'Sheriff?' His nephew was disappointed. 'I'm qualified to practise law. Why not county attorney?'
'Two reasons. You're qualified to practise law, but you've never practised. And an experienced and popular young lawyer, Al Jennings, wants the job.'
'Oh,' said the deputy flatly. 'Oh.'
'You don't like Al? Too many freckles for you?'
Deputy Thompson frowned, brushing the jest aside. 'I can't trust him somehow. He seems, well, too personally involved with his clients. Too intrigued with them. You can't spend much time with him without his talking about how smart such and such a criminal is, or how much "easy money" he got away with.'
'Mmm. So?'
'Well… I mean, look at it this way. We both know former outlaws, men who held up banks and robbed trains, who became peace officers. It seems possible, then, that a peace officer – a county attorney – could turn outlaw. Be a bank-robber or hold-up man.'
'A grim prospect for Al,' Marshal Thompson said gravely. 'But a unique experience for you. You'll be about the first sheriff in history to arrest his county attorney.'
Young Thompson grinned half-heartedly. Murmured that the unhappy precedent could be avoided if he became county judge, instead of sheriff. His uncle advised him that the judgeship was already nailed down by a mutual friend who was also an experienced jurist. The deputy expressed dismay.
'He's just not qualified, Uncle Harry. I don't know how he's managed to stay on the bench this long. Why, I've repeatedly heard him advise juries that a reasonable doubt is a doubt you can give a reason for!'
'Well? What's wrong with that?'
'He'll find out if he ever comes up against a truly gifted attorney. Someone like Temple Houston. It's a reversible error. Anyone ever convicted in his court will get a new trial for the asking.'
The marshal grunted noncommittally; then, his memory stirred, he chuckled, stating that nothing which Temple Houston could do would greatly surprise him.
'I remember a case of his years ago. A dance-hall chippy who'd swindled a bank for practically all its assets. Well, the evidence was all against her; Temple hardly bothered to put on a defense. But, of course, he hadn't thrown in the towel. Ordinarily, this woman dressed to show everything north and south of her navel, but Temple kept her dressed in a sunbonnet and an old mother-hubbard. And when it came time for his summation to the jury, well,' Thompson laughed, 'I wish you could have been there, Jim. I can't remember everything he said, only the concluding words as he pointed from this chippy to the witnesses for the prosecution. "Who are you going to believe, gentlemen of the jury? I ask you, who are you going to believe – this poor old woman, who stands on the crumbling precipice of eternity, or that blood-sucking octopus with its tentacles in Wall Street and its teeth in the throat of our tortured citizenry – _The First Territorial Bank of Pumpkin Wells, Oklahoma!"_ The jury brought in a not guilty verdict without leaving the box.'
Deputy Thompson chuckled appreciatively. The marshal recalled another Temple Houston incident.
'It was late in the afternoon, and Temple had been looking pretty wan all day. Right in the middle of cross-examining a witness, he turned to the judge and asked for a thirty-minute adjournment. His honor naturally wanted to know the reason for the request. Temple said it was to preserve the dignity of the court. "I have such a terrible hangover, sir, that only a few quick drinks will save me from flying apart, creating such an unholy mess in these hallowed precincts that even the Blind Goddess must become aware of it, and, lifting her robes, flee in terror."
'Well, his honor pursed his lips judiciously, and glanced at the county attorney. "What say the people?" he asked.
'"May it please the court," the prosecutor said, "the people's concern for the dignity of the court is second only to our sympathy and admiration for our illustrious opponent-at-law. We will be happy to concur in his request for a recess, and even happier to join him for a drink."
'"So will I," the judge said. "Adjournment granted." The three of them went across to the saloon together, and – '
'Uncle Harry,' said Deputy Thompson, _'Uncle Harry.'_
'… and then they – Well, what is it?' Marshal Thompson frowned grumpily. 'You interrupted a very good story.'
'I'm sorry. I just wanted to say that I'll be very happy to take the job as sheriff. It should be an excellent stepping-stone to higher office.'
'Stepping-stone? It's an important job in itself.'
'I'm sure you're right, sir. And I'd certainly give it my undivided attention as long as I held it. But – '
'I know, I know,' the marshal gestured irritably. 'You aspire to higher office. The very highest in the country, correct? Now, don't sit there looking lofty. And, for God's sake, don't tell me that any man can be president!'