Come the Spring (41 page)

“The telegraph office here has been shut down for the last two days. The equipment broke down,” he explained. “Don't worry. I checked it out to make sure it was true.”

“No one in town is getting telegrams?”

“Oh, they're getting them, but they're being re-routed through the next town and that's twenty miles away.”

“His wire will probably come tomorrow, then.”

“And we'll be long gone,” he told her.

“You never told me how Burton and the others feel about disbanding.”

“They're ready to stop for a while. By the time they get the urge again or run out of money, we'll be setting up house in Paris.”

“If you take care of Bell tonight, we could leave tomorrow.”

He headed back to the door. “No, we're leaving
tonight. Pack your things and bring them with you when you meet me outside of town. You know where.”

“Yes,” she called out. “I wish you could go with me to see the judge. It would amuse you to watch.”

“You know I can't be seen with you in this town. Everyone knows me here, and they might start wondering how I got hooked up with you. I'll be in the courtroom.”

“Yes, I know. Where should I go now, straight to the courthouse?”

“Go to the sheriff's office. He'll take you to the courthouse.”

After giving the order, he pulled the door closed. He was surprised by the twinge of regret he felt. He was going to kill her, and he was surprised that he actually felt sorry for her. Then he started thinking about how he would kill her tonight, and within minutes he was hard and throbbing. All feelings of remorse vanished. He would keep her alive for as long as he could to prolong his own enjoyment, and he must remember to gag her so no one would hear her screams for mercy.

It was a pity really. He had considered taking her with him and then decided against it. Rebecca was such a striking woman she drew attention wherever she went. The flawless beauty made her a risk because everyone, even strangers, remembered her.

He would miss her though, for he doubted he could ever find another woman with such a twisted sexual appetite.

He jerked the door open again, walked inside, and began to unbutton his pants.

“No, Donald,” she cried out as she backed away from him. Her face was already flushed with excitement and fear. “There isn't time.”

His laugh was harsh. “There's always time.”

* * *

Rebecca didn't arrive at the jail until one-thirty that afternoon. It had taken almost two full hours to pull herself together after she and Donald had finished with one another. Fortunately, he'd let her take her dress off before it was ruined. She was still hurting, but she wasn't upset about it because pain would make her look all the more vulnerable and frightened.

The sheriff wasn't there. His deputy, a young man with a horridly pockmarked complexion, fastened his eyes on her breasts the second she walked inside. Amused, she stepped forward to shake his hand. His palms were sweaty, and she had to resist the urge to wipe her hand on her dress. She introduced herself and explained why she was there.

“The sheriff was hoping you'd get here soon,” he said. “He's over at the courthouse waiting to either drag the prisoner back here or let him go. I think we ought to head over there, because Judge Rafferty won't end the trial until you eyewitness Bell for him.”

“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. Rafferty 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.”