Libby sighed, “Hey Big Boy, you don’t look too happy,” she said as she joined Jon at their corner table.
Jon looked up at the lovely Miss Thompson. “Oh, I’m okay, I guess.” He patted her tiny wrist.
Libby slid a shot of whiskey in front of him as she took a sip of her wine.
“Thanks,” Jon said. “Attorney Brown came to the office today.”
“What did he want?” Libby asked.
“Faraday’s lawyerin’ up. He’s saying I’m just picking on him cause his saloon’s doing so well.”
“Why that’s ridiculous Jon, you would never do that.” Libby frowned.
Jon downed the shot and sat the empty glass on the table. “I know, but he’s got somethin’ up his sleeve.” Jon grimaced.
“Is the judge in town yet?” Libby asked.
“Not yet,” Jon replied.
“Who’s coming?” the pretty saloon owner asked.
“Dunno,” Jon replied. A thought came to him, and he smiled. “That’s it,” he said excitedly. “That’s it!” He jumped up and began pacing near the table.
“Are you going to let me in on the secret, Jon, or am I going to have to sit here in the dark?” Libby chided him.
“That’s it! The judge,” Jon replied. He pounded his fist in the palm of his hand. “If Faraday and Brown can get Judge Walker here, they can use that bogus defense and possibly get off. I hear Walker owes Faraday big time.”
“What if Oliver shows up?”
“Judge Oliver’s an honest man. Alex would be in deep trouble.” Jon shook his head. “That snake.”
“I’ll bet he tried to contact Walker to be sure he showed up,” Libby said.
“I’ll bet he did,” Jon replied. “But something tells me Judge Oliver’s on his way. He’ll smell a rat and he’ll be here.”
“I hope you’re right,” Libby smiled. Sam rushed over and poured them both another drink.
* * *
Out at the mansion, Faraday nervously tossed his fork on the large oak dinner table. “What’s taking Cliff so long?” he said, becoming exasperated by the wait.
His servant approached tentatively. “Dessert?” he asked.
“No, Jonathon, no!” Alex shouted. “Just leave Clive and me alone.” The servant nodded and hurried out.
“I think I hear something,” Cook said. “Sounds like a horse is approaching.”
They tossed down their cloth napkins and hurried out to the front. Nestleroad rode up to the door. The smallish foreman dismounted and hurried over to them.
“Well man, for God’s sake what’s going on?” Alex shouted, his face pushed forward, anxiously awaiting the reply.
“He ain’t here, yet!” Cliff replied.
“Why on earth not?” an enraged Faraday asked.
“The sheriff just got a telegraph a little while ago. The stage broke an axle near Cactus Bend. It won’t be in ’til mornin’.”
“It won’t be in until morning? That’s disastrous!” Alex exclaimed.
“Did he say which judge was coming?” Cook asked expectantly.
“Nope, I asked ’em which judge was comin’ and he said he didn’t know,” Cliff said sheepishly.
“Oh my, everything is falling apart! We are all going to hang!” Alex screamed.
“Now calm down, Alex,” Cook said. “I’ve got a plan!”
“What is it?” Alex barked. “It better be a good one!”
Cook’s eyes rolled toward the door.
“Oh... uh, that will be all. Cliff, tell the boys to get ready. We will be riding into town tomorrow.”
“Okay, Mr. Cook.” the loyal foreman hurried away.
“Now, go ahead Clive,” Alex said, annoyed by the delay.
“Where was I?”
“You said you had a plan,” Alex grumbled.
“Oh yes... yes, When that stage gets in tomorrow, it’s going to take the judge, whoever it might be, and hour or so to get around after he arrives.” Cook paced confidently on the front porch.
“Yes, yes man! Go ahead!” Alex waved the back of his fingers at Cook.
“Well, we’ll ride in early and wait over at the saloon...”
“Yes... and!”
“And if Walker shows up, well, then we’re okay.”
“Why of course my dear man, we all know that!” Alex exclaimed. “What if it’s Oliver?”
“If it’s Oliver, then we still have an hour to get out of town. It will take him that long to clean up and get ready for court.” He smiled smugly. “I’ll have one of the boys station four fast horses out back of the saloon for a quick, quiet get away. No one will suspect a thing. We can come back out here, load up and move on down the road. If worse comes to worse, we’ll go to Mexico and hop a freighter back to merry ole England. Anything’s better than hanging.”
“Oh yes, hanging’s not good,” Alex mumbled. “And you’re right, the sheriff might be expecting us to leave town if Oliver arrives. He will probably be watching the street. So you and I, Web and Cliff can slip out the back unnoticed. Hmmm... then we’ll go to Mexico, England, or whatever... huh!” Alex replied, thinking out loud. “But how do we get word of our predicament to Judge Walker if he does in fact show up?”
Cook smiled. “I’ve thought of that, too. The owner and day clerk at the Westwood, Les Pemberton, is a friend of mine. I’ll write a letter to Walker explaining the situation. Les has a little spread between here and town. I’ll ride out to Les’s place tonight and deliver it in person. If Judge Walker arrives tomorrow, I’ll ask Les to take the letter to his room. The judge will have plenty of time to read it before court goes into session. To be certain Pemberton goes along with us, I will promise him exclusive rights to any new hotels in town after we take over. That will be irresistible to him.” Cook’s eyebrows rose as he smiled confidently at his boss.
Alex digested it all for a minute and then spoke up. “Hmmm... good plan my dear man, good plan!” Alex smiled broadly. “Shall we retire to the veranda for a brandy?”
Cook nodded as the two Englishmen strolled confidently toward the back of the mansion.