Colorado Christmas by C. C. Coburn Page B

was to make money. More greed. It made her angry.
    In the past few days, Becky had inspected the buildings—not that she was any sort of expert—but if the posters supporting SOB, displayed in every store on Main Street this morning, were any indication of public sentiment, then this was a matter of vital importance to the town. Will O’Malley was correct, there’d been little or no public input into the fate of the buildings and that disturbed her.
    She’d discovered the structures were a mix of former commercial and residential premises. Many were more than a century old and been vacant for decades, apart from a couple that were being used for storage. One was the former livery stables; another, the home of a freed black slave. There was a Mason’s hall and an old chophouse that had served the miners, a Methodist church and even a former bordello. A half-dozen crumbling homes and a row of old shops completed the site.
    As she’d wandered around the derelict buildings she’d felt an…atmosphere, as though beneath their shabby facades, each had a story to tell. Those stories shouldn’t end in a pile of rubble.
    The buildings would need a considerable amount of capital to make them habitable; however, they were worth preserving. She was happy to grant the injunction so they could try to find a solution.
    Becky turned back to the lawyers who were still snickering. “Do you have anything to say?” she demanded.
    Misreading her question, they sent back a collective, “No, Your Honor.”
    “Good,” she said and picked up the injunction papers. “Mr. O’Malley, you’ve presented a most persuasive argument. On those grounds, and taking into consideration the support of the local community, plus the fact that counsel for the development company has nothing to say on the issue…”
    Becky could hear rumblings of disagreement from the Denver lawyers, but ignored them. “I’m of the opinion a moratorium is warranted to prevent the demolition of the buildings while a satisfactory outcome for all parties is negotiated. I’m therefore granting an injunction for thirty days.”
    “But Your Honor,” Jason Whitby protested. “You haven’t heard our side.”
    Becky looked at him over her glasses. It was well past time to put this pack of ambulance chasers in their place. “Excuse me, sir, but less than thirty seconds ago I asked if you had anything to say and you all assured me you didn’t.”
    “We were…We thought…” Jason Whitby glanced at his colleagues for support. They remained mute.
    Becky enjoyed seeing “groupthink” in action. Particularly when it backfired and gave the advantage to the underdog. She wished she could be a fly on the wall when the Denver Five explained to their clients how they’d messed up in court this morning. It might’ve been arbitrary of her to cut him off, but that was her prerogative. She’d already decided the appellants had a strong enough case for granting the injunction. Let that be a lesson to them for making fun of Spruce Lake! she thought, surprising herself with her passion.
    Jason Whitby tried again.
    “You haven’t allowed us to present our client’s case, Your Honor.”
    Becky pinned him with a glare. “You don’t need to,” she said. “I want cool heads to prevail in this matter. The protest grouphas the right to try to find a solution. Your client won’t suffer if they have to wait another thirty days. However, the demolition of those buildings will have a lasting and possibly devastating effect on this town.” She signed the papers granting the injunction and returned them to Will O’Malley via the bailiff.
    “Thank you, Your Honor,” he said, then turned to the audience with the papers clenched in his fist. The courtroom erupted in loud cheers, accompanied by a great deal of backslapping.
    Becky let them celebrate, wondering how the Denver papers would report this, then stood and walked out of the courtroom.
     
    W ILL SAT ON A STOOL at Rusty’s