Jud pounded the end of his staff on the floor and bellowed at his “subjects,” as he had recently begun calling the assorted riffraff he had on his payroll.
“Bring the queen to my side!” he squalled.
Several of his bodyguards—he now had a dozen around him at all times—went upstairs to fetch the most unwilling Queen Doreen.
Jud had ordered all the furniture removed from one downstairs room in the mansion. All the furniture except for two huge padded chairs that were placed in the center of the room: his throne and Doreen’s slightly smaller throne. Jud’s “staff” was a thick piece of oak, about four feet long and weighing about twenty pounds, long enough and stout enough to fell a buffalo. Jud had read several books about how royalty dressed and behaved. Since he didn’t have a goblet from which to drink his wine—wine being something royalty drank—he had found a quart jar, so he used that in place of a jewel-encrusted goblet. It was kind of hard to hold, but it was either that or a bucket, and a bucket wasn’t very dignified. Jud had also stopped shaving and was growing a beard; that was something else that all male royalty of the time did. Or so he had read.
He had been informed that the sole survivor of the gunfight with Cheyenne, Matthew, and Rusty had died of his wounds. Jud waved that off with a mutter about serfs and the like. Since the gun slick who delivered the message had no idea what a serf was he couldn’t take umbrage. He did think his boss looked like a plumb idiot; but as long as the good money kept coming, the gun hand didn’t really care how Jud dressed. But he did figure that damn fur coat Jud wore was kind of hot for this time of the year.
Doreen was ushered in, all silks and satins and fancy shoes, with a jeweled crown on her head.
Jud pounded his staff on the floor and bellowed, “All rise for Queen Doreen!”
Since there weren’t any chairs in the room except for the two thrones, that was an unnecessary command, but Jud thought it sounded regal so he did it anyway.
Highpockets left the “Crown Room” and walked up to Gimpy Bonner on the front porch. “The son of a bitch is crazy, Gimp!”
“I allow as to how you’re right, Highpockets. But as long as the money keeps comin’, I don’t care if he walks around bare-butt nekkid and rides a camel.”
“Now that would be a sight to seel”
King Jud and Queen Doreen held court for a few minutes, but since there was nobody with any complaints for Jud to hear and rule on it got sort of boring after a few moments.
“Would you like to stroll about the estate, my queen?” Jud asked.
“But of course,” Doreen said with a smile. I might find a chance to cut and run away from you, you ninny! she was thinking behind her smile.
It was quite a sight to see. Jud in his cowboy boots and spurs, his six guns belted around his middle, wore a ankle-length ermine robe and toted his twenty-pound staff. Doreen had on a gown that would have been the envy of the Queen of England. As they strolled around the “estate,” both were careful not to step in the many piles of horse droppings that littered the grounds.
“I wish you would do something about this … unpleasantness,” Doreen said, pointing to a fresh pile of road apples.
“You’re absolutely right, my queen;” Jud told one of his bodyguards to order the mess cleaned up and keep it clean.
It did not take Doreen long to conclude that while Jud certainly was as crazy as a road lizard, he wasn’t stupid. The bodyguards flanked them as they strolled, and there were guards in the front of them and in the back. Jud summed it all up with a strange smile on his face.
“There is no way you are going to escape, my queen. So put it out of your pretty head and just enjoy all the privileges you are being accorded. This is your home, for now and for always.”
“Very well,” Doreen spoke through tight lips. “I want my room redone and I want it done immediately. I hate the colors!”
“Uh … yes, dear.”
“And I want satin or silk sheets. Those cotton sheets are just so shabby!” “Right, my queen.”
“I want my breakfast served to me in bed.”
“Uh … of course, dear.” Jud was beginning to wonder if having a woman around on a permanent basis was going to be worth all the trouble. He wondered if other kings had the same problem.
“And I want a party.”
“A party!”
“Yes. A great big fancy ball.” She was doing some fast thinking and hoping it would work. “And I want everybody in southeastern Idaho invited. Well announce our engagement there.”
Jud fell to his knees; unfortunately, one knee landed squarely in a fresh pile of horse manure, but Jud appeared not to notice. “Oh, Doreen—do you really mean that?”
“Of course, I do. I’ll start working on the invitation list immediately.”
Jud kissed her hand. “I’m so happy, my queen!”
You won’t be so happy when you see the guest list, Doreen thought. And on the night the ball is held, that’s when I turn back into a pumpkin and get the hell away from you and this nuthouse!
“Bar V rider comin’,” Jackson said. “And he’s comin’ up holdin’ a white flag.”
Jud had reluctantly agreed to invite Walt and Alice and Smoke and Rusty. He had done so after Doreen had pointed out that he had a hundred or somen on the ranch; what could Smoke do with all those guns around him?
Scott Johnson, the Arizona gun hand, handed Smoke several envelopes. “You lose, Jensen,” he said with a nasty grin. “Miss Doreen and Jud is gonna announce their weddin’ plans at this here shindig. And she said to tell you that that Shakyspear feller said it best when he was talkin’ about friends, romans, and countrymen. Whatever the hell that means.”
Scott turned his horse and rode off.
Smoke smiled, thankful that he had wintered that time with Preacher and all those books. He remembered the line well. I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him!
“Wipe that hound dog look off your face, Rusty,” he told the man. “She’s telling us to get her out of there and giving us a way to do it.”
“Damned if I see how.”
“Jud'll probably have men at the door friskin’ certain people before they enter the mansion,” Jackson said. “We won’t be able to carry guns inside.” He paused. “We, hell, I wasn’t even invited!”
“You’ll be going though,” Smoke told him. “At least part of the way.” He looked at the date on the invitation. “We’ve got a week to plan things out. First thing I’ve got to do is see who all was invited and who is planning to attend. I’m going to send Jamie and Leroy to poke around some.” He looked at Rusty’s long face. “Relax, Rusty. Well get your sweetie back.”
The governor was invited to the party. He sent word that he would not be able to attend. So did the general in charge of all federal troops in Idaho Territory. But Sheriff Brady said he wouldn’t miss it for the world. And the young reporter from the Montpelier newspaper would attend. Most of the ranchers and a few of the farmers—Doreen had insisted the nesters be invited—agreed to attend the party.
Smoke had decided he would go in unarmed. When the time came to grab Doreen, he would bust a guard over the noggin with something—maybe the punch bowl if it came to that—take his guns and really liven up the party.
Smoke was going to stay close to the ranch until the night of the big event. He didn’t want to put Doreen’s rescue in jeopardy by running into any of the bounty hunters who were out looking for him. That could come later.
At the Bar V, Doreen had everybody there, from the cooks to the cowboys, running around the lower half of the territory, driving them about half-crazy, picking up this, that, and the other thing for the ball. She wanted them to be so tired come the night of the event that all they would want to do is lie down and sleep and to hell with the party. She didn’t know if that would be the case, but it was worth a try.
Jud had ordered cases of champagne sent in, and as many different types of “finger foods,” as Doreen called them, as could be found within three days’ ride of the Bar V. Since no one in their right mind would work for Jud Vale, he was forced to use some of his own hired guns and cowboys to act as waiters. He bought them all brand new black suits, with white shirts and black string ties, and low quarter shoes and white gloves. There was a lot of bitching going on about that, but Jud told them either do it or haul their ashes.
Doreen had insisted upon a band, so Jud managed to round up a guitar player, a fiddle player, and someone to toot on a bugle. It was the best he could do on such short notice.
Jud was undecided as to what to wear to the gala event. Doreen said she would clean up his ermine robe—it had a few food and wine spots on it—and he could polish his crown and shine his boots and spurs. He would look so nice.
She wanted him to look like the fool he was so everyone there could see the real Jud Vale.
“Can I wear my guns, Doreen?” Jud asked.
“Oh, but of course, darling!” She had overheard him telling his men to frisk everyone. She hoped Smoke and Rusty would be able to arm themselves once inside the nuthouse.
Time was running out.
Smoke laid down the ground rules.
“Walt, when you get the signal from me, you take Alice and get gone from Jud’s place. I’ll wait about forty-five minutes before making my play. That’ll give you time to get Alice to the west side of the creek. You wait there.”
The rancher nodded his head in agreement.
“Jackson, you and Dolittle and Harrison will be stationed at the creek, our side of it, with rifles. Just as soon as we drop Doreen off, Alice and Doreen can take the buggy and hightail for the ranch. We’ll hold off the men Jud is sure to send after us.”
“Sounds good to me,” Dolittle said. “I been cravin’ some action.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Harrison agreed. “I may not be good for too much else, but I can damn sure still pull a trigger.”
“And you can bet that Jud will have everybody that can ride a horse after you,” Jackson warned. “He’ll be killin’ mad.”
“We’ll have a good fifteen to thirty minutes’ start on him though,” Smoke said. “After Doreen makes her little speech about being kidnapped, and me with a Colt stuck up Jud’s nose, the sheriff will have to make some noises about law and order and all that. Of course, once I turn Jud loose and he hoofs it back to the mansion, he’ll ignore anything the sheriff might have to say and come fogging after us.”
“We might get some more people on our side by doing this,” Walt mused aloud. “May be this will give some of the smaller ranchers and farmers the backbone to join us in fighting my brother.”
“If this don’t, nothing will,” Rusty added. He looked at Smoke. “You got another plan if this one don’t work?”
“No,” Smoke admitted. “But I’m thinking this will work because it’s so simple and it’s something that Jud won’t even suspect any of us trying. For a handful of us to kidnap the man right in front of all his men, at his very own engagement party is something that has to be unthinkable to him. At least that’s what I’m hoping.”
“I have to tell you, Smoke,” Walt said. “Matthew says he’s going to be a part of the action come the night of the party, whether we want him to be, or not.”
Smoke took that news without even so much as a blink. “It doesn’t surprise me, Walt. The boy has shed his youth and left it behind him. We’ve both seen it happen out here many times. It’s a hard time in a hard land that’s filled up with hard men. I was only about a year older than Matthew when I teamed up with Preacher. About two years older than him when I killed my first man, with a pistol that Jesse James gave me back on that hard-scrabble farm in Missouri. Matthew will make it, and I’d not be a bit leery of him standing alongside me in any gunfight.”
“I wanted you to know,” the rancher closed the subject.
Smoke nodded his head. “Stash fully loaded rifles and pistols in the buggy, Walt. Cover them with a blanket. We’re not going to have time for reloading once the fight gets to the creek.”
“We have enough weapons, for sure,” Walt said with a grin, his eyes twinkling. Then he sobered. “I’m going to lay the rules down to the boys. They are to remain on this ranch come the night of the party. Anyone who disobeys that order loses his job.”
“Good. I think they’ll stay put.” Smoke met the eyes of the men. “We’re only going to have one chance at pulling this off, people. So let’s do it right the first lime. That’s it.”