by Phil Dunlap
Cactus Bob just groaned, turned and hurried out of the bar, defeated, followed by the hoots of several unsteady men who had been imbibing extensively. In disgust, he kicked at a clump of dirt, then climbed aboard his roan and urged the horse to a trot–straight out of town. I have just been robbed, he muttered to himself. Might as well have run into a highwayman.
***
Bob slumped in his saddle, paying little attention to where his horse was headed, disheartened by what had befallen him, and cursing under his breath. About three miles of dry, dusty trail now lay behind him and the disagreeable town of Langtry and its crooked judge. At least in Bob’s mind he’d been the victim of pure and blatant dishonesty, something that would never be said about a real, honest-to-goodness judge, not some tinhorn calling himself a judge stuck out in the middle of the Texas desert.
He looked up to see a rider coming toward him from the west. The man was well dressed–a tan duster covering what appeared to be a white shirt and brocaded vest with a fancy pocket watch and gold fob–far too fancy for the Texas badlands, at least in Bob’s mind, anyway. He pulled up as the man approached.
“Afternoon, stranger,” said the man. “How far to the next town?”
“’Bout three miles or so, back that away,” Bob said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “But, if I were you, Mister, I’d give Langtry a wide berth. That town’s full of shylocks and drygulchers. Not fit for a decent, law-abiding citizen.”
“May I take it you’ve just come from a bad experience?”
“Terrible. That rotten, mule-eared, egg-suckin’ son of a rattler took all my money–said it was a fine–just ‘cause I asked if that lady he had a picture of on the wall was available for the evening. He took offense.”
“I don’t suppose you remember the name of the lady, do you?”
“Yeah. Uh, Lillie, I think, Lillie Langtry. That’s right. I remember ‘cause he said he’d named the town after her.”
The man laughed. “Son, you just ran afoul of the notorious Judge Roy Bean. Everybody for fifty miles around knows he’s enamored of her. He makes everyone in the saloon drink toasts to her enduring beauty, even writes her letters inviting her to visit the place. I hear she even wrote him back once.”
Cactus Bob scratched his head and muttered, “Just my luck to wander into a den of thieves that would hold a picture of a woman in such high esteem that they’d take a man’s last cent over a hasty word.”
The man chuckled at Bob’s discomfort.
“Reckon I didn’t catch on quick enough,” Bob added.
“Well that’s alright, son. You aren’t the first, and you aren’t going to be the last. Maybe I can be of some help, though. The name is Beauregard T. Jameson. You can call me Beau. I’m a lawyer and a blamed good one, too. And while I never stepped foot in this Langtry, I wouldn’t mind showing this country bumpkin up for just what he is–a penny-ante thief. No way he’s a real judge.” Beau stuck his hand out. Cactus Bob shook with him, suddenly heartened by this apparent stroke of luck.
“Glad to meet’cha, Beau, but how are you goin’ to help me? I ain’t got a red cent left to pay for your trouble. Bean cleaned me out. Said if I ever came back–knowin’ I was broke–he’d get me for vagrancy, maybe even hang me.”
“They can’t hang a man for vagrancy, boy. He just said that to scare you. I may have a way to get around his threats.” Beauregard reached into his pocket and pulled out four bits. He handed the money over to Bob who took it with a question on his lips.
“What’s this for?”
“Now, you got some money. You aren’t broke any more, so you aren’t a vagrant. Understand?”
“Uh, yeah, but why would you do this for a total stranger?”
“You aren’t a stranger, you’re a client. And I’m hereby agreeing to take your case.”
“What case?”
“The one we’re going to file against that tumbleweed Judge Bean. When we’re through with him, the town will likely run him out on a rail. Why the man’s no more’n a vinegarroon.”
“What’s that?”
“Vinegarroon? That’s what folks around here call a whip scorpion, son. And Roy Bean’s like a legal scorpion, striking when you least expect, sneaking up on a man and biting him where it hurts him the most. Generally in the pocket.”
“Yeah, well that’s sure where he got me.”
“How much did he take you for, Bob?”
“Seven dollars and six bits. Every last dad-burned cent I had to my name.”
“If I win this one for you, we’ll split the money, half to you, half to me. Fair enough?”
“Sure. I don’t have anything right now, so somethin’s better’n nothing. You got a deal, mister attorney.”
The two of them rode the dusty trail back to Langtry. When they got within sight of the town, Cactus Bob said he had to admit he was a little edgy about going back to where he’d been told to get out and stay out–or else. Beau told him to have a little confidence, but it didn’t help.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Beauregard T. Jameson to keep his word, but there were no guarantees the man could win against a shyster like Judge Roy Bean. And if Beau lost, what would become of him then? Bean would probably take his four bits for coming back, and then lock him up for vagrancy like he promised. Bob began to perspire more than usual. Beau was whistling.
When they reined up in front of The Jersey Lilly, Beau dismounted and wrapped his reins over the rail. He saw Bob’s hesitancy and motioned for him to follow.
“Let’s get at it, son. You and me, we’re about to make legal history,” Beau said, stomping up the four steps to the wide porch. “When folks hear about me taking on Judge Roy Bean, why they’ll sure sit up and take notice of all my cases from here on. Wouldn’t be surprised if I get asked to run for some high office, maybe senator or something.”
“You’re sure we can win?”
“How can we lose? The man’s no more than a common criminal. I intend to point that out to a jury.”
“I kinda figure the folks that get picked for bein’ on a jury are mostly the Judge’s friends and drinking buddies. Leastways, that’s how it looked to me.”
Beau led the way into the saloon with Bob shyly following. They went up to the bar. Bean looked at Bob with squinty-eyed suspicion that this fellow wasn’t bright enough to follow his orders to stay out of town.
“Say, ain’t you that fella that I fined for makin’ untoward remarks about the fair Lillie?”
“Uh, well, yessir, I reckon I am, but–”
“You just figured to ignore the warnin’? That it?”
“No sir, I–”
“Now hold on here, whoever you are. I happen to be this young man’s attorney, Beauregard T. Jameson, and I’ve come to lodge a complaint against this rascal Roy Bean for mistreatment of my client. Where do I find him?”
“You say you’re an attorney?”
“Yes, I am. All the way from Louisiana. Now where can I find this so-called judge?”
“Are you questioning the qualifications of Judge Bean to hold sway over a court of law?”
“I suspect I am, sir. Now, if you’d be so kind as to direct me t–”
At that moment the judge reached beneath the bar–just as Bob had seen him do before–and pulled out that same cumbersome volume of law and slammed it down. He then laid the loaded Colt on top of it.
“Gather round, folks, bar’s closed, court’s in session, the honorable Judge Roy Bean presiding.”
He looked Beauregard squarely in the eye.
“You want a jury trial or a court judgment?”
“Now wait just a minute, mister whoever you are, I demand a proper trial for my client and this isn’t the way to hold court.”
“First off, I am Judge Roy Bean, and second, I’ll hold court any damn way I chose. Didn’t you see the sign out front? It says, ‘Law West of the Pecos,’ and that means the only law.”
“What! You can’t railroad a man with this kind of
carrying on. It’s not constitutional. It’s a travesty of justice, and I’ll not stand for it.”
Bean looked Beauregard squarely in the eye, leaning slightly over the bar and fingering the Colt on top of the law book.
“Just what is your complaint, mister?”
“This man did not get a fair trial. I aim to see that he gets one this time. You took his money without him even having an attorney present to defend him. That’s against the law, sir.”
“The law around here is what I say it is, and I say he didn’t need any attorney. He was guilty as hell because I witnessed first-hand his indiscretion. There weren’t no need for some mouthy attorney to muddle up the fair and lawful exercise of justice. He was lucky to get off with a fine.”
“He doesn’t think so, and neither do I. We want a new trial.”
Hearing Beau mention the word ‘we’ caused Bob to stiffen a bit. Suddenly he wasn’t quite so certain he wanted to try getting his money back. After all, he could probably get a job on some nearby ranch and make back what he’d lost in a week. He considered trying to slip out of there while Beau was arguing with the judge. But, as he looked around, he noticed several of the other patrons were eyeing him as if they were figuring he’d try to make a run for it, and they didn’t appear to be in the mood to let that happen. He felt trapped. He swallowed hard and began rubbing his throat.
“Well, mister Louisiana attorney, you’re going to get exactly what you’ve asked for. First we’ll hear the complaint against the accused. Seth, step up here and tell the folks what mister Cactus Bob did to incur the wrath of this court.”
A stringy man with a dust covered, sweat-stained bowler came to the bar and turned around so everyone could hear. He cleared his throat.
“This man made the foul suggestion that Miss Lillie, our own dearly beloved Lillie Langtry, might be a fallen angel, and that she might be bought for the paltry sum he had in his pockets at the time. That’s all.” Seth stepped back and sat at a nearby table with two other scruffy men, both of whom nodded their agreement with his statement.
“You got anything to say on behalf of your client?” Bean scrunched up his whiskered face as if to dare the attorney to also speak ill words about Lillie.
Beau pulled back his coat and slipped his thumbs into his vest. He puffed up like a peacock as he prepared to make his speech. The saloon grew ominously silent.
“First, I demand to see any documents that give you the right to sit in judgment here.”
Without a word, Bean shuffled off to a small room to one side, rattled some drawers, then came back with a sheaf of papers in his hand. “Here. Look for yourself.”
Beau read with eyes growing wider and wider. Sure enough, the county commissioners had, indeed, made the man a Justice of the Peace. There was no doubt in Beau’s mind that Bean had taken his authority to the extreme, but the crusty old man did have legal jurisdiction, at least to make judgments over minor cases, which this was. Beau groaned as he read the signatures at the bottom of the last sheet. He mumbled something under his breath, which was taken as an admission by Bean that the attorney had barked up the wrong tree, and now he knew it.
Cactus Bob began shaking like a leaf. He had no idea what would happen to him, now, but he was already convinced he wasn’t going to like it. Beau saw any case he might have had for Bob’s defense crumble before him. There were obviously a number of individuals who would swear to the veracity of Seth’s statement, and since his own client never really denied saying what he’d said, the case was lost before it got started. He slumped in defeat.
“You got any more to say, mister Louisiana attorney?” Bean said.
“I, uh, throw my client on the mercy of the court, your, uh, honor.”
“Fair enough. I think I remember telling you not to return unless you had something to prove you weren’t guilty of vagrancy.”
“Yessir, you did. But this time I got myself four bits, so I ain’t exactly breakin’ the law, am I?”
“Nope, but I got to fine you that four bits for followin’ this scalawag in here. Now you’re a vagrant, so git. And that’s my rulin’!”
Bob reluctantly pulled the four bits from his pocket, dropped on the bar in front of Bean, then got out the door as fast as he could. His horse’s hooves could be heard pounding the hard dirt all the way out of town.
“And don’t never come back,” Bean hollered after him, with a grin. Beau started to leave, also, but Bean wasn’t finished.
“Where do you think you’re goin’?”
“My case is lost, so it’s time for me to leave. I had no idea how weak a case I had. The boy obviously lied to me about being wronged.”
“Uh-huh. Well, we’ll get to your case next.”
“M-my case? What case?”
“The case against you for bringing a frivolous pile of manure before this bench, tryin’ to make this court look foolish, and takin’ up my valuable time. That’s a crime, hereabouts, in case you didn’t know it.”
“Now wait just a darned minute. I did nothing of the sort, I–”
Bean slammed the gavel down with a crack. “Court’s still in session, and since you seem to be particular to goin’ by the rules, you’ll speak only when asked. Understand?”
Beau nervously tugged at his collar. Perspiration had begun to trickle down his forehead as he nodded his understanding.
“Fine. Now, Mister Beauregard T. Jameson, how do you plead to the charge of wastin’ the time of a lawfully appointed judge and upstanding citizen of the town of Langtry?”
“Not–” Beau stuttered.
“I take it you’re pleading not guilty, so let the let the trial begin.” Bean looked about the room and then asked, “Any of you gents sober enough to testify as to what you’ve seen here today?”
One crusty old gent stood up. “I ain’t had a drop today, Judge, but I’m about ready to.”
“Step forward and state your name.”
“You know my name, Judge.”
“I know, of course I know. It’s just a formality. The attorney here wants everything done legal-like.”
“Oh. Name’s Ezra Borden.”
“Okay, Ezra, what did you see during the aforementioned trial?”
“I seen this fella here lose the case he brought before your honor.”
“And do you have any idea why he lost the case?”
“He shoulda knowed better than to come here in the first place.” The room erupted in laughter. Bean pounded his gavel to again bring silence.
Suddenly Beau’s patience was at an end. He could no longer contain his anger. It burst forth with red-faced fury and spittle being cast about like confetti.
“You fool! You can’t try a man for bringing a legitimate case before a court, and you can’t fine a man just because you think he called your lady-friend a Wh–”
“Mind your tongue there, Mister Jameson. I warn you,” said the judge, his eyes having narrowed to little more than slits.
“I’ll not mind anything you say, you old hypocrite. You and your drunken friends curse and spit out all sorts of filth right here in front of Lillie’s picture, then lose your sanity when a stranger says something you don’t like. It’s a travesty of justice, that’s what it is. Exactly what do you know about Lillie Langtry’s morals? Nothing. Not a damned thing. Why she could be a whore for all you know.”
Bean’s face turned bright red and his eyes burned like hot coals as he shouted.
“Guilty of slander, you no-good loudmouth! I’ve got you now. You’ve just added insult to injury and you’ll not get away with that kind of talk in my court.” Bean slammed the gavel down again, this time striking a glass half-filled with whiskey. The glass shattered and sent splinters of itself along with the thin brown liquid all over the bar and Beau’s twenty-dollar suit.
Beau’s eyes grew wide at the realization of the position in which he’d just placed himself. His mouth had gotten ahead of his brain, just like what had happened to Cactus Bob. He removed his t
humbs from his vest, letting his thin arms dangle at his sides. His shoulders drooped ever so slightly. He could see the direction this was all going. Now he understood why cactus Bob had been so angry about his plight, frustrated at his inability to fight back. Right had probably been on Bob’s side from the beginning, but from Roy Bean’s point of view, no one had the right to defame the name of a lady he held in high esteem, certainly not on his property. And now, Beau had fallen into the same trap. He knew defamation of character was punishable by law, and while he thought the whole episode laughable, he knew he’d walked into a hornet’s nest. Overconfidence in his own ability as a lawyer to overcome the inequities of a dirty little court in the middle of a dirty little desert had outweighed his otherwise sound judgment. And now it was going to cost him. How much? Only the judge’s next words would tell. He held his breath.
“Mister Beauregard T. Jameson, I do hereby find you guilty of all charges as stated, plus another more grievous one. Have you anything to say before I pass judgment?”
Beau just shrugged his shoulders and sighed.
“Very well, then. It is the judgment of this court that you should pay in accordance to your crime–”
“Okay, Bean, how much will–” Beau started to reach in his pocket.
“–and I hereby sentence you to hang until you are dead. And that’s my rulin’!” The gavel striking the bar echoed like a gunshot.
Beau couldn’t believe his ears. Hanging a man for suggesting a lady might not be as pure as presumed? He was frozen in place as he felt several of the men in the room edging toward him with grins of satisfaction bordering on insanity.
Bean pulled a bottle off the back bar, pulled the cork, and took a long swig.
“Haul this jackass outta here and string him up to the nearest tree,” he shouted. The two men closest to Beau grabbed him roughly by the arms and began dragging him from the saloon, oblivious to his protests of innocence and the absence of any opportunity to appeal.
Beau’s words faded as he was dragged kicking and screaming through the double doors, down the steps, and across the street to the only tree in town. He struggled for all he was worth as he saw one man carrying a rope from the livery stable, tying a slipknot in it as he came.