Read Worthy Brown's Daughter Online
Authors: Phillip Margolin
Worthy Brown's Daughter (18 page)
A
ngry winds and vicious rains had forced Heather to stay inside for three straight days. When the weather broke, Heather escaped into the garden to savor the fresh air. The sky was clear and a pale sun was shining. No clouds obscured her view of the snowcapped mountains, the river, and the verdant foothills. Heather took one of the trails that led into the forest. As she walked at a leisurely pace between the tight-packed evergreens, her thoughts turned to Matthew’s odd behavior.
Heather had seen very little of Matthew since he had ended his convalescence at Gillette House. On the few occasions when they had met by chance, he had seemed nervous and distant. Heather wanted to believe that Matthew’s odd behavior was a by-product of the pressure Worthy Brown’s defense had laid on him, but she did not really believe that was the sole or even major cause.
Matthew’s personality change had started while he was recuperating at Gillette House, but she could think of nothing that had happened during his stay that would have provoked it, and he had been completely normal before he rode to Barbour’s home to offer to settle Brown’s case for cash. That meant the precipitating cause had to have something to do with the events on the evening Caleb Barbour died.
It suddenly occurred to Heather that something had happened that evening that made no sense. The more she thought about it, the more upset she became, because she did not like the place where logic was leading her. Heather had avoided discussing the rape and murder with Roxanne for fear of upsetting her, but she had no choice now.
Heather returned to the house and found Worthy’s daughter in the kitchen shelling peas.
“Can you come with me, Roxanne?” she asked.
Roxanne wiped her hands on her apron and followed Heather to the den. Heather closed the door to ensure their privacy before sitting on the couch and motioning Roxanne to sit beside her.
“Do you trust me, Roxanne?”
Roxanne suddenly looked wary, but she nodded.
“If I asked you questions about what happened at Caleb Barbour’s house on the evening Mr. Penny brought you here, would you give me truthful answers?”
Roxanne’s eyes widened, her breathing grew shallow, and her body became rigid. She reminded Heather of a rabbit shaking in the shadow of a circling hawk.
“These questions . . . I wouldn’t ask them to embarrass you. Your answers may help your father when he stands trial.”
Roxanne did not move.
“Do you remember what happened to you in Mr. Barbour’s house before Matthew brought you here?”
Roxanne’s nod was almost imperceptible.
“Tell me what happened, Roxanne. It’s important that I know.”
Roxanne looked at the floor. When she spoke her voice was barely above a whisper.
“He . . . he touched me.”
“Caleb Barbour touched you?”
Tears appeared in the corners of Roxanne’s eyes. Heather watched them run down the girl’s cheeks.
“Did he hurt you?” she asked gently.
Roxanne nodded.
“Did he force you to . . . Did he force himself on you?”
The tears were a flood now. Roxanne’s shoulders folded in like broken wings, and her sobs shook her. Heather wrapped her arms around the quivering girl and held her. When Roxanne stopped sobbing, Heather eased Roxanne back against the couch.
“Did your father help you escape from Barbour?” Heather asked.
“No.”
“Then how did you get away?”
“I ran outside.”
“Was your father outside?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then who was there?”
BY LATE AFTERNOON, FOUL WEATHER
had put in another appearance. The sky over Portland was slate-gray, and the cold cut Heather to the bone. The pedestrians she passed walked with hunched shoulders and grim faces. Heather hitched her buggy in front of the jail. When Amos Strayer opened the peephole on the second knock, he found Heather huddled against the wall, shielding herself from the wind. Strayer didn’t like the idea of a woman entering the jail, but he couldn’t leave Benjamin Gillette’s daughter at the mercy of the elements. Heather rushed inside as soon as the door opened.
“What’s this about, Miss Gillette?”
“I want to speak to Mr. Brown.”
“I can’t let you do that. Only his lawyer is allowed to talk to him. That’s the marshal’s order.”
“I wouldn’t ask unless it was important.”
“I don’t know, Miss Gillette. That Brown is a killer. There’s no telling what he might try.”
“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Strayer, but Mr. Brown should bear me no ill will. I’ve been taking care of his daughter since the night he was arrested.”
“And there’s still what Marshal Lappeus said.”
“I won’t be long with him, I promise.”
Strayer hesitated. He could see the meeting was important to Heather. And the marshal had let Brown’s daughter actually go inside his cell.
“Please, Mr. Strayer.”
“Well, all right. But I can’t let you in the cell. You’ll have to speak through the door.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
Strayer led Heather to Worthy’s cell. The prisoner was asleep, and it took a while to rouse him. He sat up slowly. The weak sunlight barely penetrated his cell, and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes so he could see.
“You’ve got a visitor, Brown,” Strayer said when Worthy arrived at the door. “It’s a lady. See you treat her like one.”
“Mr. Brown, I’m Heather Gillette, Benjamin Gillette’s daughter.”
Worthy pressed his face against the bars in the small window in the door.
“I’m glad to meet you. Roxanne’s told me so many good things about you. I hope she isn’t any trouble.”
“No, no, Mr. Brown. She’s no trouble at all.”
“It’s been easier for me knowing she’s being looked after, and I thank you for your kindness.”
Heather turned to the deputy. “Mr. Strayer, may I talk to Mr. Brown alone? I want him to be able to speak freely, and your presence may inhibit him.”
“I don’t know. . . .”
“I assure you I’ll be fine. There is a rather thick door between us.”
Strayer was reluctant to leave. “He can reach you through the bars, Miss Gillette. Stay back from the window.”
“I will.”
“And holler if he gives you any trouble.”
Strayer walked down the narrow corridor casting occasional glances over his shoulder. When he was out of earshot, Heather stared into Worthy’s eyes.
“Roxanne needs you, Mr. Brown. She needs you very much.”
“Why are you telling me that when there ain’t nothing I can do about it?” Worthy asked, his anguish evident.
“We both know that isn’t true. We both know you shouldn’t be in here.”
Worthy’s features hardened. “What do you mean?”
Heather lowered her voice so there was no chance Amos Strayer could hear her.
“Did Matthew Penny kill Caleb Barbour?”
Heather heard the prisoner’s sharp intake of breath.
“Did he kill him?” Heather repeated. She tried to read Worthy’s expression, but he’d stepped back a pace, cloaking his face in shadow.
“Why you asking me that?”
“I’ve talked to Roxanne. You weren’t at Barbour’s house when she and Barbour ran into the yard. Matthew was.”
“That girl was shook up bad. She don’t know what she’s saying.”
“I know Matthew killed Caleb Barbour. Otherwise, the timing makes no sense. You were arrested almost an hour after Matthew brought Roxanne to my house. Why would you stay with Barbour’s corpse? Why didn’t you follow your daughter to find out how badly she was injured? You didn’t accompany Roxanne to my house because you weren’t present when Barbour died. You didn’t come to Gillette House because you didn’t know where she was.”
Worthy turned his back on Heather and sat down on his bed.
“Roxanne told me you weren’t in the yard when she ran out of Barbour’s house. She saw Matthew in the yard. I think Matthew saw what Barbour had done to Roxanne and killed him to protect her.”
“I killed Caleb Barbour,” Worthy replied in a flat voice.
“Roxanne needs you, Mr. Brown. Tell the marshal what really happened. Don’t die for a crime you didn’t commit.”
“Mr. Penny would hang if I did what you want.”
“If he killed Barbour to save Roxanne, he can claim self-defense. All the facts would come out in a trial. Roxanne can tell the jury what Barbour did to her.”
“Ain’t no one gonna believe her, Miss Gillette. They’d be thinking she was lying to save me.”
“Not if Matthew backed up her story.”
“And died instead of me? I thank you again for taking care of my Roxanne, and I understand why you come here, but you have to let this lay quiet. I killed Barbour. That’s the end of it.”
HEATHER HITCHED HER BUGGY IN
front of the building that housed Matthew’s office and climbed the stairs to the second floor. She found the lawyer working at his desk. Matthew looked up. His handsome features were ravaged by exhaustion, and his eyes were red-rimmed.
“Are you working on Worthy’s case?” Heather asked.
“No, this is work for another client.”
Heather hesitated then she remembered Worthy’s desolate cell and Roxanne’s anguish.
“There is an easy way to set Worthy free,” she said.
“Oh?”
“I’ve talked to Roxanne and Mr. Brown.”
“About what?” Matthew asked warily.
“I know what happened at Caleb Barbour’s house.”
Matthew gave himself time to think by using a cloth to remove the excess ink from the nib of his pen.
“What did they say?” he asked as he set the quill down.
Heather stared at him without flinching. “Caleb Barbour violated Roxanne. That’s why she was naked. She ran from the house as you rode up. Barbour chased her, and you killed him to protect Roxanne. Worthy Brown was nowhere near Barbour’s house when Barbour was killed. He’s protecting you because you saved his daughter.”
Matthew felt sick. He didn’t know what to say.
“You can save him, Matthew. You must tell the district attorney. You’ve committed no crime. Barbour was a rapist. The law protects you. You killed to protect an innocent child.”
When Matthew answered, he sounded like a man who had abandoned hope.
“I didn’t remember what happened because of the blow to my head. When I remembered, I went to the jail and told Worthy that I was going to confess. He said that he would not let me take the blame for killing Barbour. He insisted that he would confess if I tried.
“I went to W. B. Thornton’s office anyway. I did what you want me to do: I confessed. He wouldn’t believe me. He said I was imagining the murder, and, in truth, I have no clear memory of it. I just know that I killed him. But Worthy won’t back me out of a misguided sense of loyalty because I saved Roxanne.”
“Roxanne will tell them what you’ve said is true.”
“She never saw what happened. Roxanne wasn’t in the yard when I killed Barbour. She was in shock, and she ran into the forest to escape from him. And Thornton wouldn’t believe her anyway. He’d say she’s lying to save her father from the gallows.”
“This is insane. You are not a murderer. You saved Roxanne from a rapist.”
“It wasn’t that way,” he said in a voice that was barely audible.
Heather looked confused. “What else could have happened?”
Matthew looked up. Heather had never seen anyone look so tired.
“I didn’t kill Barbour to save Roxanne. I killed him in a rage after Roxanne was safe. I killed him because he insulted you.”
“Insulted me?” Heather repeated, unsure she’d heard Matthew correctly.
“Roxanne ran into the woods, and I stopped Barbour from going after her. He was furious and he called you a . . . a name. I lost control. There was nothing virtuous in what I did. I was no better than a drunk in a saloon brawl.”
“If you hadn’t stopped Barbour, he would have pursued Roxanne. You know that. Surely it can’t matter that you had two motives to strike him?”
“My motive—my intent—does matter in a court of law. In my mind I was not acting to save Roxanne. I was blind with rage.”
Heather paused to think about Matthew’s revelation. Then she looked at him.
“I care for you, Matthew. I care for you deeply, no matter what you’ve done. You’re a good man regardless of what you think. I’ll stand by you, and we
will
figure this out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out,” Matthew said.
“Perhaps you’ll win at trial and Worthy will go free.”
Matthew shook his head. “Worthy won’t let me call Roxanne as a witness, and he insists that I represent him so I can’t testify to what really happened. As it stands, we have little chance of prevailing.”
