Marsten looked at Wiley, who looked bewildered. Marsten started to say something, stopped, then came to attention. “Yes, sir. You are in command. We will follow your orders to the letter.” Wiley quirked up his mouth, but nodded his agreement.
“Good. I knew I could count on you. Now, we wait.”
Mobley turned. He looked down the street in both directions. It remained empty. He turned back, stopped, stared at one of the marshals. The man was big, burly, and well over six feet tall. He had a sheepish look on his face, a fancy pistol in his belt. Mister Jim Bob Burnett.
Mobley smiled and stepped in front of Burnett. He ran his hands over the lapels of the man’s suit, admiring the cut. “Well, I’ll be danged. I never thought to see you here, Mister Jim Bob.”
Burnett shifted uncomfortably, ran his index finger around his collar as if it were too tight. “I, uh—. Well, it’s like this, sir. Mr. Coke up’n hired me as his bodyguard, right after the shootin’ in Waco. He brought me here so I could watch his back.”
As he talked, Mobley saw a change come over Mister Jim Bob. His head came up, his cheeks crinkled with the beginning of a smile.
“It’s the first real money payin’ job I ever had, and don’t you know, the Pinkertons have been pesterin’ me to join their outfit. Best danged bunch of bodyguards ever to come down the creek. Gonna do it, too, after Mr. Coke is settled in as governor. Ain’t it somethin’? Old Mister Jim Bob, eatin’ high up on the leg, sleepin’ on the top bale, and it’s all your doin’.”
Mobley coughed and shook his head. “No, Mister Jim Bob. It was your doin’, every bit of it. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t acted so quickly. The Pinkertons will be getting a fine man. I wish you the best.”
The big man nodded. “Do you think there’ll be trouble here, Judge Meadows, shootin’ maybe?”
“Well, I don’t know. I hope not. At any rate, we’re not going to start it.” Mobley stepped back. “Thank you for coming, Mister Jim Bob. I feel much better now, knowing you’re here.”
Half an hour later, Lieutenant Rafferty and ten hard looking cavalrymen appeared at the corner a block away. On horses, they presented a menacing picture. Rafferty said something to his men. They spread out beside him, drawing carbines, resting them in the crooks of their arms. Rafferty nudged his horse forward, men behind extending curb to curb on the brick lined street.
Rafferty’s black horse snorted and tossed its head as it pranced forward. It seemed to take an eternity for them to reach, and then stop in front of the building. Rafferty looked down at Mobley, who stood forward on the narrow sidewalk.
“Judge Meadows, I have orders from the Governor to remove all illegal occupants from this building. Do you have something to do with this takeover?”
Mobley spread his legs and placed his hands on his hips. His hat was tipped back. “Yes, I do. They are acting upon my lawful order.” He reached into his coat pocket, stepped forward and handed Rafferty the judgment and order authorizing Richard Coke’s occupancy of the building. “I told you before to review your chain of command. Have you done that?”
Rafferty studied the document for a moment. “Yes, I have. But I don’t see how that applies here. I am under orders to maintain the peace and protect all public property in this town. Governor Davis is in command of my unit unless and until I receive further orders. He has told me to evict these people.”
Mobley smiled. “You are under the command of the lawful governor of this state, which I have properly determined in my court to be Richard Coke. Your orders therefore require you obey his directives, unless you feel it proper for you to disregard the findings and judgment of a United States Circuit Court judge.
If you have examined the chain of command, you will know that in the absence of a direct and specific order from a superior federal military officer, you are obligated to obey all official judgments and directives of a federal court. This is especially true where those orders conflict with a command given by a lesser state authority. Now, Lieutenant, what are you going to do?”
Rafferty looked puzzled. He danced his horse back and forth, looking to Mobley, then Jack and Edson. He turned, examined the black suited marshals as if taking their measure, and then waved Sergeant Whicher Bligh forward. Bligh leaned to the side from his horse while Rafferty whispered in his ear.
The massive Sergeant Bligh stepped down from his horse, rifle in hand. He walked forward to face Edson. For a moment, the two stared at each other. Mobley held his breath. Bligh executed a crisp about face and stood side by side with Edson and Jack. In proper sequence, he brought his rifle to port arms, daring anyone to pass. Mobley let out his breath, trying to conceal the strength behind the exhalation.
“Thank you Lieutenant. You’ve made the correct decision. I shall see to it that your actions this day are properly recorded. As a matter of fact, I have reason to believe all further questions you may have about this matter will be cleared up within the week. Thank you again.”
Rafferty waved the rest of his men forward to join Sergeant Bligh. With deft precision, they backed their horses several yards from the curb, dismounted and moved forward to stand astride the door.
Rafferty remained on his horse, allowing it to prance in place. “Judge Meadows, I find myself in something of a dilemma. I recognize your authority, but doubt my superiors will view my actions as appropriate. They are at this moment prepared to attack the various forces at Richard Coke’s command, unaware of your actions here. I doubt they will support a lowly lieutenant’s decision, one that would effectively place them on the wrong side, as they see it. I will, however, accept Richard Coke’s occupation of the upper floors of this building for now, in order to maintain the peace. I will also, in order to be fair about it all, allow Governor Davis’ militia, staff, and his legislators to occupy the lower floors. Would you agree to that, and include it in an appropriate order?
Mobley nodded. It seemed a worthy compromise that might head off immediate trouble. He nodded.
“Very well, Judge Meadows. I will order my men to stand guard here with your marshals and permit Governor Davis’s people to enter when the time comes. After that, we must watch the matter very closely, for these men are all armed and there is no telling how long we will be able to maintain the peace.
And, further, you should know that I cannot guarantee this agreement, for a higher military authority could arrive here at any time and overturn my decision, in which case I will follow whatever orders I am given.”
Mobley reached forward to shake Rafferty’s hand. “I understand. We will just have to see what happens. Thank you, Lieutenant.”
* * *
Mobley awoke early, though he’d slept little the past three days. With any luck, he would receive a response to his telegram today and be able to put an end to this standoff. It had been a full week since he’d advised the President of all the facts and proposed his solution.
Richard Coke had been true to his word, keeping his armed supporters in check at Waco while Governor Davis ranted in his mansion trying to direct his remaining irregular forces. Upon receiving Rafferty’s message regarding Mobley’s official judgment, all federal military commanders in the field found themselves in the same dilemma. Who to support? In the end, they’d accepted Rafferty’s half-solution. It was the only thing they could do without violating the court order. Without federal military backing, Governor Davis had been unable to push beyond the compromise worked out by Mobley and Lieutenant Rafferty. Nevertheless, Davis’s government had continued to function, in control of the lower administration floors.
It was incredible, Mobley thought. Comic opera of the most dangerous sort. Two governors claiming legitimacy, one by dint of a state supreme court ruling and colossal nerve, the other by election and a federal court judgment. Both were now trying desperately to gain the upper hand with decrees, orders and threats. They both knew that if they could rally a large enough force, they might break the stalemate and start shooting. If neither gained the upper han
d, he knew, people would begin to ignore them both. Standing between the two, stood Lieutenant Rafferty and his well disciplined, but small force of hated black cavalry, and a band of marshals who looked like the meanest men on the planet itching to spill blood.
Of even more concern to Mobley was what would happen once the situation was settled and the Coke administration was allowed to take over. A Coke victory would seem a victory for democracy, due process, and all those nice sounding words, but what was going to happen to the freed black people across the state? Clearly Richard Coke and his former Confederate supporters were not likely to allow them the full participation that Davis had allowed. Was there anything he could do about that? No, as he’d reminded himself daily for weeks, a man can only deal with specific situations as they arise, for no one can tell the future, and he cannot suppose that the courts, the law, and men will behave illegally. If they do, in-fact, behave illegally, then the courts, his court, would stomp on them. That was all that any man or any court could do.
For the rest of the morning, Mobley paced nervously about the hotel room, sat down, got up and sat back down again. He considered sending Grant another telegram, and then discarded the idea. He said he would know what to do. We must wait.
* * *
At noon, a knock on the door brought Mobley to his feet. It was about time. He opened the door, relieved to see a short man with a large packet of envelopes in his hand.
“I have several special delivery letters here for a Judge Mobley F. Meadows,” the man said. “Are you Judge Meadows?”
“Yes, I am.” Mobley could feel his voice quiver. The small man looked at him curiously, and then extended the letters. Mobley reached in his pocket for tip money, handed a few coins to the man, and closed the door. Each of the letters was marked with the seal and stamp of the President of the United States.
* * *
Mobley watched Lieutenant Richard Rafferty hurry to the front gate of the mansion in response to the corporal of the guard’s report. He’d obviously been under great stress. Rumors had spread of the abuse Rafferty suffered from the governor as well as several arrogant colonels, all outraged at Rafferty’s original refusal to carry out Davis’s orders. Rafferty’s eyes were red from lack of sleep, lower lids dark and baggy.
“Sir,” he said properly as he stepped up to the gate. “I will inform the governor of your presence, but I do not think he will invite you in. Since your last visit, he has become very difficult.”
“I understand, Captain Rafferty, but it’s all right. I do not wish to announce my visit. Read these papers.” Mobley handed several documents to the now puzzled officer.
“Uh, sir, I am a lieutenant, sir, not a captain.”
“You were a lieutenant. Now you are Captain Richard Rafferty. Please examine those papers. They include special orders for your eyes only. You will understand.”
Rafferty’s eyes widened, his brow lifted. “Yes, sir.”
He glanced down at the official looking papers in his hand, flipped quickly through the pages, then started over to read carefully. When finished, he looked up, a smile on his face. He came to attention. “I am at your service, General Meadows.”
“Now,” Mobley said as he handed Rafferty another sealed envelope, “—you must read this letter. It is directed to you personally from the President of the United States. When you have read it, you will burn it and say no more about its contents, now or ever.”
Rafferty took the letter and began to read, his back stiffening as he did so. When finished, he said simply, “Do you have any suggestions, sir?”
“Bayonet point will do just fine.”
“Yes, sir.”
Rafferty turned to face Sergeant Whicher Bligh, who had come running to the front gate to see what was going on. “Sergeant Bligh. Get two men with bayonets on their rifles and have them bring Governor Davis down to the parlor, under arrest. Do not be nice to him.”
“Sir?” Sergeant Bligh responded, obviously not believing what he had just heard.
“You heard me, Sergeant. Arrest Governor Davis and bring him down to the parlor at bayonet point. See to it he has at least one nick in his posterior. Several would be better.”
Whicher Bligh stiffened to attention at these incredible orders, glanced at the official papers in Rafferty’s hand, and realized an extraordinary thing was about to happen. “Yes, sir.”
Bligh regained his composure, pulled his jacket down straight under his belt. He turned to the two nearest soldiers on guard duty. “Richards, Books, fix bayonets and come with me, now.”
Captain Rafferty watched his three soldiers enter the mansion. He struck a match and held it to the President’s letter. The letter burned until it was no more. Rafferty looked up at Mobley, now temporary Brigadier General Meadows. He turned his head toward the mansion. “Shall we go in, sir?”
“After you, Captain.”
A few moments later, Jack, Edson, Mobley and Captain Rafferty were seated in the parlor. Loud yelling and screaming could be heard from the top of the spiral staircase. Shortly thereafter Edmund Jackson Davis came tumbling down the stairs, half dressed and trying to dodge as Whicher Bligh applied the tip of his bayonet to the man’s already bleeding posterior.
“You miserable black bastards,” he screamed. “You’ll hang for this. I’ll see you all rot in hell.”
None of the men spoke as Whicher prodded the governor once again and forced him into the parlor. He was thrust into a small chair and held with three bayonets at his chest.
Davis was fuming and sputtering so, Mobley thought he might have a stroke. The oaths and threats stopped abruptly, however, when Davis recognized Mobley. Davis looked around carefully.
Mobley rose from his chair. “Edmund Jackson Davis. I am now Brigadier General Mobley Meadows, in temporary command of all military forces in Texas, including all irregular militia, which have been subjugated to my command during the period of the present crisis. You now command doodly squat.”
Pausing for effect, Mobley reached into his jacket. He removed another official document, which he handed to Captain Rafferty.
Rafferty accepted the document and read aloud:
“Brigadier General (Brevet) Mobley F. Meadows, rank established by prior order and emergency authority of the President of the United States, is directed and ordered to assume command of all United States military forces and irregular militia in the State of Texas as of this date.
Upon assumption of such command, General Meadows will immediately and permanently remove Edmund Jackson Davis from the office of governor he now illegally claims. Said office shall be turned over to the duly elected Governor, Richard Coke. All irregular forces under the command of Davis shall be disbanded or absorbed into the regular forces of the United States, at their choice and in the discretion of General Meadows.
In furtherance of his duties, General Meadows is authorized to use whatever force necessary to put down resistance to these orders. This order shall not be published in the general press unless and until General Meadows deems it necessary to keep the peace. Signed: Ulysses S. Grant, President of the United States.”
Mobley turned to Davis, who sat mortified in his chair. “Mister Davis, you will proceed upstairs where you will dress yourself properly. You will then take your wife in hand and leave this building, never to return. Your personal belongings will be delivered to you within twenty-four hours, wherever you wish. I suggest you check into a local hotel until all moving is complete. Tomorrow morning at exactly twelve o’clock noon you will announce to the world you are conceding the election and the office of governor to Mr. Richard Coke. You may say what you wish about this situation, but I suggest you announce altruistic motives for the good of the peace and the State of Texas. Otherwise, I will release the true facts and your humiliation will be complete. Any attempt on your part to mobilize police units or other irregular forces to resist these orders, will result in you being shot. Do you have any questions, sir?”
Davis stared
at Mobley. His rule was over, that much was clear. But the agile mind that had brought him this far was still racing. He considered the best face to put on the debacle. The President had offered him an honorable way to avoid public humiliation, but assured that privately, his humiliation would be complete.
Davis knew rumors would fly wildly, the truth ultimately lost in the rush of history. The black soldiers would tell their fellows, the word would be out, but no one would believe such a tale in the end. Within a year, he would be able to claim responsibility for keeping the peace, possibly even run for other office.
“I have no questions,” he said arrogantly. “But be aware, this humiliation will one day be avenged. Make no mistake about it.”
Mobley stretched himself to full height and stared down at Davis. “I don’t figure to make any more mistakes when it comes to scum like you, citizen Davis. So you’d better be aware, I intend to keep these orders next to my heart, ready for release any time I detect the slightest effort on your part to cause harm to me, any one of my family or staff, or for that matter, anyone else in this state.”
Davis looked up at the three soldiers standing before him, bayonets pushing against his chest. He slowly rose from the chair, against their pointed pressure. The soldiers had to impale him, or let him stand. They chose the latter course. As he stood, he brushed the bayonets away as he would a fly, and then smiled as he savored the small victory. Turning, he walked quickly back to the stairway, up to the second floor. A trail of blood followed behind, staining the carpet.
Mobley turned to Rafferty. “Give him one hour, Captain, and then eject him from this building. See to it his belongings are delivered wherever he directs. If he doesn’t tell you where by six o’clock tonight, dump them all out in the street.”
Mobley turned and walked out of the parlor. He stopped and addressed the three soldiers who had assumed guard positions at the foot of the stairway. “Master Sergeant Bligh, you are now Sergeant Major Bligh. You other two men are now sergeants. Thank you all for being in my army. Well done.”
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