Stay Away From That City . . . They Call It Cheyenne (Code of the West) (13 page)

“You owe me twenty dollars, Mr. Tapadera Andrews.”

“Angelita, what are you doin’ up there?”

“I’m baby-sitting for Mrs. Clayton.”

“Good. You ought to do more of that.”

“For twenty-five cents?”

“What?”

“I get twenty-five cents for three hours. What kind of deal is that? You owe me twenty dollars.”

“The judge would have given you a twenty-dollar fine for swindling passengers on the U. P.”

“Swindle? How do you know those weren’t Hickok’s cards?”

“Because yours have numeral digits on them. Hickok’s didn’t.”

Angelita stuck out her tongue and ducked back behind the curtains.

“Fun for the Boys at Cowhick and Witcomb’s.”
Tap stood on the boardwalk reading the advertising sign in the front window of the men’s clothing store.
“Done with high prices. Fine clothing cheap. No old goods. All new.”

“Deputy,” a big-bellied clerk called from the front door, “we’ve got a good assortment of wool suits for only twelve do
llars.”

“I’ve got one suit. What would I do with two? I was just thinkin’ about a tie,” Tap explained.

“Oh, come in and see our fine assortment of silk ties. They’re only fifty cents. There are some fancy flowered ones direct from Paris.”

“Mister, can you even imagine me wearin’ somethin’ like that?”

“Eh . . . no, sir, I don’t suppose I could.”

“Neither can I.” Tap tipped his hat and scooted across the street in front of a slow-moving freight wagon.

Tap didn’t bother explaining to Pepper how uncomfortable he felt in the white starched shirt and the breath-cheating tie. She was spinning around the house in a whirl of giggles, songs, and dances.

“You look mighty happy, Mrs. Andrews.”

“And you look terribly handsome, Mr. Andrews. Isn’t this dress wonderful? I had no idea that Savannah and I were so close to the same size. She’s a little bigger in the . . . you know, but not much. Really it fits well, don’t you think? Do you like the cap? The color looks ravishing on her, but I think it’s fairly passable on me. What do you think? Provided my hair will stay back in the combs. Which it never does.”

“Eh, well .
 . .”

“Oh, Tap, we haven’t been dancing since .
 . . Actually, it’s about the first time I’ve gone to a dance where the men aren’t paying me. I like it. I thought I never wanted to dance again. I told you that, remember? But now it seems so . . . so sociable. Isn’t it going to be a grand evening?”

“I reckon.”

“Honey, could you help me with my boots? I feel a little dizzy. Maybe I should sit down for a minute.”

“You’ve been spinning around this house for two hours.”

“I guess I’m a little nervous. Are you? Of course, you aren’t. You’re never nervous. Good, old, steady Tap. You were a little nervous at the wedding though. I think it’s the only time I’ve ever seen you nervous. Remember how you fell and got your shirt muddy? Oh, my. Is it a little warm in here? If I don’t get some fresh air, I believe I’ll faint.”

“I stoked up the fire so it would last until we get home. What time do you figure?”

“You know, in some ways this is one of our first real important social events. I know it’s not a ball over at the Sturgis home or something like that. But for us, it’s a very important event. Do you think they’ll like me?”

“You’ll turn every man’s head in the building."

“Oh, no, no, no. I didn’t mean the men. Goodness, who cares about the men? I mean the wives. Do you think the wives will think I’m charming and witty and good company but not threatening?”

“Darlin’, I don’t think—”

“Will the mayor and his wife be there?”

“I heard they might not make it back today. Their eldest daughter is still down in that Denver sanatorium.”

“How about the council members? And Judge and Mrs. Carey? And the Whitcombs?”

“Actually I did hear that—”

“She’s a Sioux, I hear. I knew she was dark, but, my, you’d never know it by those children. I don’t think there’s a finer family in this town. You should hear how respectful they are to guests.”

“Where did you learn all—”

“Savannah knows everything. She will really miss going to the hop. I think it would be good for her to go visit her sister in Charleston. It would take her mind off everything. Tie it a little tighter. What do you think?”

“About your shoe?”

“No. About Savannah going to Charleston to visit her sister?”

“I don’t know about Savannah, but I can tell you som
ething about Mrs. Andrews.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re about as anxious as a hen layin’ her first egg.”

“I am not.” She swung to her feet and tucked her hands on her blue-calico-draped hips. “This is certainly not the first dance I’ve ever gone to. Oh, my.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I guess having a late supper like this makes me dizzy.”

“If you don’t feel like goin’, I’m sure I could—”

“Mr. Andrews, you are going to drive me out to Ft. Russell in that rented carriage, and we will have a delightful time at the Calico Hop. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He winked and shoved on his new black hat.

6

T
he
C
heyenne
D
aily
L
eader
, Wednesday, April 4, 1883
.
...

FORT RUSSELL. A Calico Hop was given at the post last
evening, which proved a great success. There were at least
ninety couples, the ladies being attired in various pretty calico gowns and caps that made them look quaint and picturesque. There were many handsome, young ladies there. Mrs. Tapadera Andrews was pronounced “Belle of the Ball.” Miss Laura Hardin and Miss Nancy Gregory, as well as several officers and their wives from Fort Laramie, also attended.

As this was a farewell ball for the Seventh I
nfantry, the program was varied. The Russell Specialty Company gave a concert, singing selections between each dance, which were highly enjoyed by all. Al Lewis, Lou Kortmann, and Will Jameson sang some very pleasing selections.

Coronation of the “Belle” took place at mid-night with the selection of Cheyenne’s own Pepper Andrews being nearly unanimous. It was rumored that Mrs. Andrews spent several years studying dance in New York City. Accor
ding to all accounts, her ability demonstrated last evening confirms that speculation.

At eleven o’clock Tap plopped down on a bench at the back of the hall, loosened his tie, and unfastened his collar. His feet hurt. His knees hurt. His arms hurt.

For the next hour he tried to stay awake as he watched Pe
pper dance with every officer and gentleman in the room. By the time she was voted “Belle of the Ball,” Tap had to be awakened to learn the news. He stumbled through a final dance with Pepper. Then they adjourned to the waiting rented carriage.

“I can’t believe you went to sleep on that bench,” she teased. “You didn’t even get to vote.”

“Was the voting close?” He turned his coat collar up and stretched a lap blanket across them.

“You didn’t vote for me.”

“Stop pouting. I vote for you every day of the year. Darlin’, you danced the shoes off those army boys. And you had fun, didn’t you?”

“Do you know what I like? They all treated me so nice. No vu
lgar language. No improper touches. No propositions. I think I like having a husband who wears a badge and gun.”

She slipped her arm in his. Tap’s leather gloves felt cold and stiff. She laid her head on his shoulder as the carriage rolled along the three-mile road to Che
yenne. The stars hung so low and bright, she couldn't discern where the night horizon ceased and the twinkling lights of Cheyenne began.

“You still feeling dizzy or sick?”

“Oh, no. It seemed like once I got to the ballroom, I felt terrific. You wouldn’t believe how many ladies asked me how I learned to dance so well.”

Tap rubbed the back of his neck and tried stretching the stiffness out of it. “What did you tell them?”

“That it took years of practice. That was all right, wasn’t it? I didn’t lie. But I really didn’t want to tell them about the dance halls.” She pulled the hood of her cape over her calico cap.

“That’s the beauty of God’s forgiveness. We get to start over again. I keep tellin’ you, folks around here don’t care what you were. They only look at who you are right now.”

“Will you take me to another ball sometime?” She kissed his cold ear.

“Sure. Just give me six months to rest up. Mrs. Andrews, you ought to live in one of those big houses on Ferguson Street and have your own ballroom.”

“Only if my Tap is there with me. Did I ever tell you I like being married to you?”

“I think you might have mentioned it a time or two.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders and held her close all the way home.

Pepper was fast asleep by the time they landed at the outskirts of Cheyenne. The road smoothed out, and there was no sound but the clomp of the horses’ hooves and the squeak of the carriage wheels. Instead of driving down 17th to the livery, Tap swung the carriage over by the Union Pacific tracks.

Might as well see if everything’s under control in the hurdy-
gurdies. Carbine can keep ’em quiet as long as no one calls him a half-breed. He and Baltimore are steady as rocks. A man could go to the bank on their support. I guess two out of three isn’t too bad. Simp shouldn’t be a lawman—he’s all bluff and no show. You can’t let a mob push you one inch. He’ll do all right bouncin’ at DelGatto’s, runnin’ errands for the big boys, ridin’ shotgun on the stage. Maybe he’s just in over his head and can’t figure it out. In the long run, I’m doin’ him a favor.

“Tap, is that you? Wait up.” Someone carrying a rifle and waving his hat ran through the night toward their ca
rriage.

Tap’s left hand held the reins tight, and his right hand had drawn the Colt .44. He waved the revolver in the dark toward the sound of the voice.

“Carbine?”

“Tap .
 . . Evenin’, Mrs. Andrews.” Carbine Williams tipped his hat toward the reclining Pepper.

“I think she’s asleep,” Tap whispered.

“Just as well.” Williams waited for two men on horseback to ride past them.

“What’s the matter, Carbine? We got trouble?”

“Not we. You.”

Tap swung down off the carriage. “What do you mean?” The night noises seemed hushed, and he couldn’t see an
yone else on the street.

“Have you seen Simp Merced yet?”

“No. Is he looking for me? He didn’t get soused and call me out, did he?”

“It’s worse than that, Tap. You ain’t talked to Nagle or Whipple?”

“The councilmen? No. We’re just comin’ back from that dance at Ft. Russell. Why? Do they want to see me?”

“They was the ones selected to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Eh .
 . . Tap, I’m jist goin’ to come right out with it, okay?”

“Carbine, what’s this all about?”

“They had a council meetin’ tonight.”

“Tonight? I thought the mayor was out of town.”

“He is, but they called an emergency meeting.”

“And nobody remembered to tell me?”

“I guess you was the subject of the discussion.”

“You mean the appointment of an interim marshal?”

“Tap, here’s the facts as Nagle and Whipple explained to me and Baltimore. Some folks showed up at the meetin’ complainin’ about you. So the council has suspended you, with pay, until they finish investigatin’ the charges.”

“Charges? Against me? Is it about what happened in Ar
izona? That’s all been cleared up.”

“Don’t know nothin’ about Arizona. But they said you acted illegally in caching Hager at your house, thereby e
ndangerin’ the neighborhood. He should have been kept at the jail. Second, you needlessly jeopardized the safety of hundreds of citizens of Cheyenne by the theatrics of marching Hager through the city streets. You acted imprudently in allowing a child to escort the prisoner.”

“A child?”

“Angelita, I reckon.”

“Is this a joke?”

“And some felt you misused your temporary position by undermining the authority of a fellow deputy. I guess they mean when you backed Simp down.”

“Did Merced put them up to this? He can’t do this to me.”

“I reckon he, Alex DelGatto, and some of them other south-siders already did. The council appointed Merced acting marshal until an election can be held.”

“They what? Merced. He couldn’t marshal a prairie dog town.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”