Judge William Fairborne Fauntleroy

Previously:

“I am. Good day sirrahs, how may I help you?” He was not feeling quite as cheerful as his voice—the physical appearance of the four men did not call for “cheerful” as much as “wary.”

“We have a message from your mother, she is not pleased.”

“Oh?” Simpson’s hand slowly drifted toward his sidearm…

Season VI, Chapter 1, Episode 17:

After they crossed the covered bridge into Williams’ Station, Bart continued on towards the bank while Boomer & Larry rode into the stockade and to the Marshal’s office inside.

“We need to speak in private, Mr. Simpson,” Abel Wilson ignored Simpson’s hand near his six gun, “Is there someplace?”

“Right here, or nowhere,” Simpson replied, “My friend will excuse us, so we may speak privately.”

The unnamed extra took the cue and left—quickly, sensing things were about to get tense. He was correct in the what, just not the why.

This particular Simpson, unlike his father and great-grandson, was not a coward—or a bully; he did his own heavy lifting and had no minions working for him. “You were saying something about a message from my mother?”

Before they could answer a very large fellow riding a mule approached; Simpson noticed a change in their posture suggesting they likely knew the fellow…

“This could be—interesting,” Simpson thought; a smile flickering. What he didn’t know was two of the men, Sam Sledge and Jack Cairns, had already met the big fellow…

“Good day Missus Miller, Doctor Shouse,” “Judge” William Fairborne Fauntleroy, Justice of the Peace and owner/operator of the Grand Marais Hotel, “How may I help you?”

“Good day Judge,” Chris appreciated Fauntleroy referring to her as “Doctor,” and returned the courtesy, looking at the boys, she continued, “Mrs. Miller would like to adopt these fine young men.”

“Oh—certainly, Doctor. Can you attest to the character of Mrs. Miller?”

“Of course, I’ve known her for what seems like centuries; she is a woman of pristine character.” Chris had trouble not laughing at the rather stilted speech of the era.

“Well, then, If the boys…er…young men agree, I’ll prepare the papers.”

The “young men” agreed.

To Be Continued…