The Bride Wore Spurs (The Inconvenient Bride Series, Book 1) (38 page)

* * *

Caleb and Kate hadn't even bothered to change into fresh clothing the morning Crowfoot stopped by with his terrible news. They just bundled themselves and the baby into the wagon and took off for town, leaving the ranch foreman to oversee Three Elk and its cattle herd. When the boy informed Caleb that Hawke had vowed to turn his horses loose and then destroy the ranch, he knew that his friend would probably spend a day or two up in the Snowy Range before coming to his senses and returning to Laramie. No point in going after him either, for like himself, Hawke was a hard man to find when he wanted to be lost. The best plan, Caleb decided, would be to go to town and try to help Lacey in any way he could.

So after a long, uncomfortable journey, the Weatherspoons arrived in Laramie just as the sun was sliding over the very mountains where Lacey's husband was either losing or finding himself. They immediately went to the courthouse to make certain the tale Crowfoot had told them was true, and after finding that it was, Kate arranged for a private visit with Lacey in the room the sheriff had specified as a "female jail cell."

Caleb, who still felt awkward and uncomfortable holding his fragile daughter, waited with her in his arms at the sheriff's office along with the deputy on duty. Looking down at her pretty little face, again he marveled at the miracle of birth. Kathleen was so tiny and delicate, he simply couldn't imagine her growing into a woman some day.

She stirred in her sleep then, stretching her little arms until her tiny fingers popped through the fold in the blanket. "Lord almighty," Caleb cooed to his daughter. "I don't see how in hell something so delicate-like and cute as you could share the blood of an old hog's butt like me. Remind me to skin your ma good when I see her—she musta had another rake besides me gathering up her hay crop."

"Your first?" asked the deputy from across the room.

His face red, Caleb glanced over to the man. "Uh, yep, she shore is. How can you tell?"

"I've had four myself." He laughed. "The first one always seems like it's gonna break or something if you even look at it cross-eyed."

"I know what you mean there, pardner. I feel like a regular board-hands with this little gal—scared half to death of her, in fact."

"You'll get over that with the next one. By the third, you'll be bouncing the kid off the floor."

Just thinking about that made Caleb hold the baby even closer to his chest, but before he could make a comment on the deputy's reckless suggestion, Kate burst into the room, her handkerchief to her nose.

"Oh, Caleb," she cried. "'Tis even worse than I thought with the lass." She hurried to his side, peeked at her sleeping daughter, then sat down. "They put her in a poorly made shack with cracks in the walls and a dirt floor. But even in such dreadful surroundings, I couldna get the lass to so much as blink at me. I'm thinking this could be the worst spell she's e'er had."

"Worst spell? What in tarnation does that mean?"

Taking her time to dab her tears and blow her nose, Kate finally said, "'Twere a term used for any kind of shock in the mad room at the hospital where I worked. With Lacey, 'tis, I suppose, like a nonphysical coma, you know? Where the mind is completely asleep but the body has suffered no trauma."

Trying to absorb all that, Caleb furrowed his brow. "How long will she be like that do you think?"

Fresh tears rolled down Kate's cheeks. "I dona know. I... I've seen spells that lasted for years on end."

Looking for a way to comfort his wife, Caleb carefully slipped his hand from beneath his daughter's body and patted Kate's back. "Don't you worry none, angel pie. That ain't gonna happen to Lacey, you'll see."

But she just cried harder.

Glancing at the deputy, who was taking in the whole scene, Caleb whispered, "Now don't carry on so, Katy. You'll upset little Kathleen, here."

She hiccupped. "I canna help it. If Lacey doesna speak soon, I am afraid that she, that..."

"The girl means an awful lot to you, doesn't she, darling?"

Her pale blue eyes awash in tears, Kate turned to him and murmured through a sob, "More than ye'll e'er know."

Slipping his arm around Kate's trembling shoulders, Caleb kept his silence as she cried herself dry. When he could be heard over her sobs, he turned toward the deputy and asked, "Isn't there some way for us to get that poor gal out of jail? I expect she could use a little of my wife's nursing about now."

"Sorry, pardner, but no chance in hell. She ain't got long to wait, anyways, what with her trial starting up tomorrow morning."

Kate abruptly stood up. "So soon?"

The deputy shrugged. "No point in waiting on this one. Got witnesses you know. She done it, and there ain't no way she can talk her way out of it."

"But the lass is sick. Can ye na see that?"

He jabbed a toothpick into his mouth and began cleaning his teeth. "Didn't look sick to me or the sheriff."

"She
canna
talk. 'Tis a sickness of it's own. Can ye na wait a wee bit for her to snap out of it?"

The deputy laughed. "There ain't nothing sick or strange about keeping the mouth shut when it comes to murder. Either they talk all the time insisting they're innocent, or they clam up like your friend in there. She'll snap out of it fast enough when Judge MacIver sentences her to hang tomorrow."

* * *

The citizens of Laramie were proud of their new courthouse, a structure they also used as a general gathering place and party hall. Charity dances were a favorite there, and once on a very unusual Fourth of July, the hall was even used to shelter unprepared citizens who were caught by a surprise blizzard. No such luck today as a hot spell had descended on the valley, bringing uncomfortable temperatures outside and stifling conditions inside.

Today as the members of the jury filed back into the hall after breaking for a noonday meal, the building was serving its original purpose as a courtroom with Kate, Caleb, and their newborn daughter among the crowded gallery of spectators. The prosecution had presented their case in short order during the morning session, and now as Pauline Little was marched back up to the stand, Lacey's lawyer, Malcolm Webber, was about to begin the process of cross-examining the secretary.

Kate, who was still astounded to find women serving on the jury—four women to eight men in this case—turned to her husband and whispered, "Are ye thinking maybe the women will be sympathetic to Lacey, or will they toss in with this fast woman and all her lies?"

Caleb shook his head, not sure what to say to her. Now that the case had been presented in no uncertain terms, it didn't look good for Lacey. The secretary had sworn that she'd dashed into her employer's office a second after the gunshot rang out to find the defendant standing over the dead man, gun in hand. Worse yet, it had come out that John Winterhawke, Jr. was William Braddock's only living heir since the banker had no will—and stood to inherit everything, including the ranch he so coveted. Thus far, Lacey hadn't so much as reared her head in her own defense, much less spoken out. And that gave Caleb second thoughts about his decision not to go after Hawke in the mountains. Maybe if he had managed to find the man, things here would be different.

With a heavy sigh, he turned to his wife and admitted, "I got to be honest with you, sugar. I'm plum worried about the girl. It's gonna take a flat out miracle to get her out of this one. A good bit more than a miracle, at that."

The doors to the courthouse slammed open then, charging the air with a loud
bang
which was almost enough to convince Caleb that a bolt of lightening had come down from the sky, bringing with it the hoped for miracle. He turned along with gallery to see what looked like a wild man standing in the doorway.

The women gasped and the men seemed to shrink against their chairs. Then Hawke strode into the suddenly hushed room.

To lose one parent... may be regarded as a misfortune;

to lose both looks like carelessness.

—Oscar Wilde

Chapter 20

He'd tied the leather thong around his forehead to keep the hair from his eyes, but dressed the way he was in buckskins and leggings, Hawke's long flowing locks did little to dispel the savage within the clothes or to hide his raw outrage.

The gavel banged down as Judge MacIver said, "Come in if you've a mind to, sir, and sit down. This court is in order."

Spotting Caleb's white lipped expression among the onlookers, Hawke moved over to where his friend was seated on the aisle, and dropped down to his haunches. Crowfoot, who was intimidated by the large crowd, hovered just outside the courtroom, preferring to take in the proceedings through an open window.

Ignoring the spectators who were still gawking at him, Hawke turned to Caleb and quietly asked, "What's happened so far?"

"Uh, not too much. The law took a turn asking questions of the folks who work at the bank, and now I guess Lacey's lawyer is gonna give it a go. That's him, Malcolm Webber, up there talking to the gal from Braddock's office."

With a quick glance toward the stand, Hawke turned back to his friend in surprise. "You hired a lawyer for Lacey?"

"Nope, the court did. I expect soon's the trial is over, though, they're gonna come after you to pay up."

He shrugged indifferently. "Has Lacey had a chance to explain what happened?"

Dragging his answer out, Caleb hemmed and hawed a minute, then said, "No, she, ah... ain't been called up to testify yet."

Nodding thoughtfully, Hawke turned his attention back to the stands to listen in on the cross-examination.

"... and you were actually present in the room when Mr. Winterhawke assaulted Mr. Braddock?" asked Webber.

"Yes, sir, I was sitting right next to Mr. Braddock when the half-breed jumped over the desk and tried to strangle Mr. Braddock." She pointed at Hawke. "That's him right there, the fellow who just came into the courtroom."

The gallery gave a collective gasp, and Judge MacIver banged his gavel, demanding quiet. Then he turned to Webber and said, "Hurry this thing along a little, will you? Ask her something we don't already know."

Fresh out of law school, Webber's cheeks flushed brightly as he resumed his interrogation. "If memory serves from your earlier testimony, I believe you said that Mr. Braddock saved himself during the assault by pulling a gun on Mr. Winterhawke and ordering him from his office. Is that correct?"

Pauline delicately sniffed into her handkerchief. "Yes, sir, and if I may say so, I think if Mr. Braddock had put that gun away instead of leaving it lying on his desk, he'd... he'd be alive today." She collapsed into sobs after that, and the judge was forced to give her a moment to collect herself.

When he was able to resume questioning the witness, Webber quietly asked, "Now be very careful to remember the exact words if you can, and tell the court one more time what Mr. Winterhawke said to the deceased as he walked out of his office."

A heavily perspiring Judge MacIver intervened before she could. "Didn't I ask you to hurry this along?"

"Yes, your honor, but Miss Little's testimony is really all the court has by way of evidence. I want to make sure she's absolutely certain of the facts in this case."

With a weary sigh, the judge agreed. "You may proceed, but do remember to keep it moving along."

After a short nod of thanks, Webber went back to questioning the witness. "Please answer the question, Miss Little."

"Well, best as I can remember, he said something like; 'there's more than one way to get rid of a fellow like you, and I'll have someone else do it so I don't have to get blood on my hands.'"

Webber raised a cynical eyebrow. "Those were his
exact
words?"

From the gallery, Hawke leaned in close to Caleb and whispered, "I said there was more than one way to skin a polecat, and that I intended to do it without getting his stink all over me—where does she get blood in that?"

"I think those were his exact words," said Pauline. "He said something very much like that, anyway."

Hawke rolled his eyes. "She's not even close."

Drumming his fingers against the witness box, Webber paused a long moment. "Fifteen or twenty minutes after Mr. Winterhawke left Braddock's office, the defendant requested an interview with him. Is that correct?"