Shooting For Justice by G. Tilman (top 100 novels txt) 📗

riding together. Riding home. For the first time in a while.

With letters from famous lawmen, the attorney general and secretary of war, and a former US senator, the governor was swayed to appoint Pope sheriff for the remaining several years of the current sheriff’s term. The telegram from the president, a man of his own party, sealed the deal. Robert Todd Lincoln decided to call in a favor. Arthur was aware the two detectives had probably saved his life. His telegram to the governor was eloquent and would have been hard to ignore.

He telegraphed Pope and told him to come to Sacramento immediately.

Pope boarded a train and went in the suit and white shirt he was wearing at the time.

He went to the state capitol and presented himself at the governor’s office. With his telegram from the governor, he was given an appointment an hour hence. He took a seat in the lobby and waited.

The bearded former Union officer whose West Point roommate had been Stonewall Jackson, greeted Pope at the precise time scheduled.

“Governor Stoneman, it’s good to meet you,” Pope said, offering his hand.

“And you also, Mr. Pope. Your telegram proposing, I appoint you sheriff was actually preceded by some pretty interesting people. Just after yours, I received a letter of endorsement from President Arthur. He claimed you and your partner saved his life recently.

“I’d like to hear the details.”

Pope gave him the summary of the case.

“Interesting. James Hume and Harry Morse are well-known to me. Both said you are the top detective at Wells Fargo.”

“I respectfully disagree, Governor. They are the two top detectives in America. No question about it. My wife, Sarah, is the best detective otherwise.”

“I had some interaction with Allan Pinkerton during the war. She is better than him?” the governor asked.

“Maybe not in his heyday, sir. He trained her. We visited him in Chicago a week ago. He has slid backwards badly after a stroke. I fear he won’t be with us much longer.”

“What did you think of him?” Stoneman asked.

“I read all of his books as a young San Francisco detective. He was like a hero to me. When we met, it was clear he cared a lot for Sarah. He was resentful to me, though I gave him no reason. I reckon it was related to his failing health.”

“Don’t be too sure. I found him an irascible cuss twenty years ago,” Stoneman said.

“I would have been surprised to hear it a year ago. After last week, I’m not surprised at all. Sarah always said he was testy. Nonetheless, he advanced criminology farther than anyone up to Jim Hume, who has taught me so much at Wells Fargo.”

“I understand Hume had developed some court-approved tests for bullet ballistics,” Stoneman said, perhaps testing his interviewee.

“He has. I used them in Cheyenne, Wyoming recently to prove a case against some stage and train robbers,” Pope said.

“Hume said you have solved every case he has assigned you. Either by good detecting or good shooting,” the governor said.

“Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn sometimes, Governor.”

Stoneman smiled.

“You realize if I appoint you for this job in Marin, you will have to run in an election to keep it in about two years?”

“I do, sir.”

“Would Israel Pope be your campaign manager? He is a not a Californian by birth but by choice. And a state treasure.”

“I have not thought about running, but I cannot think of a much better advocate.”

“I don’t know, your telegram advocates set a pretty high bar. Other than at San Francisco, have you ever been a sworn officer?”

“I was provost marshal to the secretary of war and was sworn as a deputy US marshal reporting to the attorney general during the Washington case. The attorney general asked me to keep my badge in case he needed me for something else during his term. So, I am sworn right now.”

“Might be helpful for a sheriff chasing a fugitive around the state. Or, out of it.”

“I was thinking the same thing, Governor,” Pope said.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“No sir. I am ready to serve at your pleasure.”

“I have a judge standing by. Give me a moment.”

The governor called his secretary and asked the judge to be located in the building and brought into the office.

After introductions, Pope raised his right hand. He held his left on a Bible.

“Do you, John Pope, solemnly agree to uphold the ordinances of Marin County, the laws of the State of California and support the Constitution of the United States, so help you God?” the judge read.

“I do.”

“Then, by the powers invested in me by the State of California, I appoint you Sheriff of Marin County for the remainder of the elected term of your predecessor. Congratulations, Sheriff Pope.”

“Thank you, gentlemen.”

“Sheriff, I don’t have a badge. You will have to get one from the man who was sheriff or have one made. I will give you a court order, under seal, commemorating this swearing in. It will be your official proof of being sheriff,” the judge said.

“If you gentlemen have nothing further, I better get back down to Marin and start enforcing the law,” Pope said.

“I will telegraph the Marin Sheriff’s Office and local Marin papers and advise you have been sworn in as sheriff. No need for you have to show up yourself and explain it,” the governor said.

“Thank you, Governor. I appreciate the courtesy.”

He was on a southbound train an hour later.

Pope sent an advisement of his new status to Hume from San Rafael. Hume responded he would be there for the wedding or Sarah’s start as regional detective, whichever came first. Pope could turn in his Wells Fargo badge and resign then.

After the telegrams were sent from the train depot, Pope went to the sheriff’s office and introduced himself.

He liked the chief deputy, a man named Bill Isakson. He was a man of good administrative skills, knew everyone in the county and was well-liked. He just did not want to take the