CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THAT SUNDAY EVENING AT THE BUCHANAN HOUSE - NARATTED BY KID CURRY
"Did you do anything exciting during your trip to the city, Mister Jones?" asks Jenny Cooper.
"Not unless you think watching machinery get hefted from one train car to another's exciting, ma'am."
"Is it right the new saw weighs over a ton?" This is Fred Tammett.
"Yup."
"Oh," Jenny again, "I meant apart from that. In the evening. Did you go to an elegant restaurant? Or perhaps to a theatre? Or to a concert?"
"I did see some kinda show. I dunno you'd exactly call it – a concert."
"Did ya see the new tram system? Did ya ride on it?"
"I'd love to hear all about it, Mister Jones," she frowns at Fred. "The show I mean."
I doubt Jenny's hit seventeen yet, but she's trying her level best to sound all grown-up. At any rate, it dawns on me no way am I gonna describe the acts at the fancy bar we visited to her or to young Fred. Not that we're talking worse than gals singing songs with suggestive lyrics and other gals dancing wearing costumes, or should that be ALMOST wearing costumes that… Hey! A man needs a little relaxation, huh?
"Why don't I fetch you some more lemonade, Miss Cooper?"
"Oh, thank you Mister Jones. I'll come over with you."
This kinda defeats the point of me fetching it, but I'd hafta be dumb not to realise Jenny is starting to get sweet on me, so I'm trying to be nice without being too nice, if you know what I mean.
I pour lemonade for Jenny and something a touch more exciting for me, load my plate with more duck and apple pie (sounds weird but tastes great!); then, Jenny and Fred still following, I go join the group round Ann's easy chair. Heyes and Nell are already there. I've been gone for near on a week and I wanna see if anything's changed. If the Sheriff knows they're – whatever – other folk musta noticed too. Though – I dunno. They seem the same. She glows when he's around. He lights up when she walks in. But what they DO and what they SAY is nothing but friendly, respectable – the usual. They don't go sit in a corner. They don't even angle to get chairs together. They talk to other folk and don't let their eyes keep wandering. Heyes has spent mosta the time turning on the charm for Mrs. Hartleman. She's definitely looking at Heyes real – what's the word? - calculating is too much – considering? - thoughtful? Yeah, I'll leave it at thoughtful. It makes me think she's guessing things are getting real serious and she's weighing him up. From what I see though, if anything, Nell'n'Heyes act LESS noticeably sweet on each other now, than the week before last. Is Heyes more relaxed, 'cos he IS sneaking off to meet her, so he don't need to struggle to get five minutes attention when other folks are about? I dunno. Leastways, I'm not sure.
Over round Ann's chair, a discussion is in progress.
"Oh yes! Handing people over for money – well, that seems…"
"You mean, you'd like the motivation to be purely 'justice'…"
"You could refuse the reward…"
"Certainly one should not be motivated by it. But to turn it down! When I think of all the good that could have been done with the reward those bounty hunters rode away with."
"I agree. Refusing it would be quixotic beyond reason!" (You don't need me to tell you who THAT is speaking, huh?)
"I know I could find plenty of use for $2,000! Those drains at the orphanage are crying out for…"
"I agree there, Doctor…"
"Suppose one felt the law was misguided?"
"Even if we disagree with a particular law, Law itself is what keeps us from chaos…"
"Thaddeus, do come and join us," smiles Ann. "We are discussing a hypothetical question. If we know someone who had broken the law, which of us would hand them over and which of us would not?"
Sheesh! What the Sam Hill brought that up? I sneak a look at Heyes, catch him sneaking a look at me. Relax. Relax. These folk do like to yap over stuff just for the sake of yapping. Nothing for us to worry about.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ann and Nell are also sneaking a look at each other. Nell's expression looks kinda familiar. It's… I dunno, it's…
Her eyes flick, just for a second at Mrs. Rutherford.
Oh! It's the 'Hannibal Heyes: I'm a genius with a plan' smug look! Stick a tattered black hat on her head and she could double for him!
"It is the duty of every citizen to uphold the law." It's Mrs. Rutherford speaking. She has a smug look too. "Indeed, failing to report a criminal could be considered as complicity after the fact. Am I not right, Henry?"
Oh! I knew Rutherford Junior was here. He's still laying himself out to make a good impression on Nell. Though, from the droop to his shoulders when he watched her get the giggles over one of Heyes' dumb jokes – which wasn't even funny! – I reckon he knows his chances are pretty slim. I did NOT know the skinny, bald, quiet fella was Rutherford Senior.
"Er…" Rutherford Senior hesitates.
Actually, I don't think Ma Rutherford HAS got that right. She mighta caught the spirit of the law that folks hafta hand us in if they can – but she's not got the phrasing right. Mind you, what do I know? I don't really hafta worry over legal niceties, huh? For more years than I can remember I've been guilty as a fox in a henhouse and the only law I hafta follow is 'don't get caught'.
"Am I not right, Henry?" she repeats, firmly.
"Yes, dear. Substantially right."
Wise choice. If I was the poor sap married to that woman I'd save my arguing for things that mattered more'n that, too!
"And Henry," proud swelling from Ma Rutherford, "has been a lawyer for over twenty-five years!"
"So…" this is Nell, "You cannot imagine any situation, ever, where your sympathies with a criminal might prevent you handing him – or her – over to the law, Mrs. Rutherford?"
"If we are talking about imagining – we can all imagine a criminal who combines all the cardinal virtues and a motivation so selfless, that strong men would sob if it were acted upon the stage…"
Hey! She really CAN talk! No wonder Nell looks so mad after some of those Committee meetings. Maybe she loses the odd bout!
"Perhaps we should make the hypothetical case more concrete," suggests Charles. "Why not the Butler brothers? Who here would have handed them in?"
"Oh…" Ann sounds as if she is about to protest.
"Ann, are you… Was that…?" Charles is on his feet.
"Ma'am, are you feeling okay?" Sheesh! I am on my feet too. I sit down, feeling sheepish.
"All I said was 'oh'! I'm fine," she smiles. Another quick glance between her and Nell. Was that a shrug? Or – am I imagining stuff? "That's a good idea, Darling. Make the hypothetical question about those poor Butler boys. Would you have handed them in, Nell? If they had come to you under different circumstances?"
"Well, not if they had come to me injured. That goes without saying. A doctor's first duty is to a patient."
"Certainly," Doctor Cooper nods, approvingly. "Quite right!"
I admit to something dang like a wave of relief. Oh, no. Cancel some of the relief.
That means I was pretty safe from Nell if she found out who I was two months ago; I'm not so sure about now. And Heyes hasn't ever been a patient.
"So neither of you," Mrs. Rutherford again, "can imagine any circumstances whatsoever in which you might hand over a criminal who had come to you for treatment to the law? Ever?"
Nell opens her mouth to say 'no', then shuts it again. She gives a good-humoured smile. "I think you hoist me with my own petard there, ma'am. We can IMAGINE anything. We can imagine a criminal so heinous that it would be unforgivable not to stop his career if at all possible, even if it meant violating the spirit of one's medical oath. Charles is right. Even hypothetical questions need narrowing down."
"Stick with the Butler brothers then," says Ann. "They're nicely in the middle. No one can claim they were misunderstood models of virtue with spotless motives, but both you doctors agree they're a long way short of being so heinous you have to fret over treating them in confidence. Suppose you hadn't met them as patients, just met them some other way and found out who they were and what they'd done – would you hand them in, Doctor Cooper?"
"Probably. I'm not sure. I might have come over sentimental since they were about the age of my oldest boy. But, probably. My sympathies are more with the folk getting held up and robbed."
"What about you, Nell?"
"I think we already know the answer to that!" Mrs. Rutherford has answered before Nell can get a word in. "It was clear back in April and at the recent debate that YOUR sympathies were with the criminals, not the victims, Miss Meredith."
"Doctor Meredith," corrects Nell, civilly. "I think that was only natural, Mrs. Rotherham, since I met the criminals when they were frightened, vulnerable and in pain and I never met the victims at all. We sympathise with what we see – that's human nature. BUT, where you and Doctor Cooper are right, ma'am, is to remind me that although I didn't see their victims, they did exist… "
"The victims of the Butlers weren't… I mean, they robbed banks and trains and before that they rustled from cattle barons…" That was young Fred. He shuts up under so many grown-up eyes all on him at once.
Will Rutherford backs him up, "Yes, Fred. It's not as if they were stealing off ordinary folk… Banks and rail companies, they're hardly… And, they didn't shoot anyone, the Butlers, I mean… At least the reports seemed to… What I mean is… " Now he's floundering too as his mother glares at him. I reckon he's torn between contradicting his Ma in public and trying to say what he thinks Nell wants to hear.
"You both mean since the railroads and the big cattle men and the banks – and other forces of capital - spent the aftermath of the war and the depression of the 70s using the law to cheat ordinary working folk out of their land and goods, there is some justification for young men who felt dispossessed from society, turning against the laws of a country which did so little to protect their families and a system which offered them so little true opportunity and for striking out against those who seemed allied with their oppressors?"
That was Charles Buchanan. Sheesh. I glance at Heyes. He's staying very quiet. I don't blame him. This is getting far too close to home for comfort.
"Er – I guess," says Fred, confused. "I dunno. Not exactly 'justification', 'cos that'd mean… I dunno."
"What is your opinion, Mister Smith?" asks Ann.
"I think…" Heyes' face looks – tight, "The word Fred's looking for is 'mitigation'. Not a complete excuse, but some kinda excusing circumstances."
"There can be NO excuse," huffs Mrs. Rutherford. I reckon if Will was just five years younger he'd have had his ears boxed by now.
"I felt real sorry for Jed Butler when I saw him being taken away. He looked so scared," says Jenny Cooper. "I know there isn't really any excuse, but… Oh, I don't mean you're wrong, Mister Smith…" She goes pink.
"I wonder how young and how dumb he was when he turned to crime," says Heyes. "Would it make a difference to how badly you thought of him, ma'am?" He is speaking to Mrs. Rutherford, but that ain't who he's really asking, is it? Careful, Heyes, careful. Go back to staying very quiet.
"I certainly can't have much sympathy for the railroad companies getting robbed," says Louise Skinner, surprising us all by sounding real angry. "They cheated my father out of HIS land! They did! They're worse thieves than that poor boy we saw being carted off to jail!"
"Yes, but the answer to that is organised political pressure and…"
Oh shut up, Charles! No, he's okay, just – does he always have to sound as if he's drafting out his next leading article?
"The banks and railways having faults themselves doesn't really work as a mitigation argument though, does it?" says Nell. Heyes is all attention, though he pretends to be concentrating on setting aside her punch cup. "I can see how injustice and lack of opportunity can make young men angry and disaffected and I certainly take Mister Smith's point about the youth of the offender making a difference. If we all had to live with a choice we made at fifteen forever – where would any of us be? But Jed Butler wasn't holding up a railroad company, he was pulling a gun on a perfectly harmless train driver and on passengers…"
"He didn't shoot no one." That was me. Sorry, Heyes. Can't follow my own stay quiet advice.
"He frightened them into believing he might. He had to, otherwise they wouldn't have co-operated. That's the nub of giving orders at gunpoint – the threat of violence. I felt sorry for him after what happened to his brother, sure, and I want him treated decently, and given every chance to make up for the education he missed while he's inside and to turn his life around when he comes out, but it doesn't alter the fact a few months ago he was happy to hustle scared mothers and crying children and frail old people around at the end of the barrel of a gun to get his hands on easy money."
I bite my tongue. I could say he probably wasn't 'happy' to do it at all. Not when folk got real scared anyhow. He mighta tried to do it with a reassuring smile and to pretend it was a light-hearted adventure, but whenever he was covering sobbing women clutching terrified toddlers, or even drivers wide-eyed with fear unable to shift their gaze from the gun for a second, he wasn't 'happy'. He still did it. But…
"And he must have been prepared to shoot under some circumstances. If the gun was only for show, why load it? He was happy enough to risk causing a train accident too," Nell is still in full flow. "They pulled up the tracks to force the train to stop. All right, they did their best to do it with plenty of visibility and warning, but all it needed was a distracted driver, or a loose brake connection. They were happy to risk ripping limbs from innocent bodies..."
"Helen!" objects Mrs. Hartleman. "There's no need to bring bodies into the conversation."
"Miss Meredith!" chimes in Mrs. Rutherford at the same time.
What's SHE complaining about? Nell's joined her in the hang 'em and flog 'em camp!
No.
No, she hasn't, has she?
I only said that 'cos…
I reckon you already know why.
"And the money they stole. Payrolls. Bank deposits. Who suffers if a payroll is stolen? The ordinary working-men waiting for it, that's who. You know how it works, Charles. Employers in isolated areas needing a payroll run organise things so workers build debt for accommodation and provisions. A payroll snatch lets the interest mount up and the shackles tighten. And, when a bank is robbed, if it breaks and is taken over, or even if it simply has to claw its way back to solvency, who suffers most from forced loan foreclosures and tighter credit terms? The poorest customers, the farmers and small-holders. That's who the money is ALWAYS scraped back from in the end."
"Be fair, Nell," says Charles Buchanan, "I doubt many outlaws actually think that through. I daresay most don't care much from whom they steal. BUT, it's possible some actually believe they're stealing from folk rich enough not to miss it."
"It only takes five minutes to think through! How long does it take to plan a robbery? It must be weeks! Am I several thousand times more intelligent than the average outlaw to work this out so much quicker? I am conceited, undoubtedly, but not SO arrogant as to believe in a multiplier that big!"
I flick a glance at Heyes. She's not several thousand times cleverer than him, is she? He worked all that out years ago. Years. I can see it in his eyes.
So did I – work it out, that is - if I'm honest. Which I'm not, am I? Neither of us is.
All that 'no stealing from passengers' guff. Big deal. Who were we kidding?
Ourselves, I guess. We locked the truth away in our heads, behind the 'pretty good bad men' act and pretended it didn't exist.
Suddenly, I want the amnesty so bad, my throat tightens up and there is a pricking at the back of my eyes. Come on, Governor. Work something out for us. Please. A second chance. Please.
Sheesh, it's not even me who's fallen in lo…
It's not even me got a dumb soft spot for the doc. So, if listening to that made me feel this bad – how'd it make Heyes feel?
"I'm sorry! Sometimes I enjoy being on a soapbox so much, I can't see when it's time to climb off."
"We had noticed, Nell," grins Charles.
"No, not at all, ma'am," Will Rutherford is saying, in unison. Poor sap.
"You should tell me to shut up, Charles."
"Couldn't get a word in, could I? Am I allowed to use hand signals?" He mimes her being hooked off with a crook – the way they do as a joke in music halls. Heyes laughs, though it don't reach his eyes. She twinkles at him. Will looks as if he can't decide whether he oughta laugh or not.
"Would a slice of cake shut you up?" Heyes is holding out a plate.
Her hand hovers, "I shouldn't."
"Let not poor Nellie starve," he says, putting on some kinda fancy accent.
They both laugh. So do Charles and Ann. Huh? HUH? He has GOT to stop with the reading!
"Shall we talk about something more cheerful?" suggests Mrs. Hartleman.
Yup! Or something more gloomy. Anything that don't revolve around why folk oughta hand in outlaws!
"I have a topic," says Louise Skinner. "The fourth of July grows closer every day! Very soon I shall be rounding up volunteers for… Don't groan! You all know you want to!"
A loud rapping at the front door interrupts her. Charles moves to go answer it, but, before he gets out of the room, we hear boots in the passage and the sheriff strides in followed by Deputy Noah Lawson.
"Come on in, Bill," smiles Charles. "I didn't think you make it…" He breaks off.
If I thought the sheriff looked serious this morning, now he looks like a man in a real bad mood.
"I'm here on official business. Sorry to spoil everyone's evening but you two are under arrest…"
Heyes and I exchange a horrified glance. This came outta the blue! My hand twitches at my side but, of course, my gun belt is hanging alongside my hat 'cos Ann don't like guns in the house. Yeah, I know! I shoulda told her the same as I told Joe Briggs, but Ann asking real nice ISN'T Joe Briggs, is she? Besides – do I really wanna draw on Uncle Bill and Grandpa Noah in front of all these nice folk?
Heyes switches on a smile and starts on the usual, "I'm sure there's been some kinda mistake…" speech. It gets kinda lost among all the other gasps of surprise and noisy protests going on.
Above it all, I hear Bill Fraser ploughing on, "... Complaint of a violation of Statute 598 enacted March 3rd 1873…"
Huh? Mind, like I say I'm no legal expert.
Right, we go quietly now, maybe make a break for it outside…
"Evidence of misuse of the United States mail for…"
Or maybe Heyes works on a plan to bust us out later. This is a small town. The jail's nothing fancy. We can…
The voice rises in annoyance, "TAKE that pleased look off your face, right now! As for you, young lady, if you were a few years younger…"
HUH?
What I'm listening to sinks in. I stop planning when and how we get outta this and...
Sheesh!
Heyes has already realised. His mouth is practically hanging open with the shock.
The sheriff's not looking at us, he never was. The 'you two' he's come for ain't us!
"Back off, Charles! Don't make this any nastier than it's gonna be anyhow, son! Sure, you can come along, too."
To the utter disbelief of everyone in the room – with three exceptions – Ann is helped to her feet by Noah Lawson, so she can join Nell in being led away to a wagon waiting outside. Bill Fraser's arrested the pair of them!
The three exceptions are the two ladies going to jail and Mrs. Rutherford.
Ann and Nell both look real pleased with themselves, though Ann's telling Charles not to worry and how sorry she is.
Mrs. Rotherham starts off looking so like a cat who's just cornered a mouse she might as well carry a banner saying 'I handed 'em in! Take THAT Nell Meredith!' But, as she watches the Doc, her face falls. Somehow, she's played into Nell's hands.
Sheesh. I did NOT see that coming.
---oooOOOooo---
LATER THAT EVENING – NARRATTED BY KID CURRY
"Why didn't you TELL me?"
"Because you'd have tried to stop me."
"Dang straight I would!" Exasperated sigh. "You are SO stubborn!"
"I'm sorry Darling, but this is..." Ann's voice drops to a murmur.
"For Pete's sake, Ann…" Now Charles voice drops. He's plumping cushions for her. Once she's settled, he squats down to unlace her boots and rub her ankles; apparently they swell. The odd word drifts over, "…pig-headed…have to be sensible…"
"…pot calling kettle black! What about when you…?"
Me and Heyes have been helping Charles heft a comfortable chair and footstool for Ann into the girls' cell. Since this husband and wife row is no way any of our business we take ourselves off back into the Sheriff's office.
Out there, Nell's sitting opposite Bill Fraser. She's yapping, he's writing. Will Rutherford's beside her looking miserable. He's a lawyer like his Pa – though I guess we're talking not long outta college in his case – and insisted on coming to represent the girls. (From the look on his Ma's face, I reckon that means he might be sleeping in the street tonight, but he still came.) Heyes nearly hugged him, which means either he's so worried about Nell he don't care that another fella sweet on her is stepping up to the plate; OR, he's so dang sure Nell only has eyes for him, he knows he has no reason to care.
I reckon it's the second option. Nell was real touched when Will offered and she's being real nice to him, but in the same way as I'm nice, but not too nice, to Jenny Cooper. She's trying her darndest to come over 'sisterly'.
"I cannot advise you strongly enough not to say anything more, Doctor Meredith," Will's saying.
"That'd suit me," grunts the Sheriff.
"No. Thank you, Mister Rutherford, but I prefer to make a full statement. I'm not speaking too fast for you, am I, Sheriff?"
"Nope, 'cos I stopped listening ten minutes ago. This is next week's shift roster I'm writing."
"What?!"
"For one thing I can't spell mosta what you're sayin' and, for another, save it for the judge."
"Have you talked about bail?" Heyes asks Will.
He slumps.
"Yup!" The Sheriff answers for him. "Rutherford arranged bail 'bout ten seconds after he walked in."
"How much?"
"Five dollars apiece. Tell you what, I'm feeling generous, call it five dollars for the pair."
Heyes blinks. Then – why are they still here? He starts to dig into his pocket.
"Forget it," says the Sheriff. "They're refusing to agree to bail terms."
"Huh?"
"The ladies won't give a declaration – which could be a simple nod of the head - they'll show up for their trial if released," glooms Will Rutherford. "Legally, the Sheriff's hands are tied. He can't bail them."
"Yup," confirms the Sheriff. "That's pretty much why Mrs. Hartleman washed her hands of it and went home leaving the doc to stew. I can't throw 'em out unless I drop all charges…"
"That's right!" triumphs Nell.
"Drop the charges, then," urges Heyes. "For Pete's sake, Ann's your niece!"
"THAT'S just one more reason I gotta be seen to be going by the book. Maybe I'll get lucky. Something tells me I'm gonna forget to lock the cells this evening. Maybe they'll break jail if the night gets chilly, huh?" The Sheriff looks up, sighs, "Look, I don't like this no more'n you do, but I've received a complaint, backed by evidence, from..." He pauses, glances at Will Rutherford and picks his words carefully, "A respected pillar of the community, that a crime's been committed. And, my current pair of jailbirds make it kinda hard to drop the charges, 'cos they keep admitting they wrote THIS," his finger jabs at a slim pamphlet on his desk, "they drew the illustrations, they got it printed AND, the really d*mning part, they circulated it far and wide using the United States Mail…"
"I did strongly recommend Doctor Meredith and Mrs. Buchanan not to…" begins Will.
"Not to keep yapping like it's going outta fashion," finishes Heyes. "Yeah, well. I reckon you did your best. Getting the doc to keep quiet was never gonna be easy, huh?"
"Ann and I have no reason to keep quiet! We have done nothing, NOTHING, to be ashamed of! The whole basis of the complaint rests on this," her turn to jab at the pamphlet, "being obscene, lewd, and/or lascivious! Our contention is that it is none of those things! In any decent society this would be seen for what it is; a perfectly legitimate educational…"
"Didn't you hear the Sheriff tell you to save it for the judge?" interrupts Heyes.
I reckon he wants to drag her somewhere private for the kind of flaming row Charles is trying to have with Ann next door (they're making an effort not to raise their voices but the odd sound of a man driven crazy by feminine cussedness drifts through). Heyes drops his hands to his hips and gives Nell the kinda look that used to make the gang think twice 'bout arguing.
She stares back. "A perfectly legitimate, educational document, containing…"
"Stop yapping! Accept bail terms! Go home!" snaps Heyes.
"No! This is important! And, Mister Smith, I have your advice to thank for the idea."
"What?!" That was me. Sheesh, Heyes! I can't leave you alone for five minutes, can I?
Will Rutherford and Bill Fraser both join me in giving him disapproving glares. Mine's the most though. The most disapproving that is. In fact, I'd call mine – plumb furious.
Heyes looks stunned, then remembers whatever dumb thing he's been saying. "Oh, for Pete's sake!" he groans, throwing back his head and staring at the ceiling, as if searching for someone to give him strength.
"Mister Smith advised that if I wanted to draw the attention of the wider press to an issue, I needed news. Not facts. Genuine, happening now, news."
"I said THAT, sure! I didn't say, go get yourself arrested!"
"Two respectable ladies getting arrested for breaching the Comstock Act will generate publicity about the iniquity of these laws…"
"Maybe it will! But where are you an' Ann gonna find two respectable ladies? 'Cos, two attention-seeking numbskulls in skirts getting slung in jail might not…"
"There's no need to raise your voice, Mister Smith!"
"Yes, there d*mn well is! How d'you think it makes me…?" Heyes stops, thinks. When he carries on, you can tell he's choosing his words, "How d'you think it's gonna make the people who care about you feel? How d'you think Charles is gonna feel seeing – seeing the woman he loves locked up and then being stared at, pointed at, gossiped over during a trial? Huh? What kinda privacy do you think him and Ann'll get over the next few weeks? Huh?"
Nell looks down, blushes. "I think so well of Charles, that I trust him, once his initial annoyance is over, to support the woman he loves in doing what she believes to be right. I trust him to be patient. I trust him to be understanding."
Hey! Is it me – or are they saying one thing and meaning another?
Their eyes meet.
"Do you think I'm right to trust him, Mister Smith?"
There's a pause. When he speaks, Heyes' voice is gruff, "Thought we'd already settled it that you're always right, ma'am."
"Did I hear my name being taken in vain?" We turn, Charles has come into the office.
"The doc was singing your praises as a husband," the Sheriff grunts. "Saying how understanding you'd be 'bout this."
"Understanding? Is that code for: he's a pushover who'll put up with anything when Ann does the big, brown, puppy-dog eyes look?"
"You do, don't you?" pleads Nell, all anxious. "I mean, you DO understand why we did this? You're not really angry with Ann? Nor me? You and me – we're still friends?"
"Of course I understand. I'm still angry with her and FURIOUS with you, but I do understand. And, if it's possible to be friends with someone you want to shake till her teeth rattle, yes, we're still friends, Nell." He turns to us. "She won't budge. Joshua, Thaddeus, will you help me bring over a decent mattress? And a washstand? And, some screens? And there's a…" He drops his voice, "…a commode over at Doctor Cooper's place."
This is just DUMB!
"No!" I explode. "I mean, sure, if she hadta stay we'd help you heft your whole house across town! But she don't! Your wife shouldn't be doin' this in her condition. Can't you - y'know – exert your authority? Make her accept bail."
A nod from the Sheriff. "You oughta put your foot down, Charles."
Charles looks at us, then gives a reluctant grin, "I probably could exert marital authority, Thaddeus. I even believe Ann'd do as she's told if I genuinely did put my foot down. BUT, you remember all that guff she and Nell spout about women's rights? And, you know how I claim to agree with them? I don't do that for a quiet life. I actually DO agree. At this moment, I'm exceedingly annoyed with my exceedingly annoying wife. But, that doesn't mean she's not still perfectly entitled to make her own decisions. And, it doesn't mean I'm not incredibly proud of her for making herself this uncomfortable on a matter of principle."
I guess that told me, huh?
"We KNEW we could trust you, Charles!" glows Nell. "You WILL send those telegrams Ann's given you?"
"Yes. And, I'll do what I can to whip up publicity. There'll be a fair amount of interest."
"A FAIR amount!" Nell huffs. "We're planning something better than that! You'll help, won't you, Mister Smith? It could work?"
I glower at Heyes, willing him to say no.
"Well," he sounds doubtful, "It'll help that you're both young and easy enough on the eye."
"WHAT?! That is utterly irrelevant!"
"Well, let's take a straw poll. Of the men here, who'd be more likely to buy a journal carrying a picture of a pretty young girl than a plain old lady?"
Five arms go up.
"I think I mighta carried my point unanimously there, ma'am."
Nell's hands go to her hips and she opens her mouth to argue.
Heyes jumps in before she can speak. "Forget the photographs, let's talk copy. You were arrested. You were jailed. That's it. It's the same story whether you spend two hours or two days here. Why wait? Accept bail terms. Sooner or later, the Sheriff's gonna need the cells for drying out drunks, huh? Do you really like the thought of sharing?"
"Joshua's right," says Charles. "You've made your point, you may as well come out now."
"No."
"Do you mean to sit here until a trial?" asks the Sheriff. "By the time we get a judge and prosecutor to town, that could mean I'm stuck with you for … Sheesh!" He shakes his head "Besides, what about your patients?"
Nell looks kinda torn when she hears that.
"It won't be for long… Naturally, if any medical emergency arose where Doctor Cooper needed assistance…"
Heyes brows snap together.
"Won't be for long? Helen, what are you waiting for?"
She puts on an innocent face which wouldn't fool me, let alone Heyes, for two seconds. "Waiting for, Mister Smith?"
Suddenly, from the cell, we hear a shrill call which panics every man in the room and makes Charles go white as a sheet.
"Nell! NELL! Come quick! I think it's coming!"
---oooOOOooo---