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

CODE OF THE WEST

W
ESTERN SERIES

BOOK FOUR

STAY AWAY FROM THAT CITY . . . THEY CALL IT CHEYENNE

Stephen Bly

T
HE CODE OF THE WEST WESTERN SERIES

It's Your Misfortune and None of My Own

One Went to Denver and the Other Went Wrong

Where the Deer and the Antelope Play

Stay Away from That City . . . They Call It Cheyenne

My Foot's in the Stirrup . . . My Pony Won't Stand

I'm Off to Montana for to Throw the Hoolihan

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Stay Away from That City . . . They Call It Cheyenne

Copyright © 1996 by Stephen Bly

Published by

Dusty Trail Books

158 Laneda Avenue

Manzanita, Oregon  97130

All rights reserved. No part of this publication

may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except as provided by USA copyright law.

First printing 1996

Printed in the United States of America

Cover design by Stephen George

ISBN-13:978-1492908920

ISBN-10: 1492908924

For

James A. “Bronco” Gwinn

wagon
-
boss

1

M
onday, April 2, 1883, Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory.

“Pappy’s done been shot in the back down at the Occidental, and I’m lookin’ for the deputy.” The man  on the worn wooden porch rolled the brim of a once-gray felt hat.

She struggled to let the words sink in.

“I say, I’m sorry to disturb you so early, Mrs. Andrews. I’ve got to find—”

“Mr. Hayburn, Deputy Andrews is down at the I-X-L Livery checking on a new horse.” Pepper reached under her blonde hair to untie the apron strings at the back of her neck. “Is .
 . . is Pappy dead?”

“He weren’t movin’ none when I ran out the door. Them drovers and bummers are at it again. I reckon a couple of ’em were as full of holes as a cabbage leaf in a hailstorm before Pappy ever came in the door.”

Leathery worry lined around Rolly Hayburn’s brown eyes, full of fear and sadness. He slapped his floppy hat on his head and turned toward the rising sun.

“Did anyone notify Savannah yet?”

“No, ma’am. I don’t think so.”

Pepper hurried back inside and laid the faded gingham a
pron on the bench of the grand piano that filled most of the tiny front room, then returned to the unroofed porch. “You go tell her. I’ll find Mr. Andrews.”

“Eh, no, ma’am, I cain’t do that. I had to tell her last time. I reckon it’s someone else’s turn.”

Scattered tufts of white clouds hung low and motionless in the blue Wyoming sky, as if waiting for word from above to resume their westward journey.

“You get Tap, then," Pepper urged. “I’ll go tell Savannah.”

“Thank ya, Mrs. Andrews. You know, it don’t seem evenhanded to Miz Savannah, does it? Her havin’ lost them other two by bullets already.”

Pepper sighed as she held her gray dress above her a
nkles. She scurried down the worn boardwalk of 17th Street toward the Inter Ocean Hotel.

Lord, it truly isn’t fair. She’s such a lady of strong faith. How could she lose three husbands? Please, let Pappy live!

Only one man, neatly dressed and reading a paper, occupied the lavish lobby of the hotel. Pepper scooted up the wide, swooping mahogany staircase, sliding her thin left hand along the bannister. She barely noticed the pleasing mingle of pipe smoke and perfume as she rapped the knuckles of her ungloved hand against the polished door of Suite G.

I probably look frightful. I should have tried to comb my hair.

“Savannah?”

“Go away,” a melodious but groggy voice echoed from i
nside the apartment.

“Savannah, it’s me, Pepper Andrews. I must speak with you right now.”

The heavy door swung open. Savannah Divide’s curly auburn hair cascaded across her usually straight but now sagging shoulders. No make-up brightened her face. A blue robe draped across her in a hurried, wanton manner. “Pappy’s dead, isn’t he?”

Pepper glanced away from Savannah’s penetrating blue eyes. “Did someone tell you?”

“No.”

“All I know is that he was back-shot down at the Occide
ntal. Mr. Hayburn said he was hurt bad, but —”

“He’s dead. I just know it. Just like the others. I always know.”

“Perhaps it’s not . . .”

“Why do I keep marrying lawmen? Can you tell me that?” Sava
nnah staggered back into the apartment. “I’ll get dressed. Is it cold out?”

“Not really. The wind isn’t even blowing.”

“It would be the first time I’ve lost a husband on a nice day. Drake was killed during a blizzard. The day Quintin died the dust blew so thick you couldn’t see across the street. Please wait. I’d appreciate you coming along.”

“Of course.” Pepper entered the well-furnished apartment, a stark contrast to her own little, unpainted cottage on 17th Street. She su
rveyed the full-length etched mirror and ran her fingers through the blonde hair that never stayed neatly tucked in the combs.

Soon Savannah Divide buzzed across the room and clutched Pepper’s arm. They hurried down the stairs and out the Inter Ocean Hotel front door.

“You’ve never lost a husband yet, have you, dear?”

“No. Tap and I just got married in December.”

“It really takes the steam out of you, that’s for sure. How old do you think I am?”

They trotted across a dirt street holding their hems above their lace-up boots.

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re a very handsome woman.”

“Don’t flatter me, honey. I look near fifty, don’t I?”

“Well, I never—”

“I’m thirty-eight years old and been a widow three times.”

“You don’t know that Pappy’s—”

“I know. A wife always knows. It’s how the Lord helps you get pr
epared.”

“I don’t plan on ever finding out.”

“Neither did I. Every time I say, I’ve paid my dues. It won’t happen again.” Savannah pointed her gloved hand across the street. “It looks like a crowd’s still over at the Occidental. Don’t tell me a gunfight’s still going on.”

They scooted behind a crowd of men who gazed at the Occ
idental Saloon from about fifty feet away. Savannah Divide shoved her way through.

“Doc Wagoner, why aren’t you in there taking care of my hu
sband?” she demanded of the tall, thin man wearing a charcoal-gray wool vest.

“Miz Savannah, someone’s still in there shooting up the place.”

“Where’s Deputy Andrews?” Pepper asked.

“Trying to talk him out.”

At the front of the crowd, Pepper spied Tap hunched with his cocked .44 outside one of the tall front doors of the saloon. The opaque glass had been shot out. Several blasts rang out from inside. Glass shattered. Most of the crowd cowered back, but she stood pat. She could tell at a glance Tap had everything under control.

He was born for this job. But so was Pappy Divide!

She strained to hear what Tap was shouting.

“Hager, I’m givin’ you a chance to lay down those guns and walk out of there.”

“You know where you can go, Deputy,” a deep voice boomed.

“If you don’t come out peaceful, I’ll come in and have to kill you.”

“You ain’t that good, Andrews. I’ve got the door covered. And everyone else in here’s dead or dyin’.”

“I am that good, and you know it. You’re drunk. I come through that door and you won’t stand a chance.”

The crowd on the street regained its courage and inched forward, scooting Pepper and Savannah ahead of them.

Another shot fired inside. More glass shattered.

“You might as well come in, Deputy. If I turn myself in, I’ll hang. Don’t reckon on winnin’ either way it goes.”

“Come on. Maybe the jury will give you a life se
ntence.” He motioned for the crowd to stay back.

“I’ve been to the Territorial Prison in Laramie City once b
efore. I didn’t like it.”

“It beats bein’ planted in the ground. Lay your guns on the floor and walk on out of here with your hands in plain sight.” Tap dropped down to his knees. He braced himself on the rough two-by-eight cedar boardwalk.

“No good, Deputy. They’ll lynch me before I ever see the judge. You remember what they did to ‘Big Nose’ George over in Rawlins.”

“You’ll be safe in jail. I guarantee it.”

Tap scrunched down to make sure he could not be seen from i
nside the building.
Does the Occidental have single or double walls? If he’s close enough, a bullet could pass right through this wall.

“But I’ll still hang. I shot Pappy in the back. He’s deader than a beaver hat.”

Tap inched closer to the door. “You’ve got a point, Hager, but at least jail will give you time to settle up with the Almighty.”

“Settle up? I’m headed to hades, and you know it.”

“That can change.”

“You goin’ to preach at me or shoot me?”

“Both, if I have to.”

Tap swung the shattered door open with the barrel of his Colt. No shots fired.

“What about it, Hager?”

“I’m still ponderin’ it.”

“This crowd’s gettin’ restless. They want some action.”

“I’ve got friends out there, Deputy. You’d better watch your backside.”

“You’re wastin’ my time. I’ve got to get back to the I-X-L and buy an iron-gray geldin’, so I’m just goin’ to have to come in and shoot you now.”

“Wait, I’m comin’ out. Have I got your pledge you won’t shoot me?”

“I don’t want to see a gun in your hand or in your holster. Is that understood?”

“Tell those others not to shoot me.”

“They won’t.”

“I didn’t hear you tell ’em.”

“Listen up,” Tap called to the crowd. “I’m takin’ Hager to the jail. I don’t want anyone shootin’ at him.” His eyes met Pepper’s for the first time. “Come on out, Hager."

“I’m feelin’ poorly.”

“I reckon you are.”

“Don’t shoot me.”

Heavy boot heels banged and spurs jingled across the saloon floor. Tap stood to his feet, backed up a couple steps, and pointed the cocked revolver at the now open doorway.

A medium-sized, unshaven man with black hair and a wide-brimmed black hat hanging by a stampede string across his back a
ppeared. He slowly sidled into the light of the Cheyenne boardwalk, his hands straight out.

“Don’t shoot me. You promised not to shoot me. I ain’t got no gun in my hand or in my holster.”

He stepped into the street, then spun toward Tap. “’Course you didn’t say nothin’ about a . . .”

Sunlight flashed off the steel knife Hager pulled from his sleeve. Before he could raise the weapon, the barrel of Tap’s Colt .44 creased Hager’s forehead with such impact that it sounded almost like a gunshot. The gunman dropped like a burlap sack full of nails.

Tap shouted, “Doc, get in there and see about Pappy and the others. Pepper, you and Savannah better wait out here. Eden, you and Trementen give me a hand packing Hager to jail.”

“You really goin’ to stand him for trial?” someone shouted. “I say we should just plug him right now and save us all some money.”

“Don’t insult Pappy’s memory by doin’ somethin’ dumb,” Tap warned.

“He don’t deserve to live, and you know it, Deputy.”

“Everybody gets a trial. Come on, you two, give me a hand.”

“I ain’t touchin’ him,” Trementen insisted.

“No, sir, me either.” Eden turned and walked away.

The crowd surged into the Occidental to peer at the sca
tter  of dead bodies.

“Need me to help you?” Pepper asked Tap as he hefted the u
nconscious man reeking of whiskey to his shoulder.

“You stick with Savannah. She’ll need someone.”

“Are you sure you want to be a lawman?” she questioned.

“Are you sure you want to be married to one?”

“All I know is I’m sure I want to be married to you.”

Rolly Hayburn trotted ahead of Tap and opened the door to the marshal’s office and jail next to the courthouse. Simp Merced leaned back in the marshal’s chair with his hands folded behind his head.

“Simp, I could’ve used you down at the Occidental. Open cell 3,” Tap called out, short of breath.

“It’s a waste of time. Hager don’t deserve to live.”

“That’s what everyone keeps tellin’ me. Open the cell.”

Merced swung his polished black boots to the floor and strolled to the back of the jail.

“You hear who’s bein’ appointed actin’ marshal?”

“I haven’t even heard how Pappy is for sure.” Tap slumped Hager’s body on the tongue-and-groove si
ding that served as a mattress board. “You want to take guard duty?” he asked Merced.

“I’ll do the rounds. You can play jailer.”

“If you see Mayor Breshnan, send him my way. I suspect the bummers camped out down by the roundhouse will strike back. The town’s crammed with drovers waitin’ for spring work. Rolly, how about you finding out Pappy’s condition?”

“Yep, that’s what I’m goin’ to do.”

“If either of you see Baltimore or Carbine, tell ’em they don’t get today off after all. Send them over. We’ll work out a guard detail. There’s likely to be trouble over Hager.”

“Guaranteed there’ll be trouble.” Rolly Hayburn scooted out of the jail.

“Callin’ Baltimore and Carbine back to work, I thought only the marshal could do that,” Merced complained. “Are you assumin’ that position?”

“I’m assumin’ you, me, Baltimore, and Carbine need to earn our pay. You know it’s goin’ to take all of us by the time the loafers and bummers get liquored up and full of whiskey co
urage.”

“If they go on the prod, I doubt that a dozen men can hold them back. Those drovers have been tryin’ to stir up a fight for weeks. I figure they’ve gone off and done it this time.” Merced yanked on his black hat and sauntered through the door.