Authors: William W. Johnstone

A Rocky Mountain Christmas (6 page)

BOOK: A Rocky Mountain Christmas

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C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

Luke’s trial was held the very next day. The prosecuting attorney presented his opening remarks.

“Your Honor, and gentlemen of the jury, Mr. Murchison will, no doubt, claim that Mr. Shardeen had no motive for killing Deputy Gates. And he will attempt to use that claim as proof that what happened wasn’t murder.

“But Sheriff Ferrell and Deputy Gates were conducting an investigation, and all they wanted to do was ask a few questions. Mr. Shardeen shot and killed Gates, and Sheriff Ferrell barely escaped with his life. If an officer of the law cannot question a citizen without getting shot, then where does that leave the rest of us?”

Murchison had been making notes, and when Gilmore sat down, the defense attorney stood and walked over to the rail separating the jury from the rest of the courtroom. He took his unlit cigar from his mouth and held it in his hand, sometimes waving it around as he talked.

“I am glad that my learned colleague has already conceded that Luke Shardeen had no motive for killing Deputy Gates. Who is Luke Shardeen?

“He owns Two Crown Ranch, and he is an employer who is well respected by the men who work for him. He has done business in this town for the last three years and, during that time, has earned the respect and admiration of his fellow citizens. Before that he was a seaman, and not an ordinary seaman, but a ship’s officer—one who, when his captain was swept overboard during a typhoon, assumed command of the vessel and brought his ship safely into port, saving twenty-eight lives.

“Now, let us look more closely at the prosecutor’s contention that all Sheriff Ferrell and Deputy Gates wanted to do was question Mr. Shardeen. If that is true, what were Ferrell and Gates doing asking such questions in Pueblo County in the first place? They are from Bent County. They have no business questioning anyone in Pueblo County. If they had a suspect they needed to question who happened to be out of their jurisdiction, the correct procedure would have been to contact Sheriff John McKenzie and ask that a deputy go with them.

“That’s the way it’s supposed to be done. But they didn’t do that, and Sheriff McKenzie is prepared to testify that he was never contacted. That means Sheriff Ferrell has no corroboration for his story.”

There was very little cross-examination during the trial. Ferrell reiterated that all he and Gates wanted to do was question Luke, and Luke repeated his claim that the two men attempted to rob him.

After their testimonies, Murchison and Gilmore made their summation.

“Prosecution says Ferrell and Gates were two law officers who wanted only to question Mr. Shardeen.” Murchison stood, facing the jury. “But neither of them were wearing a badge, and both were wearing hoods over their faces.”

He walked back over to the defense table and reached down into a sack, withdrawing a piece of cloth. He spread the cloth out, then held it up before the jury, showing a hood with two eyeholes.

Several in the gallery gasped.

“Specifically, one of them was wearing
this
hood, which I found exactly where Mr. Shardeen said it would be. Wearing a hood like this is hardly the way a couple lawmen would stop a suspect for questioning. I’m going to ask that you do the right thing, and find my client not guilty.”

Murchison stuck the unlit cigar back in his mouth, then returned to the defense table to sit beside his client.

“Mr. Prosecutor, your summation?” Judge Briggs asked.

Gilmore stood, hitched up his trousers, then approached the jury box.

“What it all boils down to is Luke Shardeen’s word against the word of Sheriff Dewey Ferrell. On the surface, one man’s word against another would balance the scales. But there are two things that tip the scales. One is the fact that Dewey Ferrell isn’t just another citizen; he is a sworn officer of the law. And the other issue is the fact that we have a dead body. Deputy Brad Gates is dead, and we have the defendant’s own admission that he shot and killed him. As to the hood, I’ve no doubt but that Mr. Murchison found it where Mr. Shardeen said it would be. But that proves only that he put the hood there. It is my contention that he did that just to build his defense. Under the circumstances, I feel you can bring no verdict but guilty of murder in the first degree.”

In the judge’s charge to the jury he suggested strongly that the evidence pointed to first-degree murder, and that it was his belief that they must find in accordance with the evidence.

“I don’t care what the rest of you say, I don’t intend to find Luke Shardeen guilty of murder in the first degree. Why would he do it?” one of the jurors said when they were sequestered.

“If Ferrell and Gates were questioning him about a crime he committed somewhere, he might have shot them,” another juror said.

“What crime? All the prosecution said was that Shardeen was being questioned, and didn’t even say what he was being questioned about. If you ask me, this thing is fishy.”

“Yeah? Well, he did kill the deputy. That’s a fact that he doesn’t deny. And I can’t see lettin’ him get off scot-free.”

The jury continued to argue for the better part of an hour, before they came to an agreement and signaled the bailiff they were ready to return to the courtroom.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” Judge Briggs asked when they were all seated.

“We have, Your Honor,” Lynn Thomas, the jury foreman, replied. Thomas owned a leather goods shop.

“Would you publish your verdict, please?”

“We find the defendant guilty of manslaughter in the second degree.”

There was an immediate reaction from the gallery, who, based upon the judge’s public charge of the jury, expected a verdict of murder in the first degree.

The judge slapped his gavel several times to get order, then looked back at Thomas. “You were not given the option of finding for second degree manslaughter. The charge was for murder.”

Thomas stared back defiantly. “Your Honor, you can accept the verdict of guilty of manslaughter in the second degree or not guilty of murder in the first degree.”

Briggs glared at Thomas for a long moment before he pulled his eyes away and spoke. “Will the defendant approach the bench?”

Luke moved up to stand before the judge.

“You have been found guilty of manslaughter in the second degree. The maximum penalty for that charge is to be incarcerated for forty-eight months and you are hereby sentenced to the maximum allowed by law. Sheriff, take charge of the prisoner. This court is adjourned.”

December 16

Jenny McCoy stood at the window of the private reception room of the Colorado Social Club and looked outside. It was cold and a light dusting of snow was beginning to fall. She watched as a rider passed by, the collar of his coat turned up and his hat pulled down. Behind her a cheery fire snapped and popped in the fireplace.

Her beauty, bearing, and education had quickly made her a favorite of the more affluent “gentlemen” who visited the club.

One such visitor was The Honorable Lorenzo Crounse, Governor of Nebraska. He stepped up to the window beside Jenny and put his arm around her. “Doesn’t it make you feel good to be all warm and cozy inside, when it is so cold outside?”

“It certainly does,” Jenny answered with a smile as she casually turned out of his arm and walked over to the table where sat a carafe of coffee. “And a good hot cup of coffee makes it even better. May I pour you a cup?”

Governor Crounse chuckled. “Indeed you may, my dear.” He watched her as she poured. “I must say, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”

Jenny brought the cup of coffee to the governor and handed it to him with a smile. “My goodness, Governor, if you flatter everyone that way, it’s no wonder you got elected.”

“Oh, but I mean it, my dear. I mean every word. You are—”

The door to the private reception room was suddenly thrown open, interrupting the governor’s statement. Four men rushed inside, three had pistols in their hands, and the fourth was carrying a camera.

“Here, what is the meaning of this?” the governor asked angrily. “Do you know who I am?”

“Oh, yes, Governor, we know exactly who you are. Now suppose you just go over there, have a seat on the sofa, and don’t make any trouble.”

“Who are you? What is all this about?”

“If both of you do exactly what we say, no one will be hurt. We just want a picture, that’s all.”

“A picture?” the governor asked, confused by the odd request.

“A picture, yes. Miss,” the armed spokesman said to Jenny. “I want you to take off all your clothes and go sit with the governor. We want a picture of you, naked, beside him.”

“No! That will ruin me!” the governor said.

“I will do no such thing,” Jenny replied indignantly.

“Oh, you will be photographed naked with the governor,” the spokesman said. “Whether you are dead or alive when we take the picture makes no difference to us. The effect will be the same. You can take your clothes off yourself, or I’ll shoot you and we’ll strip your dead body.”

“You had better do what they say, Jenny,” the governor said. “I have a feeling these men have been sent by my political enemies, and I’ve no doubt but that they will do just as they say.”

“Well now, Governor, you are smarter than I thought you were.” The armed intruder grinned.

Frightened, Jenny removed her clothes, then sat on the sofa beside the governor. The photographer took a picture, and a moment later, two of the sheriff’s deputies were brought into the room. Seeing Jenny nude, with the governor, was all they needed to bring a charge of prostitution against her.

Luke was lying on his bunk with his hands laced behind his head, looking up at the ceiling, when Proxmire and another deputy came into the cell area with a young woman.

Proxmire opened the door to the cell next to Luke. “All right, Miss, in there.”

Luke sat up with a start. “Wait a minute! What are you doing? You can’t put a lady in this cell.”

“She ain’t no lady, she’s a whore,” the deputy with Proxmire growled.

“She is a female. And you can’t put women in jail with men. They have to have their own facilities. That is the law.”

“Hah! Since when did you become a lawyer?” Proxmire asked.

“You don’t have to be a lawyer to know that.”

“We ain’t got no cell just for women, so she’s goin’ to have to stay here for a while.” Proxmire closed the door on the cell, locked it, and he and the other deputy returned to the front of the jail.

The woman sat down on her bunk, leaned her elbows on her knees, and dropped her head in her hands.

“I’m sorry about this,” Luke said. “It’s not right, them bringing you in here.”

She looked up at him. “Thank you for speaking up for me.”

“I’m only doing what’s right, Miss McCoy.”

“Have we met?”

“No, we haven’t. But I’ve wanted to meet you for some time now. I just wish it could have been under better circumstances, for both of us.”

“I’m not a whore, by the way.”

“No, ma’am. I know you aren’t.” Luke stuck his hand through the bars that separated their cells. “I’m Luke Shardeen. I own a ranch just north of town.”

Jenny crossed her cell and shook his hand. “Luke Shardeen. Yes, I know who you are. You own Two Crowns. I read about your case in the paper. Everyone I know says that they don’t believe you are guilty.”

“I’m not. Oh, I killed Gates, all right, but he and Sheriff Ferrell were trying to hold me up.”

“What are you doing putting this poor girl in jail?” a woman demanded. “You let her out this very instant, or I will go to the newspaper with the name of everyone who has visited the Social Club in the last six months. Do you understand what I’m saying, Deputy Proxmire? Everyone!”

“I can’t let her out until the judge says I can,” Proxmire replied.

“Really? Would that be the same Judge Briggs who was with,” Adele took a piece of paper from her pocket and started reading from it, “Sandra, Sara Sue, Kate, and Ella Mae?”

“Uh, all right, I’ll let her out. But she has to be present for her hearing tomorrow, and if she ain’t, I’ll hold you responsible.”

“She’ll be there.”

Proxmire returned to the cell area and unlocked Jenny’s cell.

“Looks like you’re getting out,” Luke said. “I’m glad.”

“I hope everything goes well for you, Mr. Shardeen,” Jenny said as Proxmire opened the door. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Proxmire escorted Jenny to the front. “You just make sure you have her there for the hearing tomorrow,” he demanded as Adele left with Jenny.

“I told you, you had no business bringing her here,” Luke called out after hearing the door closed behind them.

“I don’t need you tellin’ me what is, and what isn’t my business,” Proxmire replied with a low growling snarl.

“Your honor, Jenny McCoy is not a prostitute,” Adele said at the closed hearing the next day.

“Does she, or does she not work for you?” Judge Briggs asked.

“Yes.”

“And do you run a house of prostitution?”

“I run the Colorado Social Club.”

“Which is a whorehouse.”

“I don’t like to think of it in quite those terms.”

“Regardless of how you like to think about it, it is a whorehouse. And if you deny that, I will lock you up for perjury.”

“All right I admit, Your Honor, that I do have, uh, ladies of that profession in my employment. But Mrs. McCoy certainly isn’t one of them. Her only function is that of a hostess, not as a prostitute.”

“But you do employ prostitutes?”

“You know that I do, Your Honor. I might even add that you have, let us say, personal knowledge of that fact.”

Briggs cleared his throat and rapped his gavel on the bench. “I am not the one on trial, Miss Summers. Jenny McCoy is on trial. Unless you want me to extend the charges to you as well.”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Then we will continue the hearing, and you will add nothing except your responses to my questions.”

“Very well, Your Honor.”

“Would you say that Jenny McCoy is a hostess in your establishment?”

“Yes, that is exactly what she is. She is a hostess and nothing more. She is guilty of nothing.”

“That’s where you are wrong, Miss Summers. Mrs. McCoy was soliciting to provide sexual acts for money. Maybe she wasn’t soliciting for herself, but she certainly was for others. And the penalty for solicitation for prostitution is the same as it is for prostitution itself.”

“All right.” Adele finally had enough. “If you are unable to see the difference, I won’t argue with you. How much is her fine? I’ll pay it.”

“I’m afraid that won’t work. This is far beyond having one of your women caught with a cowboy. You see, the gentleman she was with is the sitting governor of a neighboring state.”

“I know that, Judge. Governors, congressmen, senators”—she paused—“and judges—have all visited the Colorado Social Club. And the more cultured of these gentlemen want to spend some time with Jenny, not as a sexual partner, but as a conversationalist.

“And why not? Jenny is the most educated and intelligent person I know, man or woman. And you can see with your own eyes how beautiful she is. It is no wonder that such people find her interesting.”

“Nevertheless, if it gets out that the governor was with Jenny McCoy, it could have far-reaching consequences. Therefore, my sentence for you, Mrs. McCoy, is that you leave Pueblo.”

“What?” Jenny asked with a gasp. “Where will I go? What will I do?”

“Like Miss Summers said, you are an uncommonly beautiful woman, Mrs. McCoy. I’m quite sure you will be able to find some means of supporting yourself. I just don’t intend for you to do it here.”

“I will not be a prostitute!” Jenny said resolutely.

The judge’s only response was to bang his gavel. “This hearing is adjourned.”

Adele walked back to the Colorado Social Club with Jenny, comforting her as best she could.

“I have never been so embarrassed and humiliated in my life,” Jenny said.

“Nonsense, my dear. You have nothing to be humiliated for, or embarrassed about.”

“But what will I do? Where will I go?”

“You can go to Red Cliff,” Adele suggested. “I have a brother who owns a nice store there. I’ll write to him, and ask him to give you a job.”

“Would you? Oh, Adele, you have been such a wonderful friend.”

BOOK: A Rocky Mountain Christmas

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