Chapter 22
Burdened by his wife’s repulsive revelations, Ben’s anxious thoughts swirled even as he tucked the worn out mother into bed beside her sons. Then he stumbled into his darkened office and set up the cot between the doors leading to the living quarters and the cellar.
The low light in the oil lantern was suddenly turned up, and Ben turned toward his desk in surprise. “What are you still doing here, sir?”
Judge Lemke rubbed the furrow between his eyebrows and then tapped a finger against the stack of paper under his hand. “It’s a fine mess you’ve got here, Sheriff.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“I’d like a chance to interview these men,” Harlan Lemke said before standing and stretching. He moved to the coffee pot and refilled his mug. “Get you some?”
“Yeah. I’m gonna need it,” Ben grumbled, giving his cot a longing look.
When they were reseated around the desk, Ben lowered the lamp’s light. “Simon Rassbach is still out there, and by my reckoning, he’s probably got another half dozen men or more willing to tear this place apart.”
“Two days.”
“Huh?” the Sheriff groggily replied.
“I wired the prison at Waupun, and they will send guards to transport the men upstairs. Train comes through in two days, and then the men we tried today will be out of your hair.”
Ben breathed a sigh of relief. “I think I’ve deputized just about every man in town to help me keep watch. And I don’t know how much longer we can keep it up. We’re all asleep on our feet.”
Mindful of the guard upstairs and the possibility of others overhearing their conversation, Harlan took a sip of the bitter brew and considered his questions before asking, “Are you familiar with the term ‘clemency?’”
“I am,” Ben cautiously answered. “Why?”
“Seems to me there might be a judicial leaning in that direction since new information has come to light.”
Unsure how he felt about that, Ben stood and turned away. After a few minutes of consideration, he wandered back over to the pot belly stove and poured another cup of wake up juice.
“You object?” the judge questioned.
“Guess I’m going to need to think on it – pray about it – before I can give you an answer, sir.”
“You do that, Sheriff Chauncy. The court is going to ask you for an official recommendation once we get Rassbach’s men handed off to the prison guards.”
With a nod of understanding, Ben wandered to the exterior door and took a quick peek out the window. “Just about time for the guards to switch over,” he advised. “And it always makes me nervous. Mighty easy to conceal who’s out there this time of night. Especially with snow coming down like this.”
“You are anticipating trouble?”
“Wouldn’t you? Rassbach’s already tried to strong arm me into letting the robbers go. And when that didn’t work, he sent his private security detail to shut Oswold Jenkins up. The only thing I don’t know is how many he’s bringing with him.”
Feeling the younger man’s frustration, Harlan stood and joined him near the window. “Any indication this malfeasance extends to the railroad itself. Or does this begin and end with Simon Rassbach?”
“I really can’t say, judge. I do know that he’s using the railroad to transport the goods, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the owners are aware of what he’s up to.”
Harlan Lemke smiled and patted the exhausted young man on the back. “Well, I think I can help with that. Get some shut eye and meet me at the hotel in the morning. I’ll have the documents prepared for you to execute a lawful search of Rassbach’s office and the Great Valley Railway office. Choose men you trust to accompany you, and while you do that, I will spend a little time in the cellar.”
The only thing Ben’s mind picked up on was the chance to sleep, and he was happy to comply with the judge’s orders.
Morning broke about the same time Ben’s ribs did. At least that is what it felt like when Caleb pounced on him shortly after daybreak.
“Wake up, Pa. Ma say it time to eat,” the little boy happily announced, then his face lost some of its joy. “Is just mush tho.”
Ben blinked his heavy eyelids with extreme effort and tried to keep them open. “Mush,” he parroted.
“Mush,” Caleb confirmed with a dramatic sigh. “I wants more piggy meat, Pa. An’ Artie too.”
“Don’t encourage him, Sheriff,” Roseanna called from her place near the cook stove. “I already told him the ham was a special treat.”
“Pweez, Pa. I willed brush da floor agin,” the child whispered.
Squinting at the squirmy piece of humanity that bounced against his full bladder, Ben scrunched his nose and tried to decipher the toddler’s odd chatter. “Ah . . . Roseanna? A little help, please.”
When the woman appeared in the doorway, she had Jacob on her hip and a wooden spoon in her hand. “Come along, Caleb. The Sheriff needs to get ready for his day, and Arthur is waiting for you to hand him the cups and plates so he can put them on the table.”
“I wanna do boy fings,” the toddler announced, mutiny in his eyes.
His mother pointed her wooden spoon at the rebel and calmly said, “Eating is a boy thing. And if you expect to fill your tummy this morning, you’d better do as you’re told.”
Ben grunted as the dejected child got himself turned in the right direction and crawled off the end of the cot. Rubbing at his belly button once the little renegade was gone, Ben whispered a prayer of thanks. Another six inches lower and Caleb’s knobby knee would have done serious damage to sensitive territory.