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  Len nodded. “I’ll do it. What about you?”

  “I want to know just how they got Charlie Bob in that state. That’s what I aim to discover.”

  Chapter Eight

  Judge Linus Garvey slammed his gavel down repeatedly in an attempt to bring the court to order.

  There was no courthouse as such in Mistake so one of the casinos had been taken over. The gaming tables had been moved aside to make room for the crush of onlookers that gathered and the large room was full to overflowing.

  “Listen up!” bawled the judge above the noisy crowd who paid not the slightest attention. “Shut up the lot of you!” the judge screamed in desperation.

  A low muttering followed his plea but most were silent as the gown clad judge, a wizened bow-backed man, with a sour face and a quick eye, settled himself after his outburst. He sat in one of the casino’s curved backed gambler’s chair with a dining room table set before him and stared out at the congregation who sat or stood before him.

  “This here indictment is brought before the court under Minnesota Statute of 1864, Chapter 41,” The judge began loudly. “In which the law states that it is a criminal act for any man being armed with a dangerous weapon to assault another with intent to do great bodily harm. To wit, in this here case, it’s more than harm. A gentleman is lying shot dead. A certain, Mister...” he paused, referring to his notes. “A certain mister Benjamin Astley, of no fixed abode but some kind of resident here on the island. Is that right, sheriff?”

  “Yessir, your honor,” said Langstrom, stepping forward.

  “I see the accused is here present,” said the judge, casting an eye at a nervous looking Charlie Bob. The boy sat in manacles between two large deputies, both of them holding shotguns resting upright on their thighs.

  “That’s him, judge. Charlie Bob Darby,” agreed Langstrom.

  “Right,” said the judge. “Now I want you to keep order here, sheriff. Anybody causes me grief and they’ll be held in the jailhouse on a contempt charge. You all understand that?” he bellowed the last in the direction of the onlookers and fixed the courtroom with a withering glance to press his point.

  “I’ll see to it,” said Langstrom.

  “So, lets move along. I don’t want to spend any more time here than I have to, got seasick coming over and doubtless it’ll be the same going back. So the sooner I’m off this godforsaken hump the better. Tell the court what happened, Sheriff Langstrom.”

  Langstrom strode forward to stand before the judge.

  “Take off your hat, man!” ordered the judge sharply. “This here is a court of law despite the spit and sawdust.”

  Langstrom obeyed and began to state the events. “The charged defendant here was found lying in a state of inebriation before the body of the deceased, with a fired pistol in his charge. It was this here revolver,” he raised the weapon by the butt and dangled it before the judge. “Deceased was killed instant, I’d say, bullet to the breast nailed him good. There is witness to the events as they happened, your honor. Fellow called Corbin Tyle, he saw it all.”

  “Is he present?” asked the judge.

  “Sure is,” said Langstrom. “He’s right there, judge.” Langstrom indicated the brown suited figure of Tyle sitting in the front rows of the gathering.

  “Good enough. Stand aside, sheriff. You want to speak your piece, Mister Tyle.”

  “Yes sir,” said Tyle, getting to his feet. “I was....”

  “Hold on there just a minute,” warned the judge. “State your full name for the court first.”

  “Yes sir, Corbin H. Tyle, sir. The ‘H’ stands for Horatio. From the Greek, you know? My father was student...”

  “Yes, yes, that’s enough,” said the judge, scribbling a note. “Now you get to take the oath. Got a Good Book to hand, sheriff?”

  After the oath taking was over, Tyle began giving his evidence.

  “I was out taking an afternoon constitutional, down there by the shoreline. When I heard an altercation taking place nearby at the dock. It got my attention and I went over to see what was up.”

  “You the curious kind, are you, Mister Tyle?” asked the judge.

  Tyle paused, a little flustered at the interruption, as if it lost him his place. “I ... I guess I am, judge.”

  “Fair enough,” said the judge. “Carry on.”

  “Well, I came upon these two fellows having a ring-dinger of a row. They was both all het-up and nigh on to fisticuffs so it looked. Then the young fella, him there,” Tyler pointed at Charlie Bob. “He pulled out a pistol and shot point blank. Put down the other man right off, then he fell down himself. Drunk, I guess, either that or mortified by what he had so callously done.”

  “Did you hear what the two were arguing about?” asked the judge.

  “No sir,” Tyler answered. “I was too far off for actual words but I saw it happen as I just said, plain as day.”

  “Is that all you can tell us?” asked Judge Garvey.

  “That’s what I saw.”

  “Very well. Be seated.”

  The judge shuffled papers a while, and then looked up. “Before we progress I want it understood what the law says about drunkenness in this situation. It’s clear that the fact that a man is maddened or infuriated by liquor, it don’t mean he’s unconscious of what he’s about. If a man’s temper gets to be so aroused as to be ungovernable, its no justification that he brought himself voluntarily to that state. That’s just adding one ignorant fault to another. The rule of law is this, that if the act perpetrated is the immediate result of drunkenness, that in itself is no excuse for the commission of the crime.” He glowered around at the gathered faces. “What I want to know is how this young pup here, not so long out of short pants, got to that condition. Who here plied him with liquor to such a level?”

  It was Tyrone who answered the query. Getting to his feet, he said. “He was with us, your honor.”

  “Stand forward,” ordered the judge. “Give me your name and take the oath. Then you can hold forth as witness.”

  When it was done, Tyrone continued. “We’ve known Charlie Bob a few years, your honor. He hangs out at our watering hole. Seems like he don’t have much of a home life, his pa being into the drink as is well known by one and all hereabouts.”

  Len looked shamefully across at Ahlen at the biting words. The two of them sat in the court a few rows back behind Charlie Bob.

  Tyrone went on, “But you know how it is with a young kid wanting to mix with the older fellows, like having good uncles around, his own being off to the war at the time. So, we took him on as a kind of mascot. Very friendly like, we’d josh him some and let him hang around with us. Well, come to the day in question and one of our party has reached his birthing day so we were all having a little celebration. Now, normally I keep a good eye on young Charlie Bob, just to see he don’t get into any trouble. Well, somehow I must have missed something. It’s to my chagrin, your honor, that I did not pay proper heed. Guess I was having too good a time myself or maybe the lad was supping a few too many drinks on the quiet. Next thing I know, he’s nowhere to be seen. Then we hear the hubbub and well... you know the rest.”

  Tyrone hung his head in pretense at sorrow and Ahlen fumed silently to hear the lies coming out of the gunman’s mouth.

  “It appears,” said the judge. “That no blame can be attached to you, Mister Feeney. We all know the willfulness of youngsters today, I see enough of them come before me on a regular basis. Although you should be reprimanded for not paying closer attention to your charge.”

  “I know it, sir,” said Tyrone with a show of remorse. “To my regret, I know it.”

  “Very well, the court is obliged for your evidence. Pray be seated, sir.” The judge turned to the sheriff. “Is that all for the prosecution, Sheriff Langstrom.”

  “Guess so,” answered Langstrom.

  “Then we’ll move on to defense. Young man,” he said to Charlie Bob. “You have anybody here to stand for you?”
r />   Charlie Bob’s chains rattled as he made to move from his seat but before he could stand a voice called from a few rows back.

  “I’ll be representing Charlie Bob, judge. Name’s Ahlen Best, I’m the boy’s uncle.”

  “Approach,” said the judge and Ahlen left his place and moved to the front.

  “You have status as legal counsel?” asked the judge.

  “No sir,” said Ahlen. “I’m just here to see justice done.”

  “Aren’t we all,” said the judge sternly. “You are that uncle so recently serving in the great effort between the states, that the last witness spoke of?”

  “I am, judge.”

  “Well, I hope you acquitted yourself well.”

  “I hope so too, sir.”

  “He got the Medal of Honor,” piped up Charlie Bob.

  “That a fact,” said the judge, raising his eyebrows. “You had a rank, Mister Best?”

  “They made me up to second lieutenant, your honor.”

  “Well done, sir.” It seemed for a moment the judge would almost break into an approving smile. “I have great respect for our gallant soldiers who served the cause. My own son lost his life in that epic battle at Gettysburg and although I miss him sorely, he did his duty and has left me without his presence but a profound and everlasting pride in his effort. Mister Best, I salute you. Defendant willing, you may proceed.”

  “That’s fine with me, judge,” cried Charlie Bob. “You tell ‘em, Uncle Ahlen.”

  Ahlen paused a moment, collecting his thoughts.

  “Judge,” he said. “Can I have that Tyle fellow up here again? I have a question or two.”

  Judge Garvey nodded. “So be it, Corbin Tyle, get up here. You’re still on your oath Mister Tyle.”

  Nervously, Tyle got up, removed his bowler hat and approached the judge’s table.

  “Now,” said the judge, pointing his gavel at Tyle. “You answer what Mister Best here asks you. Answer truthful, you understand?”

  Tyle nodded, his lips compressed and his eyes wide.

  “You seem nervous, Mister Tyle,” said Ahlen. “No need for worry, sir. I don’t bite.”

  There was a chuckle of laughter that ran through the court and Tyle attempted an answering smile that did not quite come off.

  “Do you know Ty Fells, Mister Tyle?” asked Ahlen.

  “Y ... yes, I do. He runs The Rolling Dice saloon.”

  “And a few other things besides,” Ahlen said as an aside, then he asked, “You been inside that saloon?”

  “I have.’

  “Got a penchant for the pasteboards?”

  Tyle twitched, his whole body giving a little spasm. “If you mean playing cards. I don’t mind the occasional game.”

  “Blackjack, I think that’s your call of choice, isn’t it?”

  Tyle nodded, his head bobbing as if he could not control it.

  “Ran up quite a bill so I hear,” said Ahlen. “You’re into the house for nigh on a thousand dollars, so they tell.”

  Judge Garvey butted in, his brow furrowed. “You going somewhere with this, Mister Best? Do we really need to hear about this gentleman’s unfortunate debts?”

  Ahlen waved a placating hand. “Be patient, your honor. We’ll get there.”

  “See you do,” warned the judge.

  “So you owe Ty Fells one thousand dollars, is that right?”

  “Well, um .... Not anymore I don’t. That’s all paid up in full.”

  “That’s good to hear Mister Tyle. Can I ask you what kind of employment you’re in?”

  “I’m a bookkeeper. Trade accounting, that sort of thing.”

  “And where do you hold that office at present?”

  Tyle wiped his face with an open palm, a sheen of sweat on his brow. “At present I am out of employment. Just temporary, you understand. I am promised employment in the near future.”

  “Would that be with Ty Fells, by any chance?”

  “Well, yes it would, as it happens.”

  Ahlen moved forward, he stepped close to the witness, letting his size tower over the man. “So if you’re out of work, where did you get the thousand dollars to pay off your gambling debt?”

  The timid man backed away slightly, running his finger around his collar as if he could not breath. “A.... a friend. That’s it, a friend made me a loan.”

  Ahlen raised his voice, staring down hard at Tyle. “I reckon that friend would be Ty Fells, wouldn’t it? He signed off on your debt if you’d stand up here and lie through your teeth. If you did it right, you get a job at his place too, isn’t that the truth, Mister Tyle?”

  “No.... no,” Tile’s voice quavered. “It’s not true. Nothing like that, I swear it.”

  “Whoa!” cried the judge. “That’s not the way, Mister Best. Step away, you can’t go intimidating the witness in that fashion.”

  “Okay, judge,” said Ahlen, stepping back. “Point I had to make was that Mister Tyle here is an unreliable witness. In debt and reliant on his meal ticket to one and the same man, which I consider somewhat suspicious. State of affairs that could make a person very malleable, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Point taken,” said the judge. “You have any more to say to this witness?”

  “I ain’t got any more for this lying toad, no. Let me speak to Tyrone Feeney though.”

  The judge frowning looked down his nose at Ahlen. “I see you’re not acquainted with court procedure, Mister Best. I’ll let it slide this one time but don’t carry on like that again. I won’t allow intimidation of witnesses, whatever your personal opinion. All right, Mister Tyle, stand down. Mister Feeney, you still here to answer questions?”

  “Sure am,” said Tyrone, coming forward. “And don’t worry, I ain’t so impressed by his size. You go ahead and say what you will, Best.” He looked at Ahlen icily as Tyle pushed hurriedly past him and ran out of the courtroom.

  “Your friend there, looks kind of perturbed, don’t he?” smiled Ahlen, nodding his head in the direction of the departing Tyle.

  “He’s no friend of mine,” growled Tyrone.

  “So you and your boys had this little birthday party, is that right?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Who’s birthday was it?”

  “Why, it was Ly Bedstone’s, I believe.”

  “Tell me, Tyrone, can you write?” asked Ahlen.

  Tyrone frowned. “Sure, I got my letters. Can read too, if you want.”

  “Your honor,” Ahlen said, turning to the judge. “Can I use a piece of that paper you got there, and that pencil too, if you don’t mind.”

  The judge pushed a sheet over and laid his pencil gently on top.

  “What I want you to do, Tyrone. Is, without saying it out loud, to write down the age of the birthday boy.”

  “Can’t do that,” Tyrone said quickly, his brows deepening into a frown.

  “Why’s that?”

  “I don’t know his damned age.”

  “So, you went to this birthday celebration and you don’t know the guest of honor’s age. Is that right?”

  “That’s about it. Never was important. Hell, fellow has a birthday, we just celebrate, don’t matter his age.”

  Ahlen quickly turned to where Tyrone’s gang were sitting. “Bedstone, what date’s your birthday?”

  All heads turned to look at Bedstone and he sat silent, glowering back at Ahlen.

  “Come on,” pressed Ahlen. “You must know your birth date, otherwise how could you have a birthday?”

  “It was the other day,” croaked Bedstone, his face a picture of twisted anger.

  “Yes, but what’s the date?”

  “Damn your eyes, Best,” growled Tyrone. “What’s this got to do with anything?”

  “Judge,” said Ahlen, turning back to face Judge Garvey. “I’m putting it that this whole thing was a setup. Bedstone wouldn’t know his own mother’s name let alone his birthday. They took young Charlie Bob in under the pretense of a celebration then got
him three sheets to the wind and fixed it so it looked like he shot that man down.”

  The judge looked at him hard. “That’s a hell of an accusation. You got any evidence to back that up?”

  “Sure I have, sit this gunsel down and we’ll hear it.”

  “Alright,” said the judge, with a bang of his hammer. “Get on down, Mister Feeney.”

  Tyrone gave Ahlen a withering look and moved away back to his seat.

  “Right now,” said Ahlen. “I’d like Doc Barnes to step up here.”

  After the doctor was sworn in, Ahlen moved over to stand beside Charlie Bob. Partly to show support and also to give the courtroom a clear view of the ageing doctor.

  “Now,” said Ahlen. “All of you know Doc Barnes, he’s served this community for a heck of a lot of years. Probably brought quite a few of you into the world and when he wasn’t doctoring he was teaching us kids our letters. No one can say a bad word against Doc Barnes; he’s served without prejudice all his life. Ain’t that right?”

  There was a mumble of agreement that ran through the crowd.

  “That’s a given fact,” cried a voice from the rear. “The Doc’s a good man.”

  The judge smacked his gavel down and silence filled the courtroom again.

  “So, the Doc’s a man to be trusted,” continued Ahlen. “Doc, d’you remember the day that Benjamin Astley was shot down?”

  “I do,” said the doctor.

  “You remember what else happened that day?”

  “I ain’t that old, sure I remember. You came see me with a request.”

  “And what did I want?”

  “Why, you wanted me to dig the killing bullet out of that Astley fellow.”

  “You have that bullet here?”

  “I do,” said Doc Barnes, taking a crumpled handkerchief from inside his jacket and holding it out. Ahlen took the handkerchief and unfolded it carefully. He held it out to the judge, exposing the distorted lead inside.

  “See this, judge?” he said.

  “I do, don’t look like much.”

  “No sir, it don’t but it weighs out as a .45 caliber slug.”