Mobley's Law, A Mobley Meadows Novel

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Mobley's Law, A Mobley Meadows Novel Page 34

by Summers, Gerald Lane


  Mobley reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the resignation paper he had earlier prepared. He slapped it on the desk next to the pistol. “You have two choices. Sign this resignation or pick up that pistol. If you don’t choose to sign, you can end your own miserable life, or—I’ll do it for you.”

  Judge Hooks stammered, and then drew back in his chair. “What? You can’t come in here threatening me. I’m a United States Circuit Court Judge. I’ll do neither of those things.” He turned to the door. “Shinn, call my marshals in here, now.”

  “Shinn isn’t around anymore, Judge. He saw the evidence and ran like a striped-assed ape for the far hills. Now it’s your turn. Sign that paper, or pick up that pistol. I’ll not have you stinkin’ up my profession.”

  “Your profession? Who the hell are you anyway? Have I met you before?”

  Placing his hands firmly on the desk, Mobley leaned forward until nose to nose with Judge Hooks. “Yes, but it does not surprise me that you don’t remember. You were making a fool of yourself at the governor’s mansion. I am United States Circuit Court Judge Mobley F. Meadows, and I am here now to judge you for your misdeeds. There will be no appeal.”

  Mobley stepped back and placed Yancy’s diary on the desk. “I have in this diary all the evidence I need to bring you up on charges of bribery, felony corruption, and high misdemeanors. It includes dates, times, places, amounts, and the rulings you’ve made in exchange for payments. I don’t have time to play games with you. A war is about to start. I am trying to stop it. You will resign or use that pistol. You have no other choices.”

  Judge Hooks’ faced turned a much darker shade of red. He hesitated. “And, if I choose not to accept one of your alternatives, you shoot me? Is that it?”

  He looked up at Mobley, and then slowly ran his eyes back down to the pistol. “Yes, you look the type to shoot an unarmed man. Well, if you think I am going to just roll over and let you have your way with me, you’ve got another think coming. Let me see this alleged proof.”

  Mobley pushed the diary forward. “I suggest you look at the last entry. It’s in Yancy Potts’s own writing and lays out precisely what you were paid to make your last ruling. Read it and choose. I’m getting’ tired of this palaver.”

  Judge Hooks picked the book up with shaking hands and flipped it open to the last page. The shocked look on his face told Mobley the man recognized the truth of the matter. The bribe listed had taken place within the past week. More, it showed payment for the decision he’d made regarding the governor’s land reappraisal commission.

  Hooks began to sweat profusely. With a sudden lurch, and remarkable speed, he grabbed for Mobley’s pistol. He lifted and cocked it, pointing at Mobley’s chest.

  Jack lashed out, grabbed the pistol with his left hand over the hammer, preventing it from discharging. He slowly, agonizingly, overpowered Hooks until the pistol was turned completely around, pointing backwards. Hooks let go. Jack pointed the pistol at the man’s head, turned and looked questioningly at Mobley.

  Mobley stared at Hooks, furious. There was no choice now. He could not allow Hooks to remain in power. He was about to take the gun from Jack’s hand, to do what was necessary, but stopped short.

  Hooks suddenly pushed back, eyes wide. His complexion changed from bright red to grey, then white. He put his hand on his chest as if in pain. He gasped, tried to catch his breath, but obviously could not. He looked pleadingly at Mobley, then slid from his chair with a crash and vomited on the floor.

  Mobley stepped back as Judge Hooks fell. For a brief moment, he felt compassion, an instinct to help. The moment passed. He half-turned, keeping his eye on the huge man now spread-eagled on the floor. “Morris, is there a doctor around here?”

  “Yes, just down the street.”

  Mobley hesitated as he looked at Hooks, then back to Morris. Jack and Edson were wide-eyed, but made no moves. Mobley stepped around the desk and reached down to check for a pulse on Hooks’ carotid artery. He felt the pulse flutter rapidly, fade, then seem to stop completely. He jerked his hand back as if he’d been burned, turned and looked up.

  “Morris, I think Judge Hooks has just made his decision. An honorable one. To be sure, I’d like you to go get the doctor and bring him here, to see if anything can be done.”

  Obediah Morris was stunned. He could see Judge Hooks was having a heart attack, stroke, or apoplexy of some kind. The man was dead or dying, and it was up to him to get a doctor. He could either run, maybe save the man’s life, or go slow and allow him an honorable death. He hesitated for a moment, turned and walked out of Hooks’ office. He stopped at his desk, picked up his notes on his latest research project. He fiddled with it a few moments, and then sat down. It needed more work.

  CHAPTER 48

  Lieutenant Richard Rafferty executed a crisp salute as Mobley, Jack and Edson approached the gate to the governor’s mansion. Master Sergeant Whicher Bligh stood alongside the lieutenant, rifle at port arms.

  “Good afternoon, Judge Meadows,” Rafferty said politely. Did you have an appointment to see Governor Davis, today? Your name is not on my list.”

  “Is that necessary, Lieutenant?”

  Rafferty glanced down at his list, pursed his lips, and then shook his head. “Normally, yes. But in your case, I’m sure the governor will not be upset. Would you step inside, please?”

  It was cool day, but drops of sweat trickled down the back of Mobley’s neck as he looked about the mansion grounds. Armed troops were everywhere, alert and ready for trouble. People were streaming in and out of the mansion, soldiers and citizens alike. Curiously, he saw no higher ranking officers about. Lieutenant Rafferty seemed to be in sole command, but that made little sense. The governor was obviously using the mansion as military headquarters and one would expect there to be colonels, captains and aides everywhere.

  He turned to Rafferty. “Lieutenant, are you the highest ranking officer here?”

  Rafferty nodded. “I am, sir. The other officers are with their commands preparing for battle. The commanding general has ordered defensive positions established near San Antonio. He fears an uprising from the south more than the one believed to be forming in Waco. The rest are between here and Dallas scouting out the ground in case of attack from that direction. Some are actually planning their own attacks.

  Frankly, sir, my superiors do not trust my black troopers. They’ve left me what they consider a shabby assignment. My job is to see that Austin stays secure and under federal control. If you choose to stay in Austin, sir, your safety will be my responsibility.”

  Mobley smiled. He turned and saw Edson nod greeting to the black Sergeant, Whicher Bligh. Bligh was a big man who seemed to know his business. He did not acknowledge Edson’s presence.

  Mobley intended to confront Governor Davis with Yancy’s diary and convince him to step down from office. But he knew Davis was a wily politician who would not likely flush and run at the first sign of trouble. Further, if he did not agree to step down, Mobley knew the man would be unlikely to yield to implied physical threats as had Yancy and Hooks.

  Lieutenant Rafferty escorted them into the mansion, directed them to the parlor and offered refreshments. He then left to announce their presence. A few minutes later, Rafferty returned and informed them the governor would see them shortly.

  An hour later, they were still waiting. Mobley looked at Jack and considered forcing entry to the governor’s office. He dismissed the idea, for Rafferty and Bligh had changed stations and were now planted solidly at the foot of the sweeping stairway. Davis was playing games. They would wait, not patiently, but they would wait.

  After an hour and fifteen minutes, several well dressed civilians came down the stairs, nodded in their direction and walked out of the mansion. Rafferty motioned Mobley up the stairs. Governor Davis met them at his office door, a sly smile on his face. He escorted them in.

  Mobley could see the governor liked nice things. The room was lavishly decorated and carpeted, the d
esk massively ornate, of European construction. Without saying a word, Davis retreated behind the desk and sat down in his wingback chair.

  He smiled, perfect teeth gleaming white. “As you can see, I have been very busy. I’m sorry for the delay. What can I do for you, Judge Meadows?”

  Mobley stood directly in front of the desk, feet spread slightly, hands behind his back. Jack and Edson stood slightly back, examining the room.

  Mobley cleared his throat. “I suppose you’ve heard about Judge Hooks’ untimely demise.”

  Davis’s face dropped. He obviously had not. Mobley decided to play the game out. “He died of a heart attack this morning, I’m told. I understand you knew him well.”

  Davis raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips and stared at Mobley for several seconds. “Yes. We go back a long way. I’m saddened to hear of his death, but I don’t think you came here to discuss my old friends, did you? Hooks’ death makes you the sole remaining federal judge in Texas. The only one left to hear the ridiculous lawsuit Richard Coke has brought against me. Is that what you’ve come to talk about?”

  Mobley forced a smile. “Partly, but other things as well, like whether or not we are to become associated; friends, as your man Yancy Potts has suggested.”

  Davis grunted and got up out of his chair. He turned to the window behind his desk, hands crossed behind his back. “Is that what you want, Judge? To become a friend? If it is, then you’ll have to talk to Yancy. I don’t get involved in such matters.”

  “I have been talking to Yancy. As a matter of fact, I have one of his diary notebooks right here. It documents all of your activities for the past year. There are others, of course, along with a great deal of confirming evidence showing everything you and your administration have done since you took over as Governor.”

  Davis spun around, his face white. His mouth moved in silent circles, like a fish trying to breathe out of water. “How could—? Yancy turned his records over to you?”

  “Indeed, and if you do not choose to resign and allow the madness in this state to settle out, I will release them for public consumption.”

  Davis walked out onto the balcony and back. He looked at Mobley, then at the floor. He turned circles on his carpet and stopped in front of the liquor cabinet. Mobley thought that the governor would accept the offer and resign immediately. But something came over the man. He gritted his teeth and glared.

  “No. I shall not resign. That rebel bastard Richard Coke will not take over my state. You go ahead. Release your damned records. It’ll do no good. I’m about to order an attack on Waco that’ll crush Coke’s miserable rebellion. No one will believe that trash. They’ll know slander made at such a critical time by a—fairy like Yancy Potts must be a lie. Even the dullest politician in this state would know better than to do something like that. Try to slander your opponent at the last minute; the public will turn on you every time.”

  Mobley was momentarily impressed. The governor might be right. Desperate people often came up with their biggest lies during a time of crisis. He’d seen it before. The public was good at sensing desperation, even better at rejecting last minute allegations, true or not. Not only that, the revelations of corruption in Yancy’s diary were so massive, if the public did believe them, all they might lose all confidence in any government. Anarchy might follow.

  No. He could not risk public disclosure, yet. He brought his hands forward and hooked his thumbs in his belt sash. If Davis was sufficiently angry, he might fall into the trap. Mobley forced a smirk. “Are you willing then, to submit your case for staying in office to my court? Or do you intend to flaunt the judiciary as well as every criminal statute on the books? You’ve been sued by Richard Coke. He is entitled to a hearing.”

  Davis snorted a laugh. He waved his hand in a motion of dismissal. “That man is fomenting revolution. He has no rights at all. You may have your hearing, but I have no intention of allowing you to judge me. I will not participate. You have no jurisdiction over matters purely local in nature. The state Supreme Court made its ruling based on the new Texas Constitution. No federal court can overrule that decision, even if it was made illegally, which it was not. Now, get out of my office.”

  From the corner of his eye, Mobley caught a glimpse of Jack moving his hand toward his pistol. Before Mobley could reach out to stop him, Lieutenant Rafferty and Sergeant Bligh stepped in through a side door, rifles leveled. Obviously the Governor had instructed them to be on guard for trouble. Mobley placed his hand on Jack’s. There was no need for violence. Edson backed up, his hands spread loosely, but he made no move for his weapon.

  Rafferty spoke calmly. “Judge Meadows, this meeting is over. Please leave peacefully.”

  Mobley locked his gaze upon Rafferty. “Lieutenant, I think you’d better review your chain of command. Things are likely to be untidy from here on out.”

  Rafferty lowered his rifle slightly. “Yes, sir, I know that. I wish there was someone else around to take on this responsibility. But there is not. Now, please leave.”

  * * *

  Mobley pushed away from his writing desk, a large legal document in his hand. “Jack, I want you to take this paper to Richard Coke and escort him and his staff to the administration building. It is a default judgment against Governor Davis declaring Richard Coke to be the lawful governor entitled to occupy all necessary public buildings.

  Edson, you go get your people. Make sure everyone, especially Marsten and Wiley Miner, understand. You are all U.S. Marshals enforcing an order of the court. This is not a rebellious takeover.”

  Jack looked at the paper. Edson peered over his shoulder. “You can do that? Grant judgment against the governor even though he says you have no jurisdiction?”

  “Absolutely. If he wanted to defend his rights, he had to make an appearance in court and raise the issue. A challenge to jurisdiction can’t be made by refusing to show up. He had to appear or lose the case. It’s funny, too. He had a point about federal court jurisdiction, but it doesn’t matter now. He was so concerned about the big picture, he forgot the details, like Richard Coke being entitled to due process and equal protection of the law.

  While a federal court may not have jurisdiction over a specific state constitutional question, unless it also involved a federal question, the decision cannot be made without allowing the claimant a chance to be heard. Besides, there are other issues here that do raise a federal question. Davis is a lawyer. He should have known. His cajones, as Jack would put it, got in the way of his brain when I challenged him. He’s been violating or manipulating the law so long, ramming whatever he wanted down peoples’ throats, he just forgot the rules. It’s his worst mistake.”

  Jack smiled. Edson seemed confused, but said nothing. Mobley nodded. “It’s all said and done. Go ahead. I’ll join you in a little while. I’ve got some writing to do.”

  Jack and Edson hurried out the hotel room door. Mobley settled back at his desk. He paused for a moment, thinking of the proper words. How did Grant say to put it? Short and sweet.

  CHAPTER 49

  By the time Mobley arrived at the administration building, Richard Coke and his entourage, including all of the newly elected legislators who had ridden into office on his coat tails, had occupied the administrative building. The building itself was solidly made of fine limestone blocks much like a typical courthouse, but was otherwise unremarkable. A narrow lawn extended from one side to the other, a short stairway in the center led to a polished copper door.

  Jack and Edson had stationed themselves at the door, Mitchell Marsten and Wiley Miner stood alongside. The other fifty-five marshals, decked out in their finest black suits and sporting large star-shaped silver badges, were spread out shoulder to shoulder on both sides. Every one held a Winchester repeating rifle in the crook of his arm. Several virtually bristled with armament, including pistols, knives and swords. It was a formidable force. No one would take it lightly.

  Richard Coke, unmistakable with the wild white beard growing
out of his cheeks and neck, peered from the center window immediately above the door. Several other men could be seen moving about the top floor, no doubt preparing for the worst. Yancy Potts’s pale white face strained to see over Richard Coke’s shoulder.

  Mobley stepped from his horse and walked the short distance to the copper door. He shook hands with Marsten and Wiley Miner. “Wiley, Captain Marsten, thank you for coming. You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

  Wiley beamed. Marsten shook his head. “Judge Meadows, I told you I’d come. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. I’m sure my boys feel the same. Don’t know what I’m going to do with them when we get home, though. Now that they’ve all got new suits, they’re likely to start thinking they’re special.”

  Wiley laughed. ‘Yeah, I wondered why you wanted everyone all dressed up, but now as I see them all together, I must admit it’s impressive. They look more like an army than a bunch of ignorant prairie farmers.”

  “Shush, Wiley,” Marsten whispered, a narrow smile on his face. “You don’t want my wranglers to hear you calling them farmers. They get real testy about that.”

  Mobley slapped his leg and snorted. “Yes, I can imagine. If Edson’s any measure of your typical wrangler, I can vouch for his tendency toward trouble. Anyway, your boys all look real good. It’s just what I wanted. When the challenge comes—and it will— those clothes and badges could well be the difference between peace and war. Nobody will take a well armed, well regulated force like this for granted, especially when they’re acting pursuant to the law.

  But, I want you to make it clear to your men. I want no one to open fire under any circumstances. They’re here for looks, not battle. I’ll not have federal marshals firing on federal troops for any reason. I want your people to look meaner’n viper snakes, ready for anything. But no one is to be hurt, even if we have to give this building back to Governor Davis. Understood?”

 

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