Caleb looked at Todd and Mahan. “Will you represent me, gentlemen?� he asked quietly, something like a glint of humor in his eyes.
Todd nodded, and Peter Mahan, a keen-visaged Irish Yankee, beamed. To his soul a battle was the essence of life, and a duel was not unreasonable west of the Mississippi.
“Folly,� said Judge Hollis, secretly exultant, “rotten folly; let it drop.�
Jacob turned at the door, his face livid. “Not till I’ve sent him to hell,� he said, and walked out.
The judge brought his fist down on his knee. “By the Lord Harry,� he said, “it was this day twenty-odd years ago that Yarnall shot Jacob’s father.�
“I shan’t shoot Jacob,� said Caleb dryly.
Judge Hollis turned quickly. “What do you mean?� he began, but was interrupted.
The door between the rooms opened suddenly, after much restless but unnoticed wriggling of the knob, and Sammy, in his plaid petticoat and his brass-buttoned jacket, came in on wobbly legs. He stopped abruptly and viewed the group, finger in mouth.
“My God, what’s that?� exclaimed Judge Hollis blankly.
Caleb laughed. “My ward,� he said, and then he looked up and met three pairs of curious eyes. “It’s Jean Bartlett’s child,� he explained simply; “she died last night, and Dr. Cheyney threatened the Foundling Asylum, so I just brought the kid here; there’s room.�