After The Bighorn, Chapter Twenty-four. Conclusion

 ( A lawyer delivered a slave to me as a legacy)

Victory and Home.

Narrative of Patrick Masters

I kept my team of lawyers working on the case of VanRijn Patent Aggregators vs Frick Steel Companies all through the week. Even though Wyandotte Frick thought he had enough to force VanRij to settle, I would take nothing for granted. Under my direction, Dana Winter and Richard Thornton keep my team hard at work, both in Pittsburgh and back in San Francisco. J. Augustus Frick IV led the Frick lawyers, seconded by Zach Frick. Dana, Richard, and Zach got along well together and the teams worked harmoniously. Richard and Dana still seemed to be courting, but in a very slow and deliberate way. Dana would shrug off any attempt by Richard to be possessive or not show any display of affection.
On Wednesday, Augustus Frick was away consulting with Wyandotte so I assumed that things were moving, but I was not informed of any progress. I was okay with that, if things that were not strictly legal were being discussed, it was well that I could deny any knowledge.
Friday morning and we were all summoned to Judge Kellogg’s court for a hearing. I made sure all our pleadings and exhibits were prepared and ready for filing. As before, I would have Dana and Zach, aided by Richard, take the lead. Female lawyers seemed to upset Vansittart, VanRijn’s corporate counsel and Zach’s youth seemed to offend him. The lawyers from both sides were waiting in the corridor outside Judge Kellogg’s courtroom, the only one not yet there was Barbara Quigley, the local counsel engaged by the VanRijn people to help with the case. Quigley’s two associates, the younger woman lawyer and the male lawyer whose main job seemed to be to carry briefcases and keep his mouth shut were there but Vansittart and his aide were ignoring them.
Barbara Quigley hurried up. Vansittart turned on her.
“Why weren’t you here earlier? You’re late.”“I needed to complete some pleadings; your office was late, again, in providing me copies. And they weren’t in the proper form, again.” Quigley sounded querulous and upset. Good, a lawyer out of temper was one who would make mistakes in the courtroom.
Just as we were summoned to enter the court, Vansittart took a call on his phone. As we entered, I made sure that Dana, Zach, and Richard had their phones silenced. Few things annoy a Judge than a ringing or buzzing phone.
Judge Kellogg was already on the bench when Vansittart came running into court. Barbara Quigley had started presenting the VanRijn side’s motions when he arrived at the table, out of breath. Judge Kellogg raised his eyebrows at Vansittart’s lack of decorum. Vansittart pushed Quigley down in her seat, by the shoulder, snarling, “I speak for VanRijn here.”
Kellogg banged the gavel. “You will address the court.”
Vansittart made a bare apology then, “I move that the case be dismissed. The parties have come to an agreement, there will be no damages and each side will pay its own costs.”
I was shocked by that. I had had no notice that an agreement was near. Richard showed me a text on his silenced phone. It was from Augustus Frick. “Wyandotte has got a good deal, details later. Let Vansittart dismiss the case.”
I rose, “The respondents have no objection, your Honor.”
Judge Kellogg spoke, “The case is dismissed as soon as the proper paperwork is filed. Court is adjourned.” He banged his gavel, twice.
There was a buzz of conversation among the sparce spectators as I huddled with Dana, Zach, and Richard. They quizzed me. I promised them I knew only that Wyandotte Frick had been talking directly with Vincent VanRijn, and that I knew no more than that.
“But I am sure that Wyandotte recovered some costs and damages from VanRijn. Thanks to the great preparation and research that you people did. I am very proud of you.”
It is always good practice to give lavish praise to subordinates when they have done a good job. I was pleased with the three of them.
Young Zach grinned. “It is Friday night, and with this not hanging over our heads, we can all go to the Pittsburgh Lawyers’ Association Dinner tonight and celebrate. It is in your hotel, and the local lawyers will be happy a local company beat the West Coast interlopers.”
“What about the Quigley people, will they be shunned?”, Richard seemed unusually interested in the reaction to the local lawyers for VanRijn.
Zach shook his head. “No, not really, everyone knows you have to zealously represent your client. Besides Barbara and her people have a local office; people saw their lights on late, and they know she is a hard worker. Vansittart quits early and arrives late. Barbara will be okay.”
I gave Richard money to rent tuxedos for himself and the two junior associates we had brought from San Francisco. Dana Winter, I gave money to purchase a suitable gown or dress.
“I don’t need to tell you this, but be appropriate, not only for a Law Society dinner, but for Pittsburgh. We want to look like the good ‘out-of-town’ people.”
Dana nodded. I got the impression she would like something a little less appropriate in which to dance.
We left the courtroom in an excellent mood. In the corridor, Barbara Quigley and Vansittart were engaged in a quiet but intense confrontation. Then Vansittart lost his temper and his equilibrium.
“This is your fault you lazy bitch. You turned over something that you shouldn’t have. VanRijn is blaming me, but I will make sure that he knows it was all your fault.”
“Don’t blame me, I checked everything I turned over in discovery. It was you that was too lazy to check your work. You said ‘bury them in paper’ and never checked what you were doing. Insolent, lazy, and entitled, that’s you.” Quigley was letting all her frustrations out.
“Shut up you ignorant cunt!” was as far as Vansittart got before he was interrupted by Barbara Quigley’s young associate.
“Don’t talk to my sister like that!” she said as she rushed at him. It looked like she was going to scratch his eyes.
He slapped her. Suddenly there was silence. Richard Thornton rushed to comfort the crying girl, Zach stood between Vansittart and Richard and the young lawyer.
Barbara Quigley had recovered her equilibrium. “Thank you, sir,” she acknowledged Richard, and leading the crying girl away. “Come on Hannah. We will get your face fixed up.”
Everyone separated and quietly walked away. A courthouse is no place for violence; in it the quarrels of the world should be settled dispassionately. I was very upset that anger and violence had penetrated a Temple of Justice.
**
In the main ballroom of our hotel, people were gathering for the Law Society Dinner and Dance. Richard Thornton and the two young male associates looked elegant in their tuxedos. Well, as elegant as a person can in rented clothes. I made a mental note to purchase them bespoke evening clothes as a bonus when we returned to San Francisco. When they represented the firm at social occasions, they should look sharp. Dana Winter arrived a few minutes later. I assumed she wanted more people in the ballroom before she made an entrance. She looked very good in a port wine colored gown, fitted up top, and flaring out in the skirt, which was below the knee. She managed to look both appropriate and desirable.
Zach arrived at the same time as Barbara and Hannah Quigley. Barbara was dressed even more conservatively than Dana, she was almost severe in a long black dress. Hannah, in bright yellow, was less conservative.
Richard pushed his way through the crowd to the Quigleys. He seemed very solicitous of Hannah, bending over her and paying her great attention. Dana sniffed, and turned away, ignoring Richard’s attentions to Hannah Quigley.
At the bar, I encountered Barbara. She refused my offer to buy her a drink.
“It is too soon after the close of the trial for you to be purchasing me drinks. It would not look good, especially to the Vansittart crowd. It was not me that lost that trial, and I won’t give any one a chance to point fingers.”
When we all went in for dinner, I sat with J Augustus Frick who introduced me to some worthy senior legal practitioners. Somewhat dull, but it was important to make good connections. Richard sat with Hannah Quigley; Dana sat with Zach Frick and the young man from Barbara Quigley’s firm. He seemed a nice, polite young man. He seemed abashed in Dana’s presence, as if he were afraid to be assertive in the presence of women. Dana seemed upset every time that laughter came from the table where Richard and Hannah were sitting.
I assumed that Dana had taken Richard for granted, giving him only such favors as pleased her, while Richard had danced attendance on her and was grateful for small attentions. Hannah, it appeared, was more generous with her appreciation of the man who had rushed to her defense. The yellow dress displayed a lot of bosom and the skirts were short.
After dinner, as I danced with Dana and Richard with Hannah, she sniffed, “that outfit is more fitting for an older profession than attorney. She should be shamed.”
I said nothing, I have a certain amount of wisdom. Dana still seemed unhappy as we returned to the table. Her eyes followed Richard and Hannah around the room.
Latter while I was chatting with Barbara Quigley Dana came up and asked if I had seen Richard recently. She did not, of course, mention Hannah Quigley. I am sure she could not say the name of ‘that woman’ without spitting. I said I had not. Barbara mentioned that she had seen Richard and Hannah going out onto the Terrace. Dana was barely civil in her reply. We did not see Richard or Hannah for the rest of the evening.
Later, towards midnight, Dana asked me why I spent so much time talking to Barbara. I replied that she seemed a good lawyer and there might be a place for her in San Francisco if she desired to make a change. Dana admitted that Barbara seemed a good sort and a good lawyer, but said I should extent no offer to Hannah. “She’s half the lawyer and twice the slut her sister is.” Dana was a little drink by that time, and left soon after for bed.
In the half empty ballroom, after midnight, in a dark corner, I sat and nursed a brandy, along with a black coffee. My work in Pittsburgh was done, and I would soon return to San Francisco. I had everything to look forward to. I now truly, legally, and irrevocably owned my beloved Juli. I had a fine practice and a nice house and was Consul in San Francisco for the Grand Duchy of Lutha with diplomatic immunity to own as many slaves as I wanted in my house. I had, with my own hands, branded Juli with my monogram. Any others I acquired would bear the common kef brand. Juli was special to me.
I did have a couple of worries. I needed, over the next year, and every year thereafter acquire three women as slaves and send them to Lutha as tribute for my position. I had no idea how to do that. I had no idea of how to identify suitable prospects, nor how to lure them to my house, nor the proper way to enslave and train them. I did have some ideas and pointers from spending time with the Fricks, but did not want to lean too heavily on their help. I wanted to stand on my own two feet. I felt they would respect me better as an asset than as someone who needed to be propped up.
I did have one idea for a prospect: Hannah Quigley. She seemed to revel in male attention, and to seek it by displays of her body. Wyandotte had declared Barbara Quigley and her firm off limits for a year, but after that year, perhaps an invitation to San Francisco to Miss Hannah Quigley might pay dividends. The Fricks would have first dibs on Barbara of course, but Hannah might make a nice part of my fee for the VanRijn case.
I looked around the ballroom of the Hotel. There was a ballroom in Drysdale House, my place in San Francisco. At a large party in the ballroom, perhaps Hannah and  a couple of other girls could go missing? It was an idea to thing on.
**
(In the last Chapter, a man arrived at the Frick Mansion to sell a dancer. It was intended to be their only appearance, slaves and slave-sellers come and go at that place. But reader and author Paladen expressed an interest to know more about them. So here is a little more of their story).
In the morning, I was up early. I had drunk sparingly and was feeling ready for a hearty breakfast. I went down to the restaurant in the hotel. As I entered, a man waved to attract my attention. As I walked over, I recognized the man from the previous week at the Frick mansion, the man who had brought a dancer to sell. He was in a quiet corner, there was no one near the table this early on a Saturday.
“I recognized you from last week”, he began. “We weren’t properly introduced. I am Don Emery. I am sort of related to the Emery Family. A second cousin once removed.”
“Patrick Masters.” I offered. “Do you live here in Pittsburgh?”
“No, I have a dry-cleaning and tailoring business in Santa Clara in California. Do you know where that is?”
I replied, “It is in the Bay Area, I have been to football games there. I live in San Francisco.”
Don Emery continued. “I am really not in the business that brought me to see Mr Frick. I stayed here in Pittsburgh to attend a dry-cleaners convention. The Midwest Regional Dry Cleaners, Dyers, and Tailors.”
“How did you come to own a dancer, then? If you don’t mind me asking?”
“Not at all. There are few people I can talk to about the Gorean Families on Earth. I am, as I said, a distant cousin of the Emery family. I grew up aware of the Gorean lifestyle, but until five years ago, I though it was just a sort of alternative lifestyle. You know, men and women with other views about gender relations that weren’t mainstream.”
“What happened five years ago?”
“Well, my wife and I, I should tell you my wife was a Robinette, from another of the Gorean families, but a distant cousin, like me. Well my wife and I were visiting Leo Emery for a big family reunion. There were ‘slaves’ there of course, collared slaves, but we thought they were employees or people living out their fantasies. We didn’t realize then that they were slaves. Well, one night, my wife and I couldn’t sleep so we were taking a walk around the grounds. It was about two in the morning. We saw some lights and walked towards them. It was a circular thing, a real flying saucer, and a line of naked collared women were being herded towards it. It was then we realized that Gor was true, or at least some of the stories were.”
“I imagine it was quite a shock.”
“Well, yes it was. Now remember, we had both grown up with stories of Gor, of women who are meant to be submissive, women with slave genes going to Gor, but we thought it was only a metaphor for the way some people in our families lived on Earth. We didn’t know that it was true, or at least partly true. So for the rest of the weekend, we kept our eyes open and realized that the ‘slaves’ were really slaves. Well we decided to say nothing, because really, who would believe us? The Families are powerful, and anyway, the girls seemed to accept their condition; some seemed to glory in it.”
“How did you end up with a slave yourself?”
“Well, that is quite a story. You remember that I own a dry cleaning and tailoring business?”
I nodded again. It was all Don Emery needed to continue his flood of talk.
“Well, sir. We got quite a reputation and other families started buying from us too. Now, enslaved girls, as you may know, can sew their own clothes from rough materials, but silk, sir, silk is special. It is delicate, soft, teasing. It is like water. The old women in my shop are very good at sewing it. It is quite a sideline for us.”
He lowered his voice.
“We even sell some of our ‘honeymoon wear’ to the public. It started with brides, but now some girls just come in off the street and ask about it. Sometimes I think that those girls are the sort that my kinsfolk think belong in collars.”
I tried to return him to the subject.
“But how did you end up with a slave?”
“Well sir, I will tell you. About six months ago, a relative of mine, one I hadn’t heard of died. Apparently his will left his estate widely spread amongst all us Emerys, even the ones not in the Gorean lifestyle. Now, sir, I don’t judge, if people want to live by this alternative lifestyle, it is not up to me to tell them no. After all they aren’t hurting anyone. Even the girls they put in collars seem to adapt to it, so who does it hurt? I ask you?”
“Well sir, a lawyer showed up one day, a lawyer for the Family you understand, with some money and with Silver.”
“How much silver,” I asked.
“No sir, Silver, Silver was her name. Silver Mackenzie. She has been trained as a ballet dancer, but had been ‘acquired and collared’ as the lawyer said. He said, that is the lawyer, he said that if we didn’t want to keep her we could train her as  Gorean Dancer and sell her, maybe to the Fricks, who sort of specialized in Dancers, more than the other families.”
I interrupted again, “the lawyer pointed you to the Fricks from the first?”
“Well, sir, he said it might be an option. Obviously we couldn’t keep her at the house, we have children at home, Elizabeth who is off to college this fall, and Don Jr, we call him Bud who is going into High School. So obviously not at home. So we kept in the back of my wife’s studio.”
“Your wife is an artist?”
“Well, of a sort sir. She owns a dance studio. Ballet, tap and jazz. The lawyer gave us a video of some Gorean Dances for Silver to learn. She was a nice girl, very subdued and obedient. My wife taught her five of the dances, made sure she was perfect in each one. Unfortunately, we couldn’t keep her around the house, it would have been a big help to the wife to have a servant, but with the kids at home, and we don’t really follow that lifestyle, so we decided to sell her. Mr Frick was quite generous too.”
I made two deductions. With Mrs Emery instruction Silver in the dances, it was no wonder she was technically perfect but lacking in slave heat. A respectable free woman was not the place to learn unbridled sexuality. The second was that someone wanted Silver in the Frick household. The unknown dying relative was just to fishy a story.
I made a third assumption as well. Mr Emery was no longer as distant from the ‘Gorean Lifestyle’ as he proclaimed. With Silver in his control for six months, I am sure he tasted the delights of the slave more than once. I had just made another connection to the Goreans on Earth, and one not dependent on the Fricks. I engaged Don Emery in conversation about the purchase of slave silks. I had the feeling I might need some.
I had had a good breakfast and learned some things of importance. As I crossed the lobby, I saw Hannah Quigley, still in her yellow dress, leave the hotel. As I watched her leave, in her now rumpled yellow dress, I was sure that when the year’s moratorium on collaring expired, she would look excellent wearing only a brand.

I nodded. This Don Emery was quite a talker. The Gorean subject was not one he could raise with his buddies down at the bar either. I was sure he had a lot of pent up ideas on Gor.

“About ten years ago, we got into doing alterations on wedding dresses. A lot of brides lose weight before the wedding and their dressed need to be taken in. Some dress shops are good at doing this, others less so. We have three women who grew up sewing silks and satins, a lot of that is a dying skill. So people would come to us. Well, sir, I mentioned that we were good at doing this sewing to a cousin of my wife’s, and he sent us measurements for some silks for some of his slaves. I told the women in back that it was for ‘honeymoon night wear’ and they got very good at sewing thin silks. They made quite a joke of it.”