My Foot's in the Stirrup . . . My Pony Won't Stand (Code of the West) by Stephen Bly

form.
    “Savannah?” Pepper struggled to her feet and waded through the crowd, Angelita at her side. Halfway across the room, she noticed a nobby-dressed man with round derby hat and large mustache stan ding at Savannah’s side. His white shirt was starched, his tie was silk, and the badge on his chest was shiny silver and read U.S. Marshal.
    “Now look at you,” Savannah purred. “You’re beginning to look like a mama.”
    “I’m fat, Savannah. Just plain fat.”
    “Nonsense. You look delightful—in a womanly way. Pe pper, this is my fiancé, Marshal Tobert C. Stillwell.”
    He took off his hat. Gray streaked the thick, wavy dark brown hair. He gently shook her hand.
    “Toby, this is a very dear friend, Mrs. Pepper Andrews.”
    “Mighty pleased to meet you, ma’am. Is your husband with you? I’d like to talk to him. I’ve heard a lot about how he cleaned the rif fraff out of Cheyenne after Pappy was killed.”
    “Tap’s up north chasin’ cows. He’s working as brand inspe ctor now.”
    “Sure like to talk him into comin’ down to the Indian N ation and helpin’ me out,” the big man boomed.
    “Eh, uh hem.”
    “Excuse me,” Pepper apologized. “Savannah, you remember Baltimore’s daughter Angelita?”
    “Why, yes. How’s your father, dear?”
    “He continues to make slow progress with his afflictions, but with the help of the Almighty, we believe he will fully recover.”
    “Those are big words from a little lady,” the marshal said.
    “Angelita is a special, dear friend of ours.” Pepper slipped her arm around the girl’s shoulders.
    “I can see that. If you ladies will excuse me, I’d like to bo rrow a sheet of paper and jot a note to Mr. Andrews. I was serious about the offer. I’d like you to carry a letter for me.”
    “I’ll be happy to, but Tap’s retired from the lawman bus iness.”
    “Think I’ll write to him anyway. Perhaps he could reco mmend some men with sand.”
    Pepper followed Savannah across the depot. She always manages to look like a queen entering her court no matter where she goes.
    Sitting on a hard, polished bench, Savannah spread her flo wing violet dress and beckoned Pepper and Angelita to join her.
    “I know, I know what you’re going to say. Why on earth would I want to marry another lawman?”
    “It did cross my mind.” Pepper folded her hands on her lap and tried not to think about how plain and fruitful she must look next to Savannah.
    “It’s my calling. It’s what I do best. The Lord knows I didn’t go looking for another lawman. In fact, when I came back west after visiting family in Charleston, I was determined not to marry again. But there I was at a hotel in Ft. Smith, and Toby was sitting alone eating supper.
    "The waitress revealed he’d been eating alone for years, ever since his wife was killed by bandits out in the Indian Nation. I thought to myself, Poor man—he’d probably like someone to talk to. Then,” Savannah raised her eyebrows, “one thing led to another.”
    “I bet it did.”
    “We’re going to wait until next spring to get married. He’s a good Christian man, you know.”
    “You’ve convinced me. And you have my blessings and prayers.”
    “Thank you, dear Pepper. In a world of many shallow friendships, yours is one of the most genuine I have. Now if I were you, I wouldn’t let Tap even see that letter. The Nation is no place for a lawman at the present time. Toby’s the boss. He can sit in Ft. Smith and do the paperwork. But the deputies follow some very dangerous trails.”
    “Tap’s enjoying the slower pace of being a brand inspe ctor.”
    “Yes,” Angelita added, “he only had to shoot dead three men the other day.”
    “Oh, my.” Savannah’s astonishment sounded more routine than sincere.
    “It’s not all that dangerous—usually.” Pepper kept her tone flat, emotionless.
    “I am one lady you don’t have to explain it to,” Savannah assured her. “If you think about how much danger