And so, for an instant, she let herself imagine that she and Rowdy were married, that Shay was one of their own children, and that they’d be sailing frogs on paper boats together every summer forever.
*
Rowdy sat down next to Dodger. He exhaled a heavy sigh of worry. Closing his eyes for a moment, he thought back on the pretty parts of the day—the fact that Fox Montrose wasn’t going to have Calliope Ipswich for his own anytime soon, as well as the hour or so he’d spent with Calliope and her little sister sailing frogs in the stream.
Still, no matter how hard he tried not to think of it—to push it from the forefront of his thoughts and into the corner of his mind—he couldn’t.
Opening his eyes once more, he stared up into the starry sky. “It’s Pronto, Dodger. I’m sure of it,” he said. “A man doesn’t forget a horse like that, and I saw it outside the diner again tonight.” He nodded with determination. “In the mornin’, I’ll ask Lou Smith if he caught the owner’s name this time. But even if he didn’t…I know that’s Arness’s horse. I know it is!” He exhaled another heavy sigh. “And I know why it’s here.”
He glanced over to the grave of his faithful friend. The sight of the fresh flowers sticking out of an old medicine bottle filled with water at the head of it made him grin.
“She told me her little sister would worry over you all the time now, Dodger,” he said. “I suppose it’s nice for you to have someone besides me to come visitin’, hmm?”
Rowdy lay back in the grass under the old willow, tucked his hands under his head, and continued to gaze up into the night sky.
“What do you think, boy?” he asked. “You think Judge Ipswich would turn me down cold too? That is, if I ever got up the gumption to ask him for a chance at his daughter.” He frowned again. “I suppose I best talk to the sheriff tomorrow…maybe the judge too. It’ll put the nail in my coffin where Calliope’s concerned, of course. But it has to be done…because I know that’s Arness’s horse, and there’s no way I can let that go.”
Rowdy closed his eyes once more. He simply breathed in and out for a moment or two, and as images of Calliope flittered around in his mind, he mumbled, “I amused her a bit today, Dodger. She even said I was charmin’. Can you imagine that?”
But once more, his joy was stripped away and his smile replaced with a frown. “Why the hell did Arness have to choose this town, Dodger?”
CHAPTER NINE
Anxiety pulsed thick in Rowdy’s veins as he dismounted Tucker in front of the livery early the next morning. He had hardly slept a wink—worrying about having seen the appaloosa in town again, thinking on the fact that Judge Ipswich had sent Fox Montrose packing, leaving Calliope free from an entanglement with him. Angst and worry had mingled with hope and gladness all night long, and now Rowdy felt ill-tempered from lack of rest.
“Mornin’ there, Rowdy,” Lou Smith greeted as Rowdy stepped into the livery. He smiled. “I figured I’d be seein’ you today, bein’ that the appaloosa you was wonderin’ over was stabled here again last night.”
Rowdy nodded and said, “Yep. That’s why I stopped in on you, Lou. I was wonderin’…did you happen to get the owner’s name this time?”
Lou nodded his affirmation with pride. “I sure did, Rowdy. The man’s name is Arness. That’s all he give me. I’m not sure if that’s a first name or a last name. He just said his name was Arness. I got the distinct feelin’ he didn’t care to let on anything else about himself.”
As nausea welled up inside him, Rowdy nodded once more. “I see,” he mumbled. “And I don’t suppose he was interested in sellin’ that horse neither.”
Lou shook his head. “No, sirree, he was not. Gave me the stink eye for even askin’.” Lou shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to run on up to Denver or down to Santa Fe if you’re still wantin’ to buy yourself an appaloosa, Rowdy.”
Rowdy exhaled a nervous sigh. “I guess so,” he said. “Thank you all the same, Lou. I appreciate it.” He offered a hand.
Lou struck hands with him and said, “You have yourself a nice day, all right, Rowdy?”
“Same to you, Lou,” Rowdy countered. “And thanks again.”
“Anytime, Rowdy.”
Outside the livery, Rowdy paused in mounting his horse. Leaning against Tucker’s belly, he folded his arms along his saddle and rested his head on them a moment. He felt as if he would vomit.
It was well he knew Arness and his appaloosa, Pronto—too well. Furthermore, he knew that where Arness Morrison went, so went Carson and Walker Morrison as well. The Morrison brothers were infamous for their thieving and murdering ways. They were outlaws—through and through outlaws, and as evil as outlaws came.
But why was Arness riding through Meadowlark Lake? The fact was that Rowdy already knew the answer; he just didn’t want to face the truth of it. If Arness had been to Meadowlark Lake twice already—spent the night at the inn and stabled Pronto in the livery both times—Rowdy knew Arness was looking for a new town to hole up in.
Over the past couple of years, Rowdy had wondered how long it would take the sheriff of Cochise County, Arizona—Texas John Slaughter—to run the Morrison brothers out of Tombstone. He’d heard that when Texas John Slaughter told an outlaw to leave, they left. Sheriff Slaughter was said to be judge, jury, and executioner in Tombstone. And with Arness riding out from Arizona, Rowdy guessed John Slaughter had had his fill of the Morrison brothers and given them the boot.
Yep, Arness was looking for another town to hole up in—a town where he could promise the local lawmen that he’d help protect the town, and mostly keep out of trouble, on the condition that the lawmen turned a blind eye to the fact that Arness and his brothers were murdering outlaws.
Glancing across the street to the county courthouse, which stood next to the jail and Sheriff Montrose’s office, Rowdy knew what he had to do.
He noticed little Warren Ackerman coming down the street toward him then and called, “Hey, Warren.”
The boy stopped and looked at him. “Yes, sir, Mr. Gates?” Warren asked. It was obvious by the way the color drained from the boy’s face that he thought he was about to be scolded for something.
“I was wonderin’ if you’d do me a favor,” Rowdy began to explain. Reaching into his front pocket, he fumbled around until he found a nickel. “I’ll give you a nickel if you run on out to the mill right quick and let the men out there know I’m gonna be a bit late gettin’ there this mornin’.”
Warren’s eyes lit up like fireworks in a Fourth of July night sky. Rushing to Rowdy, he said, “You bet, Mr. Gates! A whole nickel? Really?”
Rowdy handed the boy the nickel and smiled. “Yep. Just run on out and tell the men I’ll be in as soon as I take care of somethin’ here in town, all right?”
Warren nodded as he stared at the nickel like he’d never seen one before. “I’ll do just that, Mr. Gates! And thank you for the nickel!”
“You’re gonna earn it, boy,” he said. “Thank you for bein’ willin’ to help me out.”
Warren was off at a dead run toward the mill then, and Rowdy couldn’t help but smile, even for the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach over the Morrison brothers. He knew just how much candy a boy could get over at the general store with a shiny nickel to spend. He figured that once Warren Ackerman delivered Rowdy’s message to the men at the mill, the boy would probably eat himself sick on licorice laces and butterscotch.
Inhaling a deep breath of acceptance, Rowdy patted Tucker’s neck and said, “I might as well leave you tethered up here, Tucker. I shouldn’t be long.”
Reconciled to doing what he must, no matter the consequences, Rowdy strode across the street toward the jailhouse and Sheriff Montrose’s office.
*
“Why, thank ya kindly, Miss Calliope,” Sheriff Montrose said as he took a muffin from the basket Calliope held out to him.
“You’re welcome, Sheriff,” Calliope chirped. She turned to her father then. “Daddy?” she asked, holding the bask
et out to him. “You might as well have another one. They’re not warm like they were at breakfast this morning, but they’re still delicious.”
“Oh, don’t I know it,” Judge Ipswich said, smiling as he took a muffin from the basket as well.
“Mmm, apple!” Sheriff Montrose mumbled. “I love anything made with apples.”
“Oh, I’m glad,” Calliope giggled. She looked to Blanche a moment, adding, “Blanche and I are on our way to the Ackermans’ house to measure Warren for his groom’s suit, and we thought you deserved a little treat today, Sheriff. And we’ve still got plenty of muffins.”
“Groom’s suit?” the sheriff asked. “Ain’t Warren a little young to be gettin’ fitted for a groom’s suit?”
Calliope and Blanche both giggled.
“Oh, surely Mrs. Montrose has told you about the Tom Thumb weddin’ we’re all puttin’ together,” Blanche commented.
“Oh yes!” Sheriff Montrose exclaimed. “Dora did say somethin’ about that to me. I guess I didn’t realize that Warren Ackerman was the…the, uh…the lucky fellow gettin’ married at it.”
Calliope arched one eyebrow with suspicion. “Oh, I know what you’re thinking, Sheriff,” she said. “You’re thinking this is all just silly female nonsense. But I promise it will be so much fun for everyone in town! Even you’ll enjoy it.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Sheriff Montrose chuckled. “As long as it’s half as good as these muffins of yours, I’ll enjoy it.”
Calliope smiled as Sheriff Montrose reached into her basket, snatching out a second muffin.
“Well, you gentlemen have a nice day now, all right?” Blanche said. It was obvious Blanche was anxious to leave the jailhouse and get to the Ackermans’.
“We will, Miss Blanche,” Sheriff Montrose said.
“And you young ladies have a fine afternoon as well,” Judge Ipswich added.
Raising herself on her tiptoes, Calliope placed a loving kiss on her father’s cheek. “We will, Daddy,” she assured him.
“Come along, Calliope,” Blanche said, linking arms with her friend. “There’s so much to do today. Best get at it.”
Calliope frowned a little, puzzled. Blanche seemed uncharacteristically impatient.
“What’s got you in such a hurry, Blanche?” Calliope asked in a whisper.
“I have somethin’ to tell you, Calliope,” Blanche whispered in return. “And I can’t tell you anything about it until we’re outside.”
“All right…but does it warrant being nearly rude to Sheriff Montrose and my father?” Calliope giggled.
Yet no sooner had Calliope and Blanche stepped out of the jailhouse than Calliope found herself standing face to face with Rowdy Gates.
“Oh!” she gasped with astonishment. She’d nearly plowed him over! Blanche had been pulling her along so quickly that she’d almost bumped right into Rowdy.
“Pardon me, Mr. Gates,” Calliope said, suddenly breathless. The sight of Rowdy always took her breath away, but to come upon him so unexpectedly—why, she was nearly panting with gladness.
“Good mornin’, ladies,” Rowdy said, tugging at the brim of his hat and smiling at Calliope. “Miss Calliope,” he said as his gaze seemed to linger on her. At last he looked to Blanche, saying, “Miss Gardener.”
“Good mornin’, Mr. Gates,” Blanche chirped.
The sweetness in Blanche’s voice gave cause for Calliope to look over at her. Blanche was smiling as if someone had just handed her a chest full of silver! Furthermore, she was blushing.
Calliope sighed with aggravation, for none of the other young women in town had ever given Rowdy Gates a second look—not until Doctor Gregory had had to shave him. Now it seemed every one of Calliope’s friends turned to eye-batting coquettes whenever she saw him.
“Would you like a muffin?” Calliope asked. She lifted the cheesecloth that was covering the muffins in the basket she held. “They’re apple, and I baked them fresh this morning.”
Rowdy did grin a little then. “Thank you, Miss Calliope,” he said as he took a muffin from the basket. He nodded, said, “You ladies have a nice day now,” and stepped passed them into the jailhouse.
Calliope sighed with admiration of her heart’s desire.
“He is so handsome!” Blanche sighed as well. “I envy the woman that captures his heart one day.”
“Me too,” Calliope admitted aloud. She sighed with longing. Quickly, however, she remembered that Blanche had hurried her outside in order to tell her something. And so she inquired of her friend, “And what is it that you want to tell me? For pity’s sake, Sheriff Montrose is going to think we’re up to some kind of mischief or something! You pulled me out of there like my bloomers were on fire, Blanche.”
“Oh, that,” Blanche said. “I swear, those deep green eyes of Rowdy Gates’s nearly chased it from my mind. But I had to ask you…are you aware that your daddy refused Fox when he asked to come courtin’ you?”
“What?” Calliope exclaimed in astonishment. Oh, she wasn’t at all astonished that her father had refused Fox’s request to court her—just that Fox had really, truly asked in the first place.
Blanche nodded emphatically. “It’s true! Winnie told me that she heard her folks talkin’ just yesterday…talkin’ about how Judge Ipswich wouldn’t give his permission for Fox to court you. Blanche said her parents weren’t upset at all because they think Fox is too young to get serious with a young lady. But I guess Fox was pretty angry with your daddy. Winnie said his folks settled him down and suggested he move on—you know, think about other girls in town for a while.”
When Calliope said nothing in response—for she was quite stunned that Fox had finally gone to her father to ask permission to court her—Blanche urged, “So…you didn’t know? I mean, you didn’t know Fox had gone to your father?”
Calliope shook her head. “I didn’t,” she answered.
“And…well, I’m guessin’ you’re not too upset that your father told Fox no—bein’ that I don’t think you ever liked Fox as much as he wanted you to,” Blanche prodded.
Calliope smiled at her friend. “No. I didn’t.”
Blanche blushed a bit and ventured, “Then you don’t mind if the rest of us available girls toss our lures in Fox’s direction?”
Calliope giggled. “Not at all, Blanche,” she answered. “You, of all people, know that I wouldn’t have minded if you’d tossed your lures at him long ago.”
“Oh good!” Blanche sighed. “I mean, I already told Sallie, Pauline, and Callie that I didn’t think you’d mind at all. But I wanted to make sure I asked you first.” Blanche paused a moment, seeming thoughtful. “I do think it’s odd though…that Fox would go to your daddy without even askin’ you if you wanted him to.”
Calliope nodded and sighed. “I know. But unfortunately Fox Montrose thinks he’s the sugar in every cookie on the face of the earth and that no other man might even begin to turn a woman’s head.”
Blanche laughed. “Oh, I know it! His head is as big as the Ackermans’ barn!”
Calliope laughed too, though she felt guilty for doing so. “Poor Fox,” she said. She shook her head.
“Come on,” Blanche said, again linking arms with Calliope. “Let’s go take some measurements so we can give Warren Ackerman a proper swallowtail suit coat for his weddin’, shall we?”
Again Calliope giggled with delight. “Yes. Let’s do just that!”
*
“Mornin’, Rowdy,” Sheriff Montrose greeted as Rowdy stepped into his office in the jailhouse.
At first, Rowdy was a little uncomfortable that Judge Ipswich was with the sheriff. But then he figured it was better to kill two birds with one stone—not to mention less time consuming.
“Mornin’, Sheriff,” Rowdy greeted in return. He nodded to the judge. “Mornin’, Judge.”
“Good morning, Rowdy,” Judge Ipswich said, offering Rowdy his hand.
Rowdy struck hands with the judge and then Sheriff Montrose.
&n
bsp; “What brings you by?” the sheriff inquired.
Rowdy inhaled a deep breath, exhaling as he said, “Well, I might as well get right down to it, Sheriff. And I’m glad you’re here too, Judge…because I think we’re about to have some trouble here in Meadowlark Lake.”
Sheriff Montrose frowned, and so did Judge Ipswich.
“Have a seat, Rowdy,” the sheriff said, nodding toward a nearby chair.
Sheriff Montrose leaned back against his desk, and Judge Ipswich remained standing.
Almost collapsing into the chair, Rowdy suddenly realized how tired he really was.
“Why do you say that, Rowdy?” Sheriff Montrose asked.
“I’ve seen a horse in town. A couple of times now I’ve seen it,” Rowdy began. “It’s an appaloosa.”
Sheriff Montrose nodded. “Yep. I’ve seen it too. It’s a nice mount. Very distinctive.”
Judge Ipswich folded his arms across his chest. He nodded in the direction of the diner across the street. “Chestnut and white, right?”
“Yep. That’s the one,” Rowdy said, encouraged that Sheriff Montrose and Judge Ipswich were such watchful, wary men. “It belongs to an outlaw. Arness Morrison.”
Sheriff Montrose stood straight then. “Arness Morrison? He’s one of the Morrison brothers outta Tombstone, ain’t he?”
“Yeah,” Rowdy confirmed. “And the fact that he’s been comin’ through town…I’m thinkin’ he’s lookin’ for someplace to hole up.”
Judge Ipswich frowned. “He’s looking for a town with lawmen who will allow him to tarry amongst good people while he does his outlawing elsewhere,” he stated.
“I think so, yes, Judge,” Rowdy admitted. “I talked to Lou Smith this mornin’. Seems he asked the fellow with the appaloosa…well, he asked his name this time around, and the man said his name was Arness. And I…well, I know for a fact that Arness Morrison owns a chestnut and white appaloosa named Pronto. And I know that appaloosa we’ve been seein’ in Meadowlark Lake is it.”
The Secret Bliss of Calliope Ipswich Page 13