<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/65/Judgehawkins.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Judge Warwick<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 4, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Lunchtime<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Courthouse: Judge Warwick's office<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Marguerite Tuerny, Elisabeth Boyle<br/><hr/><strong>“That all presumes he’s willing to take a position as a deputy,”</strong>pointed out the Judge.<strong>”And more to the point, I’ve never met the man.  I can’t imagine their deeds to be true.  The last one I glanced at suggested he’d wrestled with a Mojave rattler.”</strong>He shook his head, bemused at the impossibility of such a suggestion.<strong>”If Hunter will take him on a deputy, that’s his choice.  If I’d met him personally, spoken to him, and had a sense for his integrity, I would consider it.  Bilton’s proven a reputation is a powerful thing.  But if he has that kind of reputation – I doubt he’ll willingly play second fiddle to anyone.”</strong><br/><br/>He nodded at the mention of Nathan, growing thoughtful, dragged along by the gorgeous brunette and blond.  It didn’t even quite sink in for him the appearance being suggested to everyone else on the street – or the<em>looks</em>he got from a few of the men of Gomorra as they passed.  He looked a bit surprised when she mentioned she thought Nathan could take all the other men in a gunfight, and he smiled appreciatively.  If nothing else, he appreciated the vote of confidence in a man he considered a friend.<br/><br/><strong>”All of which might well be true,”</strong>he said.<strong>”But the problem with any election campaign for Nathan is getting past that modesty.  I’ve never seen the man in action, but – I know he survived quite the fall when he was checking on a mine at the owner’s request.  Apparently he tumbled down the side of a mesa, into the water, and managed to climb free and get to a boat.  That’s no easy task, and… were it me, I doubt I’d ever be willing to cross the bridge back into Gomorra again,”</strong>he said with a laugh.<strong>”So I have every respect for his tenacity.”</strong><br/><br/>He gave a chuckle at her exclamation at the smells coming from the Wafflehaus.  He didn’t know the secret of Helga’s connections – the rail was not so nearby as Elisabeth seemed to think; the closest train station was Tombstone, and while the rail from Deadwood came far closer, the deliveries from it were sporadic, at best.  Most of Gomorra was fed by stagecoaches that came from the South or the North – there was plenty of good farmland a few days north, in Oregon.  Just as many supplies came in by boat as by coach, and those with money to spare usually preferred to entrust their packages to the Pony Express.<br/><br/>Still, he gave a warm smile at the mention of her seeing someone, and patted a hand over hers.<strong>”I’m glad someone’s caught your eye,”</strong>he said softly.<strong>”Though I’ll admit a women of your caliber… any man would scrutinize his worth.”</strong><br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/a/ad/Dorakoch.png/383px-Dorakoch.png)</div>He stepped through with the both of them into the busy Wafflehaus – highback redwood booths gave every table a sense of privacy, and a pretty, petite blond with bare shoulders and a cotton bodice waved at them.<strong>”Hi, Lady!  Hi, Judge!”</strong>The wave of her hand drew the eyes of a half dozen patrons.  The sixteen year old had matured rapidly, and her tanned, sweat-sheened bosom had little but thin cotton for restraint.  Both the Judge and Elisabeth could be certain Dora was entirely innocent of the effect she was having – the girl was as sweet as honey, and had not a shred of womanly guile to accompany it.  She was also entirely unaware of the way the damp cloth clung to her curves – the restaurant was busy and hot, with both doors open to get any kind of a draft that could be had.  Her eyes focused on Margeurite, an unfamiliar face, and she beamed brightly.<br/><br/><strong>”Oh hi!”</strong>she added, to the new face.<strong>”Welcome to the Wafflehaus, lemme git ya a menu!”</strong>She stepped towards them, stepping gracelessly towards a small stand with pitchers of cool water and printed menus.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>