Lords of an Empty Land by Randy Denmon

and obedient servant,
    Â 
    Captain Douglas Owens,
    Commander, Company D, 4th United States Cavalry

    When Douglas entered his office, a large room with a desk, several chairs, and a mess table, he found Hannah, her left hand toting a small picnic basket. Judge Butler stood beside her, and Private O’Neal sat at the table.
    â€œPrivate O’Neal,” Douglas said in a loud, professional tone.
    The eighteen-year-old freckle-faced and redheaded Irishman jumped up and turned to face the officer, his long hair waving as he snapped his stance stiff.
    Douglas made a quick inspection of the private’s uniform, covering his short, stocky frame. “Run over to the corral and fetch Basil and Huff.”
    â€œYes, sir,” the private said and quickly departed.
    â€œGood morning,” Hannah said, putting the basket on the table. She opened it and began to place its contents on the wooden table. “Uncle John and I brought you and your men some lunch.”
    Douglas stepped forward to inspect the grilled beef, string beans, bread, and blackberry pie.
    â€œYou look tired,” the judge said to Douglas. “Have you been out on any more nighttime missions to escort citizens home safely?”
    Douglas quickly glanced at Hannah trying not to be noticed, then turned back to the judge. “How I spend my nights is the least of my worries. It’s not even noon, and I already damn near got in a shoot-out with Sheriff Thaxton and that psychopath, Moses Garrett . . . down at the Cotton Palace.”
    The door rattled open as Private O’Neal led Huff and Basil inside.
    â€œYou men eat up,” Hannah said, continuing to arrange the food.
    As the four soldiers sat at the table, Judge Butler turned to his niece. “Hannah, can you excuse us? I need to discuss some things in private with Captain Owens and his men.”
    â€œBut, Uncle,” Hannah said, “can’t it wait until after lunch? I’d like to visit also. I’m not domestic help.”
    â€œGo along,” the judge insisted. “You can visit later. You know how politics stimulates your free spirit. It gave your poor father endless hours of grief. There’s nothing more worrisome than that from a young, respectable lady.”
    Douglas looked at Hannah and then the judge. “Judge Butler, I hear you’re a very fair man. How can it be acceptable for your niece to ride home late at night with a stranger, but not have a mind of her own?”
    The judge flashed his focused eyes at Douglas, crinkling his forehead as he moved over a few feet to make room for Hannah at the table. Douglas spent a few seconds relishing Hannah’s complimentary gaze.
    â€œI’ll say grace,” Hannah said, and everyone bowed their heads in silence.
    â€œCaptain Owens,” the judge said in a sincere voice when Hannah finished the quick prayer. He put his hands on the table and quickly glanced at the other three men. “I am a little disturbed about the shooting of Constable Garrett. Not that he didn’t deserve what he got, but we have to bring these outlaws in front of a jury. We can’t just gun them down. That will do no good. We have to demonstrate to the population that there is law and order around here, and that we’re above this violence, that we follow the rules. This is the only way to subjugate the masses. Shoot-outs might get rid of the immediate problem, but only the rule of law can keep the peace.”
    Douglas’s throat went dry as he searched for a response. He tore off a piece of bread and drank some coffee. He turned to Huff and Basil, both continuing to eat. “Judge, I understand your concerns. And they are accurate. But it is a lawless jungle outside of town. We have made and will continue to make every effort to bring these men to your courtroom, as much as it does not unduly endanger us.”
    â€œIf it does endanger you,” the judge continued, “so be it. The law is