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

and see how many seconds it takes me to run to the front door. Ready. Set. Go!”
    Her straw hat blew back and bobbed against her black pi gtails. She held her dress far above her ankles, revealing black shoes, white socks, and brown-skinned legs. Pepper tapped her finger to count.
    Lord, she is such a delight. One minute an inquiring young lady. The next a little child wanting to play. But I’ve never seen such a quick mind in any child. Of course, I’ve never really been around many children. Yet.
    Angelita trotted back, her hat still held to her back by the ribbon tied under her chin. “How many seconds? Huh? How fast was I?”
    “I think it was just a tad over nine seconds.”
    “Wow! That’s good, isn’t it?” They approached the front door of the sanitarium. “Did I ever tell you about the time I outran nine boys?”
    “You ran against the boys? What kind of race was that?”
    “I didn’t say it was a race. I stole their baseball, and they were all chasin’ me. But they didn’t catch me.”
    “I hope you gave them back their baseball.”
    “Yeah.” She grinned as she held the door open for Pepper. “I sold it back to them for two bits.”
    Ward B was a room on the west side of the building on the first floor. It was about one hundred feet long and twenty-five feet wide. Beds were generously spaced on each side of the room, with white cloth dividers to give each p atient a bit of privacy. Only half the beds were occupied.
    Light blazed into the room from the long vertical un-cu rtained windows that lined the west wall. The air was warm to the point of stuffy and heavy with the smell of cleaner. The wooden floor was worn but polished to a spotless shine. Muted voices could be heard throughout the room. A rather large woman shoved her way out through swinging doors at the far end of the room.
    “Angelita-Bonita,” an unseen voice boomed out.
    “Daddy!” Angelita rushed around the partition separating the farthest bed from its neighbors.
    Baltimore Gomez was strapped to a chair beside the bed. His feet rested on a small padded stool. Neatly shaved, he wore clean ducking trousers and a long-sleeved, three-button white cotton pullover shirt. His su spenders hung off the side of the chair, his feet bare. His thick black hair, eyebrows, and mustache flecked gray.
    Angelita draped his left arm around her shoulder. His eyes sparked joy, but also a tear slid down his face. Angelita quickly wiped it away with the palm of her hand.
    “Mrs. Andrews, you two ladies have made this a glorious day,” Baltimore exclaimed.
    “You are looking very good. How did you know it was A ngelita walking across this room? There’s no way to see her, with you behind the partition.”
    “There is a special music in my daughter’s step. For me, it is a very familiar tune. I’m surely glad you came. I reckon I knew you would when you read my letter.”
    “What letter?” Angelita clung to her father’s arm.
    “You didn’t get my letter?”
    Pepper pulled up a straight-back wooden chair and sat down. It was a relief to release her feet from the weight. “When did you mail it?”
    “A couple weeks ago. Right after I heard that you moved back to Cheyenne.”
    “We didn’t move," Angelita said. "We still live in Pine Bluffs.”
    “But Carbine told me he heard the mayor tryin' to get Tap to move back to Cheyenne and take the marshal’s job.”
    “We have no intention of going back,” Pepper assured him.
    “No wonder you didn’t get the letter." He squeezed A ngelita. "Oh, my little one. We have much to talk about.”
    “Baltimore,” Pepper gasped, “you moved your arm.”
    “Look at this.” He raised his left arm high above his head, clenched his fist, and opened it. He gave Angelita another hug.
    “Did you get dust in your eyes, Father? I believe I got some in mine,” Angelita said.
    “When did this happen?” Pepper asked.
    “About a month ago I began to have some feeling in my arm. Then I could wiggle my