The Secret Bliss of Calliope Ipswich

by McClure, Marcia Lynn

  Sheriff Montrose exhaled a heavy sigh, removed his hat, and raked his fingers back through his hair.

  “Arness Morrison. He rides with two of his brothers, ain’t that right?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Rowdy answered. “Carson and Walker Morrison.”

  “So we’re expecting three outlaws to ride into Meadowlark Lake and ask the sheriff to give them asylum then?” Judge Ipswich inquired.

  “At least three,” Rowdy confirmed. “Maybe more. Arness and his two brothers, they’re just the ringleaders. Sometimes they have two, maybe three other men ridin’ with them.”

  “I don’t like to hear this, that’s for dang sure,” Sheriff Montrose grumbled.

  But it was Judge Ipswich who asked the question Rowdy expected to be asked.

  “Tell me, Rowdy,” the judge began, “why do you know so much about Arness Morrison and his brothers?”

  Rowdy inhaled a deep breath of courage. Then he answered, “They tried to kill me once.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Lawson Ipswich arched his eyebrows, astounded, while Sheriff Dennison Montrose’s mouth hung agape for a moment.

  “They tried to kill you once?” Dennison finally managed to ask.

  “Yes, sir, they did,” Rowdy confirmed. “They gave me a hard beatin’, tied me up, drug me behind a horse for about a mile, shot me twice, and left me to die in the desert.”

  Lawson exchanged glances with the sheriff. An unspoken understanding passed between them, both accepting that Rowdy had told them all that he wished to tell them about how he recognized Arness Morrison and his horse—at least for the time being.

  Sheriff Montrose nodded and then asked, “When do you think they’ll come askin’ to hole up in Meadowlark Lake?”

  Rowdy shrugged. “I don’t really know. But since he’s been here twice already that we know of, I’d expect it would be pretty soon. And he won’t approach you alone, Sheriff. He’ll have his men with him…for purposes of intimidation.”

  “Well, they ain’t gonna hole up in my town,” Dennison Montrose strongly affirmed. “I won’t have them even ridin’ through.”

  Rowdy nodded, and Lawson saw the relief in his expression.

  “You’re a good man, Sheriff,” Rowdy said. “I figured you wouldn’t want to have nothin’ to do with it.”

  “But how do we prevent it?” Lawson inquired. “I’m assuming Morrison and his men will plan to use more than mere intimidation to secure their wishes.”

  Again Rowdy nodded, saying, “Yes…they will.”

  Sheriff Montrose was undaunted, however. “Then we deputize every able man in town and have them ready for a confrontation.”

  “Maybe,” Rowdy agreed, though halfheartedly. He frowned, sighed, and shook his head. “Of course, maybe Arness is truly just travelin’ through. Maybe he just went one way, stopped here for the night. Then when he went back…he stopped again.”

  Lawson’s eyes narrowed as he studied Rowdy for a moment. The fact that Rowdy referred to the leader of the Morrison brothers’ gang of outlaws by his first name was disconcerting. Rowdy Gates seemed to know a wealth of detail concerning Arness Morrison’s horse as well.

  Yet Lawson’s instincts told him that Rowdy Gates was just what he appeared to be—a good, hard-working man who had seen a bit of trauma in his past.

  “But then again, you might be correct that Texas John Slaughter finally had his fill of the Morrison brothers and banished them from Tombstone, and they’re looking for some other town to loiter in,” Lawson suggested.

  Rowdy nodded. “Yes, sir. Maybe.”

  Sheriff Montrose exhaled a heavy sigh of discouragement. He removed his hat, tossed it on his desk, raked his hand through his hair again, and said, “Let me think this through for a bit. I don’t want to alarm the entire town. But I need to be prepared too.”

  Lawson nodded. As disturbed as he was—as worried as he suddenly felt over his own family’s safety, as well as the safety of the other citizens of Meadowlark Lake—he knew the sheriff needed some time to take a breath and strategize.

  The sheriff looked to Rowdy then, offering a hand and saying, “Thank you, Rowdy. If you hadn’t had your eyes open and your wits about you…well, I surely would not have been prepared if Arness Morrison and his men do come callin’.”

  Rowdy shook the sheriff’s hand and said, “I hope I’m wrong, Sheriff.”

  “I do too,” Sheriff Montrose agreed. “But my gut tells me you’re probably not.”

  “Rowdy,” Lawson said, offering his own hand to Rowdy then, “you’re a good man. A man to be admired and emulated. I’m grateful to you as well.”

  Rowdy accepted Lawson’s hand, giving it a firm shake. Lawson smiled. He could tell a lot about a man from the way he shook another man’s hand. Rowdy’s grip was strong, straightforward, and confident. It was the handshake of a good, honest man with a clear conscience, and Lawson was further assured that Rowdy Gates could be thoroughly trusted.

  “Well, as much as I hated to be the harbinger of bad news, Sheriff, I feel a might better knowin’ that the lawmen of the town are aware of things,” Rowdy said. “I best get on with my day. Let me know if there’s any way I can help.”

  “I will, Rowdy,” Sheriff Montrose assured the man. “I most surely will.”

  Rowdy turned to leave but paused. Looking back to the sheriff and Lawson, he said, “I might as well tell you now…I’m a good shot. A very good shot. So if there comes a need, I’ll do what I need to in defense of our town.”

  Sheriff Montrose nodded. “That’s good to know, Rowdy. I appreciate your willin’ness, where all this is concerned.”

  “As do I,” Lawson said.

  Rowdy nodded then and left.

  Lawson looked to Dennison. “Now that I think about it, Dennison—was he offering to be deputized, or warning us that he would do whatever needed to protect Meadowlark Lake regardless of the lawfulness of it?”

  The sheriff shook his head. “I don’t rightly know. But if Arness Morrison and his brothers mean to corrupt Meadowlark Lake, I gotta be honest. Shootin’ them all dead might be our only option.”

  “I know,” Lawson agreed—dishearteningly.

  Judge Lawson Ipswich had sentenced outlaws before—many of them to hang. But somehow he imagined that an outlaw gang like the Morrison brothers would choose to go out shooting rather than to be captured and stand before a judge. His anxieties over the safety of his family heightened.

  “So…what do you think, Judge?” Sheriff Montrose asked, nodding in the direction of Rowdy’s exit. “Former lawman? Or former outlaw?”

  Lawson considered Dennison’s question. Rowdy Gates was a good man; and least he was in the present time. Lawson really couldn’t imagine Rowdy running with outlaws.

  “Former lawman,” Lawson answered at last. “Why else would the Morrison brothers try to kill him?”

  Sheriff Montrose sighed. “Well, in my experience, outlaws like Arness Morrison are capable of anything…even killin’ their own men.” He paused a moment, however, and then added, “But I think you’re right. Rowdy Gates strikes me as a man with a sound mind as well as a sound moral character.” He nodded. “Yep, I’m with you on thinkin’ ol’ Rowdy Gates was a lawman at some point in his past life.”

  “Well, I’ll get back to the courthouse and to my own work for the day, Dennison,” Lawson said. “I know you have a lot to consider. Just let me know what you decide when you decide it.”

  Lawson struck hands with his friend, and the sheriff said, “I will, Judge. As soon as I figure it all out.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff,” Lawson said.

  Leaving the jailhouse then, Lawson headed back to the courthouse. Off in the distance, he could see Rowdy Gates riding in the direction of his home—not toward the mill.

  *

  “After all, Dodger,” Rowdy said as he sat under the willow next to Dodger, “I own the mill, don’t I?” He shrugged, adding, “Of course, no one but me and Ben Mulholland know it. Sti
ll, as the owner, I oughta be able to take a mornin’ off to catch up on some sleep, right? I did send that Ackerman boy over to the mill to tell the boys I’d be tardy. So why not have me a little rest here in the shade, right, boy?”

  Dodger didn’t answer, of course. But Rowdy looked over to where he lay resting in peace all the same. He chuckled when he saw fresh flowers had already been put in the old medicine bottle at the head of the grave.

  “That little Ipswich girl…she sure gets out early in the day, doesn’t she?” he chuckled. He laughed out loud and then said, “That poor cat of hers! I ain’t never seen a cat go through what that feline does. I wonder how that leashed-up cat feels about walkin’ out here to put flowers on a dog’s grave.”

  Rowdy closed his eyes, a smile lingering on his face. Thoughts of Shay Ipswich always led to thoughts of Calliope Ipswich. He could see her in his mind at that moment—the way she’d looked the day before when he’d shown her and her little sister how to sail frogs. She’d been barefoot, and several blades of meadow grass still lingered in her beautiful hair here and there, evidence she’d been stretched out on the ground at some point. Calliope’s smile had been as bright as the summer sun and her eyes as blue as the summer sky. And Rowdy Gates decided to let the loveliness of Calliope Ipswich linger in his mind, instead of thinking about the fact that Arness might be back.

  “Calliope,” Rowdy mumbled as he began to drift into a light slumber. “Even your name is pretty.”

  *

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, hold still, Warren!” Sallie ordered her little brother. “I swear you’re as wiggly as a worm in a rainstorm.”

  But Warren frowned. Looking to Calliope, he asked, “You sure I ain’t gonna look like a fool in this getup, Calliope?”

  Calliope smiled at Warren, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand with reassurance. “I’m certain of it, Warren. Why, you’re going to be the handsomest groom anybody has ever seen!”

  Warren blushed and asked, “Do you think Shay will think I’m handsome?”

  Calliope’s smile widened. She exchanged amused glances with Sallie.

  Leaning closer to Warren where he stood on the stool being fitted for his suit coat, Calliope whispered, “She already does,” and winked at him. His blush deepened, and Calliope was delighted.

  “Calliope,” Evangeline called from nearby.

  Calliope turned to face her sister, who was busy fitting Mamie and Effie Longfellow for their flower girl dresses.

  “Yes?” Calliope asked as she strode to where her sister stood with Mamie Longfellow standing on a chair.

  “What do you think about the neckline here?” Evangeline asked. She draped the pretty butter-yellow fabric that would soon be Mamie’s dress across Mamie from shoulder to shoulder. “I’m thinking just a wisp of a sleeve, with a lower neckline and a light swag of fabric across the front. What do you think?”

  “Hmm,” Calliope pondered as she studied Mamie. She glanced for a moment to Floyd Longfellow. But his attention was rapt by Evangeline, and Calliope did wonder if maybe Mr. Longfellow agreed to allow his girls to participate in the wedding simply because he was charmed by Evie. “I like that,” Calliope concluded at last. “I think you’re right. It’ll give the girls a somewhat angelic appearance.” She laughed as Evangeline nodded. “And you needn’t ask me my opinion on things like this, Evie. You’re the best seamstress in the family!”

  “No, I’m not,” Evangeline countered. “And I want to be sure we capture the vision in your mind.”

  “Well, these dresses will be lovely on the girls,” Calliope said. Taking little Effie’s hand in her own—for Effie stood looking rather neglected as Mamie was being fitted—Calliope knelt down in front of her and said, “You and Mamie will be just so adorable and lovely, Effie! And we’ll make sure you have some lovely flowers to carry along with you.”

  Effie smiled at Calliope, grateful for the attention.

  “Miss Evangeline will fit your dress just after she’s finished fitting Mamie’s, all right?” Calliope asked the toddler.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Effie answered.

  Calliope stood once more, turning to Floyd Longfellow. “Oh, thank you so much for letting the girls help us with the play, Mr. Longfellow. They’re just what we needed to make everything else so perfect.”

  Mr. Longfellow, who looked just like an older version of his son, nodded to Calliope. “Well, I just couldn’t make myself refuse your sister…bein’ that Evangeline asked so nicely and all.”

  Calliope smiled at him, for his eyes had fairly twinkled when he’d spoken of Evangeline.

  “Well, thank you again,” Calliope told him. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy watching them at the performance.”

  “Oh, Kizzy,” Calliope heard Dora Montrose exclaim, “that beadwork on the bodice of Shay’s dress is marvelous. How lovely!”

  Kizzy smiled and said, “Thank you, Dora. I’ve been workin’ on it for so long now that I can’t believe I’ve almost finished.”

  “Shay’s dress is beautiful, Kizzy,” Calliope exclaimed, moving to stand by her stepmother.

  “Well, whether it’s for a play or in years to come the real event, I want my daughter’s weddin’ dress to be perfect for her,” Kizzy laughed.

  Dora sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if Winnie will ever settle her mind on a young man and get married.” Lowering her voice so that only Kizzy and Calliope could hear, Dora added, “I’m afraid my daughter is a fickle fanny when it comes to young men. One day she swears she’s in love with Dex Longfellow; the next she swears to be in love with Tate Chesterfield. Why, just yesterday, she’d determined that Rowdy Gates was the man she wanted to marry.” Dora sighed and shook her head.

  Calliope felt nausea rise from her stomach all the way up into her throat. It burned so sour that she couldn’t have begun to speak in that instant, even if she could’ve thought what to say.

  Still, Kizzy soothed Calliope’s anxiety a bit when she said, “Somehow I see Winnie with someone like Tate more than I do Rowdy.” Calliope felt the color drain from her face when Kizzy looked up to her then, inquiring, “Don’t you, Calliope?”

  “Um…y-yes,” Calliope stammered. “I think Tate and Winnie would make a lovely couple.”

  Did Kizzy know? Did she know that Calliope hoped to win Rowdy one day? Had Shay broken her promise and told her mother of Calliope’s secret bliss? But then Calliope remembered that Kizzy was a gypsy—more gypsy than even Shay—and Shay had guessed at it. Thus, it stood to reason that Kizzy had guessed at it as well.

  “Warren Ackerman, you behave yourself!” Mrs. Ackerman screeched, startling everyone.

  “I just wanna practice on her a bit, Mama,” Warren laughed.

  Calliope and the others looked up to see Warren chasing Shay around the inside of the Ackermans’ barn. He still wore his half-sewn swallowtail suit coat, and Shay was giggling with delight.

  “You do not practice a weddin’ kiss, Warren!” Mrs. Ackerman scolded. “And get back here and let your sister finish fittin’ that coat proper!”

  But Warren had already caught up with Shay. As the little boy took hold of Shay’s shoulders, spinning her around to face him, Calliope giggled with delight when the boy planted a kiss right on her lips.

  Shay blushed and pushed herself out of his grasp. “I oughta slap you, Warren Ackerman!” Shay exclaimed—although it was obvious she was elated about Warren’s having kissed her. “And I bet you can’t catch me again,” Shay giggled, offering further proof to everyone in the barn that she was enchanted by Warren’s attention.

  “I am so sorry, Kizzy,” Mrs. Ackerman apologized as she came to stand near Calliope. “That boy just about runs me ragged most of the time. I hope you’re not too upset that he’s a bit sweet on your Shay.”

  Kizzy smiled. “Not at all, Ellen,” she assured her friend. “Lawson and I adore Warren! And I’ll venture to say my Shay does too. And after all, there’s no harm in a little game of kiss-and-chase at their age.”

&nb
sp; Calliope smiled, glad that both Kizzy and Mrs. Ackerman understood children’s infatuations. She thought back on something Amoretta had told her just after she and Brake were married. Amoretta had told Calliope that Brake had once chased Amoretta into Mr. Ackerman’s hayfield last autumn. Naturally, Amoretta had swiped Brake’s hat from his head and had run as fast as she could for the hayfield. But once Brake had caught her—and Amoretta sorely wanted him to catch her—he’d pushed her into the belly of a haystack and kissed her something fierce! Amoretta had confessed that kissing Brake in the haystack that evening had been one of the most marvelous experiences she had ever had.

  Calliope sighed, wishing Rowdy Gates would chase her into a haystack and kiss her—wishing Rowdy Gates would chase her anywhere and kiss her.

  “Seems to me kiss-and-chase would be fun at any age,” Calliope said. As everyone looked at her with wide, wondering eyes, she gasped. “Oh dear! Did I say that out loud?”

  “You certainly did,” Dora Montrose laughed. “And I’ll say this: I’ll confirm that kiss-and-chase is fun at any age.” She continued to smile. “To this very day, I just love it when my Dennison chases me around the kitchen table and then catches me in his arms and kisses me.”

  “Oh, me too!” Kizzy agreed.

  Ellen Ackerman quirked one eyebrow and smiled. “Well, how delicious is it to stand here and imagine both the sheriff and the county judge playin’ at kiss-and-chase?” she asked.

  “Very fun, if I do say so myself,” Dora answered.

  Everyone laughed then, and Calliope sighed with satisfaction. She knew a Tom Thumb wedding would bring the folks in Meadowlark Lake closer together. And the proof sat all around her in the Ackermans’ barn.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The last lamp was lit for the night. Most nights he rode right home to an empty house, a bland supper, and retiring to bed early. But this night—this night Rowdy was already so tired he just sat right down under the last street lamp near the Ipswich house. He wasn’t ready to leave town for the isolation of his own house.