Chapter 26 #2
In the small outer room, the judge’s secretary sat behind a desk piled high with papers.
The overworked fella lifted his balding head and gestured to the open door beyond.
Caleb went through and paused inside to take in the view.
It never failed to impress him, in spite of knowing that was surely the judge’s intention.
The first time he came in here, the thought occurred to Caleb that the man’s office was big enough to house an entire cavalry unit and their horses.
Though they’d have to move some of the furniture out to make room for everyone, he still thought so.
A long, heavy table with matching chairs of carved oak took up one end of the dark, wood-paneled room.
That would have to go. And the chandelier of gleaming brass and crystal hanging above the table was a little fancy for cavalry quarters, but they might want to leave it.
Velvet drapes, red as blood, hung in the windows, held back by gold ropes.
Might want to take them down and roll up the fancy carpets.
The shoes of all those horses would do considerable damage to the rugs.
Horace Patterson, Justice of the Peace, sat at a desk nearly as large as Caleb’s ranch.
Behind him, he had a handsome cabinet with a nice display of law books.
On his desk, he’d carefully arranged a pair of oil lamps, a desk set of pen and ink, a writing blotter, and a bronze sculpture of Napoleon with his hand resting on the head of a very sorry-looking lion.
“I see that nothing has changed, Judge. It’s good to be the king, I reckon.”
The judge stood. One thing about him, he always looked ready to dine with President Hayes himself, should the situation present itself. This morning he was wearing a charcoal suit, silver-gray waistcoat, white silk shirt, and black tie.
“Marlowe, if you’ve come in here to offend me, then you can turn right around and show yourself out.”
“Nope. Just the opposite.”
Patterson slid his hand inside the lapel of his waistcoat, eyeing him and taking his measure. “So then, you’ve come to apologize.”
“Apologize?”
“For your barbaric behavior in the dining room at the Silver Elk Hotel.”
Caleb would have liked to confront the man and accuse him of being in with Starr on the theft of his herd and the burning of the ranch. But he was here to save Henry’s neck from the noose. That required diplomacy, and that was not Caleb’s usual way of doing business.
“You want me to apologize for what happened at Silver Elk Hotel?”
“I do. Or our business is done here.”
Patterson had a kind of energy to him, like a timepiece wound too tight. And he was a killer. Caleb had known it the first time he met the man. And right now, the cold, hard look of a gunman—a look that he knew so well—was there in the judge’s hawklike eyes.
“Judge, there’s a lot of things about what happened over there that I’m sorry about.”
Such as not killing his father when he had the chance, Caleb thought.
“And I suppose ruining your lunch would be among ’em.”
The judge gazed at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide if Caleb meant it or not. “You need to end the hostilities with Elijah Starr.”
He wasn’t about to agree to that. “Is he back in Elkhorn?”
“No.”
“Good. Then you and I can do business.”
“You’re here to do business?”
“Yep.”
There was that long look of appraisal again. Caleb stared back, not willing to show his hand. Patience, he told himself.
Finally, the judge shrugged, waved him into a chair by the desk, and sat down as well. “You look like a man who could use a drink.”
“I could use a drink,” Caleb replied.
“Let’s hear what you have to say, and I’ll see if we have reason to drink together.”
He ignored the comment, knowing that the judge was a master at this. The man always wanted to control things—a conversation, a negotiation, a whole town. And people, most of all.
“I’m here about Henry.”
“I figured as much.” Patterson sat back and steepled his fingers, looking intently at Caleb. “He’s going to hang.”
The words landed like a hammer blow. But it wasn’t going to happen. Not to Henry. Not after everything they’d been through together.
“What if I could prove that he didn’t do it?”
“My sheriff has given me all the evidence that I need, and everybody knows there was bad blood between them. He’s going to hang.”
Caleb clenched his fists to stop himself from climbing over the desk and grabbing the man by the throat. He took a breath to stay calm. “We both know that Zeke is no lawman. He never wanted the job. He’d be the first to tell you he’s no good at it.”
“I hired him on your recommendation. He’s doing fine.”
“This ain’t Denver. One of these days, a gunslinger is gonna roll into town, and Zeke will be lying dead in the street.”
“He knows the risks that go with the badge and the money.”
Caleb paused, and then dove in. “You always say you want a town that’s safe and civilized.”
“So?”
“I’ll pin on that tin star, like you asked me before. But you gotta give Henry a chance.”
The judge looked steadily at him. They both knew he had Caleb over a barrel, but he had the decency, at least, not to gloat openly.
Still, he shook his head. “That ship has sailed, Marlowe. I recall you rejected my offer repeatedly. No. Zeke will do. But…” He drummed his fingers on the desk.
Caleb waited. He was about to feel the lash fall, but he waited. He kept telling himself that his partner deserved to live.
“I’m willing to make a deal.” He sat back in his chair, the emperor of his world.
“I can use a strong arm at my side. A gunhawk of your caliber. Someone who can eliminate the nuisances that stand in my way. Someone who will smooth the difficulties that my man, Elijah Starr, might face in building my railroad.”
Caleb’s blood came to a boil. “You want me to do the killing for Elijah Starr.”
“I want you to do what he says.” The judge waved a hand in the air. “My time is too valuable to get involved with the small details of the daily operation. He knows what to do and how to get me there. I want results, Marlowe.”
There it was. The truth behind the polished clothes, the law books, and all the talk about civilization. Patterson didn't want justice. He wanted obedience. And all for another dollar.
“Is stealing my herd one of them small details? I’m talking about a thousand longhorns and nine men dead outside of Pueblo. Does that figure into your idea of results? How about putting my ranch to the torch? More small details?”
Patterson leaned forward, his eyes flashing with anger. “Are you saying I had something to do with stealing cattle and destroying your property?”
“Elijah Starr did. There are fellas in Pueblo who identified him as the man responsible for the taking of that herd.”
“Those are serious charges, Marlowe. Serious and unsubstantiated. I have seen firsthand the hostility you harbor toward your family. So I give no credence to what you say. In fact, I know for a fact that the man you recklessly accuse is in Denver, serving my business interests. Elijah Starr has no time and, I would wager, no interest in playing these paltry games with you.”
The judge glanced at the door, and Caleb glanced around. Buffalo Number Two was standing behind the partially opened doorway, his hand at the ready on the grip of his shooting iron. He wondered if the man had been in the outer office the entire time.
“So, there you have it, Marlowe. What’s your answer? Will you work for Starr?”
The judge was asking him to kill for him. To sell his soul to the devil.
“Hell no.”
“So be it. There is the door.”
Caleb stood so quickly that the chair skidded backwards across the floor. He had no idea what choices were left to him now, but the answer clearly didn’t lie here. Not with the judge.
As he turned to go, Patterson called out to him. “Wait. There is one other possible solution.”
It took great effort to look back at the man. Caleb’s distrust had become an intense loathing.
“You and Jordan sell me your ranch.”
Sell out. This was the bottom line. The judge wanted his land.
And the reason came to him like lightning out of a clear sky.
It was the railroad. Not only would he have a straight line south from Elkhorn for his tracks, he’d have open land for a siding and for stockyards.
He’d be free and clear to supply beef for everyone in these parts.
Caleb clenched his jaws tight. “And Henry’s murder charges?”
“They’ll be dismissed.” Patterson shrugged. “Lack of evidence.”
With the money from a fair sale, they might have been able to start over somewhere else. But that wasn't what Patterson was offering. The judge wanted the ranch. Wanted the valley. Wanted the railroad route. And he was using Henry's neck to force the bargain.
“All right. How much?”
“Two thousand dollars.”
Caleb wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “That’s a quarter of what we paid.”
Even burned and damaged, the land was worth several times that amount. Patterson wasn't making an offer. He was putting a price on Henry's life.
“I know. But you have the added value of your partner’s life,” the judge reminded him. “And there is one more condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I won’t have you standing against me, interfering with my plans. You and Henry Jordan will leave Elkhorn. And if you ever show your faces again, I’ll put a bounty on your head and on his. Those are my terms, Marlowe. You can take it or leave it.”
Caleb stood motionless. Outside, somewhere below, he could hear wagon wheels rattling along Main Street. Ordinary sounds. Ordinary people going about ordinary lives. Meanwhile, Patterson sat behind his enormous desk and calmly demanded everything Caleb had spent the past five months building.
His ranch. His future. His home. And if Caleb refused, Henry would hang.
For the first time since riding back into Elkhorn, Caleb truly felt trapped.