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

Author:Bly, Stephen [Bly, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-11-13T00:00:00+00:00

“Of course not,” Angelita bristled.

“Good.”

“I told them the gun once belonged to Stuart Brannon.”

“Angelita.”

“How do I know it didn’t once belong to him?”

Tap shook his head and sighed. “You’re goin’ to get yourself in real trouble one of these days.”

“Me? You’re the one who got fired.”

“Maybe I can get that straightened out this mornin’.”

“I certainly hope so. Daddy’s talking about quitting and moving on. He’s thinking of us going to Deadwood. Have you ever been up there, Mr. Andrews?”

“Not yet.”

“Neither have I. And I don’t want to go.”

Angelita climbed up on the stool and faced the dozen or so customers in the restaurant. “I am going to sing a song, and I’d like to dedicate this to Mr. Tapadera Andrews who just got fired from being a deputy even though everyone knows he’s the bravest man in town. He’s been a good friend to me although I sometimes act like a pill.”

She locked her hands together in front of her and tilted her head to the right.

“‘The roundhouse in Cheyenne is filled every night

With loafers and bummers of most every plight.

On their back is no clothes, in the pockets no bills;

Each day they keep starting

for the dreary Black Hills.

Don’t go away; stay at home if you can;

Stay away from that city, they call it Cheyenne,

Where the blue waters roll and the Comanche Bills

Will lift up your head in the dreary Black Hills.’”

Angelita vocalized the second and third verses. She concluded to a loud ovation. Several coins tossed her way.

“Maybe I should be a singer when I grow up.” She scooped up the coins and plopped down next to Tap.

“What makes you think you aren’t grown up?”

“I’m buying your coffee and roll,” she announced. “You’ll need to save up all your money now that you don’t have a job.”

“All right, I’ll let you.”

“You will? Really? Is it proper for a young lady to buy a married man his breakfast? You said I was nearly grown, right? I wouldn’t think you would allow me to do something so indelicate.”

Tap sighed and pulled a couple coins out of his gray wool vest pocket, stacking them on the counter. As he stood to leave, Hiram Porter came through the door.

“Tap . . . you got a minute?”

“What can I do for you?”

“I heard about your run-in with the city council. I’m pulling three wagons up to the roundup in Johnson County. Things are crazy up there. Rustlers and squatters all over the place. I’d like to hire you to oversee the range, just to make sure ever’one is playin’ by the rules. I’ll put you up and feed you and give you eighty dollars a month.”

“Thanks, Mr. Porter. I’ll surely consider it. When do you need to know?”

“Got to pull out Friday, no matter what the weather.”

Tap received two more roundup job offers on his way back to the mayor’s. So many stopped him to visit that it was after eleven before he made it to Breshnan’s office.

“It looks like I missed all the excitement,” the mayor commented.

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