[Sonic] The Last Frontier: Ch. 10

Sandy's outburst was more than enough to get the two dozen innocent bystanders in the foyer stopped in their tracks and looking right at us.  I could feel the weight of their judgmental glances.  The cops finished putting the cuffs on my wrists, and we were unceremoniously paraded out the door, down the front steps, and up the street.  The entire time, Sandy continued to struggle against her handcuffs.
"Please, ya gotta let us go.  Nobody got hurt.  It's all a big misunderstandin'!  Tell 'em, Sonic!"
Although she was right, I knew it'd be foolish to say something out loud that might be used against us at some later point.  I responded "Just keep quiet for now.  We'll get this sorted out," in a way that I hoped didn't sound critical.

I wasn't sure what to make of her expression, but thankfully, she heeded my warning, as we walked a total of four blocks from the capitol to a two-story red-brick building.  I had guessed it was a police station even before seeing the sign above the double doors.  The officers prodded us inside, where I was expecting they'd be taking us for processing before doing anything else.  But either mug shots and fingerprinting weren't standard police procedures yet at this point in history, or they were just in a hurry to get us out of public view, because we were escorted down a flight of stairs to a dimly-lit basement, where the entire floor appeared to consist of nothing but jail cells.  Down one hallway we went, as I got a good look at the grizzly outlaws and other do-badders that occupied the cells on both sides.  Apparently they had a difficult time finding an empty cell for us; it felt like we'd walked most of the basement before they found exactly one, located near one of the corners.
After a moment of conversation, one officer said "Just throw 'em both in there 'til we can figure out what to do with 'em."

After the cell's iron-bar door was locked behind us, Sandy turned around and shouted "Hey!  How long are y'all gonna keep us here?"
But by that point, most of the officers had already left, and the one left locking us up didn't so much as glance our way before he followed suit.
I had retreated to the back of the brick-walled cell, while Sandy dejectedly plunked her head against the bars, groaning in defeat.
"I can't believe they actually locked us up," I heard her mumble.
"We probably could've walked out of that building on our own if you hadn't blown your cool," I pointed out.
She instantly raised her head, and slowly turned around to look directly at me.  "Well, mister, you did a fine job of stickin' yer neck out when you started askin' the commissioner them probing questions."
"Maybe so," I retorted, "but I didn't outright accuse the commissioner of wrongdoing--"
That really got her irritated, and before I could finish my sentence, she was right up in my face.  The argument quickly turned heated, with each of us blaming the other for getting us in this predicament, until a cop showed up and rapped on the bars with his billy club to get our attention.
"Hey, shut your mouths!" he said.  "Don't make me come over here again."
It broke up our argument, but resulted in Sandy retreating to the back of the cell while I stuck to the front.  We each turned our backs and refused to speak to each other.

Some length of time passed (I couldn't tell how much without any clocks in sight), while I stood there in silence, thinking about my argument with Sandy.  Tensions had been steadily rising with each new piece of this puzzle we'd uncovered, but I certainly didn't expect we'd end up in jail because of it, let alone that being the wedge that drove us apart.  A bit of introspection was what I really needed to make sense of it all, and after I had a chance to calm down, I realized how stupid it was to fight over it anyway.  I'm sure we were both to blame, and even if not, it wouldn't do a thing to fix our current circumstances.  And I definitely didn't want one argument to ruin the only real connection I'd made with someone in this time and place.

I turned around to look at Sandy, hoping that she'd reached a similar conclusion and was ready to make up.  Unfortunately, she still had her back turned, and I couldn't tell what she was thinking.  The alternative was to get a good look at all the jail cells close by: down the hall in one direction, and a few around the corner in the other.  It was surprisingly quiet considering the number of people locked up in this confined basement.  I had no idea how long Sandy and I might be stuck here, but figured that the wait might be marginally more bearable if there was at least one nearby prisoner who wouldn't object to some casual dialogue.  As it happened, the first one to catch my eye was the occupant of the cell directly opposite ours: he was sprawled out on the bench/bed fast asleep, despite it being the middle of the day.  The prisoner's boots were tucked away neatly in the back corner of the cell, and from underneath a heavy, scratchy-looking blanket I saw one blue foot sticking out.  With my traveling partner apparently still not on speaking terms, I started wondering if he'd be a good candidate for conversation, although of course I'd have to wait until he woke up to find out.

I didn't have to wait very long -- approximately ten minutes after I made this discovery, a different officer walked down the hallway and tapped on the bars of the other prisoner's cell, loud enough to wake him up.
I watched him stir and pull back the blanket as the officer said "Sorry, but your latest request for a court appeal was denied.  I guess you won't be gettin' outta here until you've served your full sentence."
The prisoner sat up and placed his feet on the floor, glanced at the officer, then held his head in his hands, grumbling.  It wasn't the sort of reaction a hardened criminal would give, so that seemed promising.  Shortly after the officer left, the prisoner seemed to collect himself, and looked at the wall opposite his bed for a moment, before turning his glance outside the cell.  Our eyes met, and it was a bit unnerving: his wrinkled eyes, his limp quills, and his white bushy mustache made me feel like I was staring at a much older version of myself.  I'm sure he thought similarly of me, based on his perplexed expression.

"Uh, Sandy...you might wanna take a look at this," I turned around to say.
"I don't feel like talkin' to you right now," she mumbled, still with her back turned.
"You might change your mind if you just--"
That's when she turned around in frustration and repeated "I said I don't--"
When she saw the hedgehog in the other cell, her mouth hung open in disbelief, as she inched her way forward to the cell bars.  The other hedgehog looked just as surprised; obviously they recognized each other, but from where, I couldn't say.
"Sandy McElroy, is that you?" asked the hedgehog.
Sandy gasped, holding a hand over her mouth, which was spreading into a grin.  "Charles, I...I can't believe it!  After all this time!  How've you been?  How'd ya end up here?  Why'd--"
"Shh!" warned Charles.  "Keep your voice down.  It'd be better if we pretended we didn't know each other."
Meanwhile, I was still standing there, dumbfounded, trying to make the connection.  That's when Sandy pulled me aside and whispered "This is Charles D. Howington, the real sheriff of Whispering Gulch, the one that went off and disappeared months ago."

Sandy and I both sat down on our cell's bed, and Charles did the same.  I could tell both of them had a lot more to say, but Sandy had apparently taken Charles' suggestion about pretending not to know each other.  Additional time passed before I got the idea to talk to Charles, while continuing to pretend to be strangers (which for me, wasn't actually pretending).  Sandy seemed OK with the idea, but urged me to be cautious about what and how much I said.
I stood back up and approached Charles to ask the question I've seen asked in every prison movie and TV show: "So...what are you in for?"
Charles stayed silent for a moment, apparently debating whether or not to strike up conversation, but ultimately stood up and replied "Oh, I'm just a fellow from a town out on the frontier that ya probably never heard of, southwest of here."
"So how'd you end up here?"
"Found out about some strange stuff goin' on in some nearby towns, and I took some time to investigate.  Led me all the way to the capital here."
"And did you ever get to the bottom of it?" I asked, my curiosity piqued by how familiar this all sounded.
"Not quite," he answered.  Then he lowered his voice, gesturing for both of us to listen in: "But I did figure out there's a rail line being built through this territory, and someone in the gov'mint's got a hand in it.  I thought I'd find some answers talking to the land commissioner, and the things he said only made me suspicious."
I softly gasped, hoping he'd found something we hadn't uncovered yet.  He opened his mouth to say more, but an officer on patrol came around the corner just then; he must've heard us talking.  He stopped in front of our cells and looked at Charles, then at us.  His stern expression told us everything without having to say a word.  After the officer continued walking, we all sat down without saying anything else.

Charles may have had the right idea about keeping the conversation to a minimum, but after that last point, I really wanted to know what else he could tell us.  But that would have to wait, at least for long enough for the heat to die down, or for something else to happen in the jail that would take the focus off us.  In the meantime, Sandy and I occasionally whispered back and forth, deciding whether to share our own findings.
When we all felt it was safe to speak again, I stood up and quietly asked "So what happened that actually made you get arrested?"
Charles answered "As I said, the commissioner made me suspicious.  I figgered there had to be somethin' in that office of his that proved he was responsible, or at least could tell me whoever else was.  The curiosity was eatin' me away on the inside, like a tapeworm.  You ever git one of those?"
"Let me guess...you broke into his office when no one was there, probably some time late at night?"
"Yeah...how'd ya know?"
I chuckled.  "Because that's what I would have done.  And I'm guessing you didn't find anything?"
He shook his head.  "Didn't get far enough before a security guard heard the rustlin' of papers."
"So how long ago was this?"
"Couldn't say for sure.  Been stuck in here for so long, I've lost count of the days.  Got to be at least a few months.  You probably overheard that my latest request for a court appeal was denied."

"But enough about me," said Charles.  "What about you?  I certainly know Sandy, but I don't know who you are or how you managed to get Sandy stuck in there with ya."
At this time, Sandy stood up to offer some explanation.  "This is Sonic, and he was just a fellow who wandered into Whispering Gulch one night.  He said he didn't know how he ended up there, but everyone else in town thought he was you."
Charles' mustache twitched as he nodded with understanding.  Sandy told Charles how I was pretending to be the sheriff to set the townsfolk at ease, until the notice came about Whispering Gulch getting seized by the territory government.
"Sandy's nephew, Miles, was the one that found the map in your office desk, with the names of the towns written on the back," I added.
Sandy continued to explain how that kicked off our own journey to uncover the same secrets Charles sought, mentioning that we'd managed to speak to the surveyors that allegedly found the evidence of Whispering Gulch being unsafe to live in.  Charles sounded pleased to hear that someone else had come to finish what he'd started.
"Of course," he muttered, "now with all three of us stuck in jail, there's no one left to stop Whisperin' Gulch from bein' torn down, and its hard-workin' people tossed out like yesterday's news."

It was a grim splash of reality, and none of us had much else to say past that point.  A few minutes later, another officer was patrolling the hallway, whom I recognized as being the particular officer who had put Sandy in handcuffs.  I asked the same question Sandy had yelled out before: "How long are you going to keep us locked up like this?"
The officer matter-of-factly responded "You'll be detained here until you have the chance to appear before a judge.  And with the current case load on the court's docket, I feel that 14 to 16 days' time is a reasonable estimate."
Sandy shot to her feet.  "Two weeks?  Yer tellin' me that we gotta wait two whole weeks to prove our innocence to a judge?!"
At that moment, my mind was once again scanning previous memories of criminal-justice proceedings from movies and TV shows.  I interjected with "What about bail?  Is that an option for us?"
The officer seemed blindsided by that question.  "I...I'm actually not sure.  I'll have to consult with the court liaison, who's in our station most days of the week."
After the officer left to find out, Sandy turned to me and asked "Bail us out?  With what?  We barely have more than two nickels to rub together!"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Charles reach into one of his boots, pulling out a small slip of paper.  He curled it into a tight ball in between his hands, and after making sure I was watching him, he glanced side-to-side to ensure no one else was watching.  He tossed the ball of paper across the hall, and when I saw it would fall short, I thrust one arm between the bars of the cell, barely catching it in midair.  I pulled it inside and withdrew to the back of the cell before unraveling it.  Sandy and I could both see it was a $50 bill, which had clearly seen better days.
Charles started whispering "I had that stashed away in case of emergen--"
But just then, the officer returned to give me an answer to my question.  "I spoke with the court liaison.  He's gone to the courthouse to discuss the specifics of your case with the judge.  Ultimately, it's the judge who'll have to decide whether granting bail is allowable, and if so, for how much.  When I find out, I will pass the information along to you."

A minute after the officer left, Charles said "On the off chance you two get let outta here, please promise me you'll find some way to finish this.  Don't make the same mistakes I made.  I want to help in any way I can."
That's when Sandy requested "You can start by tellin' us any other information ya got, about the commissioner or anything else."
"I don't have any hard evidence, but I do got a theory 'bout what's been happenin'.  All the empty land's owned by the gov'mint, right?  Well, when that railroad company came in, I'm thinkin' the commissioner saw a chance to make a little money for himself.  So he's been sellin' off gov'mint land to the railroad folks, bit by bit, without gittin' anyone else's permission, and keepin' all the money."
"That sounds plausible," I pondered, "but why go to the trouble and the risk of kicking people out of towns?  And where do the surveyors enter into all of this?"
Sandy suggested "More money.  Land's worth more when it's built up, even if nobody's livin' there.  He probably struck a deal with the surveyors to make up some bogus information about the land in exchange for kickbacks, and then sold the land to the railroad company as being 'people ready.'  Whatever price he was chargin', it was bound to be cheaper than buildin' settlements from scratch."
"This all makes perfect sense, actually," I concluded.  "But it's only a conspiracy theory unless we can prove it.  But how?  The commissioner's not gonna be stupid enough to store all that money in a bank in his own name.  And to keep it in his office wouldn't be smart either..."
Charles added "He's bound to be keepin' a ledger somewhere, so he can track where all the money's goin'.  That's what I got caught tryin' to search the room for."
"You know, Sandy was thinking of trying the very same thing before we got arrested," I mentioned, looking right at her.  She just rolled her eyes.
"Thankfully, I talked her out of it.  And in case you're wondering, the reason we got arrested is for allegedly threatening the commissioner, but in reality, he just got spooked when Sandy and I raised our voices and asked him some probing questions."
"Well, if he is responsible," said Charles, "throwin' us all in jail was probably his way of keeping us quiet."
Sandy flopped the palm of one hand against the cell bars and sighed.  "It just ain't fair, especially for you, Charles.  If we do manage to git out, I don't wanna leave you behind."
"Don't worry about me," he said.  "I can manage.  I keep to myself, and folks 've been leavin' me alone."

It was a long wait to hear anything about my request for bail, nearly two hours, according to Sandy's pocketwatch (which had somehow not been confiscated).  The same officer returned to give us the news: our request was granted, but we'd have to meet with the court liaison face-to-face first.  A second officer arrived to open the cell door and block our exit while we were handcuffed once more, and then led upstairs to the ground floor.  In a small room off the entrance area, we were placed behind a plain wooden table, while a rather portly black-and-white badger in a suit took a seat on the opposite side.
"Considering the level of the infraction, the Court has set bail at $25 for each of you," said the badger, sounding rather snobbish.  "In addition, the Court has issued a restraining order such that neither of you are allowed to come within 50 feet of Land Commissioner Julian Richardson.  This shall remain in effect until your appearance before the Court fifteen days from now, on the 27th of this month, at eleven o'clock in the morning."
He then slid two official-looking documents in front of us and added "Signing these documents certifies that you agree to these terms."
Sandy and I exchanged glances.  I had my reservations about being legally kept away from our target, and from the look in her eyes, I thought she was thinking the same.  I reached for the fountain pen on the table in front of us, but Sandy spoke up with "I agree to the terms of the bail and the restrainin' order, but I don't wanna sign this quite yet.  Is there any chance we can get that court date pushed up a li'l bit sooner?  Preferably some time in the next few days?"
The liaison looked surprised to hear this.  "Are you sure?  Most who come through these doors in handcuffs would request a postponement of their trial date, to extend their freedom."
I was thinking the exact same thing, and I whispered to Sandy "What are you thinking?!"
She whispered back "Appearin' before a court could be a blessin' in disguise."
After Sandy affirmed the request with a nod, the badger explained "I should be able to petition the judge for a rescheduling of the trial date, though I cannot guarantee any improvement.  You shall be notified of any changes in writing.  Please write down your addresses where you want the letters to be delivered."
"Oh," I uttered.  "We actually...don't have an address here in town.  We've come in from the frontier for business matters."
The liaison looked unimpressed.  "If that is the case, then you have no choice but to accompany me directly to the courthouse and await the results in person."

It was early evening by the time Sandy and I stepped outside the police station.  Still in handcuffs and with the two officers escorting, we followed the court liaison two blocks south and three blocks east, to a prominent courthouse whose marble architecture was reminiscent of the capitol building.  I soon found out that I had made the bail request just in time for Sandy's amendment to be examined before close of business at the courthouse today, otherwise Sandy and I would be stuck in that jail cell overnight.  On an iron bench outside Courtroom #2, Sandy and I waited while the liaison had gone inside to confer with the judge.  I could see the officer escorts rolling their eyes -- I'm sure they weren't anticipating having to do this today.  Fifteen minutes later, the badger exited the courtroom, carrying corrected versions of the forms we had to sign.  The only change I could see was that the date and time had been changed to 3:00 PM on the 15th, which was only three days away. I now had reservations about it being too soon, but Sandy said she found it a lot more "agreeable."  We both signed the forms, surrendered the $50 that Charles had given us, and finally had our handcuffs removed.  They showed us the exit, and that was the end of that.

I was glad to be back out on the streets again, but Sandy had been looking troubled ever since we were waiting inside the courthouse.  I asked her what was on her mind, and she said "I was thinkin' a court appearance would've been the perfect opportunity to expose the commissioner's plot, but now I'm thinkin' I may have painted us into a corner by givin' us only three days to do it."
"And that's assuming the judge is trustworthy and isn't getting paid to look the other way," I added.  "If he had issued a restraining order on us, there's a reasonably good chance he--"
"I know, I know, don't remind me," Sandy grumbled as she shook her hands in frustration.
"So now what are we gonna do?  We've got three days to find the secret ledger Charles talked about, and thanks to that restraining order, we're never gonna get a chance to talk to the commissioner or go into his office legally.  And even if we manage to find the proverbial smoking gun and show it to the judge, Richardson would deny it, and it wouldn't be admissible in court anyway."
"And on top of that," Sandy expressed, "we also have the problem of gettin' our sheriff out of jail and provin' Commissioner Richardson did it to shut him up."
"Yep...seems like we've got our hands full.  So, what do we do first?"

For several minutes, neither of us were getting any ideas.  Then I heard Sandy gasp.
"Petunia!  We promised we'd pick her up before sundown, and the sun's already beginnin' to set!"
I told Sandy "You stay right here...I can run right over to the hotel and pick her up faster than you could."
Somehow, I remembered enough of the downtown layout to remember where the hotel was (and it helped that it was taller than most of the other buildings).  For the first time in days, I cranked up my speed, slicing a path right through the streets and dodging anyone who got in the way.  Less than a minute later, I screeched to a stop in front of the hotel livery, where I could see Petunia toward the back.  But I hadn't counted on another worker tending the stables, who didn't recognize me and (understandably) wouldn't believe my story of making an arrangement to keep Petunia here all day for no additional charge.  I went back and forth with the worker, trying to talk my way out of forking over money I didn't have...and I would've been forced to do it, had the guy we'd originally spoken with not shown up.
"You showed up just in the nick of time," he said.  "Ten more minutes and I would've been asking you for more money too."
I thanked him for his patience, and then, realizing I wouldn't be able to run back with Petunia in tow, I sized up Sandy's horse and realized I'd never had an opportunity to ride one before.  I'm sure that was painfully obvious to the stable hands, who got a kick at my first two unsuccessful attempts to climb up into the saddle.
I even heard the one who didn't know me laugh and mutter "There's no way that fella owns that horse.  Look at 'im squirm."
But the other said "He had a lady friend with him when this horse was dropped off.  It was probably her horse...I know she could ride."

I eventually pulled myself into position, and trotted my way through the streets back to Sandy at the courthouse...only to find she wasn't in front of the courthouse anymore.  I began to panic, looking in every direction, my mind already putting together a list of places she could've possibly went.  It didn't take long for me to start imagining more sinister fates like being kidnapped, or robbed and left for dead.  But then I saw the courthouse doors open and Sandy step out along with a few other people, and my needless worry evaporated in a flash.  I hopped off Petunia and jogged up to her, but before I could say anything, she apologized for stepping out of sight.  She'd apparently gone back inside to get an unofficial copy of the forms we'd signed, to remind us of the date/time/location of our court appearance.

With Petunia in our possession again, we were rapidly running out of daylight to find a place to stay for the night.  Our unexpected loan of $50 was immediately swallowed up in getting us out of jail, and after asking Sandy to take stock of our remaining funds, she affirmed that we couldn't afford another night in the same hotel.
"What about that boardinghouse we heard about when we first showed up in town?" I suggested.  "It seems like it was only yesterday..."
"It was yesterday," Sandy reminded me.  "We don't even know where it is.  Even if we did, there's no guarantee we'd be able to afford a night's stay, plus there's still the chance of gittin' robbed blind while we sleep."
"A homeless shelter, then.  Or a poorhouse.  There's gotta be something."
"I doubt there'd be anything like that in a frontier city like this, but we can check."
We made use of the remaining light to patrol as many of the streets as we could, being careful not to tell anyone our intentions (to minimize the chance of being led astray).  We'd combed about half the city before it was too dark to see clearly, without success.
Finally I said "We might have no choice but to camp outside the city."
Sandy wasn't quite convinced.  "This ain't some little settlement.  Leavin' town and comin' back in the morning will take extra time.  I just as soon would prefer findin' someplace here in the city to hole up for the night."
"Well, that limits us to empty buildings and...alleyways," I concluded.  "And I don't know about you, but I don't want to end up staying in the wrong part of town.  The hotel seemed to be in a good area...why not start our search there?
"I still wanna get someone's permission," replied Sandy, looking down at her feet.  "The law's already got their eye on us, and squattin' on someone else's property is just gonna give 'em another reason to lock us up."

At once, we galloped over to the hotel, and then started looking up and down the street for suitable sleeping spots.  I couldn't see a single building that wasn't occupied by some business, and many were closed for the day.  But Sandy spotted one general store on a side street, which was just fixing to close.
She hopped off Petunia and picked up her speed as she turned around to say "Wait here, Sonic, and I'll go talk to the owner.  I'll explain our predicament, and with luck, we'll have a place to stay."
I held Petunia by the reins as Sandy went inside.  Through the window I could see her talking to the elderly human owner, though I couldn't hear the conversation.  After a few minutes, Sandy exited with a blank look on her face -- my first thought was that she'd struck out.
But then she said "Walk Petunia down the alley next to the store.  There's a small yard out back, fenced-in.  Open the gate and head inside."  Then, taking one of the canvas bags off Petunia's back, she added "I'll catch up with ya in a few minutes...gotta take care of somethin' first."
I was a tad confused, but followed Sandy's instructions, and found it just as she'd said.  A few minutes after that, Sandy also entered the yard from a door in the back of the store, still carrying the bag.

Sandy explained "I talked to the store owner...really nice fella.  He's lettin' us stay out behind his shop for the night, and all he asked in return was that I buy somethin' from him."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a Mason jar that appeared to be filled with corn kernels, string beans, and other vegetables in a brine solution.  There was also a small paper bag full of hardtack biscuits.  I hadn't even thought about how hungry I was until I'd seen them.
As we ate an impromptu meal of pickled vegetables and hardtack, I said "So fill me in on the details.  How'd the store owner respond when you told him what we were looking for?"
Sandy answered "The owner is an immigrant who came to this country years ago with no money in his pocket.  Ever since then, he said he's had a soft spot for folks in need, like us."
Scooping another spoonful of vegetables into my mouth, I muttered "But he made you buy something first...I guess he has to keep an eye on his bottom line.  Oh well.  We'd be looking to buy something to eat anyway, so I guess it worked out."
Sandy nodded.  "Worked out, indeed.  We coulda fared a lot worse.  'Least this place has got a fence 'round it."

Shortly after we finished eating, Sandy and I were lying on the ground, looking up at the night sky.
"We've got a busy few days in front of us, Sandy," I said, stating the obvious.
"Yep.  But at least we got a plan, or at least a goal.  I just can't help but think of our sheriff, locked up in jail all this time.  Boy, the folks back home 'd be surprised to find that out."
I looked right at her as I tried to assure her with "We'll get all this sorted out.  We'll catch the commissioner red-handed, get Charles set free, and we'll all ride back to Whispering Gulch in victory."
Sandy let out a half-hearted chuckle.  "Ya make it sound so easy."
"Well, need I remind you, Sandy, that I and all my Freedom Fighter buddies used to solve tricky challenges like this all the time.  If I can stop a mad scientist, a corrupt government official should be no sweat."
Sandy smiled.  "Don't get ahead of yourself, Sonic.  Now let's get some rest."