Now that the town of Four Corners had an established protection that neighbouring boroughs could only wish for, the stage coach became a coveted market place where passersby and visitors were enticed with everything from snacks and reading material for the road, to bed, board and limited tourist attractions. The baker would just coincidentally be passing by with his best batch, the seamstresses would be on urgent business of delivering cloth and the waiter from the restaurant would happen to have a menu on hand in case the travellers were hungry. Recently the hotel had officially taken to sending out a representative to lure the unsuspecting travellers into their soft, fragrant sheets.
But when Montgomery Monterrey got off the stagecoach that afternoon, Four Corners resembled a ghost town. Most shop windows were closed and those that weren't were locked and empty. There wasn't a loiterer in sight. The only person who came up to the driver was young Taylor and only because he was on official duty. He was chatting lazily to the driver while the man riding shotgun was shuffling the bags.
There air was humid and the sun strong, but the out-of-towner who was experiencing the 'real' West for the first time looked around with a wide smile and an enthusiastic spring in his gait. He stretched like he was trying on a new garment to see if it fit. So far, so pleased. After a perfunctory glance, he unashamedly returned his focus to the coach and offered his hand in support. A white opera gloved hand leaned onto his and he supported a dignified veiled figure down the steps as their bags were unloaded around them with thuds.
The postman looked at them with questioning eyes. Montgomery sported a three pin suit unnaturally clean after three days on the road and his wife wore a magnificent dark blue gown more suited for the evening at the opera than the small township they had chosen to disembark at. Montgomery caught his eye.
"I say young man," he started cordially although he wasn't that much older than his addressee. "How would you like to welcome two newcomers and get rewarded for the trouble?"
The veiled woman turned her head to inspect the street up and down while Montgomery was convincing the young postman to take their excessive luggage to the hotel. Young Taylor was refusing as best he could until a wad of money appeared from Montgomery's vest pocket.
"You would be aiding us to no end," he cooed. "We are on urgent business or I wouldn't dream..." he let his words trail off.
The moment his fingers touched the $5 note, the postman became eagerly available.
"You want me to take a room out for you, too?" he asked hoping to get his hands on a few more.
"Well, how kind!" Montgomery exclaimed. "Do make reservations for us in the couple's suite and inform them that Mr and Mrs Monterrey will be arriving shortly."
He pretended to hesitate then added: "And keep the change."
The young boy's grin almost touched his ears and he soon moved towards the hotel in a quick although unsteady pace under the weight of several travel bags.
"I hope we're not too late," Mrs Monterrey spoke in a strained tone.
"This way," she informed her husband as she led him towards the saloon.
It was apparent now where the residents of Four Corners were hiding. The saloon was overcrowded with people and overflowing with chatter. Judge Travis was pounding his gavel.
"Order in the court," he demanded. "I want order or we will proceed in private."
Eager to participate in the news as it unfolded, the people settled down while the parties at the front continued.
"Your honour, after 15 days the accused has no witness and no proof of the legitimacy of the money in his account. The money was transferred to him on the same week that the murder was supposed to take place. Although he was sussed out as a suspect, he refuses to even imply where that money might have come from..."
The short squelchy man was interrupted by his polar opposite. Josiah Sanchez stood up towering over the man whose only line of defence was now lifting his chest and puffing loudly.
"Your honour, all accusations and evidence to support it are merely circumstantial," he spoke confidently in defence of the gambler. "Mr Standish cannot prove that the money is rightfully his so he chooses to remain silent in order not to waste the court's time. Apart from a transaction that he is legally allowed to make, there is no reason to suspect any wrongdoing."
During the interaction between the two parties, Montgomery found a seat in the far back for his wife as she had requested. Barely anyone gave her a second glance even though her appearance warranted it. All eyes were fixed at the proceedings. Even the three men guarding the improvised courtroom didn't find a reason to shift their attention from a friend and colleague whose life was in jeopardy.
Montgomery walked towards the action.
"He should be in contempt of court for not elaborating and he is a legitimate suspect because the money was entered under the title 'dowry' and we know the hiring party initiated the murder plot to inherit his wife's wealth," the prosecutor was demanding understanding from the judge.
At the same time, Montgomery placed his hand on Josiah's shoulder and whispered in his ear. The tall preacher rose from his seat and ardently shook his hand with a short backward glance. He couldn't stop relief from washing over his face.
"Your honour, if you'll allow, a witness for the defence has come forward," he announced with a touch of pride in his voice.
"Proceed," the judge said impatiently.
Ezra Standish who was sitting next to his improvised defence looked up at the stranger who appeared out of thin air. He had never seen him before in his life.
Chris, Buck and Nathan who were guarding the courtroom looked at one another then peeled their eyes at the front.
"I have in my possession documentation of origin and the transferral documents for the $1000 in question," the newcomer spoke confidently.
"And why didn't you come up with those sooner," the prosecutor was dissatisfied.
"I have endeavoured to present them as soon as I knew they were needed," he said in the manner usually attributed to the town's con man.
"Would you be willing to testify to how those documents came to your possession?" the judge proceeded.
"I would, your honour. Privately." he emphasised the last word.
"You have just made a very public display. What's the difference?" the judge was losing patience. He wanted this over and done with.
"Your honour, I represent a third party and they wish to keep the origin of the money kept secret."
The prosecutor chuckled incredulously then shook his head looking for approval from the judge. It was obvious the prosecutor thought the event ridiculous. No one noticed how Ezra's body language had tensed up at the words third party.
"And why is the party unable to testify?"
"Privacy. But I am legally allowed to speak in their place."
Now each of the peacekeepers eyed the veiled figure more closely. Could that man be talking about the mystery woman? And if so, who was she?
"That's preposterous," the prosecutor protested, but a look from the judge silenced him on the spot.
Oren Travis was about to speak, but Montgomery interrupted him.
"I am willing to give an official statement to the court verify the truthfulness of my words," he repeated himself as if he was looking for applause from the audience.
The judge didn't appreciate being interrupted and he didn't appreciate drama.
"In that case, the court is adjourned for an hour until the validity of the document and the statement can be verified," he hurried to end this. "Dismissed."
Montgomery shared his quarter arrangements with Josiah and strode to rush his wife back to the hotel before the townsfolk got too nosy.
Ezra was escorted back to prison with less formality now that his release was coloured with a ray of hope.