I'm Off to Montana for to Throw the Hoolihan (Code of the West) by Stephen Bly Page A

opened the gate, walked his horse into the packed-dirt yard, and then shut the gate. He mounted up and rode past the barn, the bunkhouse, the cottage—and right t oward her.
    “Afternoon, ma’am. I’m lookin’ for Mr. Tap Andrews. I was told this is his ranch.”
    Pepper kept her fingers busy with the needlework but repeatedly glanced up at the man. Who does he remind me of?
    Unseen by the rider, Lorenzo Odessa hobbled toward the house, his revolver strapped to his side.
    “Yes, this is his ranch. Actually it’s a partnership between my husband and Stack Lowery.”
    “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Andrews. My name’s Sugar Da yton. I’d like to speak with your husband.” The man peeked through the front window of the house.
    “My husband isn’t here at the moment. Perhaps you’d like to talk to Mr. Odessa, our foreman.” Dayton’s startled glance took in Lorenzo, who now stood behind him.
    “You need somethin’, mister?” Odessa's hand rested steady on his pistol grip.
    Dayton whipped around and almost yanked his revolver from the holster. “I’m runnin’ a place up in the mountains and when I heard Andrews was operatin’ the Slash-Bar-4, I decided to pay my respects. My brother was a friend of Tap’s.”
    “Sorry you missed him. What’s your brother’s name?”
    “Eugene Paul is dead. He got shot in Kansas. I b elieve he worked with Andrews down in Silver City, New Mexico.”
    “Eugene Paul Dayton?” Lorenzo shook his head. “Never heard of him, and I spent a lot of years ridin’ the high country down there with Tap.”
    “I’m sure Tap would remember Eugene Paul. And I believe some of my men had a run-in with Mr. Andrews, mistaking him for a cattle rustler or land jumper.” Dayton looked around slowly, as if surveying the whole headquarters area. “I just wanted to apologize for their behavior.”
    “You ain’t too discerning in who you hire,” Lorenzo o bserved.
    “They do get a little carried away. But I’ve straightened that out.”
    “Did you ever work for any outfits down in New Mexico?”
    “The Pitchfork, the Triple-T, the B-C-Connected.”
    “Those are Arizona brands,” Odessa challenged.
    “Yeah. I was back and forth across the line. Will Tap be home soon?”
    “He could be gone ten minutes or ten days. No way of knowin’. But go pull your tack, feed your pony some grain, and grab a bite before you have to ride on. You were plannin’ to ride on, weren’t you?”
    “Yep. Thanks for your hospitality.” Dayton tipped his hat to Pe pper and rode toward the barn.
    Lorenzo limped over and sat on the steps, stretching his splinted leg out in front of him.
    “You look very nice clean-shaven,” Pepper commented.
    “Figured I better commence to scrub for the weddin’. I’ve got to be spruced up when I wear that nobby suit of Tap’s. It’s mighty ge nerous of you to lend it to me.”
    “Tap hasn’t worn it since our wedding, nor does he intend on wearing it again. Of course, he got it a little muddy that day. It brushed very clean though. Well, what do you think?”
    “About the suit?”
    “No. About Mr. Sugar Dayton.” Pepper shifted her weight a bit on the pillow-stuffed rocking chair. “Why’s he looking over our place?”
    “I don’t rightly know. It’s a cinch he didn’t come in here jist to apologize. I’d say, lookin’ at his hands and outfit, he ain’t worked cows in a couple years. He had that hog leg strapped like a show-off. Not many good cowmen put silver like that on their workin’ saddle. And he couldn’t remember any New Mexico ranches. He’s not tellin’ the whole story.”
    “Mr. Odessa, there are some things in all of our pasts that should be kept hidden.”
    “Yes, ma’am, you’re right about that. But I didn’t think we should let him stay at the ranch tonight.”
    “I couldn’t agree with you more. That’s the type when he walks into the dance hall, you’re hoping he finds some other girl.”
    Lorenzo struggled to his feet.