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“I’ll try to do that, Judge, but …”

“No ‘buts’ about it, Marshal Long! You just go take a seat on the veranda and protect us all you want, but we’re not going anywhere.”

“Franklin!” Lavinia pleaded. “What would be so terrible about taking a train ride up to Cheyenne and visiting some of our old friends for a week or two? And that would free up Marshal Long to do other important work.”

“Absolutely not,” the judge replied.

Lavinia turned to Longarm and said pleasantly, “Another cup of tea, Marshal?”

“Thank you, Miss Lavinia. I believe that I will take it on the veranda.”

A few minutes later, when Longarm was seated on the Victorian mansion’s wide veranda trying to cool off a little, Lavinia appeared with his steaming cup of tea and a cup of her own.

“I’m sorry for his bad manners,” she said, taking a seat beside him. “Franklin has always been absolutely unbearable when he’s awakened from his afternoon nap. I should have insisted that you return later.”

“I couldn’t have done that.”

“You mean that this Mr. Smith or whatever his name is could attack us at any time?”

“I’m afraid so,” Longarm said, taking his tea. “You see, he probably does blame Judge Getty for the Marble Gang’s getting away free. And he’s just suffered a tragic loss.”

“How tragic?”

“His wife and his small son,” Longarm explained. “We think it very likely that the Marble Gang set fire to their house and killed them while Mr. Smith was gone.”

Longarm heard the teacup dancing on its pretty little china saucer when Lavinia began to tremble. He was sorry that he was upsetting her, but she seemed to be the only one in this household with any sense at all.

Chapter 3

As evening approached, Longarm’s stomach began to growl with hunger. Fortunately, Lavinia appeared with a tray of hot, delicious food.

“Here you are,” she said, sitting down beside him in the gathering gloom. “Roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, vegetables, and more coffee.”

“Miss Lavinia,” he said, “you are a gem.”

“I feel badly that you can’t come inside and join us for supper,” she told him. “But the judge really does have a strong dislike for officers of the law. He thinks that you are all a bunch of power-mongers.”

“What?”

“He’s seen some terrible abuses of power by government agencies and authorities,” Lavinia elaborated.

“But he’s also seen the worst side of a criminal’s violent nature,” Longarm argued. “What does he expect—that we handle murderers with the same respect that we give to good, hardworking, and honest citizens?”

“I think he actually does.”

Longarm picked up a silver knife and fork. “Please forgive me for eating in front of you.”

“Oh, no, go right ahead. I like to watch a hungry man eat. The judge only picks at his food.”

Longarm dug into his meal with relish. “It’s excellent.”

“Thank you.”

“The thing is,” Longarm said, chewing vigorously, “criminals like those Marble brothers will almost always mistake respect and fair treatment for weakness. There are exceptions, but they are rare.”

“I hope that isn’t true.”

“It is true, Lavinia. I’ve been chasing outlaws for a lot of years now and the moment that I start trusting and giving them the benefit of the doubt, I’m a dead man.”

“How sad!”

“Yes, but it’s very true. With a petty thief or a drunk who raises a little hell on Saturdays, sure, you can straighten them out, but not hardened criminals. The only thing men like that understand is power, authority, and force.”

“This James Smith,” Lavinia said, “is he a hardened criminal?”

“I don’t know. But he is hard and he’s even been very cruel.”

Lavinia shuddered. “Would he really …”

“Yes,” Longarm said, “he most certainly would. That’s why I need to stay close, and I can’t do it sitting out here in the open. Smith might already have seen me. I need to be hiding inside.”

“I’m quite sure that the judge would simply not allow you to stay inside.”

“Lavinia,” Longarm said, looking up into her pale blue eyes, “it’s not just the judge’s life that is in jeopardy. It’s yours too! I can’t walk away and let you be slaughtered by a maniac just because of the judge’s blind foolishness.”

She was quiet for a moment, then said, “You don’t have much respect for him, do you?”

Longarm stopped chewing. “The judge?” He took a deep breath. Finally, he said, “No, I do not.”

“Did you know that he once caused three innocent men to be hanged?”

“No.”

“It’s true,” Lavinia swore. “They were accused of murdering a stagecoach driver. Franklin listened to the overwhelming evidence against them and then sentenced them to hang the next day. He was pressured by local officials who were in turn being pressured by the electorate. It seems that the incumbent officials were up for re-election and the outcome of the trial was important to their political futures. Anyway, Franklin bowed to the pressure, the three were hanged, and … a week later, the real murderer confessed.”

Longarm laid down his knife and fork, then turned to study Lavinia. “So that’s the reason he’s always been so lenient in court?”

“Yes. He vowed that he would never, ever be made responsible for that kind of horrible mistake again.”

“Okay,” Longarm said finally, “that explains things, but it doesn’t make them right. Maybe he did hang three innocent men back then, but …”

“There’s no maybe about it, Marshal.”

“But,” Longarm persisted, “he’s made even worse mistakes by allowing guilty men to go free and murder again. So because he’s tipped himself too far the other way out of a deep sense of guilt, a number of innocent people have become victims.”

Lavinia was becoming upset. She started to get up and leave, but Longarm gently closed his hand on her forearm, saying, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. And I must be allowed inside the house so that, if there is a danger, I can respond immediately.”

“All right,” she said, “I won’t lock the front door. When the judge retires—and he does so at eight o’clock every night—you just sneak into the parlor, remove your boots, and stretch out on the couch, which makes into a nice bed. I’ll even leave you a freshly laundered pair of pajamas.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Lavinia gave him a patient smile. “Marshal Long, I forbid you to sleep in your street clothes night after night.”

“All right, but …”

“You just wear the pajamas and I’ll see that you have a pillow, a few blankets, and everything else that you need to be comfortable while you’re on watch. And I fully expect you would hear anyone illegally breaking into our house on the ground floor.”

“I expect so,” Longarm said. “But in case I fall asleep, you have to promise me that you’ll lock your door every night until this threat passes.”

“I promise.”

Longarm nodded with satisfaction. “Lavinia, you’re a fine cook and a wonderful companion for the judge. Please don’t be angry at me for saying this, but you’re better than he deserves.”

“That’s not true,” Lavinia said. “He’s a fine man. You just don’t understand him, even after I’ve confided his greatest personal tragedy.”

“We’re supposed to learn from our mistakes,” Longarm said doggedly. “Not make others suffer for them.”

“Precisely,” Lavinia said, excusing herself and going back inside.

Longarm finished his meal, and would have liked to have lit a cigar as darkness fell. But he dared not. The glowing tip of a burning cigar would be a red flag to James Smith if he was hiding somewhere out in the darkness waiting for his opportunity to murder the judge. No, Longarm thought, better to wait until the judge went to bed, then go inside, hole up on the couch, and wait through the night for a possible visitor.