Read Online Where the Deer and the Antelope Play (Code of the West) by Stephen Bly - Free Book Online Page B

mmer, but mainly he paced the floor. It was almost dark when a man in a buckboard full of sacks of oats rolled into the yard. Tap watched the man unload six 120-pound sacks and hand Bob McCurley a note.
    McCurley strolled over to Tap. “Pratt Moore brought me this note from Pepper. He rode in from the Franklin place. You take a look at it. I ain’t got my readin’ glasses.”
    Tap unfolded the heavy beige paper and glanced at Pepper’s familiar scrawl. McCurley hovered about his shoulder.
    Tap’s eyes followed line after line on the letter. He turned to catch a little more daylight. “She says the Franklin woman broke early and begged her to stay the night and help with the delivery.”
    “She ain’t comin’ back tonight?”
    “Nope. ’Course, she didn’t know I was goin’ to be visitin’ t oday anyway.”
    “We’ll find some room. You jist spend the night and talk to her in the mornin’.”
    “Bob, I promised I’d help Stack track down those men. I’ll have to ride back to the ranch tonight. I’ll leave her a note and explain things . . . I guess. This surely is a strange way to court a woman—just writin’ back and forth and never seein’ each other.”
    “Sort of reminds you of Hatcher and that Cedar woman, don’t it?” McCurley remarked.
    Tap tugged on his jacket and scratched out a note at the small table next to the coat rack by the front door of the hotel.
    Pepper,
    I missed the banker, so I’m goin’ to contact Wade Eagleman in Denver and see what he can do about that matter of the loan against the ranch. There’s nothing about it on my copy of Hatcher’s deed.
    April’s dance hall burnt down (Mr. Mac can fill you in), and I’ve got to go help Stack Lowery track the men who did it. Stack’s countin’ on me, and a man’s got to stick by his friends. Don’t worry about me. I faced this bunch before. I’ll swing by McCurleys’ when we’re through.
    Suzanne’s money would have been a real help with this bank loan business. But we both sort of knew it wasn’t ours in the first place. We’ll figure somethin’ out. I’m not goin’ to lose the ranch.
    I miss you like crazy.
    Tap
    P.S. I’ll bet the dress looks right handsome.
    The moon was not much more than a thin slice when darkness hit, and the stars dotted the coal black sky. Tap tried to find warmth in his thoughts of Pepper, but his feet, hands, and face felt frozen before he and Onespot reached the river crossing halfway to the ranch.
    The steam from his breath quickly froze and turned his mustache icy white. Onespot’s small stride seemed more slu ggish than ever, and the miles throbbed by slowly.
    Lord, I know the girls aren’t exactly paragons of public vi rtue, but they deserve better than this. And I can’t think of anyone on earth, except for me and Stack, who would help them. I know the Good Book says to help the widows and orphans, and these girls figure somewhere in between. Somebody’s got to look after them.
    The lamps burned bright behind the curtains of the front room at the ranch house when Tap Andrews rode into the yard. The barn was dark and silent as he groomed the black gelding. He could hear someone playing the piano as he a pproached the front porch. His pounding boot heels and jingling spurs were drowned out by the noise and laughter from inside.
    He started to knock on the door.
    Wait! It’s my house. I can’t be intrudin’.
    The music stopped when he walked through the doorway.
    “Welcome to the funeral,” Stack greeted from the piano bench.
    Selena sat next to him. Danni Mae and Wiley hovered near the fireplace. Rocky sat like a stagnant pool in the rocker, transfixed on the glowing coals. Sal, the cat, perched still on her lap. Paula Sangtree sat at the kitchen table with a blanket wrapped around her, sewing her dress.
    “A funeral?” Tap slung his coat on a hook and scooted to the fire.
    “Yep. Tonight we are buryin’ the dance hall. How’s that Pe pper girl?”
    “I didn’t see