They all trooped inside to find the formidable Edith Penn Keller, J.P., presiding over her crowded parlor from a big keyhole desk set on a raised and carpet-covered dais at one end, with a gilt plaster goddess of Justice at one end and a stack of law books at the other.
The J.P., herself, was a fat lady of about forty with her dark hair drawn up in a tight bun as she sat there in black poplin judicial robes, reminding Longarm of a big black broody hen setting on a clutch of billiard balls somebody had slipped under her big ass as a joke. She was fining a young cowboy two dollars for disturbing the peace as Longarm followed Rita, two of her kid deputies, and Big Jim from the Riverside News in. It sounded fair to ask two dollars off a kid who'd roped and drug a watering trough the night before. But when J. P. Keller saw who'd come to admire her, or see her, least ways, she ordered everyone else to clear her court. So it wasn't clear how the case of the trough-roping cowboy would ever be resolved.
Her undersheriff introduced Longarm to the bossy older woman and Longarm found it tougher to smile at this one.
Had she been born a man, Edith Penn Keller, J.P., would have been one of those puffed-up bullfrogs who don't want anybody to tell them anything, but want to tell everybody everything.
Having been born a woman, she was one of those puffed-up cow-frogs who didn't want anybody to tell her anything but wanted to tell everybody everything. So Rita had barely explained they wanted to have Ram ne Melvin Rogers brought in for questioning before the blustersome older woman declared, "Consider it done, dear heart. I'll have my law clerk type it up for you before suppertime and run it over to you. Ram Rogers aka Melvin Rogers wanted on suspicion dead or alive!"
Longarm couldn't help himself. He said, "No offense, your honor, but you can't put that on a properly made-out arrest warrant."
Edith P. scowled at him to reply, "Nonsense. I do it all the time. Didn't you just tell us the man was a hired gun who might know something about the disappearance of Deputy Ida Weaver as well as those attempts on your own life?"
Longarm said, "Yes, ma'am. I want to question him, not pay my respects at his funeral. Didn't them other federal and county lawmen tell you it ain't considered seemly to order anybody executed before they'd had a fair trial and been found guilty of a capital offense?"
She allowed she'd gotten some nit-picky letter from the district attorney over to the county seat. Then added she'd been appointed to her township position fair and square and ought to know what she was doing.
Longarm sighed and said, "You don't, if you think you can sentence a man to death on a suspicious writ. All you ladies have been lucky none of the outlaws you've sent girls after drew and fired first. For many a slick lawyer's gotten a client off on self-defense with way less documentary proof."
It was the newspaperman who asked what Longarm meant by that. The J.P. only seemed to think he was joshing.
Longarm said, "Wherever Ida Weaver is, right now, she came into a Denver saloon with the stated purpose of serving the late Rusty Mansfield with a document signed by your J. P., giving her permit to shoot him on the spot. Before that, the ladies had established that same intent by shooting other wanted men, earlier. Had Rusty Mansfield blown little Ida Weaver away, in front of me and everyone, he'd have had a pretty good excuse to present in court, and it only takes one juror to get you off if you can persuade him you had any excuse at all!"
Big Jim Tanner sighed and said, "I fear he makes a valid point, Your Honor. As I've tried to tell you, myself, your girlish deputies would have every right to defend their own lives against known killers by shooting first and asking questions later, serving a more delicately worded legal document."
Rita said, "You'd better just summon Mr. Melvin Rogers to appear before you, and I'll see it's served on him, Edith."
The J.P. asked Longarm if he had the address of the scamp.
Longarm shook his head and said, "If I did I'd wire somebody else to pick him up, Your Honor. I want him alive and talking and there's limitations to Miss Rita's girlish approach to serving writs and warrants, no offense."
CHAPTER 16
Longarm had to escort Rita back to her own place because he was a gent and because he wanted his pony and Winchester back.
Once he had them he retraced his course on horseback to the center of town and dismounted at the Western Union to send a heap of wires in every direction.
As he handed the profitable sheaf of yellow forms over to the dry and dusty-looking clerk he introduced himself and said, "I know all about the company policy laid out by your late Mr. Cornell and I hope you understand he's dead and I'm riding for the federal government, which allows you all to string considerable miles of wire over federal open range."
The clerk said, "You still don't get to read any private messages sent or received at five cents a word by this private company. I had this same conversation a few days ago with some other federal deputies out of Cheyenne."
A skinny kid with a goofy Adam's apple came in with his spurs ringing to ask where they wanted him riding next. any wires for him to deliver. The string-bean in tight but faded denim said he'd be out front where he could admire the ladies shopping if they needed him.
As soon as they were alone again, Longarm told the clerk, "I could get me a court order if I had to, friend."
To which the clerk replied, "You have to, and don't you come at me with any writ from that fat-assed Edith Keller. For we've established how much weight she really carries with the territorial or federal courts in Cheyenne."
The old fuss didn't know he'd already answered a question Longarm had been meaning to ask somebody who knew. He smiled thinly and told the old-timer he'd noticed old Edith could lose a few pounds. But it didn't work. The Western Union man said, "Don't try to butter me up. I'm paid to be firm about company policy, and my company is not at all impressed by crossroads J.P.s of any description. Our customers pay good money for our services, and we mean to serve them right."
Longarm said, "Don't get your bowels in an uproar, old son. All I need is some delivery times and dates. The messages I suspect a local sneak has been sending and receiving are doubtless in code to begin with. But you'd have records of who got a particular wire from a particular town on a particular day, wouldn't you?"
The clerk shrugged and said, "You'd better find a judge with the weight to sway a nationwide corporation with friends in high places while I put your own messages on the wire. I know who you are, Longarm. Other clerks have reported how persuasive you can be when you want to read over their shoulders. Other clerks have gotten in a whole lot of trouble, and I told you I've already had this conversation with other lawmen. So, like the Indian chief said, I have spoken!"
He sounded like he meant it. Longarm didn't want to set his skinny jaw any firmer by arguing with him. So he paid for the wires that he couldn't send collect, and they parted as friendly as the crusty old cuss seemed to get.
Out front, that string-bean was sitting on the edge of the plank walk, ogling a gal across the way that Longarm didn't think as much of. Longarm stepped down off the walk to untether his pony as he told the kid, "I'd be U.S. Deputy Marshal Custis Long and I'm expecting a heap of answers to the wires I just sent. I'm fixing to check into the hotel across the way, and I'd be obliged if you got them to me as fast as they come in."
The kid said, "They call me Pony Bodie and I hope you understand there's a delivery charge, Deputy Long?"
Longarm nodded and said, "I never ask nobody to work for me free. I can't be traipsing back and forth betwixt the hotel and your office if I'm to get anything else done around here. So you just leave any messages at the hotel desk if I ain't in, and I'll settle up with you on your service charges when I can. I take it you're a sort of private contractor, not on the Western Union payroll?"