Roaring left Wind River Jim with Pete and went to see Dr. Shelley, the coroner, who had an office at the east end of the street. The old doctor was a short, fat, breathless man, with two double chins and no waist-line.“Going to have an inquest, I suppose,” puffed the doctor.“Shore,” nodded Roaring. “He won’t keep a long while this kinda weather. You fix up about the inquest, Doc. That’s somethin’ I dunno anythin’ about. Are you shore Mallette didn’t kill himself?”“Might have shot himself at long-range. No powder marks on his face, and the bullet went through his head.”“Uh-huh.”“Funny thing,” said the doctor. “You know, Mallette wore boots—the short kind. Well, there was dirt in both boots.”“What about it?”“I don’t know; I just mentioned it.”“Uh-huh. Mallette didn’t look to me like a man who had taken a bath very often. You fix up about that inquest, will yuh, Doc? You’ve held ’em before.”“All right, Roaring. Ryker was down to look at the corpse. He says there’s no doubt in his mind that Pete Conley killed Mallette. They chased Conley all night last night.”“Yeah, I heard they did.”Roaring didn’t bother to tell the doctor that he had Pete in jail. He went from the doctor’s office to Judge Beal’s home, where Wong Kee opened the door for him. The old judge was slumped down in an old rocker, half dressed, an uncorked bottle of whisky beside him on the table. On his lap was a much worn copy of the Bible.“Come in, Roaring,” he said softly. “Sit down and tell me all the news. We’ve only heard rumors here. Between Wong’s rheumatism and my bottle of rye, we’ve not been able to get out and gather the news. Have a drink—it’s good stuff. Wong, bring the gentleman a glass.”It was evident to Roaring that the judge was mellow with liquor. But that was as far as he ever got—mellow. No one had ever seen Judge Beal drunk—as a drunk is measured in Turquoise City.Roaring took the drink and told the judge what had happened the night before. The old jurist chuckled over how Roaring drew the lynchers away from the ranch, while Jimmy Moran brought Pete safely to Turquoise.“Oh, they’d have hung him, Judge,” assured Roaring. “Pete wasn’t stuck on comin’ to jail, but he could see that it was the only safe place for him.”“That’s very true, Roaring. I got my second warning yesterday.”“You did? Gosh! What are you goin’ to do, Judge?”The old judge smiled grimly.“Die in a good cause,” he said slowly. “Why run away? I’ve no place to go. After all, I am the judge of this district. English Ed and his cohorts fear justice, and it may be that English Ed has political influence enough to get a friendly judge elected, or rather appointed, in case he can frighten me into resigning.”“Mebby,” nodded Roaring. “He scared Randall out.”“But you are not one of his men, Roaring.”“I hope to die if I am! I’ve got Wind River Jim for a deputy and I’ll run that office as long as she’s got a wheel to turn on—and when she ain’t, I’ll keep her draggin’. I dunno much about my office, Judge. Randall never did tell me much, so I’ve kinda got to run her by ear. English Ed and his gang don’t like me; but that ain’t goin’ to git me down. Well, I better go back and see how Wind River is makin’ out. I plumb forgot to tell him that bein’ a deputy sheriff don’t give him a right to shoot anybody he happens to get sore at. See you later, Judge.”
Roaring left Wind River Jim with Pete and went to see Dr. Shelley, the coroner, who had an office at the east end of the street. The old doctor was a short, fat, breathless man, with two double chins and no waist-line.
“Going to have an inquest, I suppose,” puffed the doctor.
“Shore,” nodded Roaring. “He won’t keep a long while this kinda weather. You fix up about the inquest, Doc. That’s somethin’ I dunno anythin’ about. Are you shore Mallette didn’t kill himself?”
“Might have shot himself at long-range. No powder marks on his face, and the bullet went through his head.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Funny thing,” said the doctor. “You know, Mallette wore boots—the short kind. Well, there was dirt in both boots.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t know; I just mentioned it.”
“Uh-huh. Mallette didn’t look to me like a man who had taken a bath very often. You fix up about that inquest, will yuh, Doc? You’ve held ’em before.”
“All right, Roaring. Ryker was down to look at the corpse. He says there’s no doubt in his mind that Pete Conley killed Mallette. They chased Conley all night last night.”
“Yeah, I heard they did.”
Roaring didn’t bother to tell the doctor that he had Pete in jail. He went from the doctor’s office to Judge Beal’s home, where Wong Kee opened the door for him. The old judge was slumped down in an old rocker, half dressed, an uncorked bottle of whisky beside him on the table. On his lap was a much worn copy of the Bible.
“Come in, Roaring,” he said softly. “Sit down and tell me all the news. We’ve only heard rumors here. Between Wong’s rheumatism and my bottle of rye, we’ve not been able to get out and gather the news. Have a drink—it’s good stuff. Wong, bring the gentleman a glass.”
It was evident to Roaring that the judge was mellow with liquor. But that was as far as he ever got—mellow. No one had ever seen Judge Beal drunk—as a drunk is measured in Turquoise City.
Roaring took the drink and told the judge what had happened the night before. The old jurist chuckled over how Roaring drew the lynchers away from the ranch, while Jimmy Moran brought Pete safely to Turquoise.
“Oh, they’d have hung him, Judge,” assured Roaring. “Pete wasn’t stuck on comin’ to jail, but he could see that it was the only safe place for him.”
“That’s very true, Roaring. I got my second warning yesterday.”
“You did? Gosh! What are you goin’ to do, Judge?”
The old judge smiled grimly.
“Die in a good cause,” he said slowly. “Why run away? I’ve no place to go. After all, I am the judge of this district. English Ed and his cohorts fear justice, and it may be that English Ed has political influence enough to get a friendly judge elected, or rather appointed, in case he can frighten me into resigning.”
“Mebby,” nodded Roaring. “He scared Randall out.”
“But you are not one of his men, Roaring.”
“I hope to die if I am! I’ve got Wind River Jim for a deputy and I’ll run that office as long as she’s got a wheel to turn on—and when she ain’t, I’ll keep her draggin’. I dunno much about my office, Judge. Randall never did tell me much, so I’ve kinda got to run her by ear. English Ed and his gang don’t like me; but that ain’t goin’ to git me down. Well, I better go back and see how Wind River is makin’ out. I plumb forgot to tell him that bein’ a deputy sheriff don’t give him a right to shoot anybody he happens to get sore at. See you later, Judge.”