Meadowlark

by Carolyn Lampman

  Garrick resisted the urge to look at the door again. Where was Daniel Dutton? He’d been expecting the marshal all morning and still no sign. If by some miracle he didn’t show up soon, the jury might come back with an innocent verdict, that is if his lawyer would shut up and let them go out. For the first time in days, Garrick had hope.

  Sometime during the night, Simkins had apparently come up with a new strategy. Judge Jones had grudgingly granted him permission to call his witnesses, and he’d been at it all morning. One after another, he’d brought people up to testify about everything from the mine disaster to the fact that Swede paid his bills on time.

  Simkins had painted the picture of a do-gooder philanthropist that frankly made Garrick a little ill. It probably had the same effect on the jury, besides having absolutely no relevance to the case. Garrick wished Simkins would shut up and sit down.

  “Would you consider yourself a close friend of the defendant, Mr. Bruford?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a freighter.”

  “We already heard testimony that Swede accidentally broke your arm and made it impossible for you to run your business. Will you please tell the court what retribution he made for that after the quarantine was lifted?”

  “He drove my wagon for four weeks until my arm healed.”

  “What about his own business?”

  “He hired someone to work in the shop while he was gone.”

  “In other words, he put the success of your business before his own?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did anything out of the ordinary happen on the last day of that trip?”

  “Yes. We heard gunshots as we were coming up the mountain from Rock Springs and went to investigate.”

  “What did you find?”

  “A bunch of renegades holed up in a box canyon. They’d apparently captured an army wagon. They were drunker than the devil and acting crazy. We were just going to leave ‘em alone till we noticed they had a prisoner, a white man. Couldn’t very well walk away then.”

  “So, you decided to save the man even though you were grossly outnumbered, and he was a stranger?”

  “That’s right. Swede had a plan.”

  As Ox retold the story of Cameron Price’s rescue, Garrick wondered if Ox and Angel had been responsible for Simkins changing his presentation. If this kept up, he’d probably be nominated for sainthood just before they hanged him.

  “If Swede hadn’t cut him loose and carried him out of the canyon, could Mr. Price have escaped by himself?”

  “No.”

  “So, three weeks ago Swede actually saved the life of the man he’s accused of assaulting?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bruford, I have no further questions.”

  The prosecutor rose ponderously to his feet and walked forward as though he were deep in thought. “A most impressive tale, Mr. Bruford. I assume Cameron Price was properly grateful for his timely rescue?

  “He seemed to be.”

  “And did either of you know the identity of the man you set out to rescue before Swede brought him out of the canyon?”

  “No.”

  “I see. Was the name familiar to either of you after he introduced himself?”

  “No.”

  “So, Swede had no way of knowing he’d saved his wife’s former lover?”

  “Objection, Your Honor. It hasn’t been established that Cameron Price and Becky Swenson were lovers.”

  “If he’s the father of her baby, I think it’s pretty obvious that they were lovers at some time or other,” Breton pointed out.

  “That hasn’t been proven either.”

  “That’s true,” Judge Jones agreed. “Rephrase the question, Mr. Breton.”

  “Fat lot of good that will do when the jury already heard him say it,” Ox grumbled. “The answer is no, we didn’t know who he was.”

  “Mr. Bruford, you will kindly keep your observations to yourself,” Judge Jones snapped. “Mr. Breton, you may continue.”

  “Thank you, I have no further questions.”

  “Fine. Mr. Simkins, do you have other witnesses?”

  “No.”

  “Very well, then. We’ll hear closing statements.”

  After a day and a half of endless testimony, the closing statements by the two lawyers were surprisingly short and to the point. Simkins concentrated on Swede’s many sterling qualities, the fact no one had ever seen him in a fight, and that he had saved Cameron Price’s life a few short weeks before. Breton admitted Swede was a truly nice man, but even nice people could react with violence when jealousy and whiskey were involved.

  “Gentlemen of the jury,” Judge Jones said when both lawyers had finished. “You have heard the testimony. Consider it well before you reach your verdict. This court stands adjourned until the jury returns.”

  The twelve men stood and filed solemnly out of the schoolhouse to the saloon next door. No one else left the makeshift courtroom for fear they wouldn’t get their seats back when the jury returned. Everybody had their own opinions and were so busily discussing them that the sound of a horse and rider thundering up to the door went unnoticed.

  It wasn’t until a strident voice rang out over the noise of the crowd that any of them paid attention. “Your Honor, I have important evidence for this trial.”

  Garrick flinched when he heard the familiar voice. Daniel Dutton had arrived.

  Judge Jones gave the newcomer an unfriendly look. “Who are you?”

  “Daniel Dutton, U.S. Marshal.”

  “The jury is already out, Marshal.”

  “Yes, sir. However, you may want to recall them after you’ve heard what I have to say.”

  “Are you sure it’s relevant to the matter at hand?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right, you may approach the bench.”

  Suddenly, there was dead silence in the room as he walked to the front. Every ear strained to hear what the stranger had to say.

  Vitally aware of his friend sitting there waiting for the ax to fall and the crowd listening intently, Daniel spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Your Honor, I have reason to believe that the two men I have in custody are responsible for the attack on Cameron Price.”

  The Judge raised an eyebrow in surprise. “On what do you base that?”

  “They’re the last of the gang Captain Price and I have been tracking for eight months.”

  The other eyebrow went up. “Captain Price? Marshal, I think you’d better start at the beginning.”

  Becky had never pushed Sophie so hard. The mare was starting to lather by the time they reached the outskirts of town, but Becky hardly noticed. She had only one thought in mind, to get to the trial before the jury went out. She’d been halfway to town when she remembered her conversation with Garrick the night before. Something that had been said during the trial had convinced him he was innocent. If she could just get Joe Simkins to put Garrick on the witness stand and tell the jury what that was, maybe he could convince them as well. After he realized Marshal Dutton wasn’t there to arrest him, Garrick should be willing to talk.

  Becky was so intent on getting to the schoolhouse that she almost missed the pair emerging from The Green Garter.

  “Becky,” Angel called as the buckboard came down the street. “Thank heavens you’re here. Come give us a hand.”

  Turning to see who was calling her, Becky almost fell out of the buckboard. Angel stood in the doorway, supporting a very weak Cameron Price. Even with his arm around Angel, he was swaying unsteadily.

  “Cameron?” Becky could hardly believe what she was seeing as she stopped the buckboard and jumped to the ground. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “Got to tell them… Swede didn’t do it,” he said. “Good thing you’re here, Becky,” he said. “Those stairs about did me in.”

  “Damn fool wouldn’t listen to reason,” Angel said with d
isgust. “He insists on going up to the trial. Said if I didn’t take him, he’d go on his own.”

  Becky moved in on the other side and propped him up. “Killing yourself won’t help him, Cameron. Can’t one of us just go?”

  “No, not with Freeman Jones as the judge. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw a bull moose. Get me into the buckboard.”

  It was quite a struggle, but with Angel pulling him up, and Becky pushing from behind they finally managed it. “Just don’t fall out, Price,” Angel said as she clambered into the back of the buckboard. “You aren’t exactly a featherweight.”

  Panting slightly, Becky climbed into the driver’s seat and picked up the reins. “That’s right. We’ll just leave you in the dirt.”

  “I want to know how you woke up knowing what was going on, Cameron,” Angel said as they jounced down the street. “It was plumb spooky the way you opened your eyes and said ‘Is the trial still going? Swede didn’t do it.’”

  “I heard Becky talking to somebody. When they mentioned Jones, I knew Swede was in trouble.”

  Becky gave him a startled glance. “But that was two days ago, and you were unconscious.”

  “Two days? I knew I’d been trying to wake up for a long time, but I didn’t realize it was that long.”

  “You could hear us talking?”

  “Bits and pieces. You were with me a lot, weren’t you, Becky?”

  “Every night and some of the day,” Angel told him. “You should be grateful to this young lady.”

  “Oh, I am, believe me, I am.”

  The warmth in his voice made Becky distinctly uncomfortable. She was quite relieved when they arrived in front of the schoolhouse.

  “Uh-oh. Unless I miss my guess, the jury is just coming out of the Grecian next door,” Angel said.

  “Then we best get moving.” Cameron grimaced as he moved to the edge of the seat.

  “Here, Cameron, put your good arm around my shoulder,” Becky said as they helped him out of the buckboard. “There, can you walk?”

  “I think so.” A good four inches taller than Angel, Becky was much closer to Cameron’s height and was able to support him better. In fact, with his good arm around Becky’s shoulders he could walk almost normally except for a slight limp. “Let’s go.”

  Inside the schoolhouse, no one noticed the odd trio struggling through the door. All eyes were focused on the front of the room.

  “Do you have any proof of what you say, Marshal Dutton?” Judge Jones asked with more than a hint of irritation in his voice. “I’m not about to let the defendant go just because you come in here with some cock and bull story and tell me he isn’t guilty.”

  “Just the two half-breed renegades in the jail house.”

  The judge made a rude noise. “You’ll have to do better than that, Dutton. Those prisoners could be anyone. I want someone who can prove Cameron Price is in army intelligence.”

  “I have proof, Your Honor.” Everyone turned to look as Sheriff Lucien stood up and walked to the front of the room. “This Medal of Honor was found in the weeds near where he was attacked. When I took it over to Fort Stambaugh, they told me it belonged to Cameron Price. The Lieutenant in charge said—” As one, the crowd leaned forward to hear his words as the loud tromping of hobnail boots heralded the arrival of the jury through the door behind the judge.

  “We have reached a verdict, Your Honor,” said the jury spokesman.

  “Fine. Just wait a minute.” Judge Jones directed his attention back to the two lawmen in front of him. “That still doesn’t prove he’s in the army now, let alone that there’s any truth to Dutton’s story.”

  “Your Honor.” The jury spokesman’s voice was a trifle louder than before. “We’ve reached a verdict.”

  “I know. Is there anyone here who has irrefutable proof that Cameron Price was working for army intelligence at the time of his attack?”

  “I do, Your Honor. In fact, I can identify the two men who did it.”

  Every head in the audience swiveled, and a communal gasp went up as they saw who stood in the doorway at the back of the room.

  Freeman Jones glared at the stranger angrily. The judge was a man who liked things orderly, and this trial had become anything but. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Captain Cameron Price, United States Army.”

  “Your Honor.” The jury spokesman was practically yelling now. “We have reached a verdict.”

  “Oh, all right, what is it?”

  The spokesman drew himself up importantly. “After due consideration of all the evidence put before us, and because we all know Swede pretty well anyway, we find the defendant” —he paused to make sure he had everyone’s attention— “we find the defendant not guilty.”

  Pandemonium broke out as members of the audience thumped each other on the back and swarmed to Garrick, congratulating him on his good fortune, assuring him they’d never doubted his innocence for a moment.

  Her heart filled with glorious shining joy, Becky sought Garrick’s eyes across the room, wanting to share his victory with him. His gaze locked with hers for a long moment then slid away in dismissal. When he turned his shoulder, Becky felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. He was free, and he still didn’t want her.

  Garrick didn’t think he could bear it. The words he’d prayed for but had given up hope of hearing suddenly meant nothing to him. All he saw was Becky standing in Cameron’s embrace, her arms wrapped around his waist, a smile of pure happiness lighting her features.

  Even when he couldn’t see her anymore, the pain was horrible, an unbearable agony no man should have to endure. The hangman’s noose would have been kinder.

  Chapter 37

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Garrick?” Daniel was troubled as he watched his friend load his belongings into the buckboard.

  “Ja, I’m sure,” Garrick grunted. His muscles knotted with the strain as he lifted his anvil to the bed of the small wagon. The buckboard, Sophie, a few of his tools, and the clothes Becky had made for him were all he was taking from his life here.

  “Does Becky know you’re leaving?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t you think you should tell her?”

  “No.”

  “For God’s sake, Garrick, she’s in love with you.”

  Garrick wedged his hammers into an empty corner. “She’s in love with Cameron Price.”

  “Horsefeathers! That sweet little lady damned near shot me with that hog leg of yours and—

  “Daniel,” Garrick said quietly as he leaned his arms on the anvil, “you’re one of my oldest friends—”

  “And brother-in-law, don’t forget.”

  “Ja, that too, but if you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to dump you in the horse trough.”

  Daniel grinned. “What would your sister say?”

  “Kirsten would probably say mange tasen takk. That husband of mine talks too much any way.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Many thousand thanks.”

  Daniel laughed. “I guess you know your sister pretty well at that.” Then he sobered. “I know we’ve discussed it to death, Garrick, but at least promise you’ll go tell Becky good-bye.”

  “If I promise, will you drop it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, then I promise.” Garrick went back in to pick up a box of tools. As far as he was concerned, they’d said good-bye in his jail cell a week ago. Nothing that happened between them now could equal it.

  “Wish I could be there to see your parents’ faces when you show up at home,” Daniel said when Garrick came out of the shop again. “They never gave up on you, even after all these years. Your whole family has missed you.”

  “No more than I’ve missed them.”

  “No, I suppose not.” He glanced up the street. “I guess it’s time to leave. Here comes Joe Lucien.”

  “Are you sure it’s safe for the two of you to transport those prisoners west
to Fort Bridger?”

  Daniel grinned as he untied his horse. “Yup. Thanks to you, the rest of the gang is already there. You accomplished more with three kegs of black powder in one afternoon than the whole army did in dang near a year.”

  “What about Indians?”

  “Most of the activity seems to be to the east. You’ll be in more danger than I will.”

  “And I’ll have an army escort. Guess I’ll see you in a month or so, then,” Garrick said, reaching over and gripping his friend’s hand.

  “If you aren’t there when I get home, I’ll come looking for you.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.” He gripped harder. “Thanks, Daniel, you gave me back my life.”

  “It’s only fair. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” A wealth of unspoken emotion flowed between the two men as they shook hands.

  “You ready to go, Marshal?” Joe Lucien asked as he rode up.

  “Sure am.” Daniel swung up into the saddle. “Give my best to your folks, Garrick.”

  “I will, and I’m going to tell your wife you chattered like a magpie for almost a whole week.”

  Daniel chuckled. “Somebody in the family has to. Your mother and I have to make up for all the rest of you. Don’t forget that promise,” he said over his shoulder as he rode away.

  Garrick’s smile faded as he watched the two lawmen leave. Even the anticipation of seeing his family again couldn’t erase the ache in his heart. For the dozenth time that day, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the ring of braided silver and gold. Becky’s wedding ring.

  Should he give it to her or not? Two days ago, he’d found the horseshoe nail ring on his pillow with a note. The childish scrawl was difficult to read but easy to understand. Becky heard he was leaving town and knew he’d want his grandfather’s ring back.

  It hung from a rawhide thong around his neck just like before, but now it meant so much more. Now it meant Becky. He could feel it against his chest, branding his skin, twisting his heart.

  Abruptly, he knew he had to give Becky the braided ring.

  Her husband might be clever and handsome, a bona fide army hero, but as long as Becky had the ring she’d never forget Garrick. It was pure selfishness, but Garrick wanted her to think of him as often as he thought of her.