed off with a shrug.

  Tap pushed Brownie up the steep trail.

  “Old boy, at least we got the drift at our back this afternoon. They’ll be headin’ right into it. If they’re lookin’ for a gal, they should have stayed at April’s. Seems to me those two will be at each other’s throats long before they get there.”

  The clouds lifted to the treetops about midafternoon, and it began to snow. It wasn’t a heavy snow—just scattered flakes, each about the size of a two-bit piece and each packing drops of water. Tap’s ducking trousers were soon soaked, his jacket was getting heavy, and his hat began to droop.

  His deerskin gloves began to hold water, and he debated whether it would be warmer to cram them back into his saddlebags. It was too blustery and cold to stop and talk with any of the other travelers he met on the road. All seemed content to tip hats and keep moving.

  It was after dark when Tap thought he saw a flicker of kerosene light off to the left. He pulled over. He came up in front of April Hastings’ dance hall.

  Dropping Brownie’s reins to the snow, he stepped up to the sidewalk and peeked inside the door.

  “Hey, piano man, is this a funeral?” Tap called.

  The strong-shouldered, tall man at the piano stool spun toward the door.

  “Tap, did you get lost in this storm or what?”

  “Now that’s a fine greeting, Stack. I ride all this way just to taste your fine cowboy cuisine, and you chide me like that.”

  Stack ambled over and threw his arm around Tap’s shoulder. “Come on in . . . we’ve got three old boys passed out in the back of the saloon, but other than that, the place is empty. April’s told the girls they can stay upstairs if things don’t pick up. You’re stayin’ with us, ain’t ya?”

  “I was hopin’ to sleep out in the barn. I’ve got to put up my pony.”

  “Shoot, Tap, you can stay in here . . . eh, in my room. You know that.”

  “Stack, if Pepper found out I spent the night at April’s, it would be a mighty fierce fight. You know what she can do.”

  “Yep. I reckon it would be like cornerin’ a badger in the woodshed. Let me get a lantern and walk you out. You need some coffee? You’re soakin’ wet. I kin rustle you up some eggs.”

  “Eh, no thanks, Stack. I just need a soft spot and some warm blankets.”