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

encountered at the hotel.
    “The Slash-Bar-4?” The sheriff bristled. “That was my ranch before the bank took it back.”
    Tap kept his eye on the shotgun pointed at him. “It’s not your ranch now. It was bought outright by a Mr. Stack Lo wery. I’m runnin’ the place as a partner.”
    “You rich bulls think you can come in here and buy up the terr itory,” the sheriff growled.
    “Mister, don’t let your past affect the way you do the job, or you won’t be sheriffin’ very long.”
    “I don’t need advice from some carpetbagger.”
    Tap glanced over at Howdy. “Don’t you have somethin’ be tter to do than aggravate citizens?”
    “Don’t try anything else in this town. I’m warning you.”
    “You took away my pistol, and you warned me. I’ve got nothin’ else to say to you.” Tap turned to walk away.
    “Where are you goin’?”
    “To chase down my horse, providin’ someone hasn’t shot it already.”
    Howdy Renten mounted up his horse and rode alongside Tap as he searched the streets and alleys. They found Roun dhouse at a water trough behind the England House Hotel.
    “You figure on chasin’ them boys down?”
    “I don’t know where they are, who they are—and don’t have my gun. I think I’ll let them come to me. I assume they were the ones I backed down at the hotel.”
    “You headin’ back to the ranch then?”
    “Nope, there’s a little too much excitement here. I’m going to stay overnight. You’re going to the ranch. Let me draw you a map to the place, and I’ll give you a note for Pepper.”
    “Your wife’s named Pepper?”
    “Yep.”
    “Tapadera Andrews a family man. I still can’t figure it.” Half the tobacco spit flew across the street from Renten’s lips. The other half dripped across his chin onto his vest.
    The thin, narrow-eyed clerk at the New York Hotel scooted into the back room the minute Tap entered the lobby. Even on this cool autumn day, Tap’s boiled shirt felt sweaty under his canvas jacket as he bounded up the stairs and rapped on the door marked #24.
    He waited a moment, then knocked again. “Selena? A ngelita?”
    The white door with painted gold trim opened about an inch. A big, round brown eye stared out at him.
    “I’m sorry, but we’re not allowed to have gentlemen callers in our room.”
    “That’s no problem, ma’am,” Tap laughed. “I’m not a gentl eman.”
    “In that case .  . .” Angelita swung open the door.
    “You two ladies all right? You haven’t had any more tro uble?”
    Selena sat in a padded wooden chair in front of the dresser mirror combing her long, dark hair. “Oh, we’re fine,” she r eplied. “We’ve been sitting here discussing men, marriage—things like that.”
    “Good.” Tap winked at Selena. “I hope you’ve taught her a thing or two.”
    “Yes, I have,” Angelita piped up. “She’s a quick learner. Did you know Miss Selena is half-Mexican?”
    “Yep. I did know that. Have you had any more hassles from those two old boys down in the lobby?”
    “No. How about you?”
    “Someone took a couple potshots at me. The sheriff took away my pistol. Other than that, it’s been fairly dull. Oh, I did hire a yard man.”
    “Then are we going back to the ranch now?”
    “No. I took a room at the England House. I want you two to spend the night there. I’ll take Selena’s room in case your a dmirers try to stir up trouble.”
    “What will you do without a gun?” Angelita asked.
    “Bite ’em.” He patted her shoulder.
    “Did you want me to pack all my things?” Selena asked.
    “Nope. Just take what you’ll need until mornin’. We’ll stroll around town like we’re shoppin’ and then eat supper at the England House. How well do you know those two men? Are they goin’ to try somethin’ else dumb?”
    “The one with the new suit is called Bean. The other is called Jack, I think. They rode with a big Swede named Wild Dog. But I don’t know much else. A lot of men came to April’s,