Come the Spring

  “And if he isn’t one of the men I saw in the bank?”

  She tried to dazzle him with a smile, but it was wasted on him because he wouldn’t take his gaze off her chest. She really had to remember to tell Donald about the deputy. He’d get a good laugh out of the story.

  “We’re all hoping Bell is one of the Blackwater gang,” he told her. “Would it be all right if I held your arm while I walked you to the courthouse?”

  “I won’t mind at all. It’s very gentlemanly of you.”

  The courthouse was only two blocks away. He took her to the back entrance and showed her to the judge’s chambers adjacent to the courtroom. She sat down near the desk to wait, while the deputy wrote a note for the clerk to hand to the judge.

  “I’ll bet Rafferty interrupts Bell’s closing speech when he reads this,” he said, waving the note he’d just folded. “Is it okay if I leave you alone for a few minutes? I’d like to watch old sour face’s expression and hear what he has to say to the fancy attorney.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she whispered.

  She fought the urge to open the door just a crack and look into the courtroom, but she didn’t dare take the chance because Donald was in the audience, and if he saw her peeking out, he’d be furious.

  She closed her eyes, cleared her mind, and prepared for her role.

  Thirty-Eight

  The moment had arrived.

  As soon as the deputy returned and opened the door for her, Rebecca stepped into the courtroom and waited until she was summoned. She surveyed her audience, noting with pleasure that the room was packed. A center aisle leading to a pair of front doors divided the courtroom in half. Two deputies with rifles stood guard on either side. She noticed a side door directly across from the door to the judge’s chambers. It too was guarded.

  She was called forward to the witness-box. Every eye in the room was on her. Her head held high, her expression fearful, she half expected applause. She was, after all, about to give the performance of her life.

  Judge Rafferty was so eager to hear her testimony he interrupted the closing arguments so that she could take the stand. As she walked past him to take her seat behind the railing, she looked him over closely and came to the conclusion that it would take very little effort on her part to get him in the palm of her hand. Rafferty was a heavyset, middle-aged man with eye-glasses so thick his owlish eyes appeared to be three times the normal size.

  She also noticed he was taken with her. He smiled, he gawked, and she couldn’t have been happier.

  She was being sworn in by the clerk when the defense attorney leapt to his feet and demanded the judge’s attention.

  “Your Honor, this is highly irregular,” he protested. “Couldn’t you wait until the prosecutor and I have finished up and the jury has left the courtroom to deliberate? My client is being tried on the charge of attempted murder. The prosecutor is trying to prove that my client willfully and with malice in mind tried to kill the Maple Hills sheriff. This case shouldn’t be muddled up with a witness testifying about an altogether different matter.”

  The judge peered at the upstart over the top of his glasses. “I’m fully aware of what this case is all about. Do you think I’ve been sitting up here twiddling my thumbs and daydreaming about fishing, Mr. Proctor? Is that what you think I’ve been doing?”

  “No, Your Honor, I don’t—”

  The judge wouldn’t let him continue. “What you’re saying, Proctor, is that you don’t think that what the witness has to say is relevant, but I say it is. If your client is who I think he is, then the jury needs to know it because he would have been fleeing and he would have tried to kill the sheriff and he would have tried it with what you call malice in mind.”

  “But, Your Honor—”

  “Mr. Proctor, you need to understand. No one tells me what to do in my own courtroom, and that includes fancy-pants lawyers like you. I know you’re young and inexperienced and that you think you know just about everything there is to know, but I make the rules here. Now sit down and be quiet until I finish with my witness. You understand me?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Then why aren’t you sitting?”

  The crowd burst into laughter when Proctor tripped in his hurry to take his seat.

  The judge wasn’t amused. He slammed his gavel on the desk and demanded silence. “I’ll have order in my court. If I hear another sound out of any of you, I’ll clear you out.

  “Like I said before, I make the rules here, not you. Sit.” He bellowed the command, but by the time he swung around to Rebecca, he had mellowed considerably.

  “I sure would like to cut to the chase and ask you plain out, but I’m not going to do that. First, I want you to tell the jury who you are and what happened to you.”

  Her moment had finally arrived. Gripping her hands together on the railing so the jury could see them, she took a shuddering breath and began. She told them why she had been in the bank and what she had seen. Tears came easily, and her voice had a halting quality she was quite proud of, and by the time her story ended, she was sure there wasn’t a dry eye in the courtroom.

  The judge was as shaken as the jury by her gut-wrenching recollection of the murders. He sat hunched over his desk, leaning toward her as though he thought his nearness would somehow comfort her.

  “All right, then,” he said. “I know how hard it was for you to go through it again, and I appreciate it. Now, I want you to look at the man shackled to the table over on your right and tell me if he was one of the men in the bank.”

  Rebecca stared at Bell for several seconds before shaking her head. “No,” she cried out. “^He wasn’t there.”

  The judge’s face betrayed his disappointment. His frustration was palpable, but he wasn’t ready to give up. “Take your time and look him over real good before you make up your mind.”

  She did as he instructed. “I’m so sorry, Your Honor. I wish he were one of the Blackwater gang, but he isn’t. I swear to you he wasn’t there.”

  Bell’s attorney was grinning from ear to ear, and that offended the judge almost as much as her devastating testimony.

  “Don’t even think about getting to your feet again, Proctor. You keep your seat glued to your chair until I’m finished. I’ve got a couple of nagging points I want to clear up before I let this young lady leave the stand.”

  Rebecca bowed her head and pretended she was desperately trying to compose herself. She knew the judge was watching her closely, and when she looked up at him again, she felt a burst of gloating satisfaction over Rafferty’s compassionate gaze.

  “I’m going to make this quick,” he promised. “I just have a couple of questions. Are you up to answering them now, or would you like a recess?”

  “I’d like to finish now, please.”

  He immediately asked his first question. “I ordered three women brought here, and I’m curious to know where the other two are. Do you have any information about their whereabouts?”

  “No, I don’t. When Marshal Cooper told me Grace and Jessica were also being brought here I felt terrible, just terrible. Their lives have been uprooted because of me. If I had told the truth from the beginning, none of this would be happening to them. They’ve become dear friends. I expected them to be here when I arrived, and I was looking forward to seeing them and telling them how sorry I am. I’m sure they were just delayed. Grace wasn’t feeling well when I left her. She might have had a relapse.”

  “Let’s move on to the next question. You said you got on the train with Marshal Cooper and that he left your compartment and didn’t come back. Why did he leave?”

  “I had a pounding headache and my medicine was in my suitcase. Because Marshal Cooper was such a gentleman, he insisted on going to the baggage compartment to fetch it for me. If I hadn’t complained … if I had suffered in silence … he would still be alive. It’s my fault he’s dead, all … my … fault.”

  She buried her face in her hands and began to sob. Raf
ferty looked at the jury and noticed their united sympathy for the poor woman. He realized he had better hurry up then before a rebellion broke out.

  “We’re almost done,” he announced. “Tell me what happened when you heard the gunshots. Do you recollect how many you heard?”

  She wiped her face with the handkerchief as she nodded. “I’m pretty sure I heard two shots fired. I was too frightened to find out what was happening. The train made an unexpected stop, and that’s when I heard that poor Marshal Cooper had been killed.”

  “And then what did you do?”

  “I was afraid to get back on the train. I didn’t know what to do,” she cried out. “I hid in the brush and waited until everyone had gone. I don’t know how long I stayed there … It could have been hours,” she stammered. “When I was finally able to pull myself together, I ran into town.”

  “But you didn’t go to the sheriff there, and that’s one of the little nagging points I’m confused about. Why didn’t you seek his help?”

  “I was terrified,” she cried out. “And I didn’t know who to trust. I wanted to get away from there. I knew you were waiting for me, Your Honor, and that you would protect me. All I could think about was getting here … to you.”

  His expression was comical to her. Rafferty looked as though his dog had just been put down.

  “You did the right thing,” he said gruffly. “I’m not going to fault you because you came here, and that’s exactly what I ordered you to do. You’ve been very brave. Very brave indeed.”

  The prosecutor stood up. “Your Honor, before we go any further, will you please ask Miss James one last time to look at the defendant. Maybe recalling the sequence of events…”

  “This poor woman has been through a terrible time,” the judge said. “You and I both have to accept that we were about to hang an innocent man.”

  “Please, Your Honor,” the prosecutor pleaded.

  “I don’t mind,” Bell’s attorney called out.

  The judge ordered the sheriff to unshackle the defendant and bring him over so that the witness could get a close look at him. When Bell stood in front of the railing, the judge reluctantly turned back to Rebecca. “This is the last time I’ll ask you. Is the man standing in front of you one of the Blackwater gang?”

  “No, he isn’t,” she insisted.

  “Yes, he is!”

  The shout came from the doorway of the judge’s chambers. Everyone turned as Jessica slowly walked forward into the courtroom. She wanted to run to the stand and tear Rebecca from her seat so outraged was she, but Daniel had made her promise not to go any farther than the defense table so that she wouldn’t be near the killers she was condemning.

  The rage was building momentum inside her. Images kept flashing into her mind. Malcolm down on his knees looking up earnestly as he tried to be helpful … Cole carrying her baby across the fiery inferno, the roof collapsing behind him … Franklin’s head exploding …

  Daniel grabbed her arm to keep her from going any farther. He stayed by her side, but Cole had already moved to the center aisle and was diligently searching the audience for signs of hidden weapons.

  “He was in the bank. I saw him put his gun to the back of a man’s head and shoot him. I saw everything,” she shouted, “because I was there.”

  She was pointing at Bell when she made her accusations, but her attention was centered on the woman who’d tried to kill Caleb and who’d shot Marshal Cooper. Rebecca was shaking her head in denial as she started to stand, then fell back against the chair. Her face was so white she looked as though she were rapidly bleeding to death.

  The crowd was going wild, the judge was pounding his gavel, and in the fracas a young deputy in the back of the room shouted, “Those men are armed, Judge.” He then tried to bring his rifle up.

  Before anyone in the crowd could summon a scream or dive for cover, Daniel’s gun was out, his arm fully extended, his target the center of the deputy’s forehead. The man hadn’t even gotten his rifle past his waist when he realized it was too late.

  “Put the gun down, boy.” The command was given in a deep, yet surprisingly calm, voice.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Cole had seen Daniel draw his gun on the deputy and had already whirled around to face the only other men in the courtroom who were armed. The sheriff was one, a deputy standing in front of the side door was the other.

  It was an instinctive reaction on the sheriff’s part to go for his gun as soon as his deputy shouted, but Cole had his gun trained on him the second his fingers wiggled. Cole simply shook his head at the sheriff. The message was clear.

  Rebecca frantically searched the audience for Donald. He had promised her he would sit in the third or fourth row. She slowly slipped her hand into her pocket.

  The judge came out of his seat and leaned forward with both hands planted on his desk as he roared, “What’s the matter with you people? Don’t you know better than to draw on two U.S. marshals? Even I can see their badges, and I’m as blind as a bat.”

  Rafferty’s voice lashed out over the crowd and was so thunderous he was able to get through to them and avert a panic. A collective sigh rolled through the assembly as everyone calmed down. Several men chuckled with relief.

  Rebecca was slowly bringing her derringer out of her pocket, holding it steady in the palm of her hand with her thumb pressed against the barrel. She found Donald quickly; he was sitting at the end of the fourth row next to the aisle on her side of the courtroom. He was close, very close, and as she watched him, he gave her a barely perceptible nod before turning his attention to the deputy guarding the side door on her left. She understood what he was telling her and looked at Bell.

  The judge took his seat, adjusted his flowing black robe, and squinted at the assembly. They still appeared to be a little unnerved, and he decided to give them another minute to recover.

  “Marshals, you can holster your guns,” he ordered. “Which one of you is Daniel Ryan?”

  “I am, Your Honor.”

  The judge motioned him to the bench. “You sure cut it awfully close getting here,” he remarked.

  Daniel didn’t offer any excuses or explanations. “Yes, Your Honor, we did.”

  “I happen to know a great deal about you, son, because I make it my business to find out everything I can about men like you, and I have only one thing to say. It’s an honor and a privilege to finally meet you.”

  Daniel didn’t know what to say in response. The judge had already turned his attention to Cole. “What’s your name, Marshal?”

  “Cole Clayborne.”

  Rafferty nodded. “I’ve heard a tale or two about you as well. Of course, I know the stories can’t possibly be true.”

  “I’m sure they aren’t, Your Honor,” Cole answered, wondering why the man wasn’t getting to the urgent matter at hand. Cole kept glancing at Daniel to make sure he was still in control. He noticed the way Daniel was watching Bell, and knew that wasn’t a good sign.

  The judge rose to address his assembly. “All right now. I’ve given you enough time to soothe your ruffled feathers and settle down. From this point on, I don’t want to hear one peep out of any of you. If I do, I swear I’ll order these fine marshals to escort you out the front doors.”

  Silence resulted from his firm decree. Rafferty turned to Jessica and sat back. “Young lady, who are you?”

  “My name is Jessica Summers.”

  “State your business with this court.”

  She took a step closer to the center of the bench and looked up at the judge.

  “I witnessed—”

  “I’m your witness,” Rebecca screamed.

  “I’m telling the truth,” Jessica insisted.

  “She’s lying, Judge,” Rebecca countered. “I was there.”

  Heads turned back and forth from one side of the courtroom to the other as accusations were volleyed. Daniel crossed behind Jessica and handed the judge a paper.

  Rafferty noted the seal at the botto
m of the sheet, read the contents, and nodded. “Well … well…”

  Shaking with rage, Jessica was irrationally determined to make Rebecca tell the truth. First, she knew, she would have to make the woman lose her control.

  “Move back, Jessica,” Cole ordered when she took a step forward.

  Jessica quickly did as he ordered, but didn’t take her attention off the woman she was determined to destroy.

  “Cuff that prisoner, Sheriff,” Daniel ordered.

  “It was you,” Jessica shouted. “You set the fire. You tried to kill my son. You hurt Grace. You shot Marshal Cooper. Surprise, Rebecca—Cooper didn’t die. Oh, yes, he’s alive and well,” she taunted. “And quite able to recall who he saw and what happened. The judge is reading all about it right now. Cooper wrote a nice long letter.”

  The news staggered Rebecca. She collapsed against the back of her chair and stared at Donald, imploring him with her eyes to help her.

  Donald was thoroughly enjoying himself. There was a hint of a smile on his face as he sat there with his head tilted ever so slightly to the wall while he watched and listened. How thoughtful of the marshal to insist that the only living person who could possibly identify him stay on the opposite side of the courtroom. She couldn’t see him in the crowd, not with the sea of faces gawking at her and Rebecca. Thanks to the overly cautious marshal, Donald didn’t have to worry.

  He would continue to sit back and patiently bide his time. He knew Rebecca expected him to help her escape, but he had no such intention, of course. He would wait it out and then sneak away. The poor dear was looking quite desperate now. Donald knew exactly what would happen as soon as he gave her a signal. She would jump to her feet and attempt to use that pathetic little gun she had hidden in her pocket. One of the lawmen would shoot her, of course.

  Donald also knew what Bell would do. He wouldn’t continue to stand there with his head hanging down, his shoulders stooped, and his hands limp at his sides, looking like the sheriff’s whipping boy. Why, he hadn’t moved a muscle since he’d shuffled across the room to the railing in front of the star witness.