Chapter Seventeen
A chill wind was blowing briskly, the force enough to rattle the windows. With tile floors and brick walls, there wasn’t much warmth to be had in the spartan courtroom. The small wood stove in the corner simply wasn’t doing its job. She took in everything: the banged-up tables and chairs, the raised dais with the judge’s bench, the bailiff’s too-tight jacket that strained the buttons when he sat to the point that she feared one would pop off and shoot across the room, putting out an eye. Yes, she observed everything, with one exception. She ignored the adjacent table where Eugene Harper sat.
When she’d walked in on Heath’s arm, he had already arrived. He was standing at the front of the room at a long table with an older man in a dark suit, his lawyer she assumed. Eugene resembled a peacock in his natty frock coat of brilliant royal blue, with ruffles at his collar and cuffs, and an ascot tie fastened with a jeweled stickpin, the stone the same red as his ring. Unconsciously, her hand rose to her injured cheek.
At her side, Heath stiffened. “That’s him, isn’t it, the lickspittle dandy in the ruffles and lace?”
“Yes.”
“Stay here—” he ordered in an awful voice, gruff and trembling with rage. She caught a glimpse of his face: flared nostrils, clenched jaw, and corded neck. It was unlike any expression she’d ever seen on him before and it frightened her. She whirled to find Aaron, who was already moving past her.
“I’ve got him, Jenny. Go stay with pa.”
She didn’t go. Instead, she stood frozen in place, eyes wide with apprehension as she watched Heath round the last row of chairs. When he was only feet from Eugene, Aaron caught up and grabbed his arm, slowing him enough to step in front and block his path. Having only a slight edge in size, Aaron was fractionally taller and wider in the chest, but both of them were big, strong men. Heath had rage on his side, however, and easily pushed him aside, but Aaron didn’t give up and was back at him, chest to chest.
In a panic, she broke free of her fear-induced inertia and hurried out to the hall, calling for Henry. When he rushed to her, Jenny said in an urgent but hushed tone, “Please, in this state I’m afraid he’ll kill him.” Henry raced past, Jenny scurrying in his wake.
“Don’t be rash,” Aaron warned, bracing his body against his brother. “Don’t give him more ammunition.”
“Get out of my way. You saw what he did to her face—”
“This won’t help your cause, son,” Henry added as he came up to them. As tall and stout as his sons, he formed a wall of muscle with Aaron as they stood shoulder to shoulder. Henry placed his hand on Heath’s neck, fingers curling firmly, drawing his attention. Jenny recognized the familiar gesture; Heath having done the same to her several times. It had refocused her and allowed her to listen as he spoke. She saw it working with Heath now, settling him, if only slightly, as she was sure it did many times in the past with father and son.
“Jenny and Will need you with them, not in a jail cell.”
Jenny gasped at Henry’s words and the vivid image that formed of Heath behind bars. His head swung to her and finding her close, his rage visibly lowered another notch. Their eyes locked. She reached for his hand, grasping his fingers tight.
“Please,” she implored. “He’s not worth it.”
“No,” he answered back, “but you are.”
“Leave him,” James Bennett cut in, seeming to appear out of nowhere, his calm permeating the tension. “We’ll make him pay through legal means. I promise.”
“Heath, please come sit with me,” Jenny pleaded, her hands squeezing his forearm. “I can’t do this without you.” Caramel brown eyes, which had turned dark, almost black in anger, burned into hers. They dipped low, fixing on her mouth. She knew he was seeing the faint bruising that remained and the black threads that stood out obscenely against her fair skin. She watched his struggle for control, could see it in the jumping muscles in his fiercely clenched jaw and the rigid set of his shoulders. At last, his gaze lifted, the fiery rage banked, diminished to a simmering anger. He took a step back from his brother’s restraining hands and his father’s calming touch. Then he nodded once.
“I’ll stand aside for now. After this is over, I’m not promising anything.”
“After this, brother, I’ll stand in line to get a few licks in myself.”
“If there’s anything left after you two finish with him, I’ll be wanting a go-round too.”
Heath’s lips twitched upward at his father’s words, although his eyes remained on Jenny. She noted with relief that the blackness was gone. His head dipped and one side of his mouth kicked up further as he murmured in his usual steady tone, “You can loosen the death grip on your gloves now, darlin’. I’m back in control.”
Looking down, she saw that in her fright, she had indeed done some damage. The ivory kid was twisted and crumpled, and they were missing several buttons, another few hanging by a thread.
The banging of the gavel had their small group snapping to attention at the sound. The judge stood tall and intimidating behind the high bench. His customary black robes appeared hastily donned, hanging open to reveal a businessman’s suit, which didn’t detract at all from his imposing position.
“Is there a problem here?” His attention swept through the group until it landed on her attorney. “Mr. Bennett?”
“No, your honor. My clients are all present and ready to begin.”
“Then take your seats and we’ll get this matter settled.”
A few minutes of scraping chairs followed until they were situated, with Jenny and Heath taking their place at a table with Mr. Bennett, Aaron in the row of chairs directly behind them. Henry had returned to wait with Letty and Will in the hallway. Bennett had assured Jenny her brother would only be brought into the proceedings if necessary. Across the aisle, Eugene Harper sat with his attorney at a matching table.
The judge nodded at the bailiff, who called the court of Jerome Nathaniel Lattimore III to order.
That had been fifteen minutes ago. The time since had been spent in near silence as the judge perused Mr. Bennett’s copy of the will, the codicil, and the latest version that Eugene had produced. Finally, he raised his head.
“Mr. Bartholomew, you may begin.”
Her uncle’s attorney stood and began to state his case. “As you can see from the document my client has produced, that it is in fact the final will and testament of Eustace Harper. Executed and witnessed lawfully, it supersedes all previous documents. I request a decision in favor of my client, which places the child, Master William Harper, in the custody of his legal guardian, his uncle, Eugene Harper as his younger brother, Eustace Harper and father to young William, intended.”
“Half-brother, don’t you mean, Mr. Bartholomew.”
“Yes, Eugene and Eustace Harper shared the same father, but different mothers.”
“That makes Miss Harper the true next of kin to the boy.”
“By law, your honor, only a male relative—”
“Don’t quote law to me, Mr. Bartholomew. I assure you I know it quite well.”
Jenny twisted in her seat, about to tell Bennett to do something as he rose.
“Your honor, we question the validity of this will on the grounds that Eustace Harper was not of sound mind. Having lost his wife in recent days, he was in a state of profound grief, had taken to the whiskey bottle, consuming great quantities to the point his inebriation was near constant. He’d lost all rational judgment as evidenced by his abandonment of his two children, Master William, a minor, and Miss Jenny Harper, an unwed daughter, both of which were left ill-equipped to fend for themselves on the family farm. This behavior was out of character for Mr. Harper, who until the time of his beloved wife’s death was a caring and loving father, a dedicated provider, and a pillar of the community. I have witnesses here to attest to these facts.”
“I have read the statements from one Henry Jackson, an employer Jacob Peterson, and yourself, Mr. Bennett, a longtime acquaintance of the deceased. I would agree that Mr. Eustace Harper could not have been acting rationally and was therefore incapable of enacting any legal business. The latest will is declared invalid.” The judge peered at Mr. Bartholomew over his wire-rimmed glasses. “Do you have anything further?”
“Yes. Setting the last will aside leaves the codicil, which names Eugene Harper as guardian to William. I make the same motion to return him to my client’s custody.”
“Mr. Bennett?” the judge asked.
“The conditions of the codicil are met, your honor. I present into evidence the marriage certificate of Jenny Harper and Heath Jackson. According to the wishes of her father, if Jenny wed before her twenty-first birthday, her husband would assume guardianship of William Harper and manage his properties until he reaches majority.”
“Impossible!” Eugene shouted as he pushed to his feet. “The woman is a whore. She is not fit to raise a child. This is obviously a sham of a marriage to circumvent the conditions of the will.”
Heath pushed to his feet, standing with clenched fists, rage emanating from him in waves. He addressed Eugene directly in a frightening voice. “Call my wife a whore one more time and you’ll be missing every tooth in your head and the ability to form complete sentences.”
“Your honor, I object to these threats!” Bartholomew asserted.
“Overruled,” the judge countered with a dismissive flick of his hand. “Your client started the name calling. Control him, counselor.” He addressed Heath next, eying his rigid stance. “You are Heath Jackson, the spouse, I take it?” Without waiting for his answer, he continued. “I’ll allow you to speak, Mr. Jackson, but refrain from making threats, at least while in my courtroom.”
“Thank you, your honor. I’ll hold my peace with Mr. Harper until we are adjourned. In the meantime, I request that you look at my wife’s face. The cuts and bruises were caused by two violent backhands from Eugene Harper. His ring cut her lip, which required the stitches you see. After that, he took her brother out of his home in the middle of the night, like a thief, garnering his trust with lies that his deceased father would be waiting for him here in Omaha. This man is the one unfit to be the guardian of anyone, let alone a young boy like William Harper, and is a danger to a genteel woman like my wife.”
Eugene had the audacity to snort loudly at that statement, although Jenny noted he did not repeat the awful name he’d called her, obviously taking Heath’s warning seriously. Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as he appeared.
“I’d like to ask your wife a few questions, Mr. Jackson.”
Heath turned to her and with his big hand clasping her trembling one, helped her to her feet. He didn’t relinquish his hold as he sat, settling his other hand low on her back in support.
“Can you corroborate your husband’s story, Mrs. Jackson?”
“Yes, sir.” Her voice quavered and cracked, but possessed enough volume to carry to the judge.
“Address him as your honor, Jenny.” Bennett murmured under his breath from where he sat on her opposite side.
“That’s fine, Bennett.” For an older man, there was nothing wrong with his hearing. “Mrs. Jackson, what can you add about the night Mr. Harper struck you and his relationship to your father?”
Jenny poured out her story; once started, it was as if a levy had burst. She told him of her mother’s death, her father’s grief and drinking, and how he’d walked out on her and Will, leaving them without any money. She told him how he’d left them destitute, taking the coins and few bills from the coffee can where they always kept a little stashed away for emergencies. She described her desperation in the selling off the livestock to keep a roof over their heads and the pain of bartering her mother’s few treasures, including her piano. In the end, she told him about taking a job at the Red Eye.
“I had no choice.” Her voice shook as she remembered the helplessness she felt. “I tried the reputable businesses in town, but no one would hire me. The only job I could find was playing the piano at the saloon. But that is all I did, I never sold myself—” She shook her head, unable to say it. Her hand gripped Heath’s until her knuckles turned white. “I played the piano. That is all. I swear.”
“I understand how difficult this must have been for you and your brother. Tell me about how your uncle came to beat you so.” He cast a disgusted glare at Eugene, which made the telling easier for Jenny. It seemed the judge was on her side.
“After work that evening, I arrived to find him making himself at home in our kitchen. He told me he was taking Will, but when he saw how I was dressed, he made assumptions. I was required to wear a rather garish dress at the saloon, you see. It was a bit risqué so I began covering the rather low neckline with a lace hanky. I don’t know how those ladies don’t catch their death going around uncovered the way they do.”
The judge chuckled, as did Mr. Bennett, and Aaron behind her. Heath urged her to get to the point. “Tell him how he attacked you, sweetheart.”
“As you can imagine, I was quite shocked by his presence and his outrageous claims, especially that my father was dead and that he’d sold the only home my brother and I had ever know. He was offensive, foul-mouthed, and cruel—”
“I will not be subject to this slander,” Eugene cried in outrage as he leapt to his feet.
The judge shot a razor-sharp glare her uncle’s way. “Another word out of you and I’ll have you jailed, forthwith. Guard! Have the manacles at the ready, I doubt if the man can hold his tongue.”
Eugene paled, his eyes bulging at the large uniformed man who strode purposefully from the rear of the courtroom. The iron handcuffs hanging from his belt clanked as he moved into position behind his chair. That easily subdued, Eugene took his seat without another word.
“Now then,” the judge turned back to Jenny, giving her a very fatherly smile, “please continue, Mrs. Jackson.” His voice was soft and encouraging, completely unlike when he had addressed her uncle.
“Um, I’m not sure where—”
“Offensive, foul-mouthed, and cruel, I believe you were saying,” the judge said helpfully, his eyes shifting to Eugene, appearing almost disappointed when he held his tongue.
“Yes, that’s right. He was quite vile and then he announced he was taking Will away, but that he wouldn’t offer me a home with Will unless I—” She trailed off, giving Heath a sidelong glance. She’d never told him about Eugene’s vile offer or that he’d touched her so cruelly. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head, “but it’s too awful. I’ve never told anyone, not even my husband.”
“Jenny.” Heath squeezed her hand, stiffening at her side. “If it helps return Will to us, you have to tell all of it.”
“He offered to take me in as his… bed warmer. He became explicit and then he touched—”
Heath’s roar of fury echoed through the courtroom as he surged to his feet. Bennett, Aaron, and the bailiff all raced to his side, restraining him before he could reach Eugene and tear him apart. The three of them somehow contained him in his seat while the judge banged his gavel loudly, calling for order, but no one was listening. Jenny did the only thing she could think of; she climbed into her husband’s lap. As she wrapped her arms around him and hung on, she decided her next course of action.
She lied. There was no doubt in her mind that if Heath learned that her uncle had touched her breast and caused her pain, Eugene Harper was a dead man.
“Heath, he touched my face and hair, pulled it actually.” That was the truth, but only part of it. Her words rose above the hubbub in the room. “Of course, I refused his disgusting offer out of hand and called him a vile pig. He makes my skin crawl. I resisted, he refused to let me go, and I scratched him. That’s when he hit me. “
She felt him stiffen beneath her. His hands came up and, grasping her shoulders, eased her back until he could see her face. His eyes met hers with resolve. “You’re sure there was nothing else? Ma, pa, and Will are outside so you can speak freely. If more went on, this is the time to tell me all of it, Jenny.”
She disagreed. It was not the time to tell him all, not with her attacker in the same room, not if she wanted to go home as the wife of a rancher instead of a prisoner in the territorial prison. Therefore, she skirted the truth. “I don’t have anything else to tell, Heath.”
“I’m ready to make my ruling, Mr. Bennett. That is if you can control your clients and prevent bloodshed in my courtroom. I would rule justifiable homicide in this case, but let’s not have it come to that. Is that clear, Mr. Jackson?”
Heath nodded, “Yes, your honor. I apologize for my lack of control. My wife—”
“Is young and beautiful and was preyed upon by a disgusting scoundrel. I understand completely.” The judge waited until Jenny uncurled from Heath’s lap and regained her seat.
“Regardless of Mr. Harper’s reprehensible actions on the night in question, it has no bearing on the custody of William. I find the conditions of the codicil have been met with the marriage of Jenny Harper. Custody is awarded to Heath Jackson and the sale of the Harper home is declared null and void.” Sighs of relief resounded all around them.
Judge Lattimore’s attention swung to the other table where Eugene sat, far from celebrating the decision. “Furthermore, Mr. Harper, you are ordered to repay the poor dupe you hornswoggled.” He banged his gavel as the crowd of spectators that Jenny hadn’t noticed until now erupted in applause.
“Before we adjourn, I want to address another matter. The evidence presented today is enough to charge and convict one Eugene Harper with assault and battery on Jenny Harper. I sentence you to thirty days in the Omaha jail and to pay restitution of one thousand dollars, which should help offset any doctor’s fees and the pain she has suffered.”
He shifted his gaze back to Jenny when he continued, “I wish it could be more, dear, because his actions disgust me. Assaulting and propositioning his own niece. I’d hang him from the nearest gallows if the law didn’t put limits on these crimes. Bailiff Owens, take the convicted into custody.”
“But you can’t do this,” Eugene cried. “I am entitled to a trial by jury.”
“Maybe in the great state of Missouri where you hail from, but this is U.S. territorial court, Mr. Harper. I am the ultimate authority and the only judge and jury I deem necessary. If you want a trial by jury, next time you perpetrate a crime, I suggest you stay in your own backyard. I should also mention that if I see your pathetic, weasel-like face in my court once more, I promise I will not be so nice.” With a condescending grin, he banged his gavel three times and announced, “Court is adjourned.”
With that declaration, he swept out of the room, his flowing black robes flapping behind him, ignoring the whining, whimpering protests of the prisoner as the bailiff handcuffed and hauled him away.