The Shooting of Judge Price

Judge wade price was a distinctively handsome man in his leisurely fifties, a widower for nearly a decade, and for many more years than that he had been presiding judge of the country court. Everyone who had ever known Judge Price thought of him as being scrupulously honest, fair-minded to a fault, and, as he often said to himself, deferent to the honor of womanhood. It was doubtful if anybody could be found who had ever seen him fail to take off his hat when he spoke to a woman or young girl of any age.

Perhaps one of the reasons why Judge Price was beloved by so many people was because of his unfailing habit of having a friendly word for everybody he spoke to, men and women alike. Being more than six feet tall with bushy black hair turning gray, and walking with a dignified erectness at all times, even strangers in town were impressed by his imposing appearance and friendly nature.

Judge Price's five sons and daughters had married and moved away, and he lived alone in a large red-brick house on the only hill of any size in Agricola. He employed an elderly Negro maid, Mamie, who went to his house early every morning and prepared his meals and then went home after supper at night.(continued on page 32)Judge Price(continued from page 23)

For a long time it had been common knowledge in Agricola that Fern Browning, who had been a widow for the past five years, had made up her mind to go to any extreme that was necessary in order to get Judge Price to marry her, and many people often wondered if there could be a limit to what she would do to gain what she had set her heart on. So far, as most people knew, Fern had used every means she could think of to induce Judge Price to ask her to be his wife, but she was both resourceful and persistent, and she had no thought of failing for lack of effort and determination.

"If there's a female in town who can get what she wants, fair means or foul," one of the married women said, "it'll be Fern Browning. You just wait and see. She'll find a way."

Fern was no longer a young woman, but even at forty-five she was more youthful and attractive in many ways than some women half her age. She had retained her slender figure, she had cultivated a pleasant personality, and her eager smile was always provocative and winsome. Besides, her clothes were always becoming to her and she was rightfully proud of her chocolate-colored hair.

Most of the people in Agricola had become accustomed to seeing Fern Browning stroll along Main Street once or twice a week at the time when Judge Price was in the habit of leaving the courthouse in the late afternoon. He always stopped on the white stone steps under the colonnade of the building and lighted a cigar before continuing toward the street. If he had been delayed in court for some reason, Fern went into the drug store and made a small purchase at the cosmetic counter, and after that, if he still had not appeared under the colonnade, she would go across the street to the post office and buy a few stamps. By that time, Judge Price was usually walking across the tree-shaded courthouse lawn in his dignified manner, and Fern would wave to him in a gesture of surprise as though she had no idea that she had expected to see him. Then, while he was taking off his hat, she would hurry to him.

"I'm so glad I happened to run into you like this, Wade," Fern would say breathlessly when she reached him. "I've been trying to find time all day to phone you and ask you to come to supper tonight. There won't be any other guests – just you and me, Wade."

"Well, Fern," Judge Price would usually say with a slight frown, "that's a very kindly invitation from a very charming lady, and I do thank you. But as a matter of fact, I had planned to stay at home tonight and review some important briefs. I don't see how I —"

Before he could say anything more, Fern would come closer and put her hand on his arm while she smiled at him enticingly.

"Oh, Wade, those old briefs can wait a little while. I've planned to have everything for supper that you like so much. There'll be hot rolls and a beef roast and peach ice cream. Please say you'll come, Wade. It would be such a great disappointment if you didn't. I've gone to so much trouble just for you."

Her lips pouting girlishly, Fern would move closer to him so that he could not keep from smelling the perfume of her gleaming brown hair. Almost without exception, except on Friday nights, Judge Price would smile and say that her pleasing invitation overruled any objections he might entertain and that consequently it was gratefully accepted. After that, Fern would squeeze his hand intimately and then hurry home to prepare supper.

Every time he went to Fern Browning's house, which he had been doing once or twice a week for almost a year, Judge Price was served an enjoyable meal and he was glad to have a change from Mamie's cooking. After supper, he and Fern usually sat on the front porch when the weather was mild and on chilly evenings they sat on the sofa in the parlor. Later in the evening, Fern would move close to him and put her hand on his and tell him how peaceful and happy she was whenever they were together like that.

Judge Price always stroked her hand affectionately, knowing that otherwise she would be disappointed, but at the same time he was always careful not to let himself be carried away by her intimate hints about the joys of marriage. More than that, every time Fern wore one of her more revealing dresses and used more perfume than usual, Judge Price always tried to leave before Fern put her head on his shoulder and began talking about how lonely she was, his excuse being that he had to go home and study some important cases that were scheduled for hearing in his court the next day.

Their evenings together might have continued in such a manner if Fern had not begun to wonder why it was that Judge Price was always firm and inalterable each time he said he would be unable to come to her house for supper on a Friday night. The more she thought about it, the more suspicious and upset she became, and she made up her mind to find out where he went and what he did every Friday night for week after week and month after month.

The next Friday afternoon Fern was walking slowly along the street in front of the courthouse when Judge Price crossed the lawn. As soon as he saw her, he stopped and took off his hat. This time she did not wave gaily, but went directly to where he stood and, with only a fleeting smile, said that she would like to have him come to her house for supper that night. Judge Price thanked her in his usual warm manner for her invitation, but he also shook his head firmly and told her that it would not be possible for him to visit her on that particular evening.

That was exactly what she had expected him to say, and for the first time she did not go closer and squeeze his hand intimately. Instead, without even a parting smile, Fern turned abruptly and walked away before he could speak to her again. Standing there with his hat in hand, mystified by her conduct, he watched her with a perplexed frown on his face until she was out of sight.

That night promptly at eight o'clock, as he had been in the habit of doing for many years, Judge Price left his house and drove down the street in his automobile. Fern had been sitting in her car nearby since dark, and she followed him as closely as she dared. Judge Price stopped at the drug store and bought some cigars, and then he got back into his car and drove up Flower Street for three blocks. He stopped the car in front of Bonnie Tyler's house.

Watching from the corner, Fern saw Judge Price get out of his car, light one of the cigars, and then walk in his dignified manner to the front of the house. There he rang the bell, and after several moments the door was opened and Judge Price, taking off his hat and bowing, stepped inside. All the rooms in Bonnie Tyler's house, both upstairs and downstairs, were lighted, but the shades had been closed tightly over the windows and Fern was unable to see anything that was taking place.

Fern did not know how much time had passed while she was trying to decide what to do next, but her whole body was trembling with the chill of the night air when she ran to the front door and rang the bell. Almost at once the door was opened by Bonnie Tyler, and, before Bonnie could close and lock it securely, Fern ran past her into the hall. She had never been inside the house before, and she had no idea where she was going, but at the end of the hall she saw a wide stairway leading to the second floor and she ran toward it.

Fern had gone several steps up the stairway when Bonnie caught her by the arm and roughly jerked her backward from the stairs.

"No you don't, sister!" Bonnie said determinedly, pulling her away from the steps. "I don't know what you want, but whatever it is, it's not what you're going to do."

"Take your hands off me!" Fern cried angrily, slapping at Bonnie's face.

An instant later, flinging her arms free from Bonnie's grasp, Fern took a pistol from her handbag and began firing it wildly. One of the bullets shattered the glass in the front door and another one knocked plaster from the ceiling. Immediately after that there was complete silence in the house, and then suddenly one of the girls upstairs screamed.

"That shows I know what I'm doing!" Fern said, waving the pistol recklessly. "Where is he?"

Just then, Judge Price, unhurried and dignified, came down the stairway. He stopped when he was about half-way and took off his hat and bowed to Fern.

"What in the world, Fern?" he said, frowning slightly. "What does this (continued on page 71)Judge Price(continued from page 32) mean?"

"I'll show you what it means!" she cried in a loud, excited voice.

Closing her eyes, she fired the pistol at him. There was a deafening noise, complete silence for a moment, and this time all the girls upstairs screamed. Judge Price slowly seated himself on one of the steps.

Before Fern could aim the pistol at him again, Bonnie jerked it from her hand. As soon as that happened, Fern fell in a heap on the hall floor.

Bonnie ran up the stairway to Judge Price.

"Are you hurt, Judge Price?" she asked anxiously. "Did she shoot you?"

Judge Price felt his right leg from knee to thigh. After that he nodded.

"I'll phone for the doctor right away," Bonnie said, starting down the stairway. "I'll tell him to get here as fast as he can."

Judge Price reached forward and caught her by the arm. "No, Bonnie, don't do that," he said calmly, shaking his head. "That won't do at all. As soon as I can get to my car, I'll drive home and then send for him. That would be much more appropriate under the circumstances. I'm sure you understand my reasoning."

"But you might bleed to death, Judge Price," Bonnie said fearfully.

"That's the risk I'll have to take," he told her in the same calm manner.

Fern slowly lifted her head, and then she sat upright on the floor. She gazed dazedly at Judge Price for a moment, and then, while tears streamed down her face, she began crawling on her hands and knees toward him.

"Wade – Wade – I don't know what made me do it," she said tearfully when she reached him. "I just couldn't help myself. And now you'll never marry me – never – never – never!"

Judge Price put his hand on her tousled brown hair and stroked her tenderly. As soon as she felt the touch of his hand, Fern locked her arms around him and hugged him with all her might.

"Fern," he said as he stroked her hair, "Fern, with the experience of sitting on the judicial bench for many years, a (concluded on next page) judge should have the ability to recognize the true and enduring values in life. It occurs to me now that I am in the fortunate position of being able to do just that."

"Does that mean that you're going to forgive me, Wade?" she asked hopefully, looking up into his face.

Judge Price leaned over her and kissed her tousled brown hair.

"It means more than that, Fern," he told her. "It means that if you care enough about me to shoot me in a whorehouse, you're going to be a loving and devoted wife."

"No you don't, sister!" Bonnie cried.