The Honorable Judge Goodness
Pour you a drink, kid?
Who, that? Why son, don't you know that picture there's the Honorable Judge Goodness? He rid this town from Black Bennett and his gang... This was back in, oh, '85 or '87 I suppose. Before the century turned, at any rate. Bennett had began rustling from a few of the north side pastures come early fall, and the ranchers were pissed. Horace Goodness, not a judge yet then, was working deputy part times. Sheriff Dugan was getting up there in years, and Horace was the one you came to if you had a problem.
I'm sorry? No, he didn't kill them! He was the kindest son of a biscuit you ever met, and I don't think he so much as swatted a gnat in all his days. No, son, what he did was much smarter than that. See, the Bennett gang had grew considerable over the last few years, and bolder too. A firefight was out of the question.
It was after they raided the Gunter's homestead; that was messy business and left the whole town in a fright. The ranchers called a meeting and wanted to go hunting after Bennett's crew. Horace told 'em no, and I'll be darned but they listened to his crazy plan. Most everyone hereabouts was keenly aware of what Bennett had pulled up in Ingalls, to the south, which I'm sure you heard about. No? He massacred those poor souls during a shoot 'em up with the marshalls, and only lost one outlaw but killed half the town in the process. It was his pattern, see, to recon while he did the cattle bits. He always finished with the town, and our bank was going strong then, so we looked mighty tasty I bet.
But, I digress. When Bennett came, mind you I was only a child, but I recall that day with the clarity of breakfast this morning. Bennett came strong, the whole group with him armed to the teeth. Young Mabel, who was as nervous as you could be, came out this very bar carrying a tray of tea and cookies over to 'em just like Horace told her. Horace himself was sitting on the porch shade in a rocking chair with a newspaper, as cool as you could imagine.
Bennett was plumb confounded. Guess maybe he was used to a bit more commotion when he arrived places, and he screamed at Horace, "What kinda deputy are you, anyways? Don't you know who I am??! What in tarnation is wrong with you folk?" The poor fella just wasn't used to this kind of treatment, see, and he was getting more and more spooked by the minute.
Horace got up slowly from the rocker, put down his newspaper and extended his hand.
"So very pleased to meet ya'll, my name's Horace. We've been expecting you, and we have things nice and orderly for your stay. It's so rare for us to have visitors these days, since the epidemic, but we are always happy to welcome newcomers of every walk of-"
Right on cue, old Nelson shuffled around the corner dragging his leg and drooling just a tad. Now, you gotta understand, Nelson had been near trampled by a herd two summers past, and he didn't look that good. Neither did Mabel, who still had the pox scars down her face from when she was young. And Horace? Well, just look at him! Missing half his nose like that? No wonder Bennett spooked so hard, and when the two ranchers came out dressed as doctors, that was the last straw for his boys.
Leprosy is a slow killer, and it was a sight more common back in those days. No sane man lingers in a place like that, and while Horace may have been born looking that way, Bennett didn't know that. His outlaws scattered and Bennett cringed away from that outstretched hand. Yep, we never had any problems from the Bennett gang after that.
Another drink, son?
Authors Note
This story is loosely based on a Jataka tale "The Great King Goodness," where a benevolent ruler refuses to turn to violence when his country is invaded by an attacking nation, and succeeds in saving his country through peaceful means. I liked the story very much, and tried to find a way to save a group of people from violent attackers with a kind and cunning protagonist. This turned into a bartender talking about his youth in the Wild West and a clever deputy who knows he can't save a town with violence.
Bibliography
Jataka Tales, H.T. Francis and E.J. Thomas
Bibliography
Jataka Tales, H.T. Francis and E.J. Thomas
Image information: Old Western Saloon
Image Source: Walldevil
Ever since reading your introduction post I knew that I was really going to like your writing style and I definitely was not disappointed after reading this story. All of your writing flows really well and putting the setting of the original story in the saloon I think was very fitting. Everything looks fantastic, but at the end you spell "bibliography" wrong so just make sure to change that! I look forward to reading more from you in the future!
ReplyDeleteHi Laura! I like your title! The word "Judge" grabbed my attention since I've be writing stories set in a courthouse. I liked how you added a western vibe to the story. I was a little confused about what was going on but then your author's note cleared things up. I like how the ruler refuses to use violence. The original story had a lot of violence some of which was uncalled for. I look forward to reading more of your stories!
ReplyDeleteHello again Laura! I loved how you not only set this in an old saloon, but you also captured the atmosphere with your writing style and also the imagery you used. Great work! Very few typos and I loved how you changed detailed of the story not only to suit the context you had chosen, but also to really make it fit the characters you had developed. Awesome!
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