The situation we have here, with the Comanchero rifles, Ferdie Lance’s connection to them and the Reappraisal Commission, plus what you and Edson have discovered, is reasonable grounds to suspect the governor of complicity in what’s been happening. I haven’t told the president about the hearsay, because I don’t want to prejudice his decision with unreliable evidence. But I have told him of my suspicions, in my report; but I know—and so does he—it’s not enough. Grant may base his decision as to whether to set aside the election on these suspicions, if he hasn’t already done so, but that’s all we can expect.”
Jack stood up, shook his head and walked to the dresser. He poured himself a tall whiskey and turned. “I, too, would like to trust people, but I discovered early on that too many of them are willing to stab first and trust later. One of them was my own father, and after that, the priest in our parish where I sought help. Trusting people too quickly can get you killed, so I watch everyone all the time, especially if I have reason to believe they might be up to no good. And, I’ve also discovered that if you watch closely enough, they will usually give themselves away in some small detail.”
Mobley nodded. It was no secret that Jack was suspicious of just about everything. “Well, we may not have to worry too much about all this for long. The election is coming up and Davis is almost certain to lose. Then it will all be over.”
“Over?” Jack’s face became dark. “Maybe for you, but it won’t be for me. I saw those low-life buggers killing women and children on the train. I was there when that sniper tried to kill you in Waco. There’s enough evidence out there for me to believe the governor’s involved, whether he pulled a trigger or not, and by Jove, it’ll be over for me when I see the buzzards picking at that bloody governor’s eyes.”
Mobley let out a long breath. “Our feelings are not that different, but for now, we have to keep on digging. It’s time we met up with this skunk and his minions, to see what we can see. If he’s like some other politicians I’ve met, he’ll get his thrills glad-handin’ with his prime target. And, like you say, he may give something away in the process.
Besides, I still haven’t done what I came here to do. Meet with Chief Judge Aubrey Hooks. He may be able to help us and he may even be at the party. Nevertheless, we’re going; all of us, if for no other reason, because Lydia wants it. That’s enough for me.”
* * *
Lydia admired herself in the mirror. The new light pink evening dress with its moderately sized bustle fit perfectly. She twirled around slowly once, then faster. The dress stayed well within the bounds of decency as it flared, but the low cut neckline left little to the imagination.
Feeling suddenly wicked, she found herself thinking of ways to break through Mobley’s reticence. If he needed more incentive, she would give it to him. She might even demonstrate the new dressing gown Edson had given her, the gown she’d reluctantly accepted only because Edson had seemed so innocent while presenting it to her. A woman just did not accept such gifts from persons other than their husbands or their betrothed, especially a gift as personal as a dressing gown.
Mobley was still acting strange, but she’d decided not to worry about it. Men did strange things. He’d agreed willingly enough to escort her to the party, and seemed relieved to be getting out. His behavior had been proper, but different. He was not the man who had been so sure of himself on the train, so ready to fight, even give his life. Now he seemed stiff, unable to express himself. He was probably feeling mortal, since being shot. If so, he’d get over it. She would see to it.
Lydia took a deep breath, took one last glance over her shoulder at the mirror and walked through the door into the sitting room. Mobley stood promptly as she entered. Edson and Jack followed his lead.
Edson whistled. “Whoooie. Don’t she look nice, boys? Mobley, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”
Mobley’s ears turned bright pink. He turned and glared at Edson. “Any pickin’ going on around here is in the hands of Mrs. Sweetgrass, and I’ll thank you to mind your manners.”
Edson smiled. Jack stepped back. Lydia grinned sheepishly. She lowered her eyes. Mobley was acting like a young boy at his first dance. She was flattered and decided to play along. “Judge Mobley F. Meadows, I would be grateful if you would consent to be my escort for the evening.”
Mobley grabbed his hat and swept it around in a big circle. “It would be my pleasure, ma’am.”
* * *
It was eight o’clock by the time they were ready to head for the governor’s mansion. Lydia had insisted on a short supper at a small well-appointed restaurant called Simon’s, so the men could fortify themselves for the night ahead. Liquor would flow profusely at the party, and she knew Mobley was likely to indulge. Since their embarrassing episode in the bedroom, he seemed to be overdoing everything.
Mobley hired a small carriage to drive them to the mansion. It was the proper way to arrive at such a gathering. As they approached the grounds, Lydia could see the State of Texas had spared no expense to properly house its governor. The mansion was strategically placed on a small hill covering a full square block overlooking the capitol building now under construction. The mansion was of Greek revival style, honoring the democracy that had emanated from the early Greek civilizations. It was two stories high and fronted by six massive ionic columns. The building itself was constructed entirely of white brick and sported attractive dark green shutters on all of its windows. A wide balcony extended out over the large lower entry and porch.
The only thing detracting from the beauty of the grounds was the great many soldiers stationed as guards near the mansion itself and surrounding the entire estate. Clearly Governor Edmund J. Davis did not trust his safety to the people of Austin.
“How did you manage to obtain this invitation, Mrs. Sweetgrass?” Jack asked politely. “Do you know the governor?”
“No. One of the friends I came here to visit found out I knew Judge Meadows. She asked me to invite him. They know the governor well and found out he was anxious to meet with you all.”
“Is that so,” Mobley said. “I don’t think you ever told us who your friends are. Should we know them?”
“No, I don’t think so. I went to school for awhile in Fredericksburg, years ago. An acquaintance of mine there, Dixie Lee Van Atta, is now married to Yancy Potts, the Governor’s chief of staff. Dixie Lee found out I was helping with your treatment and Yancy told her the Governor had been hoping to meet you all as soon as Mobley got well. That’s when she asked us— what’s the matter with you boys?”
Jack had snapped his head around to look at Edson, who looked stricken. Jack was the first to recover his wits. “Uh,—nothing really, Lydia. We’ve heard a few things about Yancy Potts, which do not bear repeating. Are you sure this invitation included Edson and me?”
“Well, I just assumed—you are his marshals, after all. I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Of course it will,” Mobley said. “Don’t you be trying to wiggle out of this, Jack.”
Lydia sensed a dramatic increase of tension in the coach, but had no idea of its source. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but you boys had better behave yourselves. I’ve never met a real governor and I’m sure there will be other important people on hand. Don’t you be getting frisky. The soldiers wouldn’t like that very much.”
Mobley examined the tough looking black soldiers spaced every thirty feet about the grounds. “I think you’re right. They’re not about to let a bunch of prairie crazies like us break up their little party. So let’s try to act civilized, boys. Just this once.”
Edson’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean, just this once? We’ve been behavin’ just fine. It’s you that’s been off your feed. Ain’t that right, Jack?”
Jack looked at Mobley. He looked grim. “Well, I think maybe we should all stop being so serious. This is supposed to be a party. Even if that skunk Davis is putting it on, I guess we should try to have a good time.”
Lydia looked at J
ack. “Skunk? Why would you call him a skunk? You don’t even know him?”
“Well, I—.”
“She’s right,” Mobley interrupted. “We don’t really know him. It’s time we remedied that situation.”
As they approached the front gate to the mansion, the hack driver brought the carriage to a halt. A large black soldier with the stripes of a master sergeant on his dress blue jacket moved quickly to open the door for Lydia. Mobley unwound himself from the smallish carriage, and exited next. He quietly thanked the soldier for his courtesy, and slipped him a coin. The man looked down at the coin as if it were a rotten tomato, and then placed it in his pocket. Edson paused to speak a few words to the sergeant while Jack accompanied Mobley and Lydia up the walkway to the massive steps of the mansion porch.
“What was that all about, Edson,” Jack asked as Edson rejoined them.
“Oh, nothing. I recognized him from the war. We didn’t get along. His name is Whicher Bligh. One dang tough soldier with lots of decorations.”
“Why didn’t you get along?”
Edson turned to look back at the sergeant. “He thought it was wrong for me to try passing for white. He still does.”
“Great. Now we have another enemy to deal with?”
“Not necessarily. He doesn’t like me, but he likes white folk even less.”
“Then why’d you stop and talk to him?”
“Dang, Jack. You’re sure full of questions. I talked to him because I respect him. It’s the way.”
“The way?”
“Yes. The way of the Cherokee. The stronger your opponent, the more respect you give him. When you respect someone, you make sure he knows it. You also make sure he knows you’re not afraid of him. If I’d walked on by without stopping to talk, he’d think I was afraid. Then he’d be after me like stink on a skunk.”
Lydia smiled at the wisdom of the comment. It was just like Edson. “Come on, let’s go.”
Without further ado, Mobley led them up the steps to the massive door. Two soldiers stood in their way. One was a white lieutenant, the other a black corporal. The corporal stood at attention with his rifle at port arms while the officer smiled and inquired of their invitations. Lydia held out a hand-written note, which the officer casually scanned and handed back. Lydia turned. “This is United States Circuit Court Judge Mobley Meadows and his two deputy marshals, Jack Anthony Lopes and Edson Rabb. You should have received notice of our attendance here tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am, I have indeed.” The man spoke with a mild Irish brogue. “‘Tis a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Sweetgrass. Judge Meadows—deputies. I am honored. We’ve heard a great deal about you of late and I am proud to have you in Texas. We need your kind of law and order here. Please come in. Be welcome to the governor’s home.”
Mobley nodded as he looked down on the shortish soldier. “Thank you, lieutenant. What did you say your name was?”
“My name is Richard Rafferty, sir. I served with the 1st Texas U.S. Cavalry during the war. Before that I lived in Boston with my parents. I am now in command of this guard unit of the Tenth Cavalry. A finer troop of men there have never been.”
Mobley nodded. “I thought the accent familiar. I’ve spent many a happy day roustin’ about the wharves of Boston harbor banging heads with Irishmen who thought they could drink me under the table.”
“Did you ever win, sir?”
“I can’t remember. Strange, ain’t it?”
Rafferty laughed, a big toothy smile on his face. He shook hands with everyone, and then proceeded into the huge house. As they entered, it was obvious to Lydia the party was, at least initially, being held in the parlor or formal reception room to the right. They turned and found themselves facing a receiving line.
Mobley looked at Lydia, nodded at her to proceed. Lydia prepared herself to make small talk. Yancy Potts and his wife Dixie stood first in line. Dixie smiled at Lydia, and then glanced at Edson. Lydia recognized the look. Dixie hadn’t changed a bit. When it came to good looking men, she never missed a thing.
Dixie coughed lightly into a small handkerchief, then quickly took the initiative. In a strong voice she announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, I have the great pleasure and distinct honor of introducing the Honorable Judge Mobley F. Meadows, United States Circuit Court Judge for the Western District of Texas. He is accompanied by one of my oldest friends, Mrs. Lydia Sweetgrass.”
The others in the hall, amounting to about forty people in all, began to clap, softly at first, then louder until the clapping gave way to mild cheers. Mobley flushed. Lydia was so proud, tears came to her eyes.
As the noise settled down, Dixie Potts continued her introductions. “Accompanying Judge Meadows are his two marshals, Jack Anthony Lopes and Edson Rabb.”
More cheering and clapping broke out. Jack and Edson shifted uncomfortably and shook hands with several well wishers. As quickly as the applause had broken out, it stopped. Jack turned. A straight backed, long bearded man accompanied by a dark haired lady held out his hand. Edson stepped back.
“Good evening, Deputy Lopes. I am Edmund Jackson Davis, and this is my wife, Anne. I am happy and proud to make your acquaintance, sir. And you, Deputy Rabb. You have both done well. I am sure fame will continue to follow wherever you go.”
The Governor let go of Jack’s hand and shook Edson’s as well. Jack was thoroughly relieved. The hand felt oily and soft, the pumping shake contrived for show.
Davis turned to the lady holding on to his arm. “Gentlemen, please meet my lovely wife. Ann Britain Davis, the light of my life, and the only true treasure I have ever known. Were it not for her strength and steadfastness of purpose, I fear I should not have survived our recent conflict.”
Mrs. Davis, a petite brunette dressed regally in a white Spanish lace dress with deeply plunging neckline, curtsied to the crowd and nodded to Edson and Jack. Her soft brown eyes exuded genuine warmth and feeling. She immediately put the two nervous marshals at ease. “I am very happy to meet you two fine men. I’ve heard so much about you and your trials of late. You simply must come by one day to tell us all about your adventures.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Jack bowed slightly and smiled in his most charming manner. “We’ll look forward to that.”
Coming to Mobley, Governor Davis extended his hand. “Judge Meadows, you have not been in Texas long, but you certainly have made your mark. With your help, I’m sure we will be able to clean up this state and get back to some form of normalcy. The madness here has been almost unbearable. You are a ray of hope on a black day.”
Mobley shook the governor’s hand briefly as the crowd again broke out cheering. They continued for several minutes before Mobley was able to quiet them with raised hands. “On behalf of Mrs. Sweetgrass, the deputies and myself, I thank you for this warm reception. I’m not sure we deserve this attention, but we are nevertheless, very grateful. Now, let’s stop all this foofaraw and get on with the party.”
The crowd clapped a little longer, and then settled down as several trays crammed with glasses full of champagne were brought in by servants. Hors d’oeuvres appeared on other trays and soon covered two dining tables.
Lydia grabbed Mobley’s hand and led him to the first table while Anne Davis latched onto Jack and dragged him off in a different direction. Edson was left staring into the steady eyes of Dixie Lee Potts while her husband Yancy reached out to shake his hand.
“Deputy Rabb, I am Yancy Potts. This beautiful lady is my dear wife. We are so happy to make your acquaintance. I was just telling Dixie how much these parties were in need of new blood. Everything was becoming so boring. Isn’t that right, my dear?”
“Indeed,” Dixie said softly, a coy smile on her face. “Things have certainly become more lively since you and your friends arrived in Texas. Do you think they will remain that way, Deputy?”
CHAPTER 39
“Please call me Edson, ma’am. I’m still not comfortable with that deputy business. But yes, I think there’s a good
chance things will stay lively. Judge Meadows is a fine man, but there are many people around these parts who do not wish him well. I have no doubt, however, they will fail in whatever plots they hatch, for Judge Meadows is very resourceful. I expect he will find a way to overcome his enemies. All of them.”
Yancy felt his face flush, but maintained his composure. For a moment he saw a look in the young deputy’s eye, a penetrating look, as if he could read minds. His eyes were like a hole without a bottom.
My God. This man knows what is going on. But, how could he know? It’s not possible, or is it?
Quickly gathering his wits, Yancy replied. “Yes, I believe you are correct, Deputy. The Judge does have enemies. I am sure, however, he will triumph in the end. A man of his stature could do no less.”
“Well, you old fuddy-duddies,” Dixie said lightly. “If I leave it up to you, you’ll be talking politics tonight when we should all be having a good time. Come, Edson, let me show you around the mansion. It’s a wonderful home worthy of a full tour. Yancy, why don’t you go push the governor around. That’s what you do best.”
Yancy nodded, grateful for the reprieve; but he was sure now. Edson Rabb knew something of the plot against Judge Meadows. Yancy could not even guess how such a thing could be, but he’d been in politics many years and had an uncanny knack for reading body language and facial expression. Everything he saw told him the man knew, or at least suspected that something was afoot, and that the governor was involved in it.
Yancy forced a smile and watched them walk away, Edson Rabb straight-backed and stiff, Dixie making a show of describing the various art works adorning the walls. Yancy turned toward the governor’s coterie, thinking the matter over carefully. Only he, Governor Davis, and Ferdie Lance knew of the plot against Judge Meadows. It was possible Dixie knew, of course, for he’d once caught her perusing his diary, but she would not betray him. Without him, she was nothing.
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