Mobley's Law, A Mobley Meadows Novel (13 page)

Oliver sneered at Jack, and then turned to the porch, ignoring the order. “Mr. Miner, I think I will take you up on that offer of a sip.”

Mobley glanced at Jack, nodding slightly to allow Oliver’s defiance.

Wiley slipped his pistol back into his overalls. Mobley turned and sat down at the end of the table, placing his pistol before him within easy reach. Wiley waved to Judge Oliver. “Come on in then, Judge, and meet one of your colleagues, United States Circuit Court Judge Mobley F. Meadows. The man with the long rifle at your back is indeed Deputy Marshal Jack Anthony Lopes. I’m told he
never
misses.”

“
Nice to meet you, Judge Oliver.”
Mobley leaned forward and extended his hand to the approaching Oliver. Oliver ignored the hand as if contaminated, smirked and hooked his thumbs on his belt. Mobley felt his anger start to rise, and then settle as he leaned back. He’d dealt with swine before, men who purposely insulted others to gain some momentary advantage in a debate.

Oliver’s lip curled, contempt on his face. His voice dripped sarcasm. “Would you be the judge—
Moldly
Meadows is it—reputed to have executed fifteen men without a trial on the prairie west of here?”

Mobley’s anger was instantaneous. He felt his lips pull back over his teeth. No one accused him of malfeasance in office, murder, and insulted his name without violent response. He stood, picked up his .45 in a smooth, effortless motion, and
BOOM!

A small piece of Oliver’s right earlobe disappeared. He grasped at it—screaming—as blood gushed down the side of his face onto his frilly, high-necked shirt.

“
Oh, oh, damn you—damn you all.”

He jumped up and down, one foot then the other, head moving back and forth, hand cupped on his bleeding ear. “What did you do that for?
Damn you to—“

“Your ears are too big,” Mobley drawled. “One thing I can’t abide, big ears and a big mouth on the same face. Reminds me of a bully I once knew. My name is
Mobley F. Meadows.
My friends call me Mobley. You ain’t my friend and nobody makes sport of my name and walks away unscratched. Figured you knew that.”

Oliver groaned. “How could I know that?” He twisted his head back and forth and turned completely around several more times, like a dog chasing its tail.

“Well, you seem to know everything else, me out executing people without a trial and such. You being a judge, why I just naturally figured you wouldn’t be spreading nasty rumors unless you meant it as a direct insult to me and my court. I don’t handle insults well.”

Mobley stared at Oliver, for an instant remorseful of his action. He’d been terrorized as a boy by bullies who’d razzed him about his name unmercifully. He’d trounced one big lad for calling him
Moby
, another for
Moody
, and one for
Doodly
Deadows
. He had vowed never to permit it again.
Ever
. Still, he shouldn’t have shot Oliver. Mobley knew that as a lawyer trained in the fine art of wordsmanship, his weapon should be his wit, not his gun. Sometimes though, he found it much easier to just let himself go and do what came natural.

Mobley took a slow breath, calmed himself. What was done was done. Now, how could he deal with this seizure order? He could not allow Oliver to take Wiley Miner’s land. It was pure theft, the law invalid on its face. To interfere, however, would place him in direct conflict with state authorities.

Even as the cautionary thought occurred, he knew he could not heed it. He would not be doing right by the people he’d sworn to serve if he allowed such an outrage to stand.

Mobley allowed a light smile to crinkle his cheeks. The answer was simple. All he’d had to do was ask himself the right question. The answer popped right in, just like old
Wild Eye
Sagen had said it would.
That was the point of all the study, wasn’t it?

Without turning away from Oliver, he addressed Wiley. “Mr. Miner, do you wish to appeal this reappraisal decree to a higher court?”

Wiley looked at Mobley, puzzlement on his face. “I …guess I do, mmm … don’t I?”

Mobley nodded. He looked over the attentive faces of the men sitting before him, and waved Jack to his side. “Deputy Marshal Jack Anthony Lopes, would you be so kind as to put on your bailiff hat once more and do the necessary O’yeas. It’s time to call this court into session.”

“Yes, sir; with pleasure.” Jack turned and spoke sharply to the clearly hostile, temporarily humbled captives. “Get up and listen you lazy roustabouts. I’m about to call this court into session. If any of you speak out of turn or make a foolish move while the judge is performing his duty, it will be the
last
move you ever make. Any questions?”

The policemen looked at each other, shook their heads and stood up. Several dusted clinging Oak leaves from their pants. All looked mad enough to chew nails.

“
O’YEZ, O’YEZ, O’YEZ!”
Jack yelled, and then proceeded through the litany with gusto. The policemen stiffened, eyes wide. The Miner boys stood with their mouths agape, rifles cradled in their arms. All obeyed promptly when directed to sit back down on the grass and come to order. Judge Oliver looked around for a chair, took the one earlier offered by Wiley and sat down hard, handkerchief cupped to his oozing ear.

CHAPTER 17

Mobley banged on the supper table with the butt of his pistol. “We’ll now call the case of
Wiley Miner and family vs. the great State of Texas and the reappraisal decrees of 1873.
Judge Oliver, you will represent the State of Texas. Do you feel up to that?”

“Of course I do, but what’s the purpose of this? You can’t hold court out here in the middle of nowhere. It’s an outrage. Proper court can be held only in a designated seat. Court on the front porch of a run-down old farmhouse?
Preposterous
.”

Mobley contained his rage, knowing exactly how to humble this silly, vain man. “Judge Oliver, are you that self-same Judge Oliver who became a certified lunatic over to the county court in Waco a few years ago?”

Several of the Miner boys laughed out loud. Most of the policemen dropped their heads to hide smiles from Judge Oliver. Two of the white officers guffawed loudly. Two others elbowed each other and whispered until Jack turned his rifle on them.

“That was uncalled for, Judge Meadows. I was only doing my sworn duty.”

“Never you mind. For the purpose of this hearing, I will accept the fact you’re not still suffering from such a vile malady. Now, are you a lawyer,
Judge
, or some hack the governor decided to honor with a title?”

Oliver coughed and looked down at his feet. “I have—uh, studied the law only so far as it has been necessary to carry out my various duties. I was appointed judge in 1870 specifically to carry out the governor’s reconstruction policies, which were necessary because these verminous rebels—.”

“That’ll be enough, Oliver. I’m not interested in your prejudices. I’m interested in the facts. What did you do before you became a judge?”

Oliver looked down, then up. He set his jaw. “What do you want to know that for?”

“I need to know. Answer the question.”

Oliver looked back at his feet, voice a whisper. “I was a—uh, shoe salesman.” He paused, and then looked up, face returning to defiant. “But I had a good record in the war.”

Mobley leaned back slightly. A low murmur could be heard from the yard. The policemen were poking each other. Jack stared at them. They stopped.

“So, you’re not a lawyer, don’t know the law and were appointed because the governor liked your war record. Now you’re running around the country stealing property and saying nobody can do anything about it. Is that about it?”

“Well, I—.”

“Shut up, Oliver. The facts speak for themselves.
Res Ipsa Loquitor
, as they say in Latin. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I was about to educate you.” He turned to scan the eyes of Oliver’s men. “I want all of you, not just Oliver, to remember this day.”

The ten policemen were clearly confused, no longer certain they were in the right. Mobley knew most policemen, even ruffians like these, took pride in being on side of the law. Respect for Oliver had been eroded by his admissions of ignorance, but not completely destroyed. Loyalties die hard. Mobley would have to give them good reason to abandon Oliver completely. He smiled at them and nodded his head, implying they were now on the same side. Several smiled back.

“If ol’ Judge Oliver here knew any law, he’d know a federal circuit judge’s court is wherever he says it is at any given time. Right now, I have decided it is here at the Wiley Miner farm. He’d also know, in matters concerning federal or constitutional law, the decisions of a circuit court are superior to those of any state court, state law, or state commission. But, as you all can plainly see, ol’ Oliver, now, by his own admission, don’t know much law.”

Oliver’s face turned bright red. His humiliation before his own men turned to fury about to reach the point of apoplexy. His ear burst forth with another spurt of heavy bleeding. He opened his mouth.

“Shut up, Oliver.”

“But I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to, weren’t you?”

Oliver groaned, dropping his head in embarrassment.

The policemen could not help themselves. Mumbles of discontent interspersed with a few sarcastic hoots told Mobley the men had changed sides. Jack stopped the commotion by pulling the hammer of his rifle to full cock.

Mobley picked up the document provided by Oliver and waved it about as if it had feces on it. “This decree now, you say the Governor issued it in Austin and it demands the confiscation of Mr. and Mrs. Miner’s property? Is that about it?”

“It is,” Oliver spat.

“It was issued in accordance with the reappraisal law?”

“Yes.”

“Were these reappraisal laws enacted by the Texas legislature or simply decreed by the governor?”

Oliver lifted his head, a look of disgust on his face. Mobley took it to mean the man thought very little of the Texas legislature, even though the majority of it was composed of Governor Davis’s own supporters.

“The governor doesn’t need approval to deal with traitors. He can do what he wants. In this instance he appointed a special commission to review appraisals and seize properties belonging to rebels who had not paid proper taxes. The commission is authorized to take whatever steps are necessary to enforce compliance with its orders, including the use of force.”

“Then the reappraisals are solely the result of the commission’s action, not legislative enactment.”

“It is all perfectly legal. We’ve been enforcing these new appraisals all over the state.”

Mobley felt his cheeks start to pull back, the beginning of a
Sagen
growl. He looked down his nose, willing a glare to burn Oliver to ash. “Judge Oliver, it’s my job to decide what is legal here, not yours.” Mobley turned to Wiley, who sat silently watching the exchange. “Wiley Miner, have you ever been notified of the Commission’s decision regarding the seizure of your farm?”

“No. The first I heard of it was when Judge Oliver rode into my yard waivin’ that there paper. You seen it. That was the first time.”

“Is that true, Mr. Oliver?”

“Yes it is. We don’t notify these miserable rebel pigs. It just gives them time to fort up and cause us trouble.”

“I see.” Mobley turned to face the ten policemen and Jack Anthony Lopes, who now held his rifle on Oliver’s back. “I have considered the applicable law and the facts as have been stated by Judge Oliver for the State of Texas and by the Wiley Miner family. I have made my decision. This decree Oliver has been waving around ain’t worth the paper it’s written on.”

He paused and smiled at the seated men. “Governor Davis has had no power to rule by decree since Texas was re-admitted to the Union in 1868. I’m not concerned here with any decree other than the one before me, but hear this: if there’s to be any land reappraisal in this state, it must be done in strict accordance with Texas law, not by unilateral decree issued by a dictatorial governor.”

Taking out his docket book, Mobley wrote for some moments before he continued his speech. “Judge Oliver, have you heard of the 14th Amendment to the Constitution of these United States?”

Oliver looked down at his feet.

“No? Well, you do recognize, do you not, that the Constitution of the United States is the supreme law of the land?”

“I have heard that, yes.” Oliver turned to glare at his men.

“The Bill of Rights, which are the first ten amendments to the Constitution, spells out the rights every citizen has to protect him against action by the government. The 14th amendment, passed and ratified in 1868 by every state in the Union, guarantees Mr. Minor and every other person in the country, rebel or not, black or white, the right to receive equal protection under the law and
due process
before his life or any of his property can be taken from him.”

A look of confusion spread across Oliver’s face. “Due process? I’ve never heard of that. What is it?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Oliver. No one does, as yet. But it’s a fact that whatever it is, this here form of unilateral decree ain’t it. At a minimum, I’d say a man was entitled to know in advance what the government intended doing to him, so he can answer it properly, don’t you think?”

“Well, I—but—.”

“No buts about it. This decree’s as defective as a four balled billy goat and a whole lot more dangerous. As a consequence, it is the court’s rulin’, which will be duly entered in my docket book and later recorded in every county in this state, that the reappraisal law of 1873 is unconstitutional and
void
. All takin’s of property in accordance with that law are likewise void. That includes the attempted takin’ here of Mr. and Mrs. Miner’s fine farm.”

Mobley turned to Jack. “Deputy Marshal Jack Anthony Lopes, I direct you to confiscate all firearms of which these gentlemen were possessed when they came into my courthouse all threatenin’ like, and turn them over to the court for later sale to the highest lawful bidder.”

“But you can’t—.”

“You are in contempt of court, Mr. Oliver.
Shut up!”

Mobley picked up his pistol. “Judge Oliver, you do not deserve to be left alive to roam this fine land, but the law does not permit me to take a life just because it belongs to a no good thievin’ carpetbagger. You are directed to leave the Miner farm and never set foot here again. If you do, I will consider it an intentional breach of the peace and my deputies will see you regret it. But, before you go, you will pay the sum of one hundred dollars as costs of suit to Mr. Miner and one hundred dollars as penalty for insulting the court.”

Judge Oliver gasped, bolted out of his chair and put his hand on the derringer still in his watch pocket. “You can’t do that. I’m a lawful representative of the State of Texas. You can’t make me pay money to you, nor can you take our weapons.” He started to pull the derringer from his pocket.

Jack spotted the weapon in Oliver’s hand and reacted instantaneously. He reached out with the butt of his rifle and soundly rapped Oliver’s furious looking chin, dropping him to the ground like a gunny sack full of rattlesnakes. Jack bent down, removed the pistol and held it up for everyone to see.

“Judge Oliver,” Mobley said to the unconscious man. “I suggest you put in for reimbursement from the state. I’m sure the legislature will be happy to fix you up, considering how hard you’ve been supporting their interests. Marshal Lopes, relieve this man of the necessary funds and send him on his way.”

Mobley turned to face the policemen. “You boys can help, too. Don’t forget a word of this lesson in the law. It may come in handy for you some day.”

The black policemen got up and walked over to Oliver. Some spat on him. Two white officers dragged him by the feet and tossed him into his buggy. Within minutes, they were all mounted and leading the sorrel out of sight. Mobley had no doubt they would abandon Oliver somewhere along the road.

He relaxed, and looked directly at Jack. “Good job, Jack. You’ve got a good handle on this bailiff business. Court is adjourned. Break out the sippin’ whiskey. All that palaver has puckered my tongue.”

“It’s already broke out,” Wiley said as he picked up the jug and poured Mobley’s glass full. “Here, Judge Meadows. Have another snort. You deserve it.”

Mobley accepted the glass from Wiley and sipped it in silence. He felt stone sober, though he’d consumed more whiskey this day than at any other time in the past several months. All around him was jubilation. The Miner family had a right to be excited, but Mobley knew the implication of his actions. There was no getting around a conflict with Governor Davis now. But that was just the way it was and the way it would have to be. The rest, well, nothing was ever clear when politicians were involved, but there was no real cause for alarm. At least, any cause that made sense. Davis was a man who lived and died by the law, or should be, so he might be expected to accept the decision with grace.