Judge Pleasance glared belligerently around the room.
‘Any more noise and I’ll clear the courtroom.’
There was a shuffling and a muted muttering in the crowded courtroom but no more interruptions. No one wanted to risk being ejected for fear of missing the juicy details of the hearing.
The judge grunted with ill-tempered humour then shuffled some papers before him while he waited to see if his warning was to be heeded. Satisfied he had quelled any unrest he finally looked up with an irascible scowl on his face.
‘Bring in the first defendant.’
Two deputies helped bring Butch Shilton in. He was limping badly but this did not prevent him from grinning broadly at the people in courtroom. One or two called greetings for Butch was well known in Hinkly. Judge Pleasance rapped sharply with his quaint piece of footwear.
‘No communication with the prisoner!’ he barked testily.
There was immediate silence. At a nod from the judge, Sheriff Patterson rose to his feet. He had a sheet of paper in his hand from which he read the charges.
‘Butch Shilton herewith is charged with burglary, assault, attempted murder, resisting arrest, indecent behaviour, causing a fracas, civic disorder, vagrancy.’
‘Hell Judge, I never done all those things the sheriff just said as I did. As I told you at the time I made a bet with these fellas that I could climb up any tree or building. They challenged me to climb up the side of a house. Your house just happened to be handy so I shimmed up like a squirrel. I’ve often been likened to a squirrel for my climbing abilities.’
Humph!’ snorted the judge. ‘So you just took off all your clothes and climbed my house to rob what you could?’
‘Hell no, Judge, I took my clothes off as that way I don’t snag anything.’
‘You was naked so as you could get in where the judge couldn’t,’ an anonymous voice called out.
There were hoots of laughter from the crowd. The judge’s face grew red. He hammered hard with his wooden clog.
‘Silence! Goddamn silence in court! Sheriff Patterson, arrest that person.’
Sheriff Patterson looked uncertainly into the mob of chortling citizens.
‘Step up the fella as just shouted out. Don’t you know you’re in contempt of court?’
The laughter was gradually dying down.
‘Do your job and arrest that varmint, sheriff,’ snarled the judge.
The sheriff shrugged helplessly.
‘Hell Judge Pleasance, I don’t rightly know who to arrest. Nobody’s owned up.’
The judge glared round the courtroom.
‘Next time anyone interrupts I’ll fine the whole goddamn lot of you.’
He shuffled his papers.
‘Call witness for prosecution.’
The witnesses for the prosecution were the judge’s neighbours who had come to his rescue the previous night after they heard the discharge from the scattergun. There was no doubt in their minds that Butch was up to no good. They caught him trying to escape from the judge’s front garden and verified the fact that he was indeed stark naked.
‘Witness for the defence,’ the judge growled at the end of this evidence.
Butch stood straighter in the dock.
‘Judge I ain’t got no witnesses. The fellas as challenged me to climb up a house all refuse to testify.’
‘They refuse because there ain’t no such fellas,’ came the sharp reply from the judge.
‘It’s like this, your honour; those fellas bet me a considerable amount of money on the dare. Now if they come forward, they have to honour the bet, meaning they have to shell out the money they owe me. They’re a bunch of lying, thieving, low-down bottom feeders,’ Butch asserted vehemently.
Judge Pleasance stared shrewdly at Butch.
‘Mr Shilton, you name those fellas as is your witnesses and I’ll swear out an affidavit for their appearance in this here court. Then they’ll have to witness or they’ll end up in the dock alongside you.’
Butch’s mouth opened and closed a few times as he thought over the judge’s words. Well known as a man that was never stuck for something to say it seemed he was speechless now.
‘Well, speak up. I can’t hear a word you’re saying.’
Judge Pleasance cocked his head towards the prisoner and cupped his hand behind his ear while at the same time screwing up his face as if straining to listen.
‘Judge, them fellas are slippery as eels. The whole lot of them there pack rats lit outa town as soon as they knew I was in jail. They must have known about that there Abby Davis you was gonna set on them. You let me outa this here court and I’ll track down them double-crossing crawl-bellies and bring them back here for to testify.’
A sly smile crossed Judge Pleasance’s face.
‘You know what I think, son, you ain’t got no witnesses. Which means you just committed perjury. I’m adding that to the list of charges against you.’
He shifted needlessly through the papers in front of him.
‘My, my, my, my, Mr Shilton - burglary, assault, attempted murder, resisting arrest, indecent behaviour, causing a fracas, civic disorder, vagrancy and now perjury. It appears you are a very dangerous man, Mr Butch Shilton. Too dangerous to be allowed to roam free to prey on innocent citizens. I sentence you to ten years hard labour in the state penitentiary.’
There was a stunned silence in the court.
‘Sheriff Patterson, take the prisoner back to the cells where he can await transport to his new home.’
‘Goddamnit Judge, you can’t do this to me!’
But Butch’s protests were cut short as the deputies hauled him unceremoniously from the dock.
‘Judge Pleasance, goddamn it to hell…!’
Butch’s protests were becoming indistinct as he was dragged from the courtroom. There was a satisfied smirk on Judge Pleasance’s face as he listened to the fading yells of the prisoner.
‘Next prisoner,’ he called.
Joe Peters was escorted in and stood before the court.
4.
Butch regarded his fellow prisoner with some interest. He was a big, well-built man with muscular shoulders and arms.
‘What you in for fella?’
Joe Peters looked across at the man in the adjoining cell. Butch was resting with his back against the bars of his prison. Joe wondered why he did not sit on the bunk as he was doing himself. The prisoner was leaning at an angle with his foot resting on a rolled-up blanket he had placed on the floor nearby.
‘I accidentally killed a fella – a tinhorn gambler.’
Butch regarded the big man thoughtfully.
‘What did the judge give you?’
Joe sighed deeply.
‘Goddamn ten years hard labour.’
‘You too!’ Butch exclaimed. ‘He sentenced me to the same ten years hard labour. Looks like we might be seeing a lot of each other. Name’s Butch Shilton.’
‘Howdy Butch, Joe Peters is the name.’
Joe’s curiosity got the better of him.
‘I ain’t ever seen you sit. You gotta problem with sitting?’
‘Damn judge put a load of buckshot in my ass,’ Butch replied ruefully. ‘Well it weren’t buckshot but rock salt.’
Butch eased into a more comfortable position.
‘The judge shot you - what were you doing?’
A slow smile crossed Butch’s face.
‘I was pleasuring the judge’s wife when he comes home unannounced.’
The smile slowly faded.
‘Damn me, it was good but it weren’t worth ten years of a man’s life!’
‘I take it you’re not married then?’
‘Married!’
Butch shot his fellow prisoner a disgusted look.
‘In my book marriage is a millstone around a fella’s neck. I believe there’s safety in numbers. The more women I have the safer I am from the malady of matrimony. What about you? You ever hitch the knot?’
Joe Peters sighed de
eply and stared down at his clenched hands.
‘Yeah, married last year back in Bosworth. Was hoping to come out here with my wife. Then she became pregnant. Didn’t want to bring her and out here till I had established a place for her and me and the baby.’
Joe shook his head dolefully.
‘Sure glad I didn’t bring her with me. I’m a carpenter but then my tools were stolen. Thought I’d win money at gambling to buy some more tools. That tinhorn was fleecing me. We got in a fight and now I’m here with a ten year stretch ahead of me.’
‘Man that is bad luck. Have you writ your wife to tell her the bad news?’
Joe shook his head.
‘I ain’t gonna tell her. No use worrying her. I’ll just have to disappear. She’ll never know what a mess I made of things.’
He looked up at Butch.
‘What about you? You got any family?’
Butch shook his head.
‘I have family somewhere but they won’t miss me.’
The prisoners fell into an uneasy silence as both contemplated their future.
‘Goddamn it I’ll be an old man when I come out of the pen.’
They looked at each other with some concern.
‘The best years of our life,’ Butch mused as he shifted into a more comfortable position.
Joe noticed his companion favoured his leg.
‘You got something the matter with your leg as well as your ass?’
Butch looked ruefully down at the foot he was resting on his makeshift pad.
‘Had to jump outa the judge’s window when he came back home. Goddamn bust my leg some. Then that cantankerous old judge he goes and blows away my ass.’
‘You can hardly blame him. After all it was his wife you were humping. Come to think about it, that judge is an old fella. What were you doing with his wife? You some kinda gigolo?’
‘Hell no! She’s a young bird. I reckon she only married the judge for his money. She wanted a bit of fun that old judge couldn’t supply so I was happy to oblige.’
Butch stuck out his chest and a smug look appeared on his face.
‘Naturally she chose the right fella to pleasure her.’
‘Well maybe this’ll teach you to leave other men’s wives alone in future,’ Joe observed.
‘Don’t matter two hoots now. Looks like I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with a bunch of jailbirds.’
The rattle of keys and movement from the main part of the building drew their attention. A portly young man came through accompanied by an older man. The younger man nodded at Butch. He had a dark goatee beard and moustache.
‘Howdy Butch, sure sorry about all this but I drew the short straw to escort you and this killer to the penitentiary.’
‘Howdy, Gordon, I guess someone has to do it.’
Gordon jerked a thumb at the older man.
‘My uncle John, he’s coming along to help me.’
Like his nephew John Biddell was chubby. He nodded sourly at the prisoner but said nothing. Gordon unlocked the cell and held out a pair of handcuffs almost apologetically.
‘Gotta put these on, Butch.’
Once he had Butch safely manacled he escorted him into the corridor.
‘Watch this one, Uncle John,’ Gordon said as he unlocked Joe’s cell. ‘He’s that crazy killer from back East.’
Obediently Uncle John pulled his pistol and pointed it at Joe.
‘Don’t worry, Gordon, he makes a wrong move and we’ll be planting him in boot hill. He won’t ever make it to the pen.’
‘What about breakfast?’ Butch queried, as he watched Joe being handcuffed. ‘I sure could eat a big breakfast right now. My belly’s acting like a snapping turtle.’
‘Sorry Butch, no food. It’s Sheriff Patterson’s idea. He reckons hungry prisoners are more unlikely to cause trouble.’
‘Hell dang Sheriff Patterson! It’s his bounden duty to feed us. More than likely he’s putting the money to feed us in his own pocket. Whatever happened to justice in this country? I get a load of trumped up charges against me. Judge Pleasance shoots me and nobody asks for him to be put on trial for attempted murder and now the law wants to starve me. As soon as I get the chance I’m writing to Congress to complain about the state of injustice in this here town.’
‘All right now, Butch, the horses are saddled up outside ready and waiting.’
Butch’s eyes widened as a thought struck him.
‘Gordon, I ain’t fit to sit in no saddle. My ass is raw as a scraped carrot. I ain’t sat on anything since Judge Pleasance shot me.’
The deputy looked as distressed as his prisoner.
‘Maybe we can hire a dogcart or something, Butch. I’ll ask the sheriff.’
The sheriff, as befits a man with his hard reputation, was unsympathetic.
‘Butch, you should have thought about that afore you went crawling around people’s houses naked. I been assigned one horse to transport you. Now you can sit on that mare or you can lie on that mare or you can be dragged behind that mare. I don’t give a hangman’s cuss what you do. Deputy Biddle, take these goddamn prisoners outa here and carry out your orders.’
In the end a bedroll was wedged in front of the saddle so that Butch could lie forward on the horse with his backside hiked in the air. Before the little band could start out there was a sudden yell from the sheriff’s office. Sheriff Patterson appeared in the doorway glowering at his two deputies.
‘Gordon, what the hell’s going on there?’
‘Just getting the prisoners ready for the journey, sir,’ Gordon stuttered.
Sheriff Patterson’s face tightened.
‘Damn it Gordon, I don’t rightly know why I appointed you deputy. It was against my better judgement. Only I owed your pa I would never have allowed it. Get your ass over here.’
The sheriff and his deputy disappeared inside the building. In a very short time Gordon appeared looking rather crestfallen.
‘Sheriff reckons he’s gonna make the trip himself.’
Sheriff Patterson pushed past his deputy. Around the lawman’s waist was strapped a gun belt with twin holsters holding matched Remington double-action revolvers. Before he reached the horse he bent and tied down the holsters.
‘Goddamn want a job done gotta do it your goddamn self,’ he muttered. ‘Gordon you look after the store. Anyone gives you trouble just shoot them or throw them in jail.’
As he boarded his mount he looked askance at the strange posture of his prisoner. With a wicked grin on his face he reached out with his reins and slashed Butch across his elevated rear end. Two things happened. Butch shrieked in agony and his mount took off along the street in a wild gallop.
‘Come on, Uncle John,’ the sheriff called out gleefully as he urged his own mount in pursuit. ‘Looks like Butch is real anxious to get to that there prison.’
5.
The way station was a huddle of log cabins. A combined bar and eating-place was the main attraction where thirsty and hungry travellers could buy home-brewed alcohol and mouldering victuals. Another cabin was given over to rows of louse-infested bunks where those same travellers could stay the night. Stables and a corral contained a motley collection of nags for sale or hire. Dilapidated buggies and wagons were parked in the weed-filled yard. These rickety vehicles could also be traded for.
A stage came through every three days carrying mail and passengers. This was a stop for the stage line where the driver changed his team of horses and the passengers could take a break from the bone-jarring journey over deep-rutted roads.
‘There she lies,’ Sheriff Patterson observed. ‘Empire Fastness Way Station. Lousy beer, lousy grub and lousy accommodation. I guess we all need a break from all this travelling. What do you say, Butch?’
After three days of riding Butch had begun the process of healing. By padding his saddle with his blanket he could now ride in the normal fashion. The time on top of his horse had also allowed the swelling in his leg to subside. When he first tumble
d from the upper window of the judge’s house he feared it had been broken. When they stopped off on their journey to camp he found he could walk with reasonable confidence on the injured peg. Now his brain was working overtime on plans of escape.
‘Sheriff, when you gonna let us have some grub?’ he complained bitterly.
During their trek Sheriff Patterson had resolutely refused to feed the prisoners. He turned in his saddle and regarded Butch with some amusement.
‘Butch I figure you don’t realise I’m doing you a favour. From what I know of prison food most folk wouldn’t feed it to a hog. If I were to throw you straight in that place after eating Uncle John’s home cooking it would be plain cruelty. But this way, by the time we get you to that there penitentiary you’ll be so hungry, if they offered you fried buffalo chips you’d be so glad of something to eat you’d gobble down everything put in front of you and ask for more. So stop moaning about grub and just be grateful I’ve got such a kind, considerate nature.’
‘Hell Sheriff, I might never last that long. I’ll just fall off this nag and die of starvation. When that happens, don’t take my body on to the state penitentiary. Just bury me by the trail and put up a grave marker.’
‘Butch Shilton,’ mused the sheriff, ‘topped the judge’s wife and then toppled from his horse. How’s that for an epitaph.’
Butch shot a baleful look back at the lawman.
‘Starved to death by Sheriff Patterson would be more fitting.’
Chortling quietly to himself the sheriff led the little party down towards Empire Fastness Way Station.
A fat greasy man was installed behind the bar. His shirt was open to the navel exposing sagging breasts and a swelling expanse of belly that was in the process of pushing his trousers towards his boots.
‘Welcome, welcome.’
His grin of welcome faded somewhat as he noted the lawman’s badge.
‘You gotta root cellar here?’ the sheriff asked.
The eyes became wary.
‘Root cellar! Sure thing, but I never use it. The place is infested with rodents.’
The owner of the way station was wary of the question about his root cellar for that was were he brewed his illicit liquor.
Brothers in Arms Page 2