Mobley's Law, A Mobley Meadows Novel (34 page)

“Of course it is. It was invented right here in Waco. Everything made in Waco is good, didn’t you know? I was made in Waco, too.”

Jack smiled at her and shook his head as he continued to sip on the drink. Gertrude made another for herself. The two of them sat for a long time, sipping and
oohing
their way through several of the pleasant tasting drinks. Jack was thankful no customers came in to interrupt them. Finally, he could drink no more.

Gertrude smiled brightly. “You have to be careful, Uncle Jack, or you’ll burp out loud. Momma says it’s not nice to burp out loud. You’ve got to do it quietly.”

“Is that right? Well, where I come from, burping is considered a compliment to the person who prepared the food. It would be an insult if we tried to suppress it. So—
buuurrrrrrrp.”

Gertrude clapped her hands, giggled and squealed as Jack demonstrated his ability to belch several different tunes, including her favorite, “
Home on the Range
.” Gertrude tried her best to imitate and harmonize with him, but was laughing too hard.

Jack found himself enjoying the small pleasure of being with Gertrude. It had been years since he’d felt so alive. He was relieved though, when Mobley and Lydia came back down the stairs. The rosy glow about Lydia’s cheeks told him she was completely in love. Mobley looked a little embarrassed, but managed to maintain himself.

“Jack, I’ve decided to, uh, stay with Lydia here in Waco tonight. We’ve got a lot of planning to do. Why don’t you get a room in town? I’ll meet you for breakfast in the morning.”

Jack nodded. It was about time Mobley and Lydia spent some real time together.
That’s what I should be doing, rolling around with a good woman. What was that lady’s name, from the Railroad Restaurant and Hotel? Oh yes, Mavis Hunter.

Jack got up, hugged Gertrude and started out. As he turned, a large framed document beside the door caught his eye. It was a certificate declaring Lydia Sweetgrass fully qualified as a pharmacist in the State of Texas. It was signed by two certified pharmacists and Governor Richard Coke.

CHAPTER 51

Wildflowers splashed color across the prairie as far as his eye could see. Some tall and wavy, others hugging the ground as if afraid to expose too much to the vagaries of wind and rain. The colors and scents of spring sent thrills through Mobley as Meteor loped up one hill and down another. It was difficult for him to travel quickly while so absorbed in the scenery. He stood tall in the saddle at every opportunity to peer over the next rolling hill. He loved the prairie almost as much as he had the sea.

Even more, he loved having Meteor’s powerful body driving him forward, feeling one with the animal and the Earth. It had been difficult to tear himself away from Lydia, but they’d promised to remain faithful and marry upon his return. It was to be his first full tour of the circuit, and more. It would be the first year of Jack’s and Edson’s education. In the law.

He’d known for some time, Jack and Edson were special people, intelligent and dedicated. They deserved to share the knowledge, to become full fledged attorneys. It was within his power to give, and he intended to see it through. Two circuits, two years of campfire reading and discussion, two years of courtroom observation and experience. They would be ready. Jack, for whatever task he chose along the Mexican border, Edson for return to the Indian Nations; each to help their people in whatever way they could.

In the meantime, there was much work to be done, justice to accord, and wonderful places to see and experience as they traveled about. His first planned stop was at a town called Abilene, where water rights disputes suggested the need for federal law and order. Then it was on to Cimarron, where a full scale battle was about to break out over the legality of several Spanish land grants.

Such disputes were as old as the law itself. He recalled
Wild Eye
Sagen saying. “Whiskey was for drinking, water for fighting.” Water meant life. Wherever it was in short supply, there would be battle. Now, with the coming of the railroad, men were scrambling for long term position in towns and fields as conflict invariably followed the first flush of civilization.

Land grant disputes had flourished after the Mexican war and the taking of New Mexico, and a number of cases were already on his docket, having been ignored by Judge Hooks. These needed quick resolution, but it probably would be years before all matters were finally settled.

Mobley was as prepared as he could be to take on these disputes, but knew few of the losers would simply walk away from an adverse ruling. People would be killed, for those who had been settling matters by knife and pistol most of their lives would not be quick to change. But he was not seriously worried. Jack Anthony Lopes and Edson Rabb were the match of any ten men anywhere. Mobley Meadows’s court would be protected.

Mobley looked over at Jack and smiled. The man rode straight and proud on
Mariah
, the name he’d finally chosen for his black stallion. It was appropriate, for he was as fast as the
devil-wind
he’d been named after. Jack was clearly as happy as any man could be.

Mobley glanced up at Edson, riding several hundred yards ahead. He had stopped for some reason and was staring at the ground. A chill tingled its way up Mobley’s spine as he saw Jack, too, behaving oddly. “Jack. Go see what’s bothering Edson. It looks like he’s onto something.”

Jack waved his quirt past Mariah’s eye. The stallion instantly broke into a gallop. Mobley shifted the lead rope to his mule. He clicked his tongue. He’d thrown his spurs away. Meteor responded.

Jack was already on the ground with Edson as Mobley pulled up beside them. He stepped down, right leg angling oddly in a struggle to pass over the rifle scabbard without hanging up. “What have you got?”

“I don’t know for certain,” Edson replied. “It looks like several riders, maybe as many as ten from the looks of these tracks. They were headed hard to the south early this morning. Some of the horses are shod, others not. It could be more of those danged
Comancheros
who got up here too late for Davis’s party, or even some of those fellers who survived the ambush at Round Rock. I see one track that looks familiar. It might be the Kinch West bunch.”

Edson stood and brushed his hands off on his pants. “I don’t think we have much to worry about. Their horses are not in very good condition. One of them has a split hoof, another a loose shoe. Whoever they are, they won’t be able to run us down in a fight. I don’t think we need to change course to avoid them. What do you think?”

Mobley looked at Jack who did not look happy. He was fingering his Sharps. “Better safe than sorry. I think we’d better get our bums the heck out of here. Ten riders can give us one devil of a fight, especially if they succeed in ambushing us somewhere. There’s only one thing to do
. Run! Now!
Not straight west in the same direction, but northwest so they won’t be able to get ahead of us easily and lie in wait.”

Edson nodded. “He’s got a point. Besides, Fort Worth is over to the northwest. We could spend the night there. They have a lot of nice women in Fort Worth.”

Jack snorted, clapped the dust from his hands and reached for his saddle horn. “How could you even think about seeing another woman?” He stepped up, swung his leg over the saddle and settled on his horse. “You’ve been jumping from bush to bush, pollinatin’ everything in sight for weeks.”

Edson looked up, and then stood. He smiled innocently. “What’s the matter, Jack? Are you getting’ surly in your discontent?”

“Surly? Discontent? What discontent? I am
not
discontent. What do you think I’ve been doing while you two have been out with your women, sitting on my butt?”

“I don’t mean that, Jack. Sure, you do fine with the women when you take time to stop looking over your shoulder. But what you really want is to get back down to Mexico and stir up trouble for your father. That’s it, ain’t it? You still figure to go down there and string that old dude up.”

Jack twisted his face into a frown, obviously stung by the unpleasant truth of Edson’s remark. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s what I’m going to do someday, if the old fart stays alive. He’s close to eighty years old now, exiled on some island in the Caribbean, last I heard. I’ll keep him in mind when I need to hate something, but as long as Mobley has some use for me out here on the prairie, I figure to tag along. I owe him and myself that. What about you, smart boy? Why are you still here instead of rooting around with your girl friends back in Austin?”

Edson smiled. “Same reason you’re still here, I guess. Mobley says he’s going to teach us how to think, make us smart. I believe I’d like that.”

“Makes sense. In your case.”

“Yeah? Well at least I’ve got an ambition. I’m going to be the first full-blood Cherokee to become a federal judge. I don’t care how long it takes.”

Jack snorted. “And I’m going to become King of England.”

“You won’t if you don’t try.”

Mobley laughed. These two would never stop poking at each other. He swung his long leg over Meteor, adjusted himself in the saddle and turned to go. “Come on, boys. Let’s stop all the jabber and get on with it. Fort Worth is as good a place to stop as any. Let’s go.”

A whining sound followed by a hard
thunk,
spun them around. Bullets spanked into the prairie several yards short of their position, slightly off to the left.

Jack was first to react. His pistol was in his hand in a blur. He emptied it rapidly in the direction of the incoming fire, knowing he would hit nothing but understanding that people don’t shoot straight when bullets are whizzing past their heads.

Edson remounted and spurred Beauty into a run. Jack followed. Mobley dropped the lead rope to his mule and watched her angle off to the side.
Dang, not again
.

Mobley looked back over his shoulder as Meteor began to move. He saw their pursuers crest a hill and disappear into a dry wash. They appeared again on top of the next hill, frantically flailing their ponies with long leather quirts. Dust and gobs of sweat flew from the animals as the men struggled to catch up.

Edson was right. The ponies these swine were riding were long on skin and bone, short on meat. They would not be able to endure a long chase. A plan began to form.

Those skunks think they have the advantage, but they’re wrong. All we have to do is run until they start to tire. Then, we turn and take them on. Jack can take out a couple with that Sharps. Edson and I can whittle them down as they get closer. We run, stop, do it all over again. When we’ve got them down to a good match, we do the chasing.

Mobley banged his hat on Meteor’s rump, urging her to maximum speed. Wind whistled through the fringes of his buckskins, his hair blowing straight back. He passed Jack and Edson hollering, “
Eeeeeaaaahooo
, come on boys. We’re gonna have us a trial today.”

THE END

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

Although this novel is based on historical events, it is a wholly a work of fiction. Nothing in it is represented to be the actual historical reality of what happened in Texas in 1873, but is rather how the author thinks it might have or should have happened. There are also a number of historical events mentioned in the story that actually occurred either before or after the dates of their stated occurrence, but which the author felt were simply too interesting to keep out of the book.

The characters in this novel are figments of the author’s imagination and are not intended to refer to or define any other character, living or dead. Any resemblance between the novel’s characters and any other persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

The election of 1873-1874 in Texas was one of great import for the state. It marked the transition between federal control and the return of democratic rule after the Civil War. It also marked a return to the repression of black freedmen, and almost a century of racial discrimination followed. Neither Texas nor the South as a whole was ready to accept freed slaves as equals, and this extended period brought great shame upon the nation. While pockets of discrimination remain, for the most part the nation has changed its ways and recognizes the importance of equal rights under law.

I hope you have enjoyed this novel. If you wish to comment on it, you may do so by writing to the author at:

[email protected]

or on his website and blog at

www.mobleymeadows.com
.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Gerald Lane Summers is a retired lawyer, writer, and teacher with over thirty years service within the justice system of California. His work as a police officer, probation officer, juvenile court referee, amateur historian and writing instructor have uniquely qualified him to write about the West and its characters. He is now writing full time.
Mobley’s Law, A Mobley Meadows Novel
, is his first book. His second book in the Mobley Meadows series,
Curses, A Mobley Meadows Novel
, will be published by early 2012. It will feature much more of Lydia Sweetgrass. The third book,
Mobley’s War
, will be ready for publishing by the end of 2012.