The Doctor's Newfound Family

“That’s up to Bein,” Coleman had insisted. “He was Reese’s partner and as such has control of the assay office.”

“Fine. But what about the family home at the same address? Surely we can’t allow him to pitch the surviving family members out into the streets.”

Coleman’s thin shoulders shrugged and he blanched enough that his already pale skin whitened visibly. “It’s not that simple. Not anymore. Governor Johnson is talking about putting that general, Sherman, in charge of the militia, and Mayor Van Ness agrees. If they do that, we’re in trouble.”

“I’ve never known you to back down from a fair fight,” Taylor said.

“I didn’t say I was backing down. I’m just telling you that it would be wiser to bide our time. All the newspapers except the Herald are already on our side.”

“Which is to be expected since James Casey is running it and he’s as crooked as they come,” the doctor argued. “I’d heard that Casey was thrown out of the Drexel, Sather and Church building by Sherman himself over an editorial so full of lies that even a mule could have recognized its falseness.”

“Doesn’t matter. We still have to tread softly.”

Taylor was beside himself. He paced across the office, then wheeled to face the man he had been counting on for aid. “Suppose there’s more to it than what appears on the surface? Suppose Bein is trying to pull a fast one on the government? What then?”

“Then the sheriff should be in charge.” Coleman raised his hands, palms out, as if prepared to physically defend himself. “I know, I know. Scannell bought the office for a whole lot more than he’ll ever earn legally. That’s common knowledge. But it doesn’t change anything. We can’t wrest control of the whole city from the hands of those criminals unless we’re sure of major citizen support. That’s all there is to it.”

“What will it take to gain that?”

“I don’t know,” the obviously weary and worried businessman said. “But we can’t continue this way for long. When the time is right, we will act, I promise you.”

“What if it’s too late for the Reese children?”

“That can’t be helped.” Coleman ran a slim finger beneath his starched collar as if his cravat were choking him. “I’m not looking forward to the bloodshed that may result.”

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