Stay Away From That City . . . They Call It Cheyenne (Code of the West) (11 page)

“Don’t turn around and don’t slow down, Jerome.”

“You ain’t got to worry about me, Deputy. I never was so cheerful to see a courthouse in my life. Where are them so
ldier boys you promised?”

“I’m sure they’ll be along shortly.” Tap could feel the heavy, cold steel of the shackle on his left wrist and the polished wa
lnut handle of the .44 Colt in his right hand.

When they arrived at the corner of Ferguson and 19th, the boardwalks were jammed with onlookers. No longer was it merely the armed camps of drovers and bummers that fo
llowed behind, but shopkeepers, railroad workers, schoolchildren, families, and clergymen. Mothers hid their children’s faces in the folds of long, dark dresses. Short people stood on packing crates, and two dozen Chinese took a position on top of the jewelry store.

“You said we’re jist goin’ to sneak up to the courthouse,” Hager protested. “You surely don’t know how to keep a s
ecret, Deputy. Where did all these folks come from?”

“Hager, maybe the Lord sent ’em.”

“How do you figure?”

“The more witnesses, the less chance of you or me gettin’ bushwhacked.”

“Don’t reckon I ever thought of it that way.”

“No .
 . . I don’t expect you have.”

There were no soldiers waiting at the courthouse. Besides a battery of bundled-up, gawking court employees, the only ot
hers waiting for Tap were Baltimore Gomez and Carbine Williams. Baltimore stood on the granite steps of the courthouse cradling a ’79 side-by-side 10-bore with twenty-inch barrels in his arm—and a big smile on his round, dark face.

“Takin’ a quiet stroll, are you, Tap?”

“He’s crazy,” Hager complained. “I’m chained up to a crazy man,”

“It didn’t exactly turn out like I figured,” Tap admitted. “Is the judge inside?”

“Yep. Him and a couple of lawyers.”

“Have you seen any sign of some troops from Ft. Ru
ssell?” Tap pushed the tip of his hat back with the barrel of his drawn .44.

“Nope.”

“I’ll take Jerome before the judge.”

Baltimore motioned toward Carbine on the roof. “What do you want us to do?”

“Don’t let anyone else come into the courthouse.” Tap started to walk through the doors. Then he leaned back toward Baltimore. “Shoot above their heads. I don’t want anyone hurt—especially you and Carbine.”

Jerome Hager demanded a jury trial, and Judge J. A. Blair set a trial date of May 12. Hager was sentenced to be held in the guardhouse at Ft. Russell until the trial began or until the ma
rshal or acting marshal determined it was safe to return him to the county jail.

Toward the end of the half-hour proceedings, Tap heard a commotion in the back of the courtroom. A blue-caped lie
utenant and six heavily armed soldiers entered and stood near the door.

I hope they brought more than six.

After the proceedings, Tap delivered the prisoner to Lt. Morris T. Jackson. Tap reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a key to unlock the irons.

“Keep him safe for us, Lieutenant. We want to see old Jerome get a nice trial and a legal hanging.”

Hager watched as Tap unhooked the irons. “I thought you told that mob you didn’t have a key.”

“I lied.”

“But . . . ,” Hager muttered.

“I told you I wasn’t a deacon. If they thought they could have gotten you unlocked, there’s no telling where you would be.” Tap turned to the army officer. “How many men did you bring with you?”

“Step on out and check for yourself.”

Tap led the procession out of the courtroom to find an army ambulance parked in the street with a dozen mounted cava
lrymen in front and another dozen waiting behind.

“That ought to do it—don’t you think so, Jerome?”

“Makes a fella feel mighty important.”

The lieutenant marched Jerome Hager to the van and loaded him into the back with the six soldiers. “We don’t a
lways have a contingent this size available for such duty, but Marshal Divide always treated us square when the boys came to town. They appreciated that. We’ll take good care of him. But the word on the street is that it only took one deputy to bring him to the courthouse from across town.”

“One deputy and divine providence,” Tap added. “Do you want me to ride along?”

“Only if you have nothing else to do.”

“I need to stick around for Pappy’s funeral.”

“Anytime you need to come out and talk to the prisoner, you are more than welcome.”

“According to my wife, I’m supposed to come out tomo
rrow night for some kind of a dance.”

“Oh, the Calico Hop. Yes, sir, it will be a fine time. Hate to see them pull out.”

“Who?”

“The Seventh Infantry. They’re getting moved north. That’s why we’re having the dance. Hope to see you there.”

“I reckon I don’t have any other option. My wife’s a very persuasive woman.”

The crowd in the street around the courthouse dispersed in the cold spring air as the soldiers led the ambulance down 19th Street. Only a couple riders from the earlier mob fo
llowed the soldiers at a safe distance.

Lord, it’s in Your hands. I’ve done what I could.

“Where do you need us now?” Carbine Williams and Baltimore Gomez sauntered up behind him. As always Carbine needed a haircut and Baltimore a shave.

“Go home for dinner, and I’ll meet you at Pappy’s funeral. I imagine most of the town will be there.”

“Who will watch the town if we’re all out at the grave site?” Baltimore asked.

“We’ll just have to figure nothin’ll happen for that hour.” Tap shrugged.

Baltimore cleared his throat. “I hope this don’t sound disrespectful, Tap . . . but me and funerals don’t mix. I don’t like ’em—never have. I don’t aim to go to this one. You know how much I respected Pappy. That ain’t it at all. There’s just somethin’ about a funeral that causes me to break out in a terrible itch.”

“I know what you mean,” Carbine sympathized.

“You do?”

“Yep. I feel the same way about weddin’s—especially my own.”

“What do you say, Tap? If you told me I had to stay downtown or at the jail, then I could beg out of the funeral.”

“Baltimore, in my role as temporary acting marshal, I hereby assign you to keep an eye on 16th Street and the tracks this afternoon.”

Gomez drawled, “I surely hate to miss Pappy’s last doin’s, but a man’s got to do his job. Thanks, it’ll sure help me to know what to say to Savannah next time I see her on the street.”

“How’s she doin’?” The smoke from Carbine's quirley li
ngered like gun smoke.

“Pepper reports her as strong as ever .
 . . but I figure it’ll all crash down on her one of these days. There’s only so much sorrow a person can pack around. I’m headin’ over to check on ’em now.”

“It’s a wonder we didn’t see ’em in this crowd. I ain’t seen that many in the streets since that Italian led the two el
ephants down 16th Street. Pepper and Savannah must have been the only ones in town that didn’t see you march Hager up to the courthouse.”

Tap fastened the top buttons on his coat and jammed his hands into his pockets. “I’m surely glad it’s over. Maybe town will settle down now. With the snow meltin’ in the Black Hills and the crews pullin’ out for the spring roundup, Che
yenne should start to empty out.”

“It’s been a long winter in that respect,” Williams co
ncurred.

Tap trotted Brownie down Ferguson toward the Inter Ocean Hotel. He found Pepper and Savannah eating dinner at a table next to a front window in the hotel dining room. Both women were trimmed out in black. A large, pink-vased rose decorated the white lace tablecloth.

“Ladies, do you mind if a deputy joins you for dinner?”

“Mr. Andrews, how delightful. It will be our pleasure. I b
elieve you’ve met my companion, Mrs. Andrews?” Savannah teased.

“Yes, we’ve met.” He grinned at his beaming wife. “But we don’t often see each other, do we, ma’am?”

Pepper leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“What was that for?”

“That’s because I miss you,” she announced. “And, besides, the whole town is talking about how you brought in Hager and stood down both the bummers and the drovers. Frankly, I thought you were magnificent.”

“You saw it?”

“Mr. Andrews, I believe everyone in the town witnessed your bravery,” Savannah responded.

“I should have never got myself in such a scrape. I guess the Lord had mercy on me.”

“And me as well,” Pepper added.

“Mr. Andrews, your Pepper is a dear jewel. Frankly, I don’t know how a driftin’ lawman like yourself ever snagged such a treasure.”

“Snagged her? Didn’t Pepper ever tell you how she trapped me?” Tap waved at a waiter to bring him some coffee.

Savannah glanced up. “Trapped you?”

Pepper pushed away from the table. “I did what? You ensnared me, Mr. Tapadera Andrews, and you know it.”

Savannah drawled, “this does sound interesting.”

“The truth of the matter is that we both lied, deceived, and misled each other. But once we got hooked on each other, we sort of liked it,” Tap tried to explain.

“I do believe you two will have to illuminate that as we eat.”

“Not today,” Pepper protested. “You’ve got the funeral to think about.”

“That’s precisely why I insist you tell me this juicy story. Nothing will help me more than getting my mind off the se
rvice.”

It took a bowl of pork stew, one small loaf of bread, and three cups of coffee before Tap and Pepper finished explai
ning the beginning of their relationship. Savannah Divide just laughed and shook her head through it all.

Then both women excused themselves and retired to Suite G while Tap sat at the table and stared out the front window. Broken sunlight sprayed through the clouds.

I’ll still need my overcoat. Standin’ at the grave site of a friend has got to be the coldest spot on earth.

The voice was deep, unfamiliar, and obviously very e
xcited. “Now here’s the beauty of it. She sold it for only one dollar. Can you imagine what this will fetch in Boston or New York?”

Tap continued to look out the window but listened i
ntently to the conversation at the table next to him.

“You could probably sell it for twenty-five dollars.” This was a higher-pitched male voice.

“Twenty-five? Look at this signature. It’s Jesse’s all right. I saw his name one time on a hotel registry in St. Joe. This is the authentic thing.”

Tap viewed the two men. Both wore tight suits, starched shirts, and dark ties.

“How did you say you came across it?” the smaller man with a receding hairline inquired.

“This young lady, a girl actually, she’s Bob Ford’s niece. I guess the family’s in hard straits. You know, lots of folks co
nsider Ford the villain in the story. Anyway, she was right at the ticket counter, crying her eyes out because she didn’t have enough money to go to St. Joseph.”

“And you offered to help her?”

“No, I didn’t think about it until she tugged on my sleeve and wanted to know if I would buy her shoes for a dollar.”

“Shoes?”

“I wasn’t about to buy a little girl’s only pair of shoes. Then she pulled out this reward poster. She said it was the only thing of value she had, but she didn’t know if it was worth a dollar.”

“A dollar? You got a steal, Leo.”

“That’s what I figured. Look at this: ‘$25,000 reward, dead or alive.’ Signed by the St. Louis-Midland Railroad. And right there—look at it: ‘Your pal, Jesse James.’ A genuine autograph.”

Tap strolled near the table.

“Excuse me, I just overheard a little of the conversation. Did you happen to get that wanted poster from a ten-year-old girl with coal-black curly hair, dark skin, dancing eyes, and a turned-up nose?”

“Yes, that’s her. Do you know her?”

“Yep.”

“I know her last name’s Ford, but what’s her first name?”  Tap sighed. “Her name is Angelita.”

He rode Brownie down by the U. P. Station but didn’t spot Angelita. He stopped at the mayor’s hotel to talk about what to do with Simp Merced. Tom Breshnan was still gone, so he rode back to the house and changed into his Sunday suit. After washing his neck and shaving, he took one last look in the mirror.

Strained brown eyes. A streak of gray above his left ear. The bruise on his neck was turning yellow.

I will never, ever get used to wearin’ these clothes. It’s not natural. A man wasn’t created to strut around all slicked up like this. If we had that ranch in the hills, I wouldn’t have to, except for church and funerals.

Stepping out to the front porch, Tap glanced across the street. Someone peeked out from the Wallace home. He tipped his hat and nodded. The curtains ruffled shut.