Read Online Stay Away From That City . . . They Call It Cheyenne (Code of the West) by Stephen Bly - Free Book Online Page A

Cheyenne fi xture. To Pepper her bearing was almost regal.
    In another era she’d be a duchess or queen or some lord's lady.
    Only her eyes reflected a crushing sadness. “What can I do to help?”
    “How about you fetching us both a cup of real strong tea.”
    Pepper slept off and on in Savannah Divide’s folding bed. Her thoughts bounced from Pappy to Tap, and she prayed much for his safety.
    She arose early and slipped on a fluffy burgundy robe that Sava nnah had laid out for her. Standing at the window of the
second-floor suite, she admired the Cheyenne sunrise.
    Lord, there’s got to be other things that Tap can do. I don’t think I can .  . . some drunk will shoot him in the back someday. He’s a hard worker. He’s got lots of experience.
    Lord, You’ve just got to give him a ranch.
    Six blocks away Tap was glad his eyes flipped open shortly before 8:00 a.m. , but he didn’t know why they did. With little more than two hours of sleep, his bones were cold and stiff, and his mind was groggy.
    It’s almost like someone nudged me awake. Primo and Petey! I promised to get them before a judge this morning.
    He stirred the fire and boiled some coffee. Jerome Hager sprawled across the brass bed snoring loudly.
    “This is crazy,” Tap muttered. “He kills Pappy, and he gets a good night’s sleep, and me—I freeze to death in that storm and sleep a couple of hours on the floor.” He was splashing water on his face when someone knocked at the door.
    With revolver in hand, Tap pushed back the curtains. Baltimore surveyed the nearly empty street from the front step. Tap let the deputy in.
    “What are you doin’ back already?” he quizzed.
    “I got full. Besides 16th Street is swarmin’ with that lynch mob that’s been drinkin’ ever since you run ’em back to town. I figured you’d want to know.”
    “I’d like to know who rented the horses and rigs for them and who’s buyin’ the booze. Other than Strappler, they didn’t look like they had six guns or six dollars between the whole pack of them. What do you have in the basket?”
    “Lunch. And a little breakfast for Hager. Told Angelita I’d be gone ’til supper. Where do you need me most?”
    “Right here. I’ve got to find Judge Blair and see what can be done about Hager and the others.”
    “Sooner or later someone will figure out where you’re hidin’ Hager, don’t you reckon? Did you know that old lady across the street watches this place like a cow eyein’ her young at a brandin’?”
    “Yep.”
    Tap ate a couple of biscuits and hiked over to the jail. Carbine Williams was drinking coffee from a blue tin cup on the front steps as he approached. His crisp, long-sleeved, off-white cotton shirt contrasted with the grimy jeans.
    “Things have been poppin’ since you brought them two in,” Ca rbine reported.
    “You have early mornin’ visitors?”
    “Simp Merced came in cussin’ and snortin’. Threatened to shoot them two if they didn’t tell him where Hager was.”
    “What happened?”
    “Just noise. He didn’t shoot ’em. They claimed you was the only one who knew where Hager was.”
    “Who else came by?”
    “The mayor said to tell you he had to go to Denver.”
    “I thought they were having a council meeting tonight.”
    “He said he was going to postpone it. Some sort of family emergency. Ain’t his daughter in the hospital down there? I heard tell that sanatorium is one of the best in the country.”
    Tap brushed biscuit crumbs from his bushy, dark brown mu stache. “You didn’t happen to see Judge Blair, did you?”
    “Nope.”
    “Is Simp makin’ rounds?”
    “Don’t know, but he acted like there was demons chasin’ him. You know how he can git.”
    “I never thought of it that way,” Tap mused. “But you might be right.” Tap walked out of the marshal’s office and across the limestone steps to the courthouse.
    Is that what does it, Lord? Don’t reckon I’ve ever po ndered it too much, but men