As the last notes of “Garry Owen” echoed through the nearly empty saloon, Biff saw his friend Duff MacCallister coming through the front door.
“Duff,” he called, thankful to put the troubling memories aside.
“Biff, m’ friend, ’n how does this day find ye?” Duff asked.
“Fit as a fiddle,” Biff replied. “I’m surprised you’re here with me, when you could be visiting with Miss Meagan,” Biff said.
Duff glanced up at the clock. “Aye, ’n in five more minutes of the clock I will be,” he said. “The lass ’n I will be taking our lunch at Tacky Mack’s Café.”
“The lady still has some cattle parked on your ranch, doesn’t she?” Biff asked.
“Aye, that she does.”
Biff chuckled. “That explains it, then. I can’t see any other reason why such a beautiful young woman would have anything to do with an ugly old bum like you.”
“Perhaps I should always keep ye at m’ side, Biff. ’Tis said that you’re so ugly the stork sent a letter of apology to yer mum. Next to you, I’d be an Adonis.”
Biff laughed. “You know what they say. Ugly on the outside, handsome on the inside.”
“Aye, Biff, ye are a good mon, I’ll be the first to say that.”
Without being asked to do so, Siffer began playing “Scotland the Brave.”
“Ye’ve my thanks for that, Mr. Siffer,” Duff said.
“It can’t compare with the way you play it on the pipes,” Siffer replied. “But it’s a good song, even on the piano.”
“Aye, that it is, ’n no matter how it’s played, it takes me back to m’ Highlands.”
“I’m a bit melancholy myself today,” Biff said.
“Oh?”
Biff shared his memories of the battle at Little Bighorn with Duff, and though he had told the story a few times before, Duff listened without interruption. He knew that telling the story was Biff’s way of dealing with it.
Because of Duff’s own troubled past, he knew that such unpleasant memories could never be totally erased; they could only be padded over, like a pearl in an oyster shell. And Biff’s telling of the story added another layer onto the oyster.
Chugwater was the closest town to Sky Meadow, and as such it was the town where Duff did most of his business. The little town had been moribund until a railroad, connecting Cheyenne with Fort Laramie, passed through the town, saving it from extinction.
Before the arrival of the railroad, all the ranchers were required to drive their cattle to Cheyenne so they could be shipped to the eastern markets. And though that posed no major problem to the large ranchers who had many hands to make the drive, it was almost impossible for the small ranchers, who couldn’t afford drovers to help them. The railroad had been a particular boon to them.
After leaving the saloon, Duff walked down the street to visit with Meagan Parker. Miss Parker owned Meagan’s Dress Emporium, which was one of the most successful business operations in all of Chugwater. And, as Biff had pointed out to Duff, she also owned several head of cattle that were intermingled with Duff’s herd.
Originally Meagan’s participation in the ranch had been the result of a loan she had made to Duff, but when he attempted to pay her back, she said she would rather him consider it an investment.
Meagan and Duff were, as the women of the town explained to anyone who might ask about their relationship, courting. It had been an extended courtship . . . Meagan wasn’t ready to give up her dress shop and move out to Sky Meadow, and Duff didn’t want to move in to Chugwater. But though they had never finalized their relationship by way of marriage vows . . . the affection they felt for each other was none the weaker for any lack of documentation.
“Would ye be for takin’ yer lunch with me at Tacky Mack’s?” Duff asked.
“Aye, ’n ’twould be the greatest o’ pleasures for ter be seen dinin’ with m’ mon in such a foine place now,” Meagan teased, perfectly mimicking Duff’s Scottish brogue.
“Och, lass, ’n ter hear you, ’twould make one think ye be Scottish born, ’n raised in the heather.”
“Well, are we going to stand here jawboning all day, or are you going to feed me?” Meagan asked, laughing.
“Mary Ellen, I’m going to lunch. Keep an eye on things for me, would you?”
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Parker,” her employee replied.
“How is your new girl working out?” Duff asked after they left the shop.
“Oh, she has been a wonderful help, but I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep her.”
“Is she that expensive for you?”
“No, not at all, and I’ll keep her as long as I can. But she’s sweet on that cowboy that works for Mr. Prescott . . . I mean Houser. Actually he’s more than just a cowboy, he’s the foreman, Ben Turley.”
“Aye, Turley is a good mon.”
“A good man that may wind up taking Mary Ellen away from me.”
During the three-block walk to Tacky Mack’s, conversation turned to Sky Meadow Ranch, and Duff had Meagan laughing about the barbs Elmer and Wang had exchanged with each other this morning.
“They argue like children, but either one of them would take a bullet for the other one,” Duff said.
“Or for you,” Meagan added.
“Aye, lass, or for me.”
* * *
Rudy York owned the café, and he had named it Tacky Mack, after his son, Mack. Tacky Mack’s Café used a black-and-white color scheme. The walls were black, halfway up, and white the rest of the way. Even the wooden floor was painted in checkerboard squares of black and white. York was a large man with white hair and a gregarious smile. He greeted all his customers by name if he knew them, and he did so now, as Duff and Meagan stepped into his place of business.
“Duff MacCallister and Miss Meagan Parker,” York greeted effusively. “Welcome, welcome, come with
