My Foot's in the Stirrup . . . My Pony Won't Stand (Code of the West) (2 page)

“’Course, it ain’t like meetin’ Wyatt Earp, Bill Cody, or Stuart Brannon, but you sure stirred up some interest in Deadwood. Some of ’em thought the city ought to send down for you to come be the town marshal. But those who wanted that got shot the next day. Most folks have just let the matter pass.”

“Good choice. I’ve retired from marshalin’. Too much shootin’.”

“So, what do you call this? Ain’t exactly a Sunday school picnic I’m haulin’ in my wagon.”

“No, you’re right about that.”

“You know what? I’m goin’ to make a name for myself someday. I’ll be right there in the newspaper with the rest of you famous hombres.”

“What is your name, son?”

“Robert Leroy Parker.”

“Well, Robert Leroy Parker, you hire on with Tom Slaug
hter and learn the business. One of these days you’ll be some rich Front Range rancher yourself. Maybe the
Cheyenne Daily Leader
will probably want you to run for governor.”

“No, sir, I don’t think I’ll go into ranchin’.” Parker flashed his wide, easy grin. “Too much work.”

“That’s exactly what those three in the wagon must have thought. I’ll see you in town.”

The young man drawled, “You don’t have to call me Mr. Parker. Ever’one just calls me Butch.”

The wagon rolled south raising dust with every creak of the wheels.

Pepper Andrews pulled back a flowered cotton curtain that served as a pantry door. She gazed at several airtight jars on the top shelf, stacked exactly one inch apart. Each showed traces of fine red dust.

The room stretched the full width of the house, but was barely eight feet deep. The former covered back porch now served as pa
ntry, sewing room, and bedroom.

She hiked to the door that swung open to a hard-packed dirt backyard that sloped in the shade of two giant cottonwoods. “A
ngelita,” she called.

If she went down to the stockyards again, Tap will be fur
ious. Why is it 'I’m going out to the backyard to play' never means that.

“Angelita!”

Pepper paused to enjoy the slight movement that was almost a breeze in the hot summer air. She didn’t glance down at the tight shoes because she knew she couldn’t see them. She reached around her apron string and tried to massage the throbbing pain in her lower back.

It won’t be long before I won’t be able to tie my apron at all.

Lord, I’m glad Angelita is with us. She has been good company for me. But I would enjoy it more if You’d keep her out of trouble. She has got to be the most ambitious ten-year-old You ever created. Would it be too much to ask if she might settle down a little? Real soon?

Pepper closed the door and gave up on the idea of dus
ting the pantry. She scooted through the small kitchen into the front room of the neatly painted Amarillo Street wood-frame house.

She studied herself in a mirror hung over a tiny table next to the front door.

It’s still you. Blonde hair. Green eyes. Crooked nose Freckles. Tired looking face.

But last time .
 . . I didn’t show until almost seven months. Last time I was hardly sick a day until those final horrible two weeks. Last time my back didn’t ache. My feet didn’t swell. And my legs didn’t break out in a rash.

Last time .
 . . I lost the baby.

Pepper brushed back a tear. “Mrs. Andrews, your hu
sband says you look ‘fleshed out’ a little. I look fat. I
feel
fat."

Two more months. Oh, joy.

You know, Lord, if there’s some other way to have babies . . . I know it was my idea. Maybe I could just go to sleep for a long nap and wake up when it’s all over.

The front door flung open, almost hitting her. Angelita, dressed in a long, off-white, long-sleeved cotton dress, burst into the room with a wide, sheepish grin. “Guess what ha
ppened to me?” she lisped.

“How on earth did you lose your tooth?”

“It just fell out. Now I can grow a beautiful adult tooth.”

“How did the back of your dress get dirty? Did that ha
ppen when your tooth fell out?”

“Oh, no. I tripped running home. These long dresses aren’t very comfortable for running, you know. They should let girls wear britches.”

“Ladies
never
wear britches,” Pepper lectured. “Come here and let me see. Is it bleeding?”

“Not nearly as bad as .
 . .” Angelita’s voice trailed off. She looked away.

“Who did you leave bleeding?”

“I might as well tell you. You’ll find out on Sunday at church anyway.”

“Was it Matthew Harlow?”

“He’s a dolt.”

“What did he do?”

“I bet him a nickel I could beat him in a race to the tracks.”

“You bet him? What are you doing betting with some boy? A young lady does not go around betting.”

“Do you want to hear the part where Matthew gets a bloody nose or not?”

Pepper slumped down on the leather sofa. "Tell me the whole story.” Pepper patted the sofa.

Angelita bounced beside her. “I beat him to the tracks fair and square, but he wouldn’t pay. He says I cheated.”

“Why did he say that?”

“Girls aren’t allowed to hold their dresses up to their knees when they run.”

“You did what?”

“I wanted the nickel.”

“That wasn’t very discreet.”

“I’m only ten and three-quarters years old. How discreet do I have to be?”

“Then what happened?”

“I pushed him down.”

“And then?”

“He pushed me down. So I slugged him in the stomach. He got mad and hit me in the mouth. That's when my tooth came out.”

“We knew it was loose. I suppose it was bound to come out sooner or later.”

“I also bloodied his nose. I popped him good. It really hurt my knuckles.”

“Oh, dear.”

“He ran home crying. What a baby. Look at me, I lost a tooth. My dress got dirty. But here I am, cheerful as can be, even though I didn’t get my nickel.”

“You wash up and come help me with supper. Mr. A
ndrews will be hungry this evening. I only sent a small dinner with him this morning. He thought it would be a long ride today.”

Soon Angelita was more or less smudge-free. She te
etered on a tall, unpainted wooden stool and handed down an airtight quart jar of huckleberry preserves. “I think Mr. Andrews will be home a little late.” Angelita flipped her long braids over her shoulders as her round brown eyes danced.

"Why do you say that?" Pepper scooted her dress sleeves up to her elbows. Perspiration beaded her forehead as she rolled out bi
scuit dough at the polished wood kitchen counter.

“I saw Mr. Slaughter, and he said—”

“Where did you see Tom Slaughter?”

“Comin' out of the Colorado Club, and he said—”

“What were you doing over there?” Pepper drilled.

“Do you want to hear what Mr. Slaughter told me or not?”

“Go ahead, but you know I don’t like you dawdling in front of the saloons.”

“I wasn’t dawdling. I don’t even know how to dawdle.”

Pepper laughed. “What did Mr. Slaughter tell you?”

“Mr. Andrews might be late for supper.”

“Why is that? Is something wrong?”

“He said that Mr. Andrews had located some stolen cattle and that he and several men rode out to bring the ca
ttle back.”

“Those who have stolen cattle seldom give them up ea
sily.”

“Mr. Andrews has everything under control.”

Under control? In his fashion.
“Will he be back before dark?”

“Maybe." Angelita threw herself down on the bare wooden floor on her back. She extended her arms and legs straight out.

“What in the world are you doing?”

“Stretching.”

“But the floor might be dirty.”

“I swept it this morning. Besides, it’s cooler down here. It feels good on my back. Don’t you ever like lying on the floor?”

Pepper wiped the perspiration off her forehead with an unprinted flour sack towel. She debated whether to cook the biscuits now or wait until Tap arrived. “Honey, if I laid down like that, I’d never be able to get back up.”

“You feeling bad?”

“I get tired and winded easy. And my back always hurts.”

“You want me to rub it for you?”

“That would be delightful.”

Angelita jumped up and scooted a chair behind Pepper. She climbed up and pressed Pepper’s neck and back. “Do you like being, you know, with child?”

“Believe it or not, I do. But some days I get worn out and discouraged. And then I remember what it would be like for me and Tap to have a little boy—”

“Or a little girl,” Angelita put in.

“Yes, and then I know that it will all be worth it.”

“I wonder if my mother felt miserable when I was in her tummy? She died right after I was born.”

Pepper glanced at the cheery brown face with missing tooth. “I would imagine whatever pain she had to go through was completely forgotten the moment she saw how beautiful you were.”

“I was probably naked when my mother first saw me.”

“That’s the way we all come into this world.”

“Can we go and see my daddy before school starts up?”

“Provided we save up enough money. But I don’t know if

I’m up to a train ride. Maybe you and he should go.”

“But who would look after you?”

“I think I could survive a few days without you two, but only a few days.”

“If we do that, I don’t want you to worry about Mr. Andrews. I’m sure I could keep him out of trouble.”

The sun tucked out of sight on the distant western hor
izon. Light reflected off the pines on top of the southern bluffs that had given Pine Bluffs its name. The air was perfectly still and stifling. Pepper gave up fighting the assorted flying insects and left both the front and back doors of the house open, hoping for an evening drift of wind.

She and Angelita relaxed on the covered front porch that faced the dirt street on dining table chairs and knitted.

“Mrs. Andrews, I don’t know why I have to learn how to knit. When I get married, my husband’s going to be so rich I’ll have my own private seamstress.”

“But what if she goes on vacation and you need some alte
ration for a big ball or something?”

Angelita wrinkled her nose. “You might be right. But you’ll need a be
tter excuse next time. Did your mother teach you how to sew?”

“Not too much. My mother was sick quite a bit and died when I was fourteen. I guess I learned how to sew when I needed clothes for work.”

“My mother worked at a hotel in Denver before she got married. She was a maid. Did you ever work in a Denver hotel?”

“More or less.”

“Maybe you knew my mother. Her name was Rachel. Isn’t that a beautiful name?”

“Yes, it is a beautiful name, but I’m sure I didn’t meet your mother. I was not in De
nver very long.”

Your mother never came into those kind of places. It never goes away. Like faded wallpaper, I can’t get rid of the memories. Lord, give Angelita lots of very good memories that she can live with without regrets.

“Here he comes.” Angelita tossed her knitting aside, jumped up, and dashed out into the yard. “Hi, Mr. Andrews.”

Tap ambled up the boardwalk, his rifle over his shoulder. "How are the two most beautiful women in Wyomin’?”

Pepper chuckled. “I think Mr. Andrews has been looking at cows all day again.”

Angelita clutched his arm. “I lost another one of my baby teeth. It must mean I’m ge
tting more mature.”

“Did you have a little help?” Tap pro
dded. “What did the other kid look like?”

“I busted his nose.”

“Whose nose?” Tap glanced at Pepper.

“Matthew Harlow. But I haven’t talked to his mother yet, so I don’t know his side of the story.”

Tap tousled Angelita’s bangs. “Sounds like another exciting day in Pine Bluffs.”

“You’re covered with dirt," Pepper chided.

“Did you get bucked off?” Angelita asked. “One time I got bucked off right into the mud. Jeremiah Gaines just stood there and laughed until I . . .”

“Until you what?” Pepper asked.

“I better not say.”

“Tap, you wash up. It looks like you rolled in the dirt.”

“Okay, I’ll clean up and change shirts for you ladies.”

“Not in my kitchen. Just wait here. I’ll get the basin and bring it out. Angelita, go get Mr. Andrews’ brown shirt hanging in the be
droom.”