by Anna Schmidt
Grace sat alone. She looked so small and fragile, and yet she sat straight and tall and listened carefully to everything Dolly Perkins said—all of it some concoction of her need to believe in her husband’s innocence.
“Can I testify?” Nick whispered to Aidan.
“Probably wouldn’t help. You’re Grace’s husband.”
The judge cleared his throat as the lawyer helped Perkins’s wife back to her seat. “Do you have any further witnesses, Mr. Brooks?”
“No, Your Honor.” He gave Grace a triumphant look as he took his seat.
“Good. Now, Mrs. Hopkins, I see you are without representation. That is unusual. Would you like to make a statement?”
Nick saw that this possibility had never occurred to Grace.
“No, sir,” she said, her voice barely audible.
The judge was obviously nonplussed. He looked over those gathered in the crowded room and waved a stack of papers. “I have all these letters from local citizens. Does no one here wish to speak on Mrs. Hopkins’s behalf?”
Aidan stepped forward. “I do.”
Then Frank Tucker stood. “Me too.”
Three other men stood as well—railroad workers who were regulars at the lunch counter.
One by one, the judge had them sworn in, and then he deftly guided them to speak their piece. Near Nick, several Harvey Girls crowded in the doorway.
“Anyone else?”
Nick saw John Lombard stand. “Perhaps I could clarify an incident that my wife and I witnessed involving Mr. Hopkins,” he said.
The judge motioned him forward, and in clear, concise detail, Nick’s employer gave the judge the facts of what had happened at the party. “My brother-in-law tended to overindulge in social situations,” he said. “And more than once in such situations, I witnessed his focus settling on someone who was without the power to object to his attentions.” He looked straight at Grace and then left the stand.
“Very well,” the judge said, apparently assuming Lombard was the last witness for Grace.
Then Bonnie Kaufmann stepped forward. “I would like to make a statement,” she said. Without invitation, she marched to the front of the room, raised her right hand, and waited for the aide to swear her in. The judge asked who she was in relation to Grace.
“I am her supervisor—and friend,” she replied. “However, I am not here to talk about Mrs. Hopkins. You have heard enough to know that she is a fine, upstanding young woman. I am here to tell you about Jasper Perkins.”
An audible gasp ricocheted through the room. The judge banged his gavel, calling for order. “Mr. Perkins is not on trial, Miss Kaufmann,” he reminded her.
“Perhaps he should be,” Bonnie muttered, then recovered her composure and faced the judge. “Nevertheless, you need to hear me speak.”
Nick saw Aidan shake his head and knew they were thinking the same thing. Once Bonnie Kaufmann made up her mind to do something, there would be no stopping her.
“When I first arrived in Juniper ten years ago, Mr. Perkins took an interest in me, very similar to the interest he took in Mrs. Hopkins.”
“I object,” Brooks shouted.
“I want to hear this,” the judge replied, “so sit down, Mr. Brooks. You had your moment.” He leaned toward Bonnie. “Go on, Miss Kaufmann.”
“I was younger and probably a good deal more attractive in those days, although I don’t think that mattered much to Mr. Perkins. Like Grace, I was straight off the farm and innocent. He seemed so nice, and as a stranger here, I needed a friend—a mentor. He invited me to stop by the bank one evening so we might discuss how best to manage my finances, and I went.”
She sat stone still, chewing her lower lip, her eyes fixed on some distant memory. “When I arrived, I could tell he’d been drinking. As soon as he touched me and I realized this was no business meeting, I tried to leave, but he stood between me and the door. He…” She faltered, and her voice was so low, Nick suspected only the judge could hear her clearly. Nick caught enough words to know what Bonnie was saying. Undressed. Dark. Mouth covered.
Once again, she went silent. Nick realized everyone in the room was leaning forward, waiting for her next words.
“I must have passed out. I remember being so very afraid and so very shocked that this was happening. When I came to myself, he was gone. My clothing was undone, and there was…” She swallowed hard. “After examining myself, I realized I had been violated.”
“Why did you not report this?” The judge was indignant.
“I did. The sheriff—not Sheriff Daniels but his predecessor—told me I had no proof that he had forced me. By my own admission, he was not there when I awoke, and the office was unlocked.” She looked at the judge wide-eyed. “The sheriff did not believe me. He actually said he’d seen this before, where a girl makes a mistake and then regrets her action and cries ‘foul.’”
“She’s lying,” Dolly Perkins shouted. “They all lie.” Nick saw Rita Lombard try unsuccessfully to calm her sister.
“All?” The judge looked up sharply, then at the women seated in the room, including those Harvey Girls who had crowded into the room still wearing their uniforms. “Are there others among you with a similar experience?”
Someone nudged Nick from behind, and as he turned, Polly Forrester squeezed past him. She hesitated.
“Well?” the judge demanded.
“I’m not doing this for Grace,” she murmured to Nick. “I’m doing it for myself.” Nick couldn’t have been more surprised as Polly stepped to the front of the room, stopping next to the table where Grace sat. She raised her hand. “As God is my witness, Jasper Perkins raped me, Your Honor, and I can give you the names of at least three others who will testify to the same thing.” Her voice broke, and she staggered a bit.
Grace was on her feet immediately. She wrapped her arms around Polly and led her to the nearest chair. Once she’d handed Polly the glass of water she hadn’t touched, she turned to the judge.
“Your Honor, I would like to speak after all, if I may.”
“Please,” the judge said.
Grace approached the witness chair and looked at the judge’s aide, who scrambled to grab his Bible and swear her in. Nick was torn between protesting her decision and cheering her on.
“The facts I am about to relate are true—as true, I suspect, as the ones you have just heard from my friends. They will be painful for Mrs. Perkins to hear, and yet I believe in her heart, she knows the veracity of them. I believe, like any devoted wife, she sees it as her duty to protect her husband’s name and memory. But there is a pattern of behavior here that goes back years, and the only individual who was present in each instance we have heard today was Jasper Perkins.”
Grace paused and looked directly at the judge, speaking to him as if they were alone in the room. “As you have already heard, Your Honor, when Mr. Perkins first approached me, I was serving at a private party at the Lombardo Ranch. Our first encounter was witnessed by many of the guests that night. Unfortunately, the harassment continued, often in public places such as the lunch counter here at the hotel or once on the street just before Christmas, but never in such a way that others might overhear or have reason to be concerned. During those encounters, he threatened my husband, and he threatened me.”
From her pocket, she pulled a folded envelope. She handed it to the judge. “This was on my bed one night after he demanded I meet him alone at the bank after hours and I did not go.”
The judge removed the contents from the envelope, read the message, then passed it to his aide to hand to Mr. Brooks. “Go on,” he coached Grace.
“Because he had told me my appeal for him was my innocence, once I had married, I thought if I told him, that like any new bride…if he knew…”
“I understand. The day of the fire, what happened then? Why were you at the cabin?”
&
nbsp; Every muscle in Nick’s body tensed as Grace related the details of that horrible encounter. She left little out, but whenever she reached a detail that was embarrassing or upsetting, the judge nodded and gently prodded her to continue.
“I cannot say how he was shot, Your Honor, but I can say with all certainty that when my husband carried me from that burning building, Jasper Perkins was alive.”
“And yet according to testimony we have heard, you sent your husband back in to the fire for him,” the judge noted. “Why? With his death, your problems were over.”
Grace gave him a tight, sardonic smile. “I would respectfully disagree, sir. For it is I who am on trial here, not the man I had hoped would finally have to face justice for his crimes. I wanted him to have to face me and perhaps these women and others who, like me, he had harassed and violated. You may accuse me of hating him and of causing harm to him in order to escape, for I did all those things. But I did not kill him. In the name of justice, not just for me, but for all his victims, I ask that you put this matter to rest. Let us get on with our lives.”
She folded her hands in her lap and sat dry-eyed and composed, still facing the judge. She was magnificent, and Nick could see there wasn’t a person in the room—save Perkins’s widow and her lawyer—who didn’t agree.
Brooks got to his feet. “Your Honor, may I have permission to cross-examine this witness?”
“That’s your right, Counselor.”
Brooks approached her. He smiled. “Mrs. Hopkins, I am sorry for the ordeal you endured during the fire. I do hope your health has improved?”
Grace met the lawyer’s eyes. “Yes, thank you,” she replied.
“I would like to bring our focus away from the sordid stories you and your friends have asked us to believe—of a man who was a pillar of this community, I might add.”
“Get on with it, Brooks,” the judge muttered.
“Let’s talk about the shooting of Mr. Perkins. Is it your testimony that you feared for your life?”
“Yes, sir.” She eyed him suspiciously, as if unsure of where he was headed with his question.
“And is it safe to assume that if you could have gained access to the pistol in question, you would not have hesitated to use it to defend yourself?”
Grace straightened and faced her accuser directly. “Mr. Brooks, I never touched that gun. It was pointed at me. It was placed quite forcibly against my person. The last I saw of it, Mr. Perkins had placed it on top of a nail keg so he could…” Her voice broke, but she lifted her chin and continued. “Your Honor, I am guilty of bargaining for my life, but I did not shoot Mr. Perkins.”
The lawyer seemed at a loss for words. He turned back to the table where he’d sat and shuffled through some papers.
“Mr. Brooks?” the judge said. “Was there something more for this witness?”
Brooks waved a paper in the air. “I have here the sworn statement of Mrs. Dolly Perkins that Mrs. Hopkins not only pursued her husband, but also threatened her.”
The judge sighed heavily and motioned for Brooks to hand him the paper. Then he held up a sheaf of papers from the folder his aide had carried into the room when they arrived. “And I have here statements from a number of citizens who witnessed the fire. I will certainly take Mrs. Perkins’s statement under consideration. So unless you think you have anything to add, I am prepared to retire to consider my decision. Mrs. Hopkins, you may return to your seat.” He motioned to Grace, who faced the lawyer with her jaw set and head high, as if daring him to doubt a word of her testimony.
Nick actually felt a little sorry for the guy, who fumbled with his pen and notepad for a moment and then sat down again.
The judge gathered his papers and stood. “We are in recess. Mrs. Perkins, I would like to speak privately with you and Mr. Brooks.” He left by the side door, and the room erupted in chatter.
Brooks escorted Mrs. Perkins to the side door, and the Lombards went with her. Grace returned to her place without looking at anyone. Nick knew she hadn’t yet seen him, so he started toward her, only to have his way blocked by Cody Daniels.
“She’s still in custody, Nick.”
Hearing his name, Grace turned. Her smile was radiant as she ran to him. Nick realized he might have had to punch Cody to get to her, but all Grace had to do was push past the sheriff with a soft “excuse me,” and Cody was beat.
“She stays right here,” Cody ordered as Nick folded his arms around her and felt her tighten her hold on him.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Nick assured him, leading Grace to the closest chair and sitting next to her. “You were—”
“My father?” she asked at the same time.
“Jake took charge the minute we arrived. I expect he and Ma Rogers are already settled in a room and Doc Waters is examining your father for any ill effects from the trip.”
“Ma Rogers?” She smiled, then frowned. “Tell me, was the trip awful?”
He realized she needed to focus on her parents—on anything but her current circumstances. “Remember Ollie?”
“The conductor who liked you so much?”
“He sends his regards. He took care of everything once we reached Kansas City.” He told her every detail he could recall of the journey.
The side door opened, and the aide stepped to the front of the room. “If everyone would please take a seat, the judge is ready to deliver his decision.”
It had been less than fifteen minutes. Most people had left the room thinking they had time to step outside for a breath of air or perhaps get a cup of coffee at the counter.
Cody stepped up to Nick. “She needs to be in her place,” he said.
Nick wanted more than anything to sit next to her at that lonely table, but he knew Cody would never allow that. Instead, he watched Grace return to her table, standing as she waited for the judge. He took a seat in the row just behind her. The judge came through the door, followed by his aide and the lawyer. There was no sign of Dolly Perkins or the Lombards.
“Mr. Brooks, is it my understanding that your client has decided to drop all charges related to Grace Hopkins?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“And further, Mrs. Perkins has agreed not to pursue any of her late husband’s accusers by filing similar charges?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
The judge turned to Grace. “Then, Grace Hopkins, you are free to go on with your life.” He slammed down his gavel. “Case dismissed. Next case,” he called, and his aide rushed to his side, rummaging through papers. Those few who had heard the decision scurried for the doors, anxious to spread the word.
Upon hearing the judge’s decision, Grace bowed her head and rested her hands on the table in front of her. Nick realized she was shaking and hurried to her side.
“It’s over, Grace.” He pulled her against him. “You’re free, darlin’ girl.”
Her bewildered expression and half smile told him she was having trouble believing that at long last, the nightmare had come to an end.
A single large tear fell from each eye and made a slow trail down her cheeks, and then that smile he’d first noticed on the train blossomed—that smile that had set his heart skipping all those months ago.
He scooped her high in his arms. “Mrs. Hopkins, what say we go see your folks and give them the good news?”
Chapter 19
Aidan had put Grace’s parents in the room she’d occupied after the fire. It occurred to her that he thought either she would be set free, in which case she and Nick would head for the ranch, or she would be bound over for trial and returned to jail. In either case, she would not be occupying the hotel room.
“I’ll wait here,” Nick said after opening the door and stepping aside. “Take some time.”
Her mother sat by the window, gazing out at the unfamiliar landscape. Her father was in the bed, his
eyes closed.
“Mama? Papa?”
“Grace!” They said it in unison, their faces wreathed in relieved smiles. Her father opened his eyes and tried without success to sit up.
“Is it over?” her mother asked as she crossed the room and hugged her.
“All over,” Grace assured them. “The charges were dropped.” She studied her father. He was so very gaunt. “How are you doing, Papa?” She went to the side of the bed and took hold of his hand.
“He’s worn out,” her mother replied. “The trip was hard on him.”
“But I’m here and still in one piece, and everyone has been so kind. That young man you married is blue-chip all the way, Grace.” Her father’s approval of Nick meant the world. Not that she had expected anything less, but to hear him say it was a gift. “And what’s this I hear about you making me a grandpa before my time?” he teased.
This time, Grace blushed. “I think this baby caught Nick and me both by surprise,” she admitted, laying her hand over her flat stomach.
“Like you did your mother and me,” her father said, chuckling.
“Jim!” It was Mary Rogers who blushed now. “That’s not for—”
Jim waved her protests away. “Just proves how much I loved you, Mary. Still do.” He squeezed Grace’s hand. “And look how well things turned out for us.” He started coughing then, racking noises that came from somewhere deep in his chest and went on far too long.
“I’ll get the doctor,” she said and headed for the door.
“He’s been here,” her mother replied. She sat on the side of the bed, raising her husband enough so he could take a sip of water.