Page 145 of New Storm Rising
“Yes, the judge is free this morning. Do you have time right now?”
Stepping up behind Mr Ambrose, I glanced over my shoulder at the rapidly approaching “staff” of Mama Dumant’s. “Oh yes. Definitely. Let’s go, shall we?”
Then I grabbed him and dragged him out of the house as if my heels were on fire.
Matters with the judge were resolved surprisingly quickly. The man seemed to be pretty cooperative after apparently having mistaken the US Marshal for a salesman when he came knocking the previous day and slamming the door in his face. Being shown the error of your ways with a pair of revolvers can do amazing things to improve one’s manners.
“…and here is the new warrant for the two Spanish gentlemen, with the additional charges,” he finished, hurriedly dropping two final documents on the already humongous pile of papers on the table. “I hope that everything has been arranged to your satisfaction, Marshal? Do tell me if I can be of service in some other way, Marshal.”
“This will be fine.” The marshal/salesman gave a curt nod. “About the other prisoners…”
The judge inclined his head, almost bowing. “I shall take care of them, naturally. Our local jail is quite spacious, and those who can’t be housed there will be taken off our hands soon enough. I shall vouch for the cooperation of the sheriffs from the neighbouring towns.”
“Excellent.” The marshal nodded. “What do you say, Mr Ambrose?”
“Adequate.” Mr Ambrose nodded briskly. “Though we could use a few additional guards and guides for our continued journey east.”
“Done! Agreed! Anything you wish!” The judge nodded like a construction-obsessed woodpecker. “When would you like me to implement matters?”
“Right away,” Mr Ambrose ordered.
The marshal nodded. “Agreed.”
“Wonderful, wonderful! Then, if you permit…?” The judge half-rose from his armchair, hopefully gesturing towards the door.
“By all means, start attending to your duties. We shall see ourselves out.”
“Well, that went quickly.” I commented as the front door closed behind us moments later.
“Fortunately for the judge,” Mr Angleton commented. “I donotappreciate having a housekeeper threaten to chase me away with a broom.”
“Did she catch you?” I enquired innocently.
“I’m afraid that, as an officer of the law, I am not permitted to share details of an ongoing investigation,” the marshal responded, his face expressionless. Though I did notice him rubbing his backside.
Together, we walked back the same way we had come, as the sun rose higher into the sky and the street traffic slowly started picking up around us. Wagons were rolling down the street, people milling around on their way to work. From the distance, I heard the sound of a blacksmith’s hammer. Soon, we reached a market place. Farmers and traders were setting up booths there. Apparently, there was some local market or something like that happening.
Seeing all the colourful objects on sale around me, a brilliant idea struck me. Quickly, I linked my arm with Mr Ambrose’s to keep him from escaping.
“So, now that business is taken care of,” I began, smiling up at my beloved husband, “should we go on a little shopping trip?”
“No.”
It was impressive how quickly and instinctively the answer came. Grinning, I tightened my grip on his arm. There were certain duties and responsibilities that came along with being a husband. And shopping was definitely one of them. If Mr Rikkard Ambrose hadn’t known this before the marriage, he would just have to learn.
“Aww, come now, darling. You wouldn’t want to disappoint your beloved wife, now, would you?”
“I do not remember appointing you in the first place.”
“You, using word plays? How shocking!”
“Can electric shocks prevent you from shopping?”
Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed the brave, heavily armed US Marshal retreating swiftly.
“My apologies, Mr Ambrose, Ma’am. I suddenly seem to have remembered something very important I still have to do today.”
“Indeed?” Mr Ambrose demanded, his cold gaze spearing the traitor who wanted to leave him to the enemy. “And what, exactly?”
