Holding a lit match to the wick of a nearby kerosene lantern, Brandon turned up the light, then started setting the type.
Half an hour later, he took the first sheet off the press, then held it up for a closer examination.
“Here it is, Emma,” he said. “Yes, sir, this will shake them up.”
The sun was not even up the next morning when Marshal Dawson showed up on Quentin’s front porch. He banged on the door until, finally, he saw the moving gleam of a candle as someone inside came down the stairs to answer the door. It was Quentin, wearing a sleeping gown and carrying a candle.
“Dawson,” Quentin said grumpily. “What are you doing here? What time is it?” Quentin looked around toward the big grandfather clock that stood in the foyer, just at the foot of the stairs. “It’s not even five o’clock yet.”
“I thought you might want to see this,” Dawson suggested, holding out a copy of the newspaper.
“A newspaper? Why the hell would I want to read a newspaper at this time of morning?”
“Just read it,” Dawson said. “You’ll see why.”
Quentin gave Dawson the candle to hold, then using the small bubble of golden light cast by the candle, he read the paper. Not until he was finished did he talk again.
“Where did this come from?” he asked.
“It was pushed under the door at the jail,” Marshal Dawson said. “It must’ve been around midnight last night. I never saw it until this mornin’. What I don’t understand is how it got there. This isn’t the day the paper comes out.”
“This isn’t a regular issue,” Quentin said. He pointed to the banner across the top. “It says here that this is an ‘extra.’ That means a special paper printed at a time that isn’t normal. I wonder how many copies he printed.”
“Looks to me like he might have printed enough so that ever’ man, woman, and child could have his own copy,” Dawson said. “As I was ridin’ out here this mornin’, I seen ’em lyin’ all over the place, on porches, in wagons. They was a pile of ’em down at the train station and another bunch at the stage depot.”
“And you didn’t think to go gather them up, did you?”
“Uh, no, I didn’t think about doin’ nothin’ like that. I reckon I could do that when I go back.”
“It’s too late. By the time you get back, the people in town will be waking up’,” Dawson said. “Within an hour, I expect just about everyone in town will have read it.”
“I expect so,” Dawson agreed.
“Why did you let him do it?”
“Well, in the first place, Mr. Quentin, I didn’t know he was goin’ to print the thing. And in the second place, how was I goin’ to stop it anyway? I mean, it ain’t against the law to print a newspaper.”
“In Santa Clara, the law is what I say it is.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“There are no buts,” Quentin said. “I own the law and I own you, bought and paid for. And I intend to get my money’s worth.”
“All right, what do you want me to do about the paper?” Dawson asked.
“Nothing. It’s too late, the paper is out already. What I intend you to do is make certain the man that killed my son gets what’s comin’ to him.”
“You don’t have to worry none about that. That’s goin’ to happen,” the marshal said.
“Did you get Gilmore appointed prosecuting attorney?”
“Yes, sir, we done that all right,” Dawson said. “Judge McCabe got in on the evenin’ train last night, and me ’n Gilmore met him.”
“Well, it’s good to see that you aren’t totally incompetent. What time does the trial start?”
“The judge said he’ll start the trial at one o’clock this afternoon.” Dawson chuckled. “I figure he’ll have the trial over by three, and we’ll have that fella hung by four.”
“I want you to go back into town now and make certain nothin’ happens to get in the way.”
“What could possibly get in the way?”
“That’s what you said the other day. I didn’t have anything to worry about, you told me,” Quentin said. He held up the broadsheet. “Then Brandon published his extra.”
“Well, what is that goin’ to do? It’s just a paper.”
“Have you ever heard the expression the pen is mightier than the sword?” Quentin asked.
“No. I don’t know what that means.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to know,” Quentin said.
“Look, I know you’re mad, Mr. Quentin, but I didn’t know Brandon was goin’ to put out a paper like this. I mean, I never heard of an extra. I didn’t think you could put out a paper except on the day they’re supposed to come out.”
“That’s just it, Dawson. You didn’t think.”
“You want me to put Brandon in jail or something?”
“No,” Quentin said. “I don’t want you to do anything about him. I’ll take care of the situation.”
