Free Mobley's Law, A Mobley Meadows Novel by Gerald Lane Summers Page A

“You’ve got a job on your hands. Do you have any idea where you intend to start?”
    “Actually, no. I figured to go on down to Austin and pay my respects to the senior judge, Aubrey Hooks. Get his ideas. It’s traditional for new judges in a circuit, and since he’s in charge of administration for the federal courts out here, it seems the prudent thing to do.”
    “ Senior Judge? He has more authority than you do?”
    Mobley looked at Juan with increasing respect and curiosity. He was very good at seeing to the heart of things. He’d make more than a friend and cook. He’d make a good deputy marshal.
    “No, Judge Hooks is a circuit judge, too. He has no real authority over me, but, by tradition, the purse strings are in his hands because he’s been here longer. If he wanted to irritate me, he could do so, but only the Supreme Court can overrule one of my decisions.”
    Juan rolled his now overheated stogie around in his mouth, his mind working rapidly. He flicked ash from his cigar, imitating the judge’s casual mannerism. “Do you figure to come back after Austin and keep wandering about the prairie, rendering justice from the end of your gun barrel?”
    Mobley almost choked; smoke rushing out of his nose as he laughed aloud. The man sure knew how to poke. “You are some piece of work, Juan. No, that’s not the kind of civilization I’d like to bring with me. I’d be happy if I could get a few people out here to rely on the law rather than a lynching party.
    There are all kinds of little towns springing up, but in every one I’ve come to, people were suspicious and unfriendly. You’d of thought I was the devil himself, the way some of them looked at me. I don’t know what’s going on, but the people here have no respect at all for the law. If someone does something wrong, they don’t arrest him and take him to court, they find a tree and string him up. That’s got to stop.”
    “Don’t they have their own courts? I’ve seen many towns with justices of the peace, police courts, county courts. Those judges must be local people, you’d think? Do you mean they don’t even rely on their own people to do the right thing?”
    “Apparently not.” Mobley pondered the deeper meaning of this insight, and then shook his head. “Well, we’re not going to solve all of Texas’s problems tonight. Let’s hit the hay. All that killin’ has tired me some.”
    Juan nodded but continued to suck on his cigar. Maybe the rumors he’d heard were true. Texans were getting ready to fight their own government. He’d laughed when he first heard talk of government men trying to recruit bandits for special raids, but what if it was true? If that sort of thing was really happening, another war could well be in the works. If it came, where would he stand?

CHAPTER 6
    Juan awoke to the ring of shovel on rock, the clump of dirt being piled on a mound. Mobley was in the process of digging a large rectangular hole, which was almost finished. A grave?
    Juan was amazed as he watched the sweating man work. With his jacket and shirt off, Mobley Meadows’ rippling lean, wiry body told an interesting story of hard work and proper care, though his back was striped with what looked like scars from a cat o’ nine tails. Had he been flogged? Should I ask? Would he answer?
    Juan pondered the issue for a moment, and then continued his scan. Mobley’s forearms were thick, contrasted with the length of his arms, and his large hands were well callused, presumably from his years at sea. His body was remarkably well coordinated for a man of such exceptional height. He had the tattoo of an anchor with some odd words underneath on his right shoulder. Fascinating .
    Juan coughed lightly to clear his lungs of the night-time phlegm, and to alert Mobley to his attention. “Why are you doing this señ ... uh, Mobley? They certainly wouldn’t have done as much for you.”
    As far as Juan was concerned, it was dangerous to loiter around dead