When I arrived at the cabin, I put my distress to one side, as I wondered who it was who had tied their horse up outside; it was a good looking beast with an elegant saddle and bridle. I conjectured that whoever it was must have been there for some little time, as I had taken half an hour to walk back from town and had not been passed by anyone along the way.
I opened the door to find a rather elegant looking gentleman sitting at the table, smoking a pipe. He had a white moustache and goatee, and wore a suit with a matching waistcoat and string tie. His hat was laid upon the table.
“Good afternoon,” I said. The gentleman got to his feet immediately.
“Good afternoon,” he replied.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure?”
“Ah, no. I don’t believe we have. I am Judge Arnold Lancaster.” He held out his hand, “Pleased to meet you.”
“I am Mrs Mary Hayes,” I replied, shaking his hand, which held mine with surprising tenderness. “The sheriff’s wife.”
“Ah yes,” said the judge. “I believe congratulations are in order.” He smiled and gave the slightest of bows.
“Thank you, yes,” I said, “Though right now, I believe you know why we neither of us feel inclined towards celebration.”
“Ah yes,” he frowned. “I suppose your husband must have informed you of Joe’s intentions.”
“He has, just now. Yes,” I waved my hand at his chair, “Please, sit down judge. May I get you anything?”
The judge sat, “No thank you, my dear. Will you sit with me?”
I sat down opposite the judge at the table.
He cleared his throat, almost ostentatiously, and then began. “I have listened carefully to the tale that Joe told me, and, on the one hand, there is the evidence of a bullet wound and town gossip. On the other hand,” he continued when he saw me try to interrupt, “We have your husband’s good name as sheriff, and the rather interesting timing of Joe’s accusation. Only the day after you could no longer bear witness to the events which lead to his wound did he come forward. Even though I was in town for two days before then.”
I nodded.
“Your husband should come to trial if I believe that there is sufficient evidence for him to stand trial. But making that decision needs to take all factors into account. I would also want to ensure that Sheriff Hayes could receive a fair trial--something that might not be possible if you were not allowed to testify on his behalf.”
“Although your testimony might not stand up in court, I thought that by speaking with you directly, I might better understand the events of that day and determine whether Joe should stand trial.”
“Anything I can do to help,” I said.
“Good,” said the judge. “Perhaps you could start by telling me, in your own words, what happened.”
And so it began. I talked to the judge about my visit to the jailhouse; though I skated over the precise events that took place there. I did however, explain that it was then that Paul asked me to marry him. I explained also how I knew Joe from the incident on the stagecoach, though again, I did not explain the depth of our relationship, nor Joe’s night time visit to my hotel room. Then I described the altercation between Joe and Paul on the street that morning, critically, that Joe drew first, but that Paul was the faster and managed to wound Joe only to avoid injury himself.
“I see,” said the judge. “At least I think I do.”
I looked perplexedly at the judge.
“What I mean is, that though it appears your recounting of the events matches very well with the sheriff’s and, as you might expect, is contrary to Joe’s account, I still struggle with motive. I don’t understand why Joe’s depth of feeling for you would justify such a reaction; why he almost died, and certainly risked death to stop you from marrying Sheriff Hayes.”
I nodded.
“Have you told me everything, my dear?”
Oh how much we can say without opening our mouths. My silence spoke volumes and my flushed cheeks spoke volumes more.
The judge gave me a knowing look. Mrs Hayes,” he said, “I think you’re going to have to trust me. If you do not, and you leave your account incomplete, as your demeanor confesses, then I believe that Joe’s account, as well as fitting the facts, will be believed by a jury. Furthermore, it would be compelling enough that I could no no other than to present that case to a jury in a court of law. If you trust me, and give me a complete account, then I might be more inclined to dismiss Joe’s account in favour of the sheriff’s and yours. The only way to avoid a court proceeding is to tell not just the truth, but the whole truth.”
I stood up, and took a turn about the table. I looked down at the judge, holding on to the back of my chair to stop my hand from trembling. “Sir, I have not told you everything. But can you not trust that it is only for the sake of my modesty and my husband’s pride that I say no more? You have my solemn vow that every word I spoke of those events is true. It was Joe who picked the fight, and Joe who drew first.”
The judge looked up at me, with a slight smile playing across his lips as he shook his head. “I am afraid not, my dear. The truth must out.”
I hit the top of the chair in exasperation, “Can you at least promise me that no other person need hear my account? That it may be kept strictly between you and me?”
Once more he shook his head, “How can I make such a promise when I have not heard your account? What happens next will turn specifically on your account, which, ultimately, may or may not be heard in an open court.”
I slumped back into my chair, “And is there no other way in which I can protect my husband from these accusations?”
Was there a glint in the judge’s eye as he said, “Perhaps there is, Mrs Hayes, perhaps there is. But that would be for you to identify and suggest; otherwise, my course is clear. I must uphold the law, as I am sure your husband understands.”
I put my head in my hands out of frustration and tried to clear my head. What should I do? I would shame my husband and myself by explaining the past relations between myself and Joe; and that same relation might still be discussed in open court. Otherwise, I leave Paul in the hands of a jury, and who knows what they might do.
I slumped to my knees at the feet of the judge, “Oh please judge, there must be something I can do. Something… Anything!”
When those tender hands stroked my hair for the first time, I realised of course that there was something else I could do--another way I could sway the judge in our favor. I grasped his thighs as I looked up to him, still pleading. “Please believe me Judge Lancaster. I haven’t told a lie; my husband’s a good man. He had nothing against Joe, not until Joe pulled a gun on him.”
The judge’s response was stoic. His expression hardly changed, even though I was pleading with him on my knees.
“I’d do anything to help my husband, but please, let us keep it between ourselves.”
There was a silence which hung in the air then. The judge looked down at me, eyes glowing. Me, looking up at him, tears in my eyes.”
“My dear, you limit our options, if our agreement is purely between ourselves.”
“Oh please,” I whispered.
The judge stopped stroking my hair. One hand went to twisting the end of his moustache.
“I would be as good as my word,” said the judge, “Would you?”
“Absolutely,” I said, “Absolutely!”
His hand moved from his moustache and moved instead to his pants. To my amazement, he started to unbutton his suit pants. I knelt back a little out of surprise and before I knew it, the judge had released himself from the strictures of his clothing. There was already a certain firmness to his manhood, and that seemed to increase with every passing moment.
When I looked up at the judge’s face this time, his expression had changed; there was a steel to his eyes now; a resolve that, if he was going to give me what I wanted, then he wanted to exact a price from me. And he’d just shown the price he expected me to pay. I looked down at the judge’s display and thought how quickly it was I was breaking my marriage vow; but I also felt that I was upholding a deeper faith to my husband; by doing this I was keeping him from jail--keeping him from harm.
Judge Lancaster groaned as he felt my hand wrapped around his staff. My hand slid up and down, and I felt that staff increase in stature as I did so. His measure was not as great as my husband’s though substantial, none the less. I leaned forward and let my tongue explore the tip of his protrusion.
The judge closed his eyes and groaned once more as my mouth enveloped him, my lips marking the circumference of his shaft. I felt his hands grab handfuls of my hair and then he started to thrust himself further into my mouth, his hips bucking. When he touched the back of my throat, I felt myself retching, but the judge’s grip was firm. I put my hands on his thighs once more, and tried to lever myself from his grasp, but to no avail. My mouth still full, I could hardly scream or cry out. Then I heard the judge growl, “You said you’d do anything. Do not resist me now, or this will all have been for nought.”
I relaxed my arms and surrendered to him, feeling his rod press against the back of my mouth as he thrust himself inside me. Then he let go of my hair, and reached forward to caress my upper body; I could feel his hands through my clothes as he grasped my breast. Though I was at once surprised by the judge’s behavior, I found also that my body responded to his ministrations at a visceral level. My body enjoyed his attentions.
He grabbed my hair again, but this time to pull me from him. “Take off your clothes,” he growled. I stood up, and did as he said: removing my skirts, my boots, my jacket, blouse, bustle until I was left wearing my bloomers, my corset and my stockings. All the while, he nursed his tower himself as I had done not moments before.
He reached forward and pulled down my underwear, leaving me in just corset and stockings. Then he reached up and pulled at my corset, revealing my breasts. With both hands he held my waist and pulled me towards him. He turned me around and bade me sit on his lap. However, as I began to sit, I realised his full intention. As I lowered myself to his knee, he thrust his shaft between my legs and into me.
I gasped as I felt him part my precious lips and enter my most intimate place. He pulled me down, down towards his lap, each time thrusting further and further inside me, until I gasped with both surprise and delight. Before I knew it, every inch of him was inside me and he was bouncing me on his knee. The sensations were transcendent as I felt him enter and leave me by degrees with each successive thrust. Then he turned me on his knee so that, when he leant forward he could take my nipple into his mouth and suck. I gasped at that sensation combined with that lower one and wondered whether the judge too would have me climb that mountain of pleasure.
My gasping turned to panting as my climbing pleasure grew. It would not be long before I peaked. And just as I did so, I felt the judge’s grip on my waist tighten, and he bit at my breast tip. I squealed and felt his body stiffen as he peaked with me--inside me.
He slumped back in the chair and I tried to stand. Though he let me do so, I felt a sting as his slapped me across my bare backside. “If you continue to do as you are told and obey me as you have today, neither you nor your husband have anything to fear from my court.”
I bit my lip: this wasn’t over.
“However,” he went on, “If you ever decide you are willing to risk your husband’s freedom in court, you may do so through my displeasure. Do we understand one another, Mrs hayes?”
I nodded.
“Pardon?”
“Yes, judge,” I croaked, “I understand.”
With that, he righted his clothes, put on his hat, bade me good afternoon, and left. Moments later I heard his horse following the path back towards town.
