A Frontier Christmas (9 page)

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Authors: William W. Johnstone

BOOK: A Frontier Christmas
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C
HAPTER
T
HIRTEEN
Everyone looked toward the short, stout man with the rather oversized nose as he approached the witness chair. An expression of intense sorrow showed on his face as he was sworn in.
“Mr. Guthrie, I know this is difficult for you, but I show you this brooch, and ask if you have ever seen it before,” Tadlock asked.
“Yes, it was given to my granddaughter by Duff MacCallister.”
“And did you ever see her wear it?”
“She wore it all the time.”
“Thank you, I won't trouble you with any further questions.” Tadlock sat down.
“Defense?” Judge Kirkpatrick asked.
“No questions of this witness, Your Honor.”
Tadlock stood back up. “Prosecution calls Lydia Smith to the stand.”
Lydia, modestly dressed and without makeup, approached nervously. The bailiff swore her in.
“Is Lydia Smith your real name?” Tadlock asked.
“No, sir,” she answered.
“What is your real name?”
“Agnes Wood.”
“Why are you called Lydia Smith?”
“Girls in my . . . uh . . . profession often use different names.”
Tadlock showed her the brooch. “Have you ever seen this brooch before?”
“Yes. Someone gave it to me.”
“Is the person who gave it to you present in this room?”
“Yes.”
“Would you point him out, please?”
“Him.” Lydia pointed to the man sitting at the right end of the table.
“Let it be known that the witness has pointed to T. Bob Cave as the man who gave her the brooch that was taken from young Suzie Guthrie.”
“How can we believe this . . . woman . . . when we didn't even know her real name?” Rodale called out.
Angrily, Judge Kirkpatrick banged his gavel on the table. “One more outburst like that, Counselor, and you will be held in contempt!”
“Prosecution rests, Your Honor,” Tadlock said.
“Defense, you may make your case now,” the judge said.
Rodale stood. “If it please the court, defense calls Jesse Cave.”
Jesse was sworn in, then he took the witness chair.
“Did you know John Guthrie?” Rodale asked.
“Yeah, I know'd 'im.”
“How so?”
“Me 'n my brother 'n Sunset all worked for Mr. Guthrie.”
“When you say Sunset, you are talking about the man MacCallister killed?”
“Yeah.”
“How was Mr. Guthrie to work for?”
“He was a good man. He was good to his hands, 'n he paid fair wages.”
“Did you, and or your brother, and or Sunset Moss kill John Guthrie and his family?”
“No, we didn't do it,” Jesse said.
“Did you know he was dead?”
“Yeah, the three of us was out doin' some work, 'n when we come back to the house, we found Guthrie and his whole family dead.”
“Did you see a note that Mr. Guthrie is alleged to have written?”
“No, we didn't see no note.”
“Did you notify anyone?”
“No, we didn't tell nobody nothin' 'cause we figured we'd more 'n likely get blamed for it, so we took off runnin'. And, it turns out, we was blamed for it.”
Rodale walked over to the table to pick up the brooch. Bringing it back, he showed it to Jesse.
“Have you ever seen this before?”
“Yeah, the little girl used to wear it all the time.”
“The witness”—Rodale returned to the prosecutor's table and referred to his notes—“Miss Wood, says that your brother gave the brooch to her. Is that true?”
Jesse nodded. “Yeah, that's true.”
“How did he get it?”
“Why don't you ask him?”
Rodale surrendered his witness to Tadlock, whose attempt to cross-examine went nowhere as Jesse stuck by his claim that they had found the bodies, then ran when they thought they would be blamed for it.
T. Bob also took the stand.
“Did you take the brooch from the little girl?” Rodale asked.
“Yeah, I took it. But she was already dead when I took it.”
“Why did you take it?”
“She was nice little girl. I wanted somethin' to remember her by.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.” Rodale sat down.
Tadlock began his questioning. “Mr. Cave, if you took the brooch to have something to remember her by, why did you give it away—to Miss Wood—within a matter of only a few days?”
“I got to thinkin' that this is a woman's thing, you know? It was embarrassin' to me to keep it, and that's why I give it away.”
T. Bob Cave was the last witness, after which the two lawyers gave their closing statements, and the case was remanded to the jury.
Over in another part of town, at the Rocky Mountain Hotel, Hodge Doolin, the desk clerk, was looking at his registration book. “Mike, when is the last time you seen Mr. Walters?”
“I don't know. Three, maybe four days ago,” Mike replied. “He said he wasn't feeling well and I asked if he wanted us to call a doctor for him, but he said no. Why?”
“Well, he paid for several days in advance, but his time is all used up. If he wants to stay any longer, he needs to come down here and either make arrangements to stay longer, or check out.”
“You want me to check on him?”
“No, not yet,” Doolin said. “He's been a good customer, paid in advance, and he hasn't given us any trouble. Let's give him time to come down on his own. I don't want him to feel like we're rushing him.”
“All right. I wonder how the trial is going? I wish I could have been there for it.”
“No need to be there,” Doolin replied. “I can tell you exactly how it's going.”
“Oh?”
“They're going to find both of them guilty, and they're going to hang. Hell, I don't know if you've seen it, but they already have the scaffold built.”
“Who hasn't seen it?” Mike replied. “It's standing right out there in front of God and everyone. You think they'll hang 'em before Christmas?”
“I hope so. They took Christmas away from John Guthrie and his family, didn't they?”
When the jury left the room Wally Jacobs returned to the bar. “Can we buy somethin' to drink now that the jury's gone?”
“Marshal Worley and Deputy Masters says we can't,” the bartender replied.
“How long you reckon the jury will be out?” Jim Merrick asked.
“Hell, Jim, you was one of the witnesses in the trial, you ought to know as well as anyone. If you was on the jury, how long would it take you to decide they're guilty?” the bartender asked.
“About five seconds.”
“I don't expect it'll take any of 'em much longer than that. I don't see 'em as bein' out all that long.”
The bartender's prediction was accurate. The jury deliberated for less than fifteen minutes, then sent word that they had reached a verdict, thus causing the court to be reconvened.
After taking his seat at the “bench,” Judge Kirkpatrick took a swallow of something that looked quite a bit like whiskey, adjusted the glasses on the end of his nose, and cleared his throat. “Would the bailiff please bring the prisoners before the bench?”
The bailiff, who was leaning against the bar with his arms folded across his chest, spit a quid of tobacco into the brass spittoon, then leaned over toward the two Cave brothers. “You two get up, and go stand there in front of the judge.”
The two men approached the bench.
“Mr. Foreman of the jury, I am informed that you have reached a verdict. Is that correct?” the judge asked.
“That is correct, Your Honor, we have reached a verdict.”
“Would you publish that verdict, please?”
“Your Honor, we have found these two sorry, miserable excuses for men guilty,” the foreman said.
“You couldn't 'a done nothin' but find 'em guilty,” someone shouted from the gallery.
The judge banged his gavel on the table. “Order!” he called. “I will have order in my court.” He looked over at the foreman. “So say you all?”
“So say we all,” the foreman replied.
The judge took off his glasses and began polishing them as he studied the two men who were standing before him. “T. Bob and Jesse Cave, you two men have been tried by a jury of your peers—”
“Peers hell! They ain't nothin' but a bunch of drunks you rounded up from the saloon,” Jesse shouted.
“And you have been found guilty of the crime of murdering John Guthrie, his wife, Nora, his son Timothy, and his daughter, Suzie,” the judge said, paying no attention to Jesse's outburst. “Before this court passes sentence, have you anything to say?”
“Yeah,” Jesse replied with a snarl. “We kilt 'em. And we raped the women. The little girl was just real good.”
“They're evil!” Merrick shouted. “Hang 'em, Judge!”
Judge Kirkpatrick pounded his gavel again and kept pounding it until, finally, order was restored. “Oh, I intend to, Mr. Merrick. Yes, sir, I intend to.” He glared at the two men for a long moment, then he cleared his throat.
“T. Bob Cave and Jesse Cave, it is the sentence of this court that on the seventeenth of this month, the two of you are to be hanged by your neck until you have breathed your last.”
“Hoorah!” someone in the audience shouted, and again, Judge Kirkpatrick used his gavel to call for order.
“Now would be a good time for you two men to make peace with your Creator,” Kirkpatrick said. “Do either of you wish to speak?”
“We're condemned men, right, Judge?” T. Bob asked.
“You are.”
“Then I was thinkin', maybe since we're condemned 'n all, you would take some pity on us, and buy us a drink.”
Some in the gallery laughed out loud at T. Bob's comment.
“Bartender?”
“Yes, Your Honor?”
“Bring these two men a drink of their choice. Then, you may open the bar again.”
“Yes, sir, Your Honor.”
“Whiskey!” Jesse called out.
Jacobs joined several others at the bar and bought a beer. Standing at the far end, he drank his beer and stared at the two prisoners until one of them happened to notice him. He held his beer out toward Jesse Cave, then nodded almost imperceptibly.
With just the suggestion of a smile, Jesse returned the nod.
After he and his brother had their drink, the sheriff and his deputy marched them out of the saloon.
“I'll be there come the day of the hangin',” someone shouted. “And I'll watch you both die!”
“Me too!” another put in.
Jesse glared at the men, but said nothing.
 
 
“Guilty! They found both of them guilty 'n they're goin' to hang 'em on Wednesday!” a man said, coming into the hotel a few minutes later.
“Hello, Crader,” Doolin said. “I was hoping they would be hung before Christmas.”
“I plan to be there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, to watch both of 'em hang,” Crader said.
Jim Merrick and few others followed Crader into the hotel, and all of them started talking about the upcoming hanging. A few minutes later, Judge Kirkpatrick came in to the hotel, and those who were in the lobby rushed over to congratulate him.
“No need to congratulate me, boys. I just did my job,” the judge said. He stepped up to the check-in desk. “I've set the seventeenth as the date for the hanging, so I shall require accommodations until then.”

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