Medicine Wheel (26 page)

“It’s a tintype of Mrs. Brannon’s breast wounds. She testified her husband bit her breasts. You can see from the picture that this is an understatement. It looks like she was attacked by a wildcat. The lacerations were deep and ragged, extremely difficult to suture.”

“And Exhibit 8 was taken after the surgery. Is that correct?”

“Yes, at least an hour later.”

Serena delivered the exhibit to the jurors, and as they passed them from man to man, there was a shaking of heads and several grunts. One elderly gentleman turned pale and broke out in a sweat. When the tintypes reached the storekeeper, he stared at the object in his hands for a moment and then vomited.

As the bailiff cleaned up the vomit, Serena continued. “Doctor, I have just a few other questions. Did Mrs. Brannon have any injuries not shown in the photographs?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about them.”

“She was badly bruised between her thighs and about her labia area?”

“For clarification, you are speaking of a woman’s private parts?” She doubted some of her jurors would know what a “labia” was.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“No other questions.”

“The judge looked at the county attorney. “Your witness, Mr. Fuller.”

“One moment, Your Honor.” Fuller turned to his deputy, and they engaged in an animated, whispered conversation for several minutes. Finally, the prosecutor turned to the judge and stood. “No questions of this witness.”

The judge pulled out the pocket watch from his vest pocket. “It’s almost five-thirty. Would it be alright if we started with your next witness tomorrow morning.”

“Not necessary, Judge,” she replied. “The defense rests.”

Judge Whitmore returned a big smile. “Very well, then. We’ll start with closing statements in the morning and then toss this case to the jury.”

53

C
AM
SLUMPED
IN
the oak arm-chair in front of his father’s desk. It was late morning, and the energy had been suddenly sapped from his body. Post-trial downslide, Pilar called it.

“The case has gone to the jury?” Myles asked.

“Yeah, about half an hour ago.”

“How long do you think they’ll be out?”

“God knows. Two hours or two days. Anything can happen with a jury.”

“I know. That’s why long ago I decided to stay away from them.”

“But some of us can’t help ourselves.”

Myles chuckled. “I understand. How’d closing go?”

“Serena asked to give the closing, and I deferred. She’s quite brilliant you know.”

“Yes, I’ve come to see that.”

“She didn’t give up on the possibility someone else might have killed Max while Kirsten was unconscious . . . reasonable doubt, you know, but a pretty big stretch. Then she pointed out that justifiable homicide is a defense, even if it she did shoot him. Of course, the statutes say ‘justifiable’ means self-defense or something akin to it. Serena seemed to subtly add ‘killing a mean son-of-a-bitch’ to that category. She pretty much convinced me. At least she gave the jurors plenty to latch onto if they’re looking for excuses to acquit.”

“And what do you think?”

“She’s not going to hang. First degree requires willful, deliberate and premeditated killing. Frank didn’t come close to proving that. I think he risked blowing his entire case by overcharging. Logic says she gets convicted of second degree. The sentence is a ten-year minimum, and the sky’s the limit. Whitmore likely gives her the minimum.”

“She’s an exceptional woman. I’d hate to see that.”

“Back east a few states recognize a ‘temporary insanity’ defense, but our statutes don’t provide for that, and it’s rarely successful where they do. Truth is that’s probably what we’ve got with Kirsten.”

“Where’s Serena?”

“She’s sitting in the jail cell with Kirsten. They seem to have formed a fast friendship during the course of the trial.” Cam smiled wryly, “Of course, Serena’s got a notch on her gun now, too. Men better treat that pair right.”

“How about lunch and coffee on the old man?”

“I’m ready.”

54

I
T
WAS
NEARLY
five o’clock in the afternoon, and the jury had been deliberating a day and a half, when Reva knocked on the door of Serena’s makeshift office in the Locke building. “Come in,” Serena replied.
 

Reva opened the door. “Jury’s been called in by the judge,” she said. “Cam’s out at his ranch, but I’ve sent a rider to give him the word. But you’re on your own. Good luck.”

Serena hurried to the courthouse. She had just left the jail and assumed the sheriff or his deputy would be escorting Kirsten to the courtroom. She could feel her heart racing and assumed it was from anticipation of the verdict, but there was always that nagging concern whether another attack of her illness was imminent.

When she arrived at the courtroom, Kirsten was already seated at the defense table. She returned Kirsten’s nod as she sat down, but neither spoke.
 

Judge Whitmore entered, and as he was taking his chair, motioned to the lawyers, “Counsel, would you approach the bench?”

Serena joined the county attorney in front of the judge, who said, “I’m just forewarning you, counsel, the jury may not reach a verdict.”

“What do you mean, Judge?” Fuller asked.

“A hung jury?” Serena interjected.

“It appears so. The foreman has requested instructions three times because of apparent deadlock, and I gather there’s more than one holdout . . . maybe three or four. I’ve asked the jury to come in and report in open court. If the foreman declares they are unable to reach a verdict, I’ll declare a mistrial, and it will be up to Mr. Fuller to decide if you’re going to start all over.”

Fuller sighed heavily, and his face turned glum. Serena thought the diminutive county attorney shrank a few more inches. “Judge, if the jury can’t reach a verdict, I’d like to have them hash it out one more time.”

“I’ll see what the foreman says, but I’ll warn you, I’m thinking this show’s about over, and I don’t have a lot of enthusiasm for an encore performance. If you’re going to pursue this, Mr. Fuller, I’d strongly suggest you drop the first degree charge. That’s not worth a cow shit pie . . . pardon the expression, ma’am. Second degree, I wouldn’t be insulted by, but I wouldn’t be disappointed if this whole thing would go away. I seriously doubt if you’re ever going to seat a jury that doesn’t have a few folks who think justice has already been done.”

Serena said, “Your Honor, if you declare a mistrial, I will have a motion to submit.”

“I suspected as much. You will have that opportunity. Now I’ll call in the jury.”

A few minutes later the jurors filed in from the anteroom and took their seats. Serena had only a moment to inform Kirsten that a possible mistrial was pending, but she did not have time to explain the significance.
 

The judge gaveled the court to order. “Mr. Bascomb, would you stand, please?”

Bascomb, a white-haired professor from the Kansas State Agricultural College, who had been elected foreman by his fellow jurors, stood.

“Mr. Bascomb, has the jury reached a verdict?”

“We have been unable to reach a verdict, Your Honor.”

“You understand that the verdict must be unanimous? Do you think that further deliberation may result in a verdict?”

“I do not. It is my opinion, which is shared by my fellow jurors, that we are hopelessly deadlocked.”

“You may be seated, Mr. Bascomb. I thank the jurors for their service in this matter.” The judge paused and tossed a look at each of the attorneys. “I declare a mistrial in this case.”
 

The judge’s eyes fixed on Serena. “I would entertain a motion, Miss Belmont.”

“Your Honor, I move that Mrs. Brannon be released without bond at this time. The evidence has clearly established she is a person of property with roots in this county. She is not a flight risk, and certainly should not be incarcerated further pending the prosecutor’s decision regarding any further action in this case.”

The judge looked at the county attorney, who just shrugged. “Motion granted. The defendant is released from the custody of the sheriff pending further order of this court. The jury is discharged. Adjourned.”

The reporters raced for the door, and the few other spectators and jurors meandered out of the courtroom. Serena caught a glimpse of Cam in the hallway. He had evidently cornered the jury foreman, who Cam had mentioned was a fellow Freemason.

Serena started gathering up her notes and trial books and Kirsten remained silent and solemn for some moments. “You seem a bit subdued,” Serena remarked.

“What just happened?”

“I’m sorry. I should have explained. Everything turned to chaos so quickly. You do understand that you are free to go now?”

“Yes, I understand that.”

“And when we leave here, you’re coming with me to stay with Vedette and Myles overnight. It’s too late to ride out to your place, and you need some time to get your thoughts together. I promise they’ll love to have you, and they have plenty of room.”

Kirsten nodded, although her eyes betrayed uncertainty. “But, if I understand correctly, we may have to go through all of this again.”

“That’s possible. Since there was no verdict, you don’t have constitutional protection against double jeopardy. It’s in the hands of the county attorney. The judge won’t take kindly to his going after you again on the first degree murder charge. But second degree is still an open question.”

“When will we know?”

“There’s no specific deadline, but I don’t think he will want the speculation to continue in the press very long. I’d be very surprised if we don’t know by the first of the week.”

“You said yesterday that you hoped to start your trip back to Washington on Monday. Does that mean you won’t be able to help me in a second trial?”

“If you want me involved, I’ll return.”

Cam suddenly appeared in front of the table. “Well, ladies, would you like to hear what happened in the jury room?”

Serena smiled. “I saw you talking to the foreman. I can’t wait.”

Cam picked up one of the spectator chairs and placed it across the table from Serena and Kirsten, and sat down. “There was not just one hold out . . . there were six. There were only two votes to convict on first degree, and after voting three times, they gave up on that. The first vote for second degree was eight to four to convict. They argued and voted on that all day and finally ended up deadlocked with a tie vote. They just ended up further away from the unanimous verdict they had to have.”

“Did they have an acquittal vote?” Serena asked.

“They did, but the other side wouldn’t vote to acquit either. The foreman was with us, and that didn’t hurt. The young storekeeper was with him all the way, and in spite of his weak stomach, spoke up very forcefully during the deliberations.”

“So what does Fuller do?” Serena asked.

“He’s going to talk to some jurors, too . . . then he very quietly caves and dismisses the charges with as little fanfare as possible.”

Serena turned to Kirsten and gave her a hug, and Kirsten gave a sigh of relief, as the tension seemed to melt from her body.

55

S
ERENA
SAT
AT
the breakfast table enjoying a morning cup of coffee with Vedette. Kirsten had departed a few minutes earlier, planning to pick up her horse and gear at the livery and return to her ranch house. She had shrugged off suggestions she might want someone to accompany her after all that had taken place there. She had work to do, she insisted, and Chet and the new hired hand, Asa Morgan, she was sharing with Thad were both staying on the place.

Vedette and Myles had graciously opened their home to the surprise guest, and they had spent the previous evening chatting about everything but the trial. Kirsten had excused herself early to one of the spare bedrooms, and she looked well-rested when she departed this morning. Serena promised Kirsten they would get together as soon as Serena returned to the Flint Hills.

“So you’re leaving Monday?” Vedette asked.
 

“That’s my plan. Before I left the courthouse, I spoke with Cam and asked him to get a message to Thad to meet me at a place I call the ‘medicine wheel’ . . . it’s actually on Thad’s property. I could tell Cam was curious, but I just couldn’t tell him more. He’ll know soon enough, I guess. I’m to meet him at noon, and I’m going to pick up some sandwiches at the Chuck Wagon to take with me.”

“I could make something.”

“No, that’s not necessary. I have to walk downtown to rent a horse, and the café is just across the street.”

“So you’re going to tell Thad today?”

“Yes, and after that I’m going over to my folks. I promised I’d spend the night there and go to church with them tomorrow. I’ll head back here after Sunday dinner with the family and impose on your hospitality one more night, if that’s alright.”

“Of course, it’s alright. It hasn’t been an imposition. You’ve been a joy to have here. I can’t wait till you return to Manhattan to stay.”

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ve been wrong to deprive Ned of the Locke side of his family. It’s despicable. I can’t excuse it. I’m getting the shakes over having to tell Thad about his son.” She hoped that was what the slight chills that had started during the night were about. Facing a jury was nothing compared to what she had to deal with now.

“It’s got to be difficult, I know, but Thad may be the kindest, gentlest man I’ve encountered . . . next to his father. As I’ve told you, he’s very controlled and thoughtful. He’ll listen, and he won’t judge harshly. They’re not religiously devout men, but I always thought Myles and Thad instinctively take to heart the words found in Matthew . . . ‘judge not, that ye be not judged.’ If only more so-called Christians would heed them.”

“I’ll pray that your opinion holds true today. Do you have some riding clothes I could borrow?”

“The trousers may be a bit long, but we’ll put something together.”

56

T
HAD
DISMOUNTED
C
ATO
and led the horse toward the young woman standing next to a sorrel mare at the base of the bluff. She appeared tired, and she was a shade too thin. Attired in faded denim trousers that were rolled up at the ankles and fell to the top of her moccasins and a checkered flannel shirt that she swam in, she looked something of a poor vagabond. But she was still stunning.