CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was getting late. The summer sun was sinking, and we
weren’t any closer to finding an answer.
“I don’t know, Chester,” I said, flipping another page. “It’d
take a man a year just to learn what these words mean.”
Chester was frowning as he leaned over one of the law books.
“Well, I sure can’t help you, Mr. Dillon,” he said. “Lookee there – ‘tort’.
‘Re-plev-in.’ ‘Stat-u-tory mal-feas-ance.’ Why don’t they write the laws out in
English?”
“Be no work for lawyers, then,” I said. I lifted a book and
opened to a page I’d marked about an hour before. “The only thing that might do
it is this one – and I’m not too sure of what it means.”
That was when Doc arrived. I’d sent for him. “Evenin’, Matt!”
“Doc!” I said without standing from my desk. I waved him
over. “Come on in here, willya?”
He chuckled and opened the screen door and came in. He lifted
a bottle from the inside of his coat. “Heh. I figured I’d bring you a little
courage for the battle. There might be snakes out at Cottonwood pond.”
I had to laugh. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”
“Yessir,” said Doc. “Caramel and Irish Whiskey. No doctor
west of the Mississippi oughtta be without ‘em. The caramel is for the woman,
you understand.”
“Yeah, Doc,” I said. “Sure.”
Doc found a couple of tin cups on the shelf over the couch
and poured out two fingers of whiskey into each. “Of course a bottle of Jameson
might not cure a patient, but it sure makes him enjoy his illness.” He handed
one cup to me and the other to Chester. Then he sat down, bottle in hand.
“Thank you kindly, Doc,” said Chester.
I set the cup aside. “Look, Doc – you’ve been to school,” I
grinned. “At least, I guess you have.”
“Oh, well,” said Doc, “I guess I browsed through a couple of
‘em.”
I leaned forward with the book in my hand. “Well, listen to
this, now, and tell me what you think of this paragraph right here.”
Doc read the name off the cover. “Let’s see – ‘Schedule
territorial ordinances of judicial precedents. Handbook for local law
administrators.’ Well, Matt,” he said sourly, “I didn’t go to law
school.”
“No,
no,” I said, “but you’ve read books and you know big words. Now, listen to this
– ‘The local administrator or other duly constituted authority in a territorial
division is hereby empowered to declare a state of acute emergency in case of
riot, rebellion, or any natural catastrophe which threatens the general
welfare.’ Now, Doc, would you say that I’m a duly constituted authority?”
Doc clucked his tongue a few times. “Well, ah, in Dodge City,
I guess you’re about the only authority.”
“Until Mr. Green and the rest appoint a sheriff, anyway,”
said Chester.
“Not now, Chester.” I didn’t want to get side-tracked. “Now,
Doc, would you say that this drought we’re having is a – a ‘threat to the
general welfare’?”
Doc nodded vigorously. “I’ve never seen a worse’n. But –“
“Alright, now listen to this. ‘During a period of such
emergency, the officer in charge is allowed to seize, confiscate, allocate or
otherwise administer critical materials and facilities in accordance with the
common need and his own discretion.’”
Doc sat up straighter in his chair and set the bottle of
whiskey aside. “Oh! Right, Matt! Water is a material!”
“Yeah,” I said.
“And as far as keeping cattle alive are concerned,” he said,
“Cottonwood pond is a facility.”
I closed the book. “That’s all I wanted to know.”
Doc’s eyes were far away, considering. “I don’t see how it’ll
help you, though, Matt. Howard’ll never stand for it. You’re still gonna have a
pitched battle on your hands.”
“Maybe so, Doc, maybe so,” I said. “But at least I’ll be
fighting the way I want to fight. Well, come on, Chester, let’s go. It’s eight
o’clock already.”
