Thirty-two

Jessie figured everyone in town must’ve turned out to witness her trial. The White Elephant Saloon had probably never held so many at one given time. Luke and Sheriff Daniels’s headaches in getting her from the jail to the defendant’s table increased by the minute. Hands reached out to touch, grab, or pinch the scandalous woman who saw fit to put a tragic end to her husband’s life. It was strange, she thought, to worry about a few bruises when she had much more at stake.

“This court is now in session.” Judge Warner banged his gavel to quiet the noisy chatter. “When I point to you, come forward and sit in the jury box. I’ll not have any shirkers either.”

Amid laughter and rude comments, he filled the twelve vacant chairs. Then he turned his attention to Jessie. His concentrated peer made her heart sink into the dirt floor of the saloon. Tom Parker’s assurance that the man gave fair and impartial treatment appeared in error, for he seemed to have already determined her guilt.

Yellow Dog, who lay beside her feet, raised his eyes as if offering sympathy. Her nerves on edge, she allowed flitting glances around the saloon—the place in which others would determine whether she lived or died.

It astounded her that they’d use such an inappropriate establishment to hold a trial. It didn’t appear seemly for any proceedings other than the serving of spirits to thirsty, lusty men. She tried to avert her gaze from the mural where a naked woman perched in full view. The mirrors surrounding it purely served to magnify the outrageous portrait.

“Do you understand the charges against you, Mrs. Foltry?” The monocle in the man’s right eye reflected light from the kerosene lamps sitting on the long bar and along each wall.

Jessie tried to swallow, but the spit hung in her parched throat. She barely managed to nod her head.

Tom Parker placed his hand over hers and spoke. “Miss Jessie’s name is McClain now, Your Honor.”

“Crime was committed under the Foltry name. For the duration of this trial, the court’ll refer to her as Jessie Foltry. So ruled.” He banged the gavel to emphasize the point.

Separated from her by a double length of rope, Duel stood a few feet behind her. When she sought his support, his loving gaze calmed her rising panic. She shakily returned his smile.

Tom Parker stood. “Your Honor, out of regard for the defendant and the womenfolk in the room, and in deference to the severity of the business of this court, I respectfully request the, ahh…painting above the bar be removed until these proceedings are over.”

Judge Warner scowled at the second interruption before he lifted a glowing cigar stub from the ashtray and stuck it in his mouth. The man inhaled deeply, then blew out a puff of smoke.

“So ruled. Sheriff, take down the obstruction.”

Bart Daniels motioned for Luke and several other men to do the judge’s bidding. Several minutes later, the monstrosity rested on the floor out of Jessie’s sight.

“This court won’t abide any further interruptions, Mr. Parker,” the judge warned, removing the gold-rimmed monocle and wiping it with a handkerchief.

“I understand, Your Honor.”

Jessie wondered at the unruffled calmness Tom Parker projected. Her life hung by a thread, and the stern man with the gavel controlled the scissors that could snip that thread without warning.

Judge Warner propped the piece of glass back over his eye. “Now, Mrs. Foltry, stand up and tell the court how you plead.”

Shaky knees prevented Jessie from rising. Only after Tom Parker helped her did she make it to her feet.

“Guilty, sir.” Her voice quaked.

“Damn right, she’s guilty. Murdered Jeremiah in cold blood!” The loud snarl came from behind her. She couldn’t bring herself to turn around. She didn’t want to see from whence the hate came. The man most likely was one of the mob who’d appeared at the jail. It gave her an uneasy feeling to have them so close.

“You’ll refer to me as Your Honor, madam. Not sir.” That the judge chastised her instead of the man who had spouted his opinions increased her wariness of a stacked deck.

“Yes, Your High—Your Honor.” Good heavens, she almost messed up again. There were so many rules. And the imperious man acted like some king.

“It’s all right, Miss Jessie,” Parker whispered beside her ear. “You’re doing fine.”

She wasn’t so sure. The prosecuting lawyer gave her a satisfied leer and straightened his leather vest as he stood. The man’s protruding teeth gave him the appearance of a donkey.

“Since the defendant admitted she did murder poor Jeremiah, why waste the court’s time? Let’s take her out an’ hang her now. Save the taxpayers’ money.”

The angry tone aroused Yellow Dog. He growled in warning.

“You’re out of order, Mr. Langtree. Trial’s over when I say it’s over an’ not a second sooner.”

Deflated by the dressing down, Robert Langtree sank back into his seat.

“Present your first witness, Counsel,” Judge Warner ordered.

“Doc Willoughby,” Mr. Langtree announced loudly, as if everyone in the room suffered from deafness.

“Don’t hafta shout, Counselor. Doc Willoughby, take the stand.”

Jessie watched the short, balding man as he swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth and settled his girth in the seat. He met her gaze, giving her a kind smile.

“Doc, tell the court about bein’ called to the Diamond J.”

“I had many occasions to visit the Foltry homestead. Mostly I came on account of Mrs. Foltry needed doctorin’.”

Langtree glared. “I was referrin’ to that night in February when Jeremiah got killed, not any other.”

“You didn’t specify. Like I said, I fixed up Mrs. Foltry most times.” The doctor’s anger flared. Jessie could see the man’s loyalty lay with her, and her chest swelled with warmth. He’d been a dear friend.

“Jeremiah Foltry—tell us about him.”

“Well, Pedro Sanchez burst into my office after dark and said to come quick, that Foltry and Pete Morgan had been shot. I gathered my bag and rode out to the ranch with him.”

“Was Mrs. Foltry there when you arrived?”

“Didn’t see her. Only Jeremiah lying in a pool of blood. Knew right off he was dead. Took a bullet outta Morgan, then got Sanchez and Evers to lift Foltry into the wagon to haul him back to town.”

“Evers? That’s Josh Evers?”

“Yep.”

“Anyone else out there except Pete Morgan, Pedro Sanchez, an’ Josh Evers?”

“Didn’t see no one else.”

“Did you determine what killed Jeremiah?”

“Gunshot.”

Laughter filled the room. Langtree flushed a bright red.

“What kind of weapon?”

“Took a forty-five slug outta Foltry’s chest. Guessing that’s what might’ve caused the big hole. Purely an educated guess.”

Again the crowd tittered.

“Quiet, or I’ll have you removed.” The judge banged his gavel loudly. Then he turned to the inept counselor. “Any more questions, Mr. Langtree?”

“No, Your Honor.”

Doc Willoughby looked relieved and started to rise.

“One moment, Doc.” Tom Parker unhurriedly rose to his feet.

“Go ahead, Mr. Parker.” Warner swiveled the cigar to the other side of his mouth. The action made the monocle fall onto his chest. He grabbed it and leaned back.

“Tell the court about the other occasions you were summoned to the Diamond J.”

“I often went to treat Mrs. Foltry after Jeremiah beat her. Wanted me to patch ’er up so’s he could have another shot at killing her. Mean as a snake, that Jeremiah.”

“Objection, Your Honor!” Langtree pounded his fist on the table in front of him. Spittle flew from his overcrowded mouth. “This testimony’s irrelevant. Jeremiah Foltry’s not on trial here.”

“Your Honor,” Tom Parker answered as if speaking to a child, “the events leading up to the crime are not only pertinent, but necessary to establish the defendant’s state of mind.”

“Overruled, Mr. Langtree. Sit down. You may proceed, Mr. Parker, but stick to the facts.”

“Now, going back to the week before the shooting, did you pay a call to the ranch?”

Misery engulfed Jessie. Her shame was about to become common knowledge. She couldn’t bear for the entire town to hear the sordid details of her life, worse yet for those facts to sully the McClain name. Even if the doing of it would save her.

Before the doctor could answer, a commotion erupted behind her. Upon turning, she saw the entire McClain clan filing into the saloon.

They’d come all this way for her. Walt, Vicky, and Roy had come to show support for a woman they barely knew. It touched her deeply. Yet here she was about to bring dishonor to their name. Soon they’d hear of the events that had led to her sinful crime.

“Yes, I went to see Mrs. Foltry a few days before that fateful night.”

“Before we get to that, Doc, let’s go back to a month before Jeremiah died. Can you tell us why Foltry called you?”

“He’d beaten and kicked his pregnant wife in the stomach, causing her to lose her baby. She hemorrhaged badly. Almost lost Mrs. Foltry.”

Horrified gasps traveled through the onlookers.

Tom Parker paced up and down in front of the twelve jurors. As a whole, they sat stone-faced. Their cold, emotionless faces sent chills racing up her spine.

“How did you know the blame was Foltry’s?”

“The man bragged about it. Claimed the child wasn’t his and that he meant to get rid of it.”

“So he wanted you to save his wife. A man who’d murdered an innocent babe.”

“Reckon so. Don’t rightly know why. Cain’t count the times he beat her to within an inch of her life, then called me.”

Jessie dropped her head. She couldn’t bear to look at anyone, not even Duel, who had already heard the awful facts.

“And each time you patched her up. Yet you never told the sheriff.”

“It wouldn’t do much good. Most folks shy clear of those kinds of squabbles. Besides, ain’t no law against a man beatin’ his wife. Although there should be,” Willoughby added.

“I object to this line of questioning, Your Honor. Don’t see what Counsel is tryin’ to prove. That Jeremiah slapped his wife around ain’t the issue here. Like Doc said, ain’t no law against a man hittin’ his wife.”

Langtree’s objection simply reinforced what Jessie already knew. No one cared a fig what a man did to a woman. The double standard concerned no one except other wives in the same situation. She would find no justice in this room.

“Your Honor, I’m trying to establish the fact that my client acted in self-defense against a deranged man,” Parker argued.

“Overruled.” The force of the gavel hitting the table startled Yellow Dog, making him whimper. She calmed him with a touch, alarmed by the tremors beneath the layer of fur. “Continue, Counselor.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Tom’s serene smile must surely have irritated Mr. Langtree. “Doc Willoughby, you did nothing to help Miss Jessie?”

Doc Willoughby stared at the floor and mumbled, “No.”

“Wonder why it was that Miss Jessie never went to your office in town. Why was it you always had to travel out there?”

“Foltry kept her prisoner. Wouldn’t let her off the ranch.”

“He tell you that?”

“Yes.”

“Did Miss Jessie ever ask you to help her escape?”

“Once. She begged me.”

“Let me get this straight. Jeremiah Foltry called you numerous times to assist in the treatment of his wife. You knew she was being held prisoner, yet did nothing to help her.”

“I’m not proud of it. I wish I’d had the courage.” The kindly doctor wiped his eyes. “I truly wish I had.”

“Ever treat her for broken bones?”

“Many times.”

“Burns?”

“Yes.”

“Dislocated limbs?”

Unable to answer, Doc Willoughby nodded his head.

“Now, days before the shooting occurred, you went out there again. This time was different, wasn’t it?”

“Foltry wanted me to examine his wife. He wanted to know if she’d be able to get in the family way.” Willoughby wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Jessie held her breath, willing the man to keep silent. It was one thing for Duel to know the damaged goods he’d gotten, but quite another for the entire town to hear about it.

“And what did you find, Doc?” Tom Parker asked gently.

Please don’t tell. She put her hands over her ears to block the sound.

“I saw where someone had jabbed a sharp instrument into her.”

The quiet inside made her shiver. So silent. So still. It reminded her of the calm before a huge storm. A quiet so silent it hurt to breathe. Oh, dear God, the pain.

“You know who was responsible?”

“I accused Jeremiah. The man laughed and said it served her right. Called her names and bragged he’d fixed her good.”

* * *

Duel hated the deadly silence that swept over the packed crowd. The presence of Pop, Vicky, and Roy gave him encouragement. Their loyalty meant Jessie had become someone special to them.

Then his gaze found his beloved. He could see the strain, the fright lining her delicate features. Judge Warner had denied his request to sit by her side. Yet that was where he should be. Though he stood mere feet away, it seemed more like miles.

An ache inside his chest, as crushing as a mighty locomotive, grew until it threatened to explode.

Duel wanted to swoop her up and shoot any man who dared to stop him. Wanted to carry her far up in the hills, where no one could ever hurt her again. Wanted to love her until she forgot the horrors that filled her dreams.

Helpless, he clenched his hands until the short fingernails drove into his palms. He never felt the pain.

Damnation!

He surveyed the makeshift courtroom. Surely these folks could see that she’d been pushed to the brink, been justified in defending herself. Doc Willoughby moved slowly through the throng. The man seemed to have aged twenty years since taking the stand.

Against a far wall stood the one-eyed jackal who’d challenged him the night he arrived. The man caught his gaze and sneered. This had to be either the Evers guy or Pete Morgan. He guessed the latter. The jackal had claimed to be a friend of Foltry. Judging by the man’s friends, Foltry’s mean streak—the one the doc had described—didn’t surprise Duel.

That the man ever laid a hand on his sweet Jess filled him with unspeakable rage. The taste filling his mouth was as rank as a broth from the devil’s dinner table.