Stay Away From That City . . . They Call It Cheyenne (Code of the West) (22 page)

“Which one?”

“I can’t tell. .
 . . It’s over where those houses are.”

“Which houses?” Pepper asked.

“You know, on 17th where you and Mr. Andrews used to live.”

9

T
ap watched the bright yellow flames jab the Wyoming sky as he rode east on 17th Street. A mob of onlookers and volunteer firemen surged ahead of him on foot, horseback, and wagons. He had just passed Ransom Street when the sight ahead caused his stomach to cramp. His whole body stiffened. By habit, he reached for the rifle in his scabbard.

             
No. Not our house.

He spurred Brownie to a gallop.

Lord, why is this happening? It’s like the whole town’s started to crumble and fall into the devil’s hands.

The faded cedar shingles on the roof of the house now sent flame twenty-five feet into the air. All three rooms of the co
ttage were completely engulfed. The spectators stood in the middle of the street staring at the inferno.

“We cain’t save anythin’, Andrews,” one man at the pump wagon called. “We’ll try to keep them other houses from catc
hing on fire.”

For several moments Tap just sat in the saddle and stared.

Lord, we had a few things. We were just startin’ out. . . . Hasn’t Pepper been through enough to last a lifetime? Where were You? Couldn’t You have kept this from happening?

He tied Brownie off to a post in front of Mrs. Wallace’s house. The heat and bluster from the fire rolled across him like a Mojave wind in southwest Arizona. He banged on his neig
hbor’s front door. No one answered.

Turning the crystal handle of the door, he stuck his head i
nside. “Mrs. Wallace? Mrs. Wallace, it’s me—Tap Andrews from across the street. Are you all right, Mrs. Wallace?”

All he could hear was the roar of the fire and the excited voices in the enlarging crowd. He turned back to the street. Brownie pranced at the increasing heat of the fire. The front room wall collapsed and sent sparks out into the street. He led Brownie west on 17th and glanced back to see the fire crew pumping water on the roof of Mrs. Wallace’s house.

“Tap!”

A shrill, desperate voice got nearer.

Spinning around, he saw Pepper and Angelita pushing their way through the mass of gawkers. “Oh, Tap, not our house.”

He hugged her as she sobbed. Then he felt another hand clutch at his arm. A
ngelita had tears rolling down her cheeks. The three were still standing there when the fire began to wane and the crowd dispersed back toward downtown.

“Ladies, it won’t do us any good to stand and gawk. It's too sad. When April’s burnt, there was nothin’ left worth savin’. I guess the same is true with us.”

“Mrs. Wallace,” Pepper gasped.

“She’s not at home. I checked. Must be at the—”

“No,” Pepper interrupted. “Mrs. Wallace is at the hotel. She ran to tell us the place was on fire.”

“She ran all the way downtown?”

“Yes. Poor dear. She was so worn out we had her lie on the sofa.”

“She claims someone blew up your house.”

“What?”

“Someone tossed dynamite into the house.”

Tap swung into the saddle. “Come on. We’re riding back.” He started to pull Pepper up.

“We’ll walk back. Go ahead. My stomach .
 . . I’m feeling sick.”

“I'm startin' to feel sick myself."

By the time Tap arrived at the Inter Ocean Hotel, Mrs. Wallace hiked on the boardwalk, her untamed shocks of gray hair barely concealed by the black crocheted shawl.

“Mrs. Wallace,” Tap called as he swung down from the sa
ddle.

“My house. Did they get my house too?”

“No, ma’am. The firemen soaked it down. It will be okay.”

“Praise the Lord!”

“Do you know who did this?”

She shaded her eyes from the sun. There was a sparkle in her tired, weathered gray eyes. “I did praise the Lord that you and your lovely new bride weren’t in the house when it e
xploded. In twelve years of living in Cheyenne, I’ve never been around anyone who got into trouble like you. Did you have things happen like this as a child? I was a schoolteacher, you know.”

“What did you mean 'exploded'?”

“It started when I noticed a couple men knocking on your door.”

“Two men?”

“Yes, and I thought it quite peculiar that those two would want to visit you.”

“Which two?”

“The same ones that tore the place up the other night.”

“Was Merced with them?”

“Oh, my, no. I understand he hasn’t been seen since the hanging.”

“Go on. What happened after they knocked on the door?”

“They went to the wagon and got some pails.”

“Pails of what?”

“They carried a couple pails of liquid into your house. When they came out, your front window was open, and the pails were empty. One of them yanked out a stick of dynamite and lit it with a match. Then he tossed the dynamite through the window. It was a very good toss. I dove for the bed.”

“They purposely blew up my house?”

“Oh, my yes. I slipped out into the back alley and ran all the way to the Inter Ocean. I haven’t run that much since the all-girl Fourth of July races in ’45 in San Felipe de Austin.”

“You were in Texas in ’45?”

“I was in Texas in ’36, young man.”

Pepper and Angelita arrived. Tap signaled a passing Tom Sturgis carriage. He talked the driver into giving Mrs. Wa
llace a lift back to her house.

“What do we do now, Tap? We don’t have anything e
xcept what’s at the hotel. Oh, why did we come to Cheyenne? We should have found a place in the country.”

“Darlin’, we’ll pull it together. You pack up everything we have at the hotel. I want us to leave for Pine Bluffs before dark.”

“Today?”

“More than just our house is about to explode. I don’t want you two anywhere near it.”

“And what about my father?” Angelita asked.

“We’ll see that he and Carbine are on the train. Then I want you two started for Pine Bluffs.”

“What about you? Is there goin’ to be a gunfight?” Pepper asked.

“I’ll take care of some unfinished business. Then I’ll catch up with you before dark.”

“Merced?”

“Yeah, and some bummers, and whoever is org
anizing it. Simp doesn’t have the brains or the money to organize an afternoon tea, let alone something like this.”

“We aren’t leaving without you,” Pe
pper insisted.

“This is not a time for debate.”

“We aren’t leaving. So just forget that and come up with another plan.”

“I didn’t ask you. I told you,” he huffed.

“You are telling me to do something that I am not capable of doing. If you must have it out with Merced, then give me your shotgun, and I’ll ride with you. I told you months ago that I intend to be by your side on the day you die. You don’t have any choice in the matter.”

Angelita stepped between them. “I can cluster five shots in a fence post at twenty-five feet with a pistol.”

“Look,” Tap stormed, “I don’t even want to talk about it.”

“Good. Now where are some guns for us, and what do you want us to do?” Pepper pressed.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“They blew up my piano.”

“You play the piano?” Angelita asked.

“No,” Pepper asserted, “but that’s not the point. Now, A
ndrews, what’s our next step?”

“Angelita, I want you to go up to the hospital and help Ca
rbine get your father to the depot. Tell him what’s happened.” Tap waved both hands for emphasis. “Darlin’, I’m serious. I want you to pack up our things. We are leavin’ town.”

“I’ll need to clean Savannah’s a bit before I leave.”

“You’ll have time. I’ll go get a wagon rented. At three o’clock, go to the terminal and pick up Angelita. Her daddy and Carbine should be on the Denver train by then.”

“Where are you goin’ to be?”

“I got to find out what we’re up against here,” he insisted.

“Tap, I’m going to be beside you when the shooting starts. Do you understand?”

“You’ve got to let me take care of this my way.”

“Why?”

He looked her straight in the eyes. “Because I don’t know any other way to do it.”

“We want guns too,” Pepper repeated.

“The shotgun and extra Colt were in the house. I’ll stop by Feund Brothers and pick up a couple more. We’re leavin’ Cheyenne. Ever’body know what they’re doin’?”

“Yes, sir, Capt. Andrews,” Pepper teased.

Angelita cocked her head and squinted her eyes. “Does he always say ever’body instead of everybody?”

“Only when he’s in a hurry.” Pepper turned and took a big, deep breath. “Someone’s got to put an end to this, don’t they?”

“Yep. But I’m kind of surprised that you see it too.”

“Something snapped in me. This has just got to stop—right now before another lawman is shot or another house blown up.”

“You surely do look handsome when filled with righteous indignation.” Tap kissed her on the lips. “Be careful, darlin’.”

“You too, cowboy.”

"Don’t I get a kiss?” Angelita pouted.

Tap leaned down.

“Oh, sure, kiss me on the cheek.”

“Young lady, every kiss better be on the cheek for at least ten years.”

“Are you kidding me? I’ll be an old maid by then.” She skipped north on the boardwalk.

“I want to be by your side, Tap Andrews. Don’t you let me down.”

After renting a wagon at the I-X-L, Tap drove to the Wyoming Armory. The door was locked, but a clerk carrying a trapper model ’73 unlocked the door and let him in.

“Leave your weapon by the door and come in, Mr. A
ndrews.”

“Do what?”

“Your pistol—you’ll have to empty your holster.”

“Since when?”

“Since about two hours ago,” a voice boomed from the far wall.

J. R. Grueter, with a linen bandage wrapped around his forehead, was sweeping up glass in front of a broken gun case.

“J. R., What happened here?”

“A dozen bummers were in here gawkin’ like always when that house blowed up. The hired help hustles out to the street to see what’s goin’ on. I’m workin’ in the back, but I step to the storeroom door. I hear a crash. I run up front and catch ’em pullin’ repeatin’ rifles out as fast as they could. I lamed one and took a carbine barrel alongside the ear. They didn’t have time to load ’em, or we would’ve had a war, I reckon.”

“How many did they get?”

“Twelve ’73 carbines. That’s almost $250. Until we get some law back in this town, every man’s got to leave his weapons at the door. Did you ever see a town fall apart so fast?”

“There’s a strange feelin’ out there, ever since that lynchin’,” Tap agreed.

“I think you’re right. That’s what’s so peculiar. It’s like the law died with Jerome Hager. And I never knew a man who needed to hang more than him. Was that fire up by your house?”

“It
was
my house, J. R. They blew it up.”

“Who did?”

“A couple of the bummers.”

“Why your house? You ain’t even a deputy anymore.”

“Maybe it was a diversion. It sure made it easier to lift your Winchesters.”

“It’s a mighty drastic way to steal rifles.”

“There’s something mysterious goin’ on, that’s for sure.”

“You think I ought to pass the word among the me
rchants? It might just be a good day to close early and sit on our receipts.”

“You could be right, J. R. You better tell the bankers too. But before you close up, I need a favor. I lost my shotgun and a pi
stol in that fire. You got a couple of loaners?”

“Tell you what. You take any guns in the store you need. I’ll supply the bullets. When you’re done, you can either bring ’em back or buy, whatever you want.”

“Let me sign some paper on that.”

“No need. Your word’s good, ain’t it?”

“Yep.”

“So’s mine. Good luck, Tap.”

“Thanks, J. R.”

“You goin’ to wear the badge again?”

“Nope.”

“I’ve seen miners with cabin fever, womenfolk who su
ccumb to prairie hysteria, Indians with bitter-water delirium, but I ain’t never seen a whole town go crazy all at once. It’s scary.”

“Give me an extra box of ready-made .44-40s. My r
eloadin’ gear went up in the blaze.”

“Don’t get yourself in more trouble than you can handle, Tap. Stores and houses can be rebuilt, but you only get one life.”