An Error of the Law

by Alfred Damon Runyon

 

An Error of the Law

BY ALFRED DAMON RUNYON

CASTLE MOUND, Sioux County, Colorado, is a town with a population of some three hundred souls. It lies baking in the sun on that broad stretch of barren prairie land which sprawls between the Kansas state line and the smiling Arkansas valley. A huddle of adobe shanties and a few more pretentious frame houses constitute the town. Ten miles to the westward is the town of Leads, the counterpart of Castle Mound, and the county seat of Sioux County. If it were not for the signs on the tiny shacks dignified by the name of depots, a stranger could hardly tell one town from the other.

I was sitting on my trunk by the depot in Castle Mound, waiting for the Missouri Pacific train which would take me to Pueblo, when I was joined by “Dad” Watson, the storekeeper of Castle Mound and the town oracle. “Dad” had lived in Castle Mound since the cowboys first furnished the nucleus for the town by making camps there. I made room for him on the trunk as he approached and the old fellow sat down with a grunt of satisfaction.

“Dad,” I asked after some desultory conversation, “Why didn't you Castle Mound folks get the county seat instead of letting it go to Leads there?” and I pointed to the latter town in the distance.

“Dad” turned slowly around and gazed at me, puffing his pipe in a meditative fashion.

“Son,” he finally said, “do you fetch up that subject in a friverlous way, or are you shore mired in the bog of ignorance?”

I assured him that the question was asked in all innocence and he seemed satisfied.

“That there matter is what you might call a saddle-sore with the citizens of Castle Mound,” he said. “We had the county seat once, but a woman stole it.”

I looked my surprise and the old man went on:

“Yessir, a woman stole it. Mrs. Jaggs, it were, that absconded like a thief in the night with the county seat and left Castle Mound to mourn. Aided and abetted by a legal shark, Leads now sits grinning in full, but not undisputed, possession of the said seat of government of Sioux county.

“It was three years ago that this purloining of the government took place. Castle Mound had been the county seat for twenty year or more before Leads came to botch up the surface of the ground. We had the court house in the back room of my store, and there the county officials sot and done business to the satisfaction of all law abidin' citizens, which don't mean them people of Leads.

“'Long about four years ago, a man named Jimpson, from Pueblo, came to Sioux county and showed his poor judgment by settling at Leads. This Jimpson was a boomer from Boomersville. He had a lot of ideas to make Leads about the biggest town between the Mississippi river and Fr'isco, and among other things he told them people that they ought to have the county seat. Now, before this Jimpson came, nobody in Leads was dissatisfied with Castle Mound as the county seat. These are the only two towns to speak of in the county, and we used to give Leads half the county offices. But this Jimpson feller, he commenced showing them Leads folks where they'd gain a whole lot more importance by having their town the county seat and they finally believed it.

“Jimpson, he points out where Leads is more the joggerfal centre of the county than Castle Mound, which is true all right, and he showed them that there was just as many people in Leads as Castle Mound, which was also true. Them Leads folks finally winds up by going to law.

“They gets a decision of court which says that the people of Sioux county shall vote to see whether they wants to change the county seat or not. Us Castle Mound people didn't pay much attention to the thing one way or 'tother. We had been the county seat so long we didn't think we could be ousted. So when the time for that vote business came around we didn't do no work to speak of and them Leads scallawags just naturally outvoted us. They rustled up a lot of cow punchers from off the range, filled them full of whisky and voted them, which made up any deficiency. According to the testimony of the ballot box, the people of Sioux county yearned for a change in the base of governmental operations.

“That vote business jarred Castle Mound considerable. We knew the ballot had lied and that there had been some shenanegan work, hut we couldn't prove it. The date for the removal of the county seat was set for two weeks after election. All that meant was taking the books of the various officers down to Leads. In the meantime we did a whole lot of hard thinking. The county officers were served with notices of the result of the election and commanded to move on a certain date to Leads, and there was no doubt but what we'd have to do it. If it had been in the old days we would have just cleaned up our guns and told the Leads outfit to come and get them books if they wanted them and we'd have held the fort until Hades friz over, but nowadays law is law, and they won't stand for no monkey business like that no more.

“I was sheriff then; the treasurer, old Bill Stimson, was a Castle Mound man, so was the assessor and clerk and two of the county commissioners. Leads had the rest of the offices, which included Mrs. Jaggs, who was county superintendent of schools. Sioux county had followed out the woman suffrage fashion all over Colorado and give that office to a woman. It didn't amount to much one way or 'tother, the salary being small and the work light, but it required the presence of the holder in the county seat a good part of the time.

“Of course us Castle Mound officials wanted the county seat to stay here and them Leads people were tickled to death because they was going to get it. They had to drive every morning over here and drive back at night to Leads, and it was rather wearing on horseflesh any time, and on tempers during stormy weather.

“This Mrs. Jaggs was a tall, gangling old woman, sour as lemons, and with a temper like a cross-cut saw. She come from New England somewhere and had been a school teacher. Not dispargin' our own women, I will say that Mrs. Jaggs was about the capablest woman in the county for the job. In addition to being county superintendent she run a little merchandise store at Leads. What with the store and the job she did pretty well, I guess, though without the store the job wouldn't have kept her, and vice versy! Her husband was a drunken old slouch who never did amount to anything. He wouldn't work, and he'd putter around the store while Mrs. Jaggs was in Castle Mound, spending most of the money he took in for whiskey. If it had a-been myself I'd a-been afraid to fool with Mrs. Jaggs like that, but I guess her old man got used to her.

“You can see how it was to Mrs. Jaggs' interest to have the county seat moved. It it was in Leads she could keep tab on the old man and the job too, so she was pretty much tickled over the way the election come out.

“It looked like we was licked bad, when Bill Stimson got an idea—the first, last and only time Bill ever did such a thing. He communicates it to a few of us Castle Mound officials, and we sends Bill hastening to Pueblo to carry it out. You see, this county is in the Tenth judicial district which takes in several other counties, court being held at Pueblo. Bill goes there and consults an attorney and the attorney applies to the court for an injunction against the county officials of Sioux county to prevent them from removing the county record from Castle Mound to Leads. Bill alleges that fraud has been discovered in connection with the election and wanted a further hearing in court. He also alleged everything else he could think of from murder to arson, because we had figured that if we got a chanst to put our case before the court in the right way we could win—what with buying the testimony of a few of them drunken cowboys who had voted for Leads, and other little matters of that kind. So, the day before the removal was to take place, Judge Dickson of the district court issues his injunction, directed against each and every one of the county officials of Sioux county.

“In getting up that injunction the clerk of the court made a small mistake. The writ simply forbid Sheriff Watson, Treasurer Bill Stimson, Superintendent Jaggs, etcetery, from removing them books of the county of Sioux, or molesting them in any way. It didn't say where from, or where to. We found out about this mistake later. A deputy sheriff was sent from Pueblo to serve this injunction and we expected him and Bill in on the morning train. That removal was due the next day, but us officials was going to see to it that it was delayed until we'd been served by that injunction.

“That night I met Mrs. Jaggs in my store, which was rather surprising, as she generally went home before dark. 'Howdy,' I says, polite like, 'ain't you around pretty late?'

“'I'm packing up my books,' she snaps. 'Didn't you know we've got to move to-morrow?'

“I grins a great big grin, and right then and there I proceeds with the undoin' of Castle Mound. 'Don't you believe we'll move to-morrow,' says I. 'The seat of government of Sioux stays right here—for awhile anyway. You'd better go home, Mrs. Jaggs, and get some rest.'

“'What are you talking about, lunkhead?' she says, not very gentle. 'I always thought you were crazy, but I didn't think it was as bad as this.'

“This remark sorter made me warm under the collar, having Mrs. Jaggs question my mental facilities in that way, so I says: 'Crazy, eh? Just cast your optics over this,' and I shows her a telegram from Bill Stimson, which I'd got that afternoon and which says: 'Injunction granted and will be served first thing in the morning. Hooray!' It was signed 'Bill.'

“'So that's what Bill Stimson went to Pueblo for, is it?' asks Mrs. Jaggs, after reading the telegram. 'All right, then I guess there ain't no use me going ahead packing; I'll have to use my books to-morrow. But tell me about this injunction thing, Mr. Watson—what does it mean?'

“And so I tells Mrs. Jaggs all I know about injunctions and courts. She listens pretty intently and I see her eyes snap now and then, but finally she says quite nice like: 'I guess I'll have to go home. Thank you, Mr. Watson,' and she went out. Pretty soon I hear her rattling away in her buckboard behind her little broncos, which weren't much for looks but which could cover an almighty sight of ground, as we found out.

“I sleep in my store, and 'long about midnight that night I thought I heard wheels on the road outside. I thought it was some one coming in from the range and didn't pay much attention until the wheels seemed to stop by my store. I listened, but didn't hear nothing, so rolled over and went to sleep. A little later I woke up again and it seemed like some one was moving around in the back room where the court house was. I thought at first I'd been dreaming. Then come the rattle of wheels again, and I jumped up and looked out the window. It was moonlight and as plain as day, and I see Mrs. Jaggs in her buckboard going acrost the prairie like a streak. I lit a lamp and went and looked into the back room. Then I gives a whoop that could be heard a mile away and went screeching out into the street. That look into the back room showed me that the shelves which should have been bulging with the books and records of Sioux county were as clean as a whistle. There wasn't even a scrap of paper left.

“My hollering brought out a lot of people, all minus most of their clothes like myself and I explained as quick as I could. In the pale light of the moon I told them the news, and the wails and cusses which went up scart the coyotes into the hills. It wasn't no use giving chase because Mrs. Jaggs was plumb out of sight by the time I got through and none of us was dressed to make a foot race through the cactus. Some was for invadin' the town of Leads and wiping it off the map, but I calmed them.

“'Bill will be here with that injunction in the morning,' says I, 'and it won't do Mrs. Jaggs no good nohow to have them books. She'll have to bring them back.'

“There wasn't no sleep to speak of in Castle Mound after that. We sot around the store waiting for daylight and cussing Mrs. Jaggs right hearty.

“The morning train brought Bill and the deputy from Pueblo all right and we explained to them how Mrs. Jaggs had come in the night and nailed the books, which were then and there in her possession. The deputy sheriff he reads the injunction to me and Bill and all the rest of the officials in Castle Mound and then he takes my rig and starts for Leads. We wanted to send an escort with him as we didn't have no idea Mrs. Jaggs would let him read that thing to her peaceable, but he wasn't afraid.

“He come back in a couple of hours, but be didn't have no books. 'I'll have to get more instructions from the court on this here matter,' be said. 'She's got them books all right, and she let me read this injunction—but doggone it—well, I'll have to see the court,' and he looked dubious. We couldn't get no more out of him and he went hack to Pueblo that night. He was back next day with a warrant for Mrs. Jaggs which accused her of contempt of court in disobeying that injunction and moving the books, and he also had a summons for myself and a lot of other officials to appear in court in connection therewith. We was mighty tickled and looked for Mrs. Jaggs to get about a year in jail as punishment. We all went down on the train to Pueblo together, hut Mrs. Jaggs she didn't speak to any of us—only looked contemptuous and scornful-like. We all just grinned amiably at her.

“The deputy still looked dubious. 'They've got a guard of fifty armed men over them books down at Leads,' he says. He kept regarding Mrs. Jaggs admiring-like all the way down.

“Old Judge Saunders heard the case and he was a pretty fierce old codger, too. I was the first witness called and I told what I knew about Mrs. Jaggs taking them books. She was sitting close by me, still looking scornful, and when I told my story the court says:

“'Mrs. Jaggs, you not being represented by attorney, do you want to ask this witness any questions yourself?'

“'Just one,' she says. 'Mr. Watson, what time was it I took them books?'

“'Well,' says I, 'it was between 12 and 1, because I looked at my clock soon after I found you was gone.'

“'That's all,' she snaps. Then she takes the witness stand herself and produces a piece of paper. 'I'd like to have the clerk read this,' she says. It was the same kind of notice served on all us officials after the county seat election, commanding us to remove our books and offices to Leads on a certain date. 'Now,' says Mrs. Jaggs, 'I wish the clerk would read that injunction issued against the officials of Sioux county,' which was done.

“'Your honor,' says Mrs. Jaggs, 'you will note that according to the testimony of Mr. Watson, I removed those books on the day commanded in the election notice, and before I was served with the injunction, of which I was not presumed to have knowledge. In removing them I simply obeyed a command of the law. You will also note that the injunction read by the clerk merely prohibits me and the other officials from removing or molesting the books in any way, but it does not say from what place we are prohibited from removing them. When that injunction was served upon me, the books were at my home in Leads, as your deputy sheriff will testify. If I, or any one else, had removed them from there and taken them back to Castle Mound, we would have been liable for contempt, because we would have been disobeying that injunction.

“'I contend that in taking the books from Castle Mound in the first place I was obeying the law; that in leaving them at Leads after I was served with the injunction, I was also obeying the law, and I ask that this case be dismissed.'

“Old Judge Saunders was kerflummoxed. He glared at Mrs. Jaggs over his specs for about five minutes. Then he came down from his bench, grabbed up that injunction and read it through. He glared at his clerk, and he glared at us until we got to feeling mighty uneasy. Finally the old judge commenced to laugh.

“'The defendant is right in every particular,' he says. 'The motion to dismiss is sustained. Mrs. Jaggs, you oughter been a lawyer,' and then he come right down and shook hands with her.

“Castle Mound was so flabbergasted that we never tried to go any further with the case, and that's why Leads is the county seat.”

“How did Mrs. Jaggs know about the error in the injunction?” I asked.

“She didn't know at first—when she took the books, I mean,” replied “Dad.” “She got that by studying it afterwards. She was only taking a woman's chance to begin with.”