Stay Away From That City . . . They Call It Cheyenne (Code of the West) by Stephen Bly Page A

one of these days. There’s only so much sorrow a person can pack around. I’m headin’ over to check on ’em now.”
    “It’s a wonder we didn’t see ’em in this crowd. I ain’t seen that many in the streets since that Italian led the two el ephants down 16th Street. Pepper and Savannah must have been the only ones in town that didn’t see you march Hager up to the courthouse.”
    Tap fastened the top buttons on his coat and jammed his hands into his pockets. “I’m surely glad it’s over. Maybe town will settle down now. With the snow meltin’ in the Black Hills and the crews pullin’ out for the spring roundup, Che yenne should start to empty out.”
    “It’s been a long winter in that respect,” Williams co ncurred.
    Tap trotted Brownie down Ferguson toward the Inter Ocean Hotel. He found Pepper and Savannah eating dinner at a table next to a front window in the hotel dining room. Both women were trimmed out in black. A large, pink-vased rose decorated the white lace tablecloth.
    “Ladies, do you mind if a deputy joins you for dinner?”
    “Mr. Andrews, how delightful. It will be our pleasure. I b elieve you’ve met my companion, Mrs. Andrews?” Savannah teased.
    “Yes, we’ve met.” He grinned at his beaming wife. “But we don’t often see each other, do we, ma’am?”
    Pepper leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
    “What was that for?”
    “That’s because I miss you,” she announced. “And, besides, the whole town is talking about how you brought in Hager and stood down both the bummers and the drovers. Frankly, I thought you were magnificent.”
    “You saw it?”
    “Mr. Andrews, I believe everyone in the town witnessed your bravery,” Savannah responded.
    “I should have never got myself in such a scrape. I guess the Lord had mercy on me.”
    “And me as well,” Pepper added.
    “Mr. Andrews, your Pepper is a dear jewel. Frankly, I don’t know how a driftin’ lawman like yourself ever snagged such a treasure.”
    “Snagged her? Didn’t Pepper ever tell you how she trapped me?” Tap waved at a waiter to bring him some coffee.
    Savannah glanced up. “Trapped you?”
    Pepper pushed away from the table. “I did what? You ensnared me, Mr. Tapadera Andrews, and you know it.”
    Savannah drawled, “this does sound interesting.”
    “The truth of the matter is that we both lied, deceived, and misled each other. But once we got hooked on each other, we sort of liked it,” Tap tried to explain.
    “I do believe you two will have to illuminate that as we eat.”
    “Not today,” Pepper protested. “You’ve got the funeral to think about.”
    “That’s precisely why I insist you tell me this juicy story. Nothing will help me more than getting my mind off the se rvice.”
    It took a bowl of pork stew, one small loaf of bread, and three cups of coffee before Tap and Pepper finished explai ning the beginning of their relationship. Savannah Divide just laughed and shook her head through it all.
    Then both women excused themselves and retired to Suite G while Tap sat at the table and stared out the front window. Broken sunlight sprayed through the clouds.
    I’ll still need my overcoat. Standin’ at the grave site of a friend has got to be the coldest spot on earth.
    The voice was deep, unfamiliar, and obviously very e xcited. “Now here’s the beauty of it. She sold it for only one dollar. Can you imagine what this will fetch in Boston or New York?”
    Tap continued to look out the window but listened i ntently to the conversation at the table next to him.
    “You could probably sell it for twenty-five dollars.” This was a higher-pitched male voice.
    “Twenty-five? Look at this signature. It’s Jesse’s all right. I saw his name one time on a hotel registry in St. Joe. This is the authentic thing.”
    Tap viewed the two men. Both wore tight suits, starched shirts, and dark ties.
    “How did you say you came across it?” the smaller man with a receding hairline