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

asked.
    “Guard Hager while I go do a little business.”
    “You reckon someone will try to bust him out?”
    “I don’t expect more trouble until dark.”
    “We goin’ to move the prisoner?”
    “Yep.”
    “Folks is sayin’ you’ll ship Hager over to Ft. Russell.”
    “Sounds like a good plan.”
    “Yeah, providin’ none of them decide to vigilante up and take matters into their own hands along the way. You’ll be needin’ me to ride with you, I suppose.”
    “I’ll need you, Carbine, and Merced to stay here and take care of Cheyenne.”
    “You takin’ Hager by yourself?”
    “If I can make the arrangements.”
    Tap headed downtown on Ferguson Street. He didn’t slow his pace until he reached the big two-story brick Union Me rcantile building. Several freight wagons lined the alley. Two were being loaded at the front door. A slightly balding man wheeled out a hand cart full of goods.
    “Mr. Whipple, are any of these wagons headed up to Dea dwood?”
    “They’re all going to Deadwood.”
    “Who’s your best driver?”
    “Fastest? Or most reliable?”
    “Most reliable.”
    “That big, old boy with the six mules. You got something to ship north?”
    “Maybe.”
    “I’ve got a full load for him.”
    “What’s his name?”
    “Lowery. Stack Lowery.”
     

     
     
     
    2
     
    H ey, you muscle-bound, pitiful excuse for a piano player, did you steal that rig, or did you decide to finally get an honest job?” Tap hollered at the tall, broad-shouldered man with thick brown hair curling out under his floppy hat. “You couldn’t follow a wagon of loose hay across a forty-acre field, let alone teamster.”
    Two employees of Whipple and Hay scampered back i nside the Mercantile. Several folks scattered across the street.
    “Tapadera Andrews, surely the fine citizens of Cheyenne are smart enough not to hire an Arizona gunslinger to wear the badge. I surely hope that Miss Pepper had enough sense to dump you for an honest man. It stifles the mind why someone hasn’t pulled your picket pin by now.”
    “Lowery, you can color a story redder than a Navajo blanket. If I can live through a plate of those slimy eggs of yours, I figure I’m goin’ to live forever.”
    “You insultin’ my eggs?” the big man growled.
    “I am. Those eggs would make a hen blush with embarrassment. In fact, it’s only my Christian gentility that prevents me from properly describin’ them.”
    “Your breathin’ days are over, Andrews. Ain’t no man alive who can insult my cookin’ and live. Why, I’ll kick you so far it’ll take a bloodhound six weeks just to find your smell.”
    The assembly of people began to grow on the street's far side. The tall man’s menacing glare turned into a full-toothed grin. He threw his arm around Tap’s shoulder, and his massive hand gripped Tap’s with obvious delight. As both men roared with laughter, the boardwalk refilled with people. The white-aproned loaders for Whipple and Hay scooted back to their work.
    “How you been, Stack? We haven’t seen or heard from you since three days after the weddin’. We’ve been worried sick about you.”
    “You treatin’ my Pepper girl good?”
    “We’re doin’ great, though starvin’ to death on deputy’s wages. How about you? What’s with this freight wagon? Where are the girls? Don’t tell me they all grew up and left home.”
    They edged near the wall of the building and under one of the tall, white limestone-block arches.
    “Seems funny, don’t it? Me not working the houses and lookin’ after a string of dance-hall girls?”
    “Last we heard, you, Selena, Paula, and Danni Mae were goin’ to Laramie City. Then when we lost the ranch. We came by that way, but no one had ever seen you.”
    “Sure am sorry about the ranch. I guess Fightin’ Ed Casey has a lot of pull. It’s a wonder he let you get hired here in Cheyenne.”
    “Fightin’ Ed has friends and enemies. I guess it was his enemies that hired me. Besides, he