by Anna Schmidt
“I shoulda beat him to a pulp right then and there,” he grumbled, his fingers tightened into fists.
“Wouldn’t have done any good,” Grace’s father said. “You just would have ended up in the clink, and then who would protect my girl?” He swallowed hard as if having to work through a large knot in his throat. “Tell me the rest, son. Don’t leave out anything. I need to know it all.”
Nick told him about the fire and pulling Grace out and her insisting he go back for Perkins. He did not mention her arrest or trial. Instead, he told him how Doc Waters, Aidan, and the others at the hotel had insisted on caring for her at no charge. “She is much loved by everyone there,” he said.
Her father smiled. “So it was when the doctor was treating her for her injuries that he figured out that she was with child?”
Nick nodded. Maybe Jim would assume that the reason she couldn’t come was because the doctor thought it too risky. Maybe he didn’t have to tell them the worst—that their beloved daughter was under arrest and facing a trial for the murder of the banker.
But just like Grace, Jim Rogers saw through him. “What else?” he asked. “There’s one more thing you don’t want to say. Say it.”
So Nick told him. But the moment he saw silent tears leaking down the deep crevices of the man’s face, he wished with all his heart that he’d lied instead.
A light tap at the door broke the silence between the two men. Mrs. Rogers opened the door. “Dr. Rove is here, Jim. Nick, your supper’s getting cold.”
Nick squeezed his father-in-law’s shoulder as he stood and left the room. Grace’s mother stayed behind, so he walked down the hall to the kitchen where the twins, Angie, and the two older boys sat around the table eating their supper. A place had been set for him. “Smells mighty good,” he said, then pulled the chair closer and dipped his spoon into a bowl filled with a stew of meat, potatoes, and onions. Angie passed him a wooden board that held half a loaf of bread. The other four children just stared at him.
Reuben and his brother wolfed down their food. He judged them to be about seventeen and fifteen respectively, based on the fact that Grace had just turned nineteen. Angie was maybe a year or two younger than Walt, and the twins were several years younger. He wondered if there had been babies in between—infants who hadn’t made it.
Reuben slid his chair back as he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his flannel shirt. “We got chores,” he muttered, giving Walt a nudge.
“I’ll help,” Nick said, downing the last of his food and standing.
The two boys glanced at each other, unsure of what to say.
“I mean, with your pa down, I expect you’re short-handed,” Nick offered.
“You ever work on a farm?” Reuben asked, his tone challenging.
“Where I come from, working a ranch is much the same as you working a farm. Anything different, I figure a couple of men like you can show me.”
At his calling them “men,” Reuben straightened to his full height—tall like his father—but he still didn’t smile. “Get your coat. We’ll be in the barn. Come on, Walt.”
Nick drained the last of his coffee and grabbed his coat. He helped the boys feed the livestock and was shoveling a path from the back of the house to the chicken coop when the doctor left by the front door. “Just keep him resting, Mary,” the doctor said as Grace’s mother stood on the front stoop, once again wrapped in her shawl. “Calm is the only medicine I can offer right now.”
Nick heard the door to the house close and the jangle of the harness as Dr. Rove climbed into his wagon. Knowing the doctor would come past the coop and the barn, Nick waited.
“Excuse me, sir,” he called.
Dr. Rove was an older man with unruly white hair and a posture that looked as if he’d seen far too much in his years. He pulled the wagon to a stop and looked down at Nick.
“You’re Grace’s husband,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“I heard the story from Jim. Sounds like this family’s got more than its fair share of trouble to deal with right now.”
“I’m thinking maybe there might be a way to ease that some,” Nick replied and saw the doctor’s eyes widen with interest. “Come inside the barn where it’s warmer, and hear me out if you will.”
Dr. Rove nodded and snapped the reins, and the horse started for the barn. Once the two men walked inside, Reuben glanced up.
“This involves you and Walt as well, Reuben, so let’s talk,” Nick said, motioning the boys to join the doctor and him by the fire they’d built in the potbelly stove in one corner of the barn. “I might have an idea that will help your pa.”
* * *
With each passing day, Grace grew stronger—and more anxious. The judge would arrive any day now, and in spite of everything Sheriff Daniels had done to find evidence she could not have fired any of the shots, she might still stand for trial, accused of murdering Jasper Perkins.
“It’s all circumstantial, Mrs. Hopkins,” the sheriff told her as they sat on the veranda outside the hotel with Emma and Lily one evening after the dining room had closed for the day. “I’ve found no clear proof. But the problem with that,” he added, “is things can go either way.”
Lily was beside herself. “But if there is no solid proof that she’s guilty… I mean, isn’t the law ‘innocent until proven guilty’? And anyone who looks at her knows there is no way Grace could ever…”
Cody Daniels leaned back and stared out at the passing traffic on the street. “That’s the law in theory, but the truth is, sometimes things can go the other way, depending on how a jury sees things. I mean, if it comes to that.”
A jury. Of course. If the judge decided to order her case to trial, twelve men would decide her fate. Men she might have served in the dining room. Men perhaps beholden to Jasper Perkins for the bank loans that helped them build their livelihoods.
“Grace, have you consulted with Oscar Brooks?” Emma asked quietly.
Oscar Brooks was the sole attorney in Juniper. He often dined at the hotel—and frequently with Jasper Perkins. “I doubt he would see my side of this,” Grace said. “Besides, I can’t afford a lawyer.”
Lily snorted. “We’ll raise the money. You have friends, Grace—people who care a good deal about you.”
“If we could just find someone willing to step forward,” Emma mused. “Someone to testify that what Perkins did to Grace was part of a pattern—that he’s hurt girls before. That’s been the rumor.”
“I thought of that,” Cody said. “I’ve heard a lot of talk, but it sounds like any other girl he’s supposedly accosted has either left town or has settled into a life she wouldn’t want to jeopardize. That’s a long shot, I’m afraid.”
“But it could make a difference,” Lily insisted.
The sheriff stood. “It could, but, ladies, I have to warn you. It’s not only a far-fetched idea, but you’d be playing with the lives of others. Maybe ruining reputations, even marriages if the woman never told her husband.” He put his hat on and tugged it tight. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, addressing his comment to Grace.
“Thank you,” she replied. Cody Daniels was clearly torn, and her heart went out to him.
Lily was not quite so generous. “That man could make all of this go away if he was of a mind to do so,” she muttered as they watched him cross the plaza on his way back to his office.
“Oh, Lily, that’s not his job,” Grace replied.
They sat in silence for a long moment, the seriousness of Grace’s situation weighing heavily on the three friends. Uncomfortable with having the others assume the burden of her problems, Grace cast about for a way to lighten the mood. “One thing about Cody Daniels,” she said, “he’s quite nice-looking. And those dimples.”
Lily grunted dismissively. “If you like that sort of thing.”
Emma started to giggle
, then Grace, and finally Lily saw the humor in her comment. The three of them laughed until tears filled their eyes, gasping out comments between fresh bouts of merriment.
“And you do, Lily,” Emma managed.
“What?” Lily protested, but she was smiling.
“Like a man with dimples,” Emma and Grace replied in unison. That set off a fresh gale of laughter that had passing hotel guests looking their way with curiosity.
“Shhh,” Emma whispered, but giggles continued to bubble up from one or all three until they settled back in their chairs and let this new silence envelop them—the comfort of friendship.
“It’s going to be all right,” Lily said softly as they stared up at the stars.
Grace was not so sure, but she was grateful for their support. These two women had become her sisters as much as Angie and Darla were. “Thank you,” she murmured, reaching out to each of them and clasping their hands.
Two days later, Bonnie Kaufmann brought the news that Grace had been dreading. The judge was arriving on the morning train.
* * *
Bonnie took hold of Grace’s hands. “Sheriff Daniels says it will take time for him to settle in and review all the cases he’s come to hear. It’s unlikely you will need to be in court until Thursday.”
Nick had sent word that he would be back by the weekend. Would he be in time? “Surely they will not start the hearing until Nick can be here? He was a witness.”
“Unlikely, I’m afraid.” Bonnie pursed her lips. “Aidan told me the judge has a schedule to keep and is determined to finish his business here and be on his way. Apparently, there is a trial in Santa Fe involving a gang of outlaws who murdered a rancher.”
Grace’s lip trembled. She was frightened, and without Nick at her side…
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like Aidan to contact an attorney he knows in Santa Fe?”
“I am innocent, Bonnie. I have to hope that others will see that.”
The older woman frowned, clearly not as trusting as Grace was. If only I could speak privately with Mrs. Perkins, Grace thought. And why shouldn’t she? She picked up her hat and began pinning it in place.
“You’re going out?” Bonnie asked.
“For a walk. I just need to clear my head. I won’t go far.”
“Shall I have someone accompany you?”
Grace squeezed Bonnie’s hand. “I’ll be fine, thank you. I’m feeling stronger every day, and I can’t just sit here. I want to let Nick know the judge has arrived, so I’ll just walk to the Western Union, send the wire, and come back again.” She did not add that she planned to stop at the Perkins house, located just half a block from the telegraph office.
Bonnie smiled. “Of course.” She stepped aside and waited for Grace to go ahead of her into the lobby.
Once outside, Grace felt a little of what she had felt the first time she’d stepped off the train in Kansas City, before her interview and before she had been hired as a Harvey Girl. She had been as nervous then as she was now, as unsure she was doing the right thing. But that had turned out to be one of the best things she’d ever done. Trust your instincts, her father had once told her, and with those words ringing in her ears, Grace walked briskly across the plaza and on down the street to the Perkins residence. Maybe she would have good news to add to her message to Nick. Maybe Mrs. Perkins would relent and rescind her accusations. Maybe…
The doorway was draped in black crepe, and the curtains on every window were closed tight. There was no sign of anyone being home, but Grace raised the knocker and let it fall on the polished brass plate.
After a long moment, the door opened just enough for Mrs. Perkins to peer out. “You!” She prepared to shut the door.
“Wait. Please.” Without thought, Grace placed the flat of her hand against the door and pushed.
Mrs. Perkins had always been a thin waif of a woman. Now, her eyes were puffy and swollen from weeping or lack of sleep or both, and she had disintegrated into a state of such ill-health that Grace easily pushed the door open.
“Please,” she said again, unwilling to force her way into the dark house. “Let me come in so we can talk.”
Mrs. Perkins stepped away from the door, allowing it to swing open as she walked into the front dining room. Grace followed.
“You will not speak ill of my husband,” the widow hissed. She stood behind one of the large carved wooden chairs as if it would shield her from an attack. “Not in this house. I know what you’ve been saying—the lies, the dishonor you’ve heaped on his memory, when it was you! You and the others who—”
Grace’s mind locked on the single word—others. Had Mrs. Perkins known what her husband had been and what he had done? Had she somehow found a way to twist the facts around until Jasper Perkins became the victim?
“Others?” she asked quietly.
“Oh, do not play games with me, young woman. You so-called Harvey Girls are supposed to be so respectable, so moral and above reproach! Well, you don’t fool me. You never did. From the day that hotel was built and your kind started showing up, it’s been the same. You see a wealthy pillar of the community and set your sights on him—no matter that he’s already married. You’re not above blackmail, are you? Is that what happened? You lured my husband to that cabin to compromise him? Everyone knows about your family back in Missouri, how you send money to support them. Was it not enough? Did you need more and think my husband was an easy target?”
“Mrs. Perkins, you’ve got it all wrong. I never—”
“Stop!” she shouted. “Just stop your lies. I knew the minute you showed up for supper that night that you were trouble. I saw how Jasper was around you—nervous and unsettled. And attracted, yes. Of course. He’s a man after all. They have urges, but you played on those urges, didn’t you? And now he’s dead.” The woman was ranting, completely beyond reason.
Grace had made a terrible mistake coming to her house. She began backing toward the front hall. “I’m going now, Mrs. Perkins.”
“Yes, go. Enjoy your last breaths of freedom, you Jezebel. Judge Evans is here, and he will see you for who you really are. He will order you to be tried, and if there is justice in this world, you will be taking your final walk to the gallows.” Mrs. Perkins followed her to the door and shrieked at her while a couple passing the house and a neighbor sweeping her walk turned to look. Grace hurried down the steps.
“And I’ll be there watching,” Mrs. Perkins screamed before slamming the door so hard the frosted glass panels to either side rattled.
Grace was shaking so badly that she wasn’t sure she could make it back to the hotel, much less to the telegraph office. Instead she walked to the plaza, found a bench, and sat.
“Grace?”
She had no idea how long she’d been sitting there when she looked up and saw Polly Forrester standing in front of her. Polly sat next to her and took hold of her hands. “Are you unwell? Should I send for the doctor?”
Grace shook her head, finding it hard to put words together. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.” She noticed Polly’s uniform at the same time she heard the train approaching the station. “I don’t want to keep you. The train’s coming.”
“Walk with me back to the hotel,” Polly urged, pulling Grace to her feet and linking arms with her, “and tell me what has you so upset. Is it that the judge is in town? Because you know, Grace, everyone says he’s a fair man and—”
“I went to see Mrs. Perkins,” Grace admitted.
There was a beat, and then Polly said, “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know, but, Polly…” And Grace found herself telling Polly everything Jasper Perkins’s wife had said. “There have been other girls, and she knows who they are. I’m sure of it.”
They had reached the hotel, and Polly had asked no questions, made no comment. “You should go in and rest,” she said, prepar
ing to leave Grace at the front steps while she went around to the staff entrance in back.
“But, Polly, you’ve been here since the hotel opened. You must have heard—”
“I have to go,” Polly said, her face ashen. And she fled.
And that’s when Grace guessed that Polly Forrester had been one of the girls Perkins had gone after. Polly knew what Grace knew. Oh, how she wished Nick were here! He could persuade Polly to tell the judge what she knew. He could persuade Polly to testify on her behalf. But Nick wasn’t here, and she was pretty sure Polly was not going to give up any secrets that could get her fired and ruin her reputation, especially now that it was rumored Bonnie was considering retiring and moving back to Virginia to be closer to her nieces and nephews.
Grace entered the lobby. Aidan looked up from his position at the front desk and frowned with concern. She raised her hand in greeting and hurried on to the room she’d occupied since the fire, closing the door behind her and leaning against it as the tears broke. In the absence of anyone to speak for her, she understood for the first time, Mrs. Perkins’s prediction that she would hang might just be the way this all ended.
* * *
Once Reuben and Walt assured him they and Angie were fully prepared to run the farm, Nick returned to the house, prepared to discuss his idea with Grace’s parents. But while the doctor saw the possibility of his plan, persuading Grace’s mother was not going to be nearly so easy. They were seated in front of the fireplace. Nick perched on the edge of one chair, while she sat huddled in her shawl in the other. Dr. Rove had left, and now Nick wished he’d asked the man to stay and help him make the case. “It won’t be easy,” the doctor had warned, but Nick had thought he was talking about the logistics of getting the move organized. Now he was pretty sure the doctor was warning him he’d have his hands full with Grace’s mother first.
“Move Jim to New Mexico?” She gave him a look of pure panic. “He’s far too ill to go from the bed to the front room, much less halfway across the country.”
“Please hear me out, Mrs. Rogers.”