Ride for Rule Cordell

Chapter Twenty-nine

It was nightfall before Wilson Tanner rode up to the Holt Ranch. His horse was lathered and streaked with sweat. Even though he hated this kind of riding, he knew she would want to know. He was also excited about his new appointment as the municipal judge.

Yes, Caisson was alive with change!

Opat and Hangar were in jail; the remaining deputy had been relieved of duty and allowed to leave; he was last seen riding south. The blacksmith had accepted the job as sheriff until a countywide election could be held. Tanner had been asked to become the municipal judge to replace Opat, primarily because he was the only other attorney in town.

Initially, sentiment for Margaret Loren, the dry goods store owner, to become the judge had run strong, but the town council decided to seek help elsewhere. It helped that Mrs. Loren told them that she really didn’t want the responsibility. His mind kept rehearsing the need to not sound sarcastic about the silliness of a woman becoming a judge. Lady Holt would not take kindly to that, to put it mildly. The owner of the No. 8 Saloon was advised to leave by an armed committee when it was discovered Lady Holt actually owned the establishment. As far as Tanner knew, no one objected to Alex Wilkerson’s position as mayor, even though it was well known she owned the bank. Two council members resigned on their own accord, each stating that he didn’t want to be seen lining up against Lady Holt and touting her importance to the region.

A tired, but exuberant, Tanner was greeted at the door by Elliott, who bowed graciously and invited him in.

“Welcome, Mr. Tanner. Madame will join you shortly. She is…occupied at the moment,” the black servant declared, and motioned for the attorney to wait in the library.

“Sure. Sure. This is important or I wouldn’t have come. Took it out on my horse.”

“I’ll see your mount is cared for. Maximus in minimis.”

“Thanks. I could use a whiskey if you’ve got one.”

“Certainly, sir.” Elliott took the attorney’s hat and placed it carefully on a hat rack next to the door.

“Tennessee, if you have it.”

“We do, sir.”

Inside the library, Tanner paced back and forth, barely noticing the three walls of bookshelves lined with books. He had been in this room several times, but not recently. The fourth wall of adobe featured a huge wood carving of a phoenix. Soft gaslights on the wall, above the carving, gave the room a golden glow and happy shadows. Another lamp rested on a shiny walnut table along with a stack of magazines and newspapers.

He knew well of Lady Holt’s fixation on the legend; at some point, he thought it might be used to his advantage. Sometime. Not now, though. Now he had information, important information. It had been a wild day, a strange one, to say the least.

The only good things about the day he could think of were that none of his railroad clients were in town—and no one suspected him of a connection to her. He walked over to the carving and ran his forefinger along its edges. Primitive, he thought. Something a Mexican peasant had done.

Elliott returned with a crystal glass half-filled with brown liquid.

“It is Tennessee,” he declared proudly, and handed it to Tanner.

“That will be fine. Thank you, Elliott.”

“You are welcome, sir. Please make yourself comfortable.” The servant spun and retreated from the room.

Sipping the whiskey, Tanner tried to make himself relax. The situation was not bad, actually; she had lost a foothold in Caisson, but it could be corrected when Jaudon returned. Or whenever she decided to send her gunmen there. As an aside, his railroad clients might like the idea of dealing with a magistrate who could expedite matters.

He smiled and took another drink. The hot liquid slid down easily. Yes, this thing could turn out quite fine. For him.

Walking over to one of the tables, the attorney picked up a magazine. Harper’s Bazaar. He flipped through the pages, stopping at an article about Texas gunfighters. Rule Cordell was one of the featured names. He shivered. The gunfighter was apparently paired up with John Checker. Why he didn’t know, yet. Ah yes, John Checker. Alive. He smiled savagely. Eleven Meade was full of it.

A few minutes later, Lady Holt entered with her own glass of whiskey. Her hair was disheveled and her blouse was buttoned incorrectly, as if put on hurriedly.

“I trust this is damn important.” She stood in the doorway.

“John Checker is alive,” Tanner said, returning the magazine to the table and responding without any greeting. “He and Rule Cordell are working together.”

She sipped the whiskey, used her forefinger to stir the brown liquid and asked, “And you know this how?”

Tanner explained what had happened in town: the hearings, the shootings, the new appointees, John Checker’s appearance—and his appointment as the town’s judge.

“So one Ranger is definitely dead.”

Her response surprised him. He thought she would be excited about his new position. He managed to respond, “Definitely.”

She took another sip. “And the town has a new judge.” Her eyes flashed.

He knew she would like that news. Then she fooled him by asking about Margaret Loren.

“Well, she owns a small dry goods shop. Makes dresses for—”

“Have her make six for me. You pick the colors—and the fabrics.”

Tanner took a deep breath. “Ah, she’ll need your…ah, specifi cations.”

Lady Holt’s glare was more than he wanted and he glanced down at the magazine.

“Sometimes I’m surprised at what your railroad friends see in you. Can’t you tell what you need by looking? At me.”

He cocked his head and said, “I deliver information—and results.”

Downing the rest of her whiskey, she yelled for Elliott to bring more and asked Tanner what Checker and Rule were doing when he left town. He told her they were mourning Bartlett’s death and were in the undertaker’s office when he left. He didn’t know where they intended to bury the dead Ranger.

“Here’s what I want you to do. Get that fool telegrapher out of bed. The one with the awful breath.” She walked over to the phoenix wall carving and stared at it. “I want a wire sent to Citale. Tonight. From you, as the new judge and town council member.” She stopped and looked back at him. “You are still on the council, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes, the others looked to me.”

“How wise of them.”

He wasn’t sure if her remark was an insult or a compliment, but decided the latter was a smarter choice for him.

She rattled off what she wanted the statement to the governor to say. The town had been taken over by an outlaw gang led by Checker and Cordell, the sheriff and judge were being held against their will and that Ranger Captain Jaudon would need wide authority to subdue the situation as soon as he arrived by stage.

Tanner didn’t like the idea and told her so. The whole town would know he was part of her effort and that wouldn’t set well with him as the new judge. Besides, the telegraph was closed down for the night. He added that Jaudon could act as needed without such direction. If she felt such a wire was needed, it should come from Wilkerson as mayor.

Spinning toward him, she licked her lower lip, enjoying the taste of the whiskey there. He braced himself for her rage at being told she wasn’t correct.

Her response was surprisingly mild. “You’re right, Wilson. You’re right. I like that in a man. Brings good information—and good counsel.

“Let’s try this instead,” she continued. “We’ll lull those silly little people into thinking their stupid little town is doing well. As soon as Jaudon arrives, he can lead a force of Rangers in there and clean things up.” She smiled. “And then we can get back to getting the rest of my land.” She turned her head to the side. “Did you say that Peale woman was in town, too? With Checker and Cordell?”

“Oh yes. She testified on Emmett Gardner’s behalf…on the rustling charge,” Tanner said. “At least, that’s what I heard. I wasn’t in the courtroom—until later. They made the council meet right there. Right after the shooting at the jail.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

Tanner blinked. He hated her when she did this, challenging each word, each nuance. “ ‘They’ is the group of people who sat through the hearings. Townspeople. From what I heard, it was a handpicked group.”

“Handpicked by whom?”

He smiled. Should’ve seen that one coming, he thought. “By the people who forced the hearings. Checker and Cordell.”

She walked across the room and straightened a book on the fourth row. “How did they know who the right people were?”

He explained Emmett Gardner and Morgan Peale did the selecting, or so he thought.

“Of course.” She straightened another book. “Ever read The Odyssey?”

He was surprised by the question. “Ah…Odyssey? Ah, no. Ah, should I?”

“Never mind. The written word is powerful, isn’t it?” It wasn’t really a question. “I want to buy the Caisson newspaper. Is this Seitmeyer open to being bought—one way or the other?”

“I don’t think so. He seems like a man hell-bent on goodness and mercy,” Tanner said. “Understand he really went after Hangar in the hearings. Did you ask Hangar to get a story published about Rule Cordell being an outlaw—and involved in Gardner’s rustling?”

“I did. Hangar never was very good at that sort of thing. Maybe Seitmeyer doesn’t understand how good and merciful I can be—once I take over the region,” Lady Holt said, and turned to the side. “We will take it, won’t we, Iva Lee?”

“I’m sorry. Iva Lee? I don’t understand.”

Her eyes blinked, and for a moment, she was flustered and red-faced. She coughed into her fist to give her time to think. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. Iva Lee used to work for me—before Elliott. A sweet woman. She died two years ago.”

Tanner decided it wasn’t wise to pursue the matter further and swallowed the rest of his drink. He put down the empty glass on the small table adjacent to a long brown sofa.

“Don’t put it there. It’ll leave a ring,” she demanded, the nostrils in her nose flaring in anger.

He grabbed the glass as if it were in need of saving. He must be careful; she was on edge—or getting close to being drunk.

“You need a refill.” She turned her head and yelled, “Elliott!” She looked at the attorney, laughed and said, “Almost said Iva Lee again. She’s really been on my mind today.”

“Yes. m’lady. Coming, m’lady. A fortiori.”

“Bring the whiskey.” She grinned to herself; there was yet a stronger reason to come.

She seemed only mildly interested in Opat and Hangar being arrested. Her eyelids blinked four times and she snarled, “I was supposed to get a wire from Eleven Meade. He went to Clark Springs. Yesterday. Rule Cordell lives there somewhere.” She smiled wickedly. “Or so I’ve been advised.”

“Well, obviously he’s waiting for him to return.” Tanner glanced at the magazine at the table and looked away quickly.

“More’n likely he’s headed back to New Mexico—with my payment for killing John Checker in his pocket. That bastard.” She noticed her blouse was badly buttoned, smiled, faced the books and rebuttoned it.

Tanner watched with interest, hoping she might turn around to give him a tease. He was, after all, a handsome man. She might even ask him to spend the night. He straightened his cravat and brushed his coat lapels. The slender servant glided into the room, holding the whiskey decanter on a silver tray. When she spun toward the servant’s entrance, her blouse was correctly buttoned. She noticed the attorney glance at her corrected blouse and what it hid, and smiled.

She nodded toward Tanner’s glass and held out her own. Elliott poured whiskey into Tanner’s glass, then refilled Lady Holt’s and left.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Has that half-breed come back to the ranch?” Tanner asked, waving his arm.

“Dimitry? I don’t know. Why?”

Tanner explained about the killing of Ranger Bartlett and Dimitry being the only one who got away. He smiled and suggested she keep him out of sight for a few days.

“We haven’t toasted your new position, Judge,” she said, and held up her glass to salute him.

He grinned and clinked his glass against hers and both took a drink. Feeling confident, the attorney said, “M-y horse, he’s worn out. I beat him up getting here.”

“Elliott will have the boys saddle one of ours.”

“I—I could wait here and ride back tomorrow morning.” He gulped most of the whiskey.

She matched his gulp and studied him as a wolf studies a lamb. “Sure. Good idea. I’ll ride in with you. I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to send some men to get Jaudon off that coach and bring him here. So we can go over things.” Her eyes brightened and she ran her hand through her hair. “We’re going to turn this into a triumphant takeover—and get rid of these pissant ranchers forever.”

Giggling, she declared, “He can wire Citale. Get full authority to do whatever is needed…to quell the insurrection in Caisson.” She finished the glass. “You can ride with my boys—as an official of the city. To get the great Ranger captain.” She laughed long and loudly. “After we straighten out the town, he’ll take a band of Rangers to the Gardner Ranch—and the one that belongs to that damn woman. And Carlson’s, while we’re at it. We’ll finish it. I’ve got more important things to do, you know.”

His glass halfway to his mouth, Tanner stopped. “What band of Rangers?”

“Jaudon will swear in my men as Rangers, of course. I even have badges ready. Made of silver.”