Chapter 14

Later, in Malik’s car, the men took up the discussion of the false recommendations that Representative Mortonson had received. Nicholson had come along on the pretext of seeing Malik’s traveling office. They were all enjoying a piece of the pie Harriet Westcott had pressed on them as they departed. They’d brewed a pot of their own coffee.

Malik said, “I really have a hard time imagining a federal judge stooping to fraud and forgery simply to get a job for his son.”

“Don’t forget the silver mine, Emil,” Andy suggested. “I think that there has been a concerted effort involving the Nestors to get control of that mine. I’m not saying the judge is involved, but he certainly has facilitated the effort, even if that maneuver was legal.”

Lonegan said, “I’m with Emil. Those letters were too blatant, too easily discovered. A judge would know better.”

Nicholson joined the discussion. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Some of those appointees are just political hacks. They’ve kissed the right butts or lined the right pockets and this is their reward. That line of thinking leads me to ask if any of you have some idea about the circumstances of Horatio Nestor’s appointment?”

None of them did, but Andy said, “This apple pie is delicious, It’s kind of creamy.”

“That’s because there’s both cream and butter in the filling,” Nicholson said. “Harriet has help in the kitchen, but she bakes these pies herself. It’s a family recipe, a bit of a secret. Fortunately, Ada knows that secret, so I get a pie like this every couple of weeks. That woman is a treasure. I was damn lucky she gave me a second look.”

Andy made a sour face and said, “Lucky she could stand to look at you even once.” There were a few chuckles.

Quincy said, “I still have some friends in that public notice business I mentioned, in Washington. They have become quite successful and employee dozens of people. Among other things, they do all kinds of research in their work. I think I will write them about this situation, see if they can turn something up.”

“Best idea I’ve heard,” Lonegan said.

Quincy and the Maliks decided to stay another day and attend Nestor’s arraignment.

Nestor entered a plea of not guilty, adding that he had shot in self-defense. Judge Westcott bound him over for trial, but he also granted bail of five hundred dollars with instructions not to leave the jurisdiction without the permission of the court. Lonegan had one of his deputies watch Nestor’s movements. After making bail, he had gone straight to the Santa Fe station and bought a ticket to Galveston.

After the hearing, Nicholson asked if he could speak to Malik privately. The two men went to the saloon that Raul Castillo had referred to as his private club, while the others went back to Malik’s car.

Nicholson looked around and said, “This is cozy. I like the quiet atmosphere.”

“A good friend brought me here, Raul Castillo, another attorney. He works for the K and ASR now, as their general counsel. Moved to Wichita last year.”

“I thought you were the railroad’s attorney.”

“Just for in-state Arenoso business. I’m more of an investor, though, and I am on their board of directors. That’s what allows me to move my car around without having to pay any fees.”

“You said you were in a partnership?”

“Yes, with another attorney and an accountant.”

“The accountant has a college degree in accounting?”

“From Oyster Bay College, in New York.”

Nicholson was silent for a moment, then asked, “You fellas stay busy down there?”

Malik looked at him, then said, “We do, but much of it has been due to circumstances in which we’ve involved ourselves.”

“Like all the Indian and silver happenstances, I would assume,”

“And railroad work.”

Nicholson sighed heavily. “The reason I ask is that Ada and I want to get out of Meseta and we’re looking at the alternatives.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Nicholson said, shaking his head. “Both of us are just weary of the, uh, Alice-in-Wonderland experience of that supposed seat of government. More of seat in an enormous privy, in my estimation.

“It’s bad enough that most of my time is spent supplying plausible rationalizations for all manner of deceptive practices, but Ada is equally put upon by the, the ... intense competition for dubious social honors. I am embarrassed by what both of us must do simply to get along in that town.”

“I admit I’m surprised to hear you say it. From your conversation at dinner, it sounded as though you had a firm handle on things. Even your wife’s comments were cheerful.”

“I’m sure that’s the impression we give. Those are our stage personas, the characters we put on when we’re in social settings. It’s become an ingrained habit, but one we’re both eager to un-grain. It’s a constant stress in our lives that takes the joy out of things, even between her and me.”

Malik lifted the brandy snifter and swirled the dark amber liquid under his nose, then took a sip. He held the brandy in his mouth for a few seconds, then swallowed it. He said, “As to Waypoint, there are two other attorneys in town, but they are mostly involved in real estate and bookkeeping work. I’ve always had the lion’s share of all the more complex work: contracts, business partnerships, wills, incorporations, even criminal defense.

“Wil Bream, the other attorney, is a former county attorney and prosecutor. David Lewin is the accountant. Having David involved has allowed us to continue the business support services, like bookkeeping and tax payments, while Wil and I have been able to concentrate on more standard legal work. But that work in a small town can be widely varied. I’ve been very much a generalist, maybe a bookkeeper in the morning and arguing in a criminal trial in the afternoon. There’s been nothing sophisticated about it.”

Nicholson sighed again, but without the air of melancholy. “Sounds like heaven. Really. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a lawyer. I’m more of a shill, a huckster, distracting the public from what is actually occurring and making it sound like their turds are manna from heaven. What I wouldn’t love but to put together a simple, honest contract.”

Malik’s eyebrows rose and quickly fell. “Well, there are no guarantees, though the demand for services is growing. Truthfully, though, I can only say that because we have been so busy. But, in effect, we’ve been generating much of our own work. Not intentionally, but our increasing involvement with the Sonora has centered around helping them to armor themselves with the cladding of standard American business organizations. And the attempts to take their few remaining resources from them have only added to our work.”

Nicholson was involved, momentarily, with his own brandy snifter, but then he said, “CB thinks highly of you and your friend, Castillo. I’ve confided with him regarding our dissatisfaction with our current circumstances. He suggested I talk with either of you. Your arrival this weekend was simply fortuitous.” He hesitated, looking uncomfortable, but then sat straighter in his chair. “Any chance you fellas are open to another partner?”

Now it was Malik’s turn to hesitate. He went through the brandy ritual again, before replying. “Perhaps,” he said, slowly. “It’s not something we’ve discussed. In truth, our partnership is quite new, only since autumn. And I would say its apparent success is based more on how we’re able to get along with one another, as much as it is on our relative professional skills. I’m certainly not against it, but you’d have to talk with them and then we’d have to discuss it.”

Nicholson took a deep breath, then said, “Forgive my boldness, but would it be possible to meet with your partners if we came to Waypoint tomorrow?”

Malik once more raised and lowered his eyebrows. “Look, Jonathan, I don’t want you to feel like a supplicant. I’m a pretty straightforward hombre. As are my partners. So just relax. You seem like a decent fella and more intelligent than most. And your wife is as charming as her mother, so I’m guessing you and she make a pretty formidable team.

“Unless something unprecedented has happened, I can’t imagine that Wil and David wouldn’t have time for you. You could ride down in my car, if you’d like. You could meet with us, look over the town, and still catch the train back here tomorrow night. It arrives here late, but you’d have six hours in Waypoint. Or stay overnight. Word has it that they have a very respectable lodging facility in Waypoint.” Malik’s ownership of the Old Courthouse Inn had come up in the dinner conversation. “I even have these discount cards right here in my pocket,” he said, as he handed Nicholson one of his business cards from the Inn; it had a handwritten discount on the back.

“Thank you. I’m sure we’d enjoy riding down with you.”

“Let’s stop at the depot. I’ll send a wire to Wil and David, let them know you’re coming. Oh, that reminds me. David Lewin is Jewish. Would that present a problem for you?”

“I figured he was when you said he attended Oyster Bay. It’s heavily supported by the Jewish community in and around New York City. I’ve no problem with anyone. I’ve worked with men of all faiths and races. A few of them were great, a few were assholes. Most of them were just ordinary, workaday men. For the record, I’ve also worked with some women. The same categories apply. Ada pretty much feels the same way.”

“Well, that’s good, because David and Sara Lewin are a treat. My wife and I visited with them often. We’d even been camping with them a couple times.”

“I’m sorry about your wife. I can only imagine how much it would hurt to lose Ada that way. You have my sympathy.”

“Thank you. Things are getting better. At least I’m not cursing the sunrise, any more.

“Do you want to come to lunch with us, or are you expected back at the Westcotts’?”

“You’re going to the Mess?”

“Unless there’s somewhere better, which seems unlikely.”

“Certainly none of which I’m aware. But first, I’ll go speak to Ada about our trip to Waypoint, then I’ll likely meet you for lunch. Ada and her mother don’t need me around all the time. Somehow, I end up the scapegoat for all the sins of our gender if I’m with those two for extended periods.”

While Ada Nicholson lunched at Molly’s with Juanita Garcia, Beverly Kagan, Eve Palmer, Grace Bream, and Sara Lewin, the partners met with her husband in a private dining room at the Inn. That meeting broke up after almost two-and-a-half hours. Malik and his partners returned to their offices across the street while Val and Juanita Garcia took the Nicholson on a tour of the town, including some of the available residential real estate.

In the second floor conference room, Lewin said, “With his contacts and knowledge of the capitol, he could be quite an asset.”

Bream was hesitant. “Do you think he really appreciates that life here in the hinterland is a lot slower paced and with much less impact than working at the state legislature?”

“I have the advantage of several more hours of conversation with him, as well as seeing him interact with different people in different situations. I think it’s what both he and his wife are looking for. I don’t think he really likes the kind of impact he’s having in Meseta, for that matter.

“Besides, Wil, would you really describe our particular practice as being tranquil and routine? Our work with the Sonora may actually set some precedents, that is, if there’s even the remote possibility that we know what we’re doing. Sometimes I feel like we’re in a game of blind man’s bluff, but with real consequences for a great many people.”

Bream was nodding. “True enough, Emil. I suppose I’m still waiting for our real life to start up and all this other business to fade away, but that doesn’t seem likely, does it?” Bream brightened when he said, “In any case, you can’t really argue with his credentials. A baccalaureate degree from Columbia and a law degree from Harvard is nothing to sneeze at. And he does seem personable.”

“More than personable,” Lewin added, “he’s quite droll. But it’s mostly self-deprecating, I noticed. He really doesn’t say abusive things about others.”

“I noticed that, too,” Malik said.

Lewin asked, “What about office space. Would we have to move?”

Malik said, “I’ve been thinking about that.” He stood up and walked to the door leading to the stairs. “What if we put in a partition wall from here across to the far wall. Our conference area would lose the windows and it would be smaller, but, so far, we’ve not had a group larger than seven here and I think we’d still comfortably seat ten at the table.” They had purchased a larger, rectangular table with matching chairs for meetings. Malik went on, “Then that front area with the bay windows could be his office. And we’d still retain our kitchen area.”

Bream said, “All we need is a coffee pot. I really don’t see us trying to cook or keep foodstuffs on hand. Especially not with two great restaurants literally a stone’s throw away. We should put bookshelves up there and bring all our law books together.”

“As long as we’re at it, then,” Lewin said, “we’d be well off to hire a receptionist who can provide some clerical support, maybe even two people. If we hired someone with bookkeeping experience, we could take on more business. It would all be at my fee rate but much of the routine detail could be seen to by an experienced bookkeeper.

“There’s room in that front office on the ground floor for two desks and still have four chairs for waiting visitors. But we should cut a door from that office into the front stairway. Having to go outside is just ... unprofessional.”

“I’ve been meaning to contact the Kozlovs about that doorway. Sorry, it’s just been...” Malik trailed off.

Bream said, “Well, all that should work, but one more person and we’d be packed in like sardines in a can.

“Oh, and one more thing: I think you should take that new front office, Emil. You’ll still be the senior partner.”

“He’s right, Emil. It would be awkward, otherwise,” Lewin said.

“Well, it’s all the same to me. Listen, I’ll go over to the Kozlovs’ and let them know what we want done.

“But we are in agreement? We’ll ask Nicholson to join us?”

“Yes,” Bream said, “but make him pay for the renovations.”

Lewin said, “Seems fair. That can be his partnership buy-in.”

Nicholson reported to his new partners from Meseta that the president of the senate, the leader of the senate’s majority party, was refusing to accept his letter terminating his contract. This was despite the fact that the final clause of that contract clearly stated that,

Either party to this agreement may terminate this agreement, with or without cause, upon provision of thirty calendar days advance written notice to the other party.

The senate president, who had an affinity for Nicholson’s obfuscation artistry, wrote Nicholson a memorandum stating that “advance written notice” meant that he, the president, had to receive that notice and he insisted, in the memorandum, that he had received no such notice. Despite that absurdity, when Nicholson informed the legal bureau supervisor that he was leaving in thirty days in any event, the situation became even more ridiculous. The supervisor told Nicholson that, if he left without notice, he would be sued for material breach of contract, including damages that would amount to three times his wages for the prior three years of his employment.

On Tuesday of the following week, United States Marshal Patrick Wylde, the Marshal for the Tenth Federal Judicial Circuit for the Western District of Arenoso at Cabot, appeared at the office of the President of the Arenoso State Senate. He carried with him an official communique, sealed with stamped red wax, from the federal circuit court. It required a signed receipt from the president, the application of the Senate President’s official seal to that receipt, and the signature of two individual witnesses.

Unnoticed on the back of the receipt was a small block of text:

Nicholson Contract

Termination Notice

The marshal made certain that the president’s seal was embossed over that text.

The senate president was to discover that the contents of that envelope consisted of two sheets of high quality folio paper. The first sheet was a memorandum from Judge Alphonse Lucerne of the Tenth Federal Judicial Circuit for the Western District of Arenoso. That memorandum advised the senate president that a notice of termination of contract from Jonathan Nicholson was also enclosed in the envelope.

The second sheet was Nicholson’s notice of termination of his contract.

Nicholson had never revealed to anyone at the capitol that his father-in-law was a federal judge. Nor had he ever asked his father-in-law for any favors associated with his position. But that did not prevent Ada Westcott Nicholson from asking her father, just this once. The favor from their Western Arenoso counterparts cost Nicholson and Judge Westcott each a hundred-count case of Guardia Real cigars: one for Judge Lucerne, the other for Marshal Wylde.

The nerve damage from Red Salt’s wound affected much of his face, especially his lips, which he could not control as well as before. It made for some messy eating, before he devised some new techniques. More noticeable, though, was the downward slump of his facial features, looking as if he were about to launch into a snarl. Combined with the soft, goatskin patch stretched over the hole where his left eye had once resided, his boyish face had taken on a fierce, if not particularly pleasant, demeanor.

While his children were ill at ease around their father for a few days, they soon discovered the same attentive man behind the “new” face. His wife had made no negative comment and demonstrated only sympathy for his injury and the ordeal he’d suffered, as she involved herself in his recovery. In all other aspects, she was as caring and respectful as she had been since they first were joined.

There was, however, a welcome reduction in their son’s rambunctiousness.

While Red Salt wanted to return to guard and patrol work, both Long Hand, as senior special deputy, and Sheriff Ulney, their supervising officer, had Red Salt work less strenuous duties for a couple weeks. Ulney swore in Red Salt as an auxiliary county sheriff’s deputy and set him to work filing papers (Red Salt had attended the Jesuit School for nine years) and acting as jailer. Red Salt did not enjoy the duty, but he was not one to grumble. Much.

On Monday, March twelfth, eighteen eighty-eight, two weeks after Nicholson was interviewed by Malik’s partners, the new passenger train service went into effect on the Fort Birney branch of the Kansas & Arizona Southern Railroad. Exclusive three-coach passenger trains were scheduled to depart both Fort Birney and Junction City at seven o’clock each morning and to arrive at the other terminus at three forty-one in the afternoon. While not moving at express train speeds by any means -- they were, after all, still locals -- they did reduce the 295-mile trip from twelve-and-a-half hours to less than nine.

At Waypoint, the new schedule had the southbound departing at ten thirty-nine and the northbound at twelve-oh-two, with each train’s arrival five minutes earlier.

To advise the public of the new schedule, the K&ASR had been running advertisements in local papers for the prior three weeks, had posted handbills on every prominent wooden façade in ten counties, and had even made donations to twenty-six different churches to have the schedule changes mentioned from their Sunday pulpits. Still, the passenger service department in Wichita knew that some people would either not hear or not grasp the information. So, for the first thirty days of the new schedule, the K&ASR determined to include a passenger coach in the consist of the daily through-freight trains which still approximated the old schedule. Stationmasters could flag the train as needed.

Sam Williams was an elderly former slave who worked as a swamper at the Isabella Saloon. During the day, when things were slower and all the town boys were in school, he and the swamper from the Golden Spike also worked as telegram messengers. The depot was in view of both saloons and Emma Watts would put a piece of white cardboard in the window to signal she had a message to deliver. The two men took turns.

At nine o’clock on Wednesday morning, two days after the K&ASR’s new passenger service was inaugurated, Sam Williams presented himself at the offices of Malik, Bream, Lewin & Nicholson with a wire for Malik.

Emil Malik Waypoint Aren 14Mar1888

Edwin Nestor and eight heavily armed Texas Rangers reported on northbound freight coach with horses in stock car, tickets to Dorado Springs this date.

Nathan Ulney Dorado Springs Aren

Malik decided to consult with Wil Bream and David Lewin. Jonathan Nicholson would not complete his contract with the state senate until April fifth. Malik thanked Williams for the delivery and tipped him two bits, asking at the same time if he would go to his brother’s office and tell him Malik would appreciate his attendance right away.

While awaiting Andy’s arrival, he composed a message for Connor Lonegan. After passing on Ulney’s message and suggesting he would develop a plan to respond, Malik took his dispatch down to the depot, encountering Andy near Baylor’s store.

“What’s going on?” Andy queried, stopping to speak to his brother.

“Nestor’s back.”

“Nestor?”

“And more. There’s a telegram in the office. I’m sending a wire to Connor. I’ll be right back.”

Ten minutes later, Malik sat down with the others in the renovated conference room.

Andy, looking around, said, “This didn’t turn out too bad. You miss the windows, of course, but the transom window helps and so does this glossy white paint. That Sonora rug you’ve hung on the wall feels like ... I don’t know, maybe sunrise?”

Malik said, “They’re ideas I picked up from Judge Westcott’s office. Did you read Nathan’s wire?”

“Yep. That Nestor is incorrigible.”

Bream said, “We’ve been discussing it. We figure Nestor must not have known about the new passenger train schedule, so he got stuck with the freight.”

Lewin asked, “Do you really think he brought a troop of Texas Rangers up here to be his enforcers? Texas Rangers? Do they even have jurisdiction outside of Texas?”

Bream answered, “No, they don’t, but some of those boys make up their own rules as they go along. One of their more common overreaches is that, if a Texan is involved, it’s official Texas business.”

Malik was nodding. “I’m afraid Wil’s right. There are a few Rangers who feel it is their responsibility to expand the reputation of the organization no matter what the law dictates and to make their own individual imprint on history at the same time. I consider this troop a serious armed threat. They have absolutely no other reason to be here, unless they happen to be a marching band, but then they’d have brought musical instruments instead of guns.”

“If they’re following Nestor’s lead, they’ll tear up the Springs.” Andy said.

Bream asked, “Do you have any notion what they’re after, Emil?”

Malik shrugged. “Well, I reckon the silver mine, ultimately. But I doubt the Rangers are here to become miners.” He began shaking his head and said, “I’m just not sure. The symbol of control of the reservation is the BIA office in town. But that doesn’t give them physical control of the mine. And the ore goes out through Kylie Junction. I can’t imagine them getting control of the railroad. They might hijack a train, but not the entire trunk line, or the mine spur.”

As silence reigned, they each considered the situation for some moments.

Andy said, “We need to keep them out of Dorado Springs. Too many people could get hurt. That Nestor has no moral compass. He could shoot a newborn baby and call it self-defense.”

Malik was nodding, “I can’t argue with that. He was just short of crazy when we arrested him.”

Andy said, “When you mentioned hijacking a train, it, uh...,” and now, Andy hesitated, “it gave me an idea,” he said, slowly.

The other three were looking at him, but Andy was looking only at his brother.

Finally, Malik asked, “What?”

Andy replied, quietly, “We set an ambush.” He grimaced. “At Micah Spring.”

Malik’s eyes appeared to lose their focus briefly, but then his lips compressed and he nodded, slowly. “I think you’re right.”

There would be only four of them: Malik, Andy, Nathan Ulney, and Red Salt. The Malik brothers both refused the offers of Bream and Lewin to join the posse. They used the excuse that only sworn federal deputies would be involved.

In fact, since they’d be off the reservation, Ulney and Red Salt would be acting as sheriff and sheriff’s deputy. As it happened, Red Salt was the only deputy, either sheriff’s or marshal’s, who was in town at the time of Malik’s wire to Ulney.

The plan was to attach Malik’s business car and stock car to the southbound passenger train. That train would reach Micah Spring more than two hours before the northbound freight train with the extra coach that was carrying Nestor and the Rangers. The posse would unload their four horses during the water stop at Micah Spring. Andy, Ulney, and Red Salt would hide the horses and take up secure ambush positions. Malik would proceed with his cars to Romulus, where they would be detached, still an hour and twenty minutes in advance of the northbound freight’s schedule.

Malik would make arrangements to have his cars attached to the northbound freight. Once attached, he would then inform the freight train’s conductor of the need to surreptitiously drop Malik’s cars and the passenger coach at the Micah Spring water stop and for the freight train to continue on its way.

At Micah Spring, Malik would slip away from the cars and attempt to engage the Texans in a discussion of applicable laws, withholding the use of firearms unless attacked. Should a marathon session ensue, Malik would be charged with seeing that the Texans did not depart the coach. Failing that, he would prevent them from leaving on horseback.

The plan began to falter almost immediately.

Malik had waited on the depot platform as the southbound passenger train came into the station, wanting to greet Gerald Timmons, the conductor. He had just seen Timmons dismounting the rear steps of the third passenger coach, when Emma Watts called to him from her ticket window, waving a telegram envelope.

He had retrieved the envelope and was walking back toward Timmons when a rather tall Chinese woman stopped in front of him and asked, in a clipped British accent, “Are you Mister Emil Malik?”

“I am, miss, but I’m quite pressed for time at the moment. How can I help you?

“I understand that you need an office receptionist and a bookkeeper. Mister Fu-Chun sent us here to see to those tasks.”

Malik looked briefly startled. He then noticed a shorter Chinese woman and two young girls standing off to the side.

“He did? Mister Fu-Chun? No matter. Miss, I’m sorry, but this is not the time to discuss this. I expect to be back tomorrow. Or, you could go to my office and discuss the jobs with my partners, but I must see the conductor before the train pulls away.”

“I understand. Where shall we find rooms?”

“Do you have money?”

“We do.”

“Then try Missus Kuiper’s. Missus Watts, the stationmaster, can tell you where that is. I really must go now. Good afternoon.”

Timmons was calling for all to board as Malik caught up to him.

“Mister Malik, aren’t we picking up your cars?”

“Yes, Mister Timmons, but I wanted to talk with you. I’ll ride over with you, if I may?

“Of course, sir.”

They both mounted the rear platform and Timmons gave the go-ahead wave to the engineer.

Malik explained the situation to Timmons as they moved through the switches to pick up his cars. “I wanted to describe the actions I was expecting from the railroad to make certain I wasn’t being unrealistic.”

“I don’t see any problems. You’ll definitely have to speak with Mister Hilfer. He’s the conductor on the northbound freight, today.”

“Yes, I had planned to talk to the conductor, but I don’t know Mister Hilfer.”

“He’s a yard conductor from Junction City. Mister McGillycuddy sprained his ankle down there this morning and can’t mount the steps safely. Mister Hilfer wants to transfer to the main line, so Mister Healy assigned him to substitute.”

Watching as the train backed down Malik’s siding, Timmons observed, “Looks like your stock car will be separating your car from the coaches, today.”

“That’s not a problem, unless you need to talk to me.”

“Oh, I know how to get there if I do. Otherwise, I’ll see you at Micah Spring, Mister Malik.”

Malik climbed down from the passenger coach deck and walked back to climb aboard his business car where Andy was already seated at the work table. “Any problems?” he asked.