The men looked at each other in disbelief. The boy could speak—and very well—though there was a hint of an accent they could not identify. And somewhere along the way, probably listening to them around their evening fire, he had also learned to swear!
Despite the tension, they all broke out laughing. It was the perfect wrap-up and a complete surprise.
Jenkins came over and slapped Oh’Dar on the back. “Nice move, son.”
“Nice collapse, Mr. Jenkins,” replied Oh’Dar to more laughter. “And you were right; when he thought you were out of the way, he turned his attention to me.”
They had known that Jenkins would be no match for the younger Louis, and had found a way to get Louis’ focus away from him.
Louis was coming around, and with one hand, tried to stop the blood streaming from his chin. One of the farmhands dragged him to his feet, and they all pulled him up to the house. Mr. Jenkins went in to ask Mrs. Thomas to bring Miss Vivian outside.
Mrs. Thomas came scurrying to the door with Mrs. Morgan in tow. As they stepped outside, Mrs. Morgan gasped at the spectacle in front of her.
Seventeen farmhands, her grandson, Mr. Jenkins, and a bleeding, disheveled Louis were lined up on her front porch steps.
“What is going on?” she exclaimed. She went over to her son Louis, who was the only one bleeding, and realized that one of the largest men had Louis’ arms pinned behind his back.
“You may not feel so kindly to him when you hear what we have to tell you, Miss Vivian,” explained Jenkins.
“You best sit down here, Ma’am,” he continued, steadying the porch swing.
Then Mr. Jenkins explained the whole story from start to finish, from the beginning when Louis had asked him to saddle up Dreamer, to what had taken place between Louis, Grayson, and Dreamer, to what had just happened in the barn.
“And my men can attest to everything that happened tonight, Miss Vivian. They’re loyal to me, but they're loyal to you as well. They wouldn’t lie about something like this, knowing the pain it would cause you. We may be hired hands, but most of us have worked for you much of our lives, and to us, you’re our family,” he finished.
Throughout it all, Louis stood silent.
“And your grandson can attest to what your son did to him with Dreamer,” he added, looking over at Oh’Dar.
Understanding that this was his cue, Oh’Dar stepped forward and took a seat next to his grandmother. As he had done before, he took both her hands in his and looked her gently in the eyes.
“It’s all true, Grandmother. Everything they’ve said.”
Mrs. Morgan’s hand flew to her mouth. Grayson can speak! And perfect English!
“Grayson! I don’t understand! Have you been able to talk all this time?”
“I’m so sorry. I know that I deceived you. A lie of omission is still a lie. But I hope you can forgive me. I came here as a stranger in a strange land. I didn’t know any of you or what to expect. I didn’t do it to be cruel,” he tried to explain.
“Which of you beat up my son?” she asked, looking at the circle of men.
“I did, Grandmother,” Oh’Dar volunteered.
“For what it’s worth, Ma’am, it was a heck of a well-landed blow too,” one of the men offered up from the back.
As strange and astounding and tragic as the whole situation was, they couldn’t help but laugh a little at that.
After the brief moment of levity, the atmosphere turned solemn again. Mrs. Morgan stood to face Louis. The others stood open-mouthed as she drew back her hand and slapped him hard across the face, his head turning at the blow.
“How could you? Having your own brother and his wife murdered. And a baby. You took half my family from me. I don’t know what to say to you; I thought I knew you, but I don’t.
“You aren’t the son I raised; I could not have raised such a monster,” she said, now sadly.
Louis looked down, avoiding her gaze.
“Do you have a room you can lock him up in? I’m sorry to ask you, Mr. Jenkins, but he needs to be turned over to the authorities in the morning, and we can’t take a chance on him running off tonight,” she said, never taking her eyes off Louis’ as she spoke.
“We can tie him up in the crew quarters with us and take turns to watch him, Miss Vivian,” Mr. Jenkins said softly. “I’ll send someone into town tomorrow morning for the sheriff,” he added.
Mrs. Thomas was standing there the whole time, watching Mrs. Morgan closely.
The farmhands trickled back down the steps taking Louis with them, leaving Oh’Dar, his grandmother, Mr. Jenkins, and Mrs. Thomas still on the porch.
“I’m so sorry, Grandmother. I can’t imagine what this is like for you. I don’t know what to say,” Oh’Dar scooted over and put his arms around his grandmother, pulling her to him and letting her head rest on his chest the way his mother had comforted him in the past.
Mrs. Thomas left and came back after a few minutes with a stiff drink for Mrs. Morgan, who sat back up and looked at her grandson. She almost objected but then took the glass from the housekeeper; if there were ever an occasion for an early afternoon drink, this was it.
“Your father would have been so proud of you, Grayson. I don’t know how you survived all these years or where you’ve been, and I’m not asking you to tell me, although I hope someday you will. But somehow you’ve turned into a fine young man whom I’m proud to call my grandson. When this is all over, we’ll talk about your future and what you want for yourself. But I have to get through this nightmare first.”
Mrs. Morgan wasn’t going to let herself cry in front of her grandson and Mrs. Thomas. She was afraid that once she started, she wouldn’t be able to stop.
“I’m going to let you turn in, Miss Vivian. I’m sure you need to rest,” Mr. Jenkins said. As he went down the steps and turned back to wave goodnight, he saw a woman’s figure leaning into the window of one of the second-story rooms, looking down at the sight below.
They had all forgotten about Charlotte Morgan.
The next morning, the sheriff and two men came and talked one at a time to everyone involved. They all told the same story, with enough variation that proved it wasn’t rehearsed. As the sheriff was handcuffing Louis Morgan, Mr. Jenkins mentioned Charlotte.
“Sheriff, Mr. Morgan has a wife. No one knows the extent of her involvement in all this.”
“Where is she? Can someone fetch her, please?” the sheriff asked.
Mrs. Thomas came down a few minutes later with Charlotte Morgan.
The sheriff motioned to his men to take Louis outside, but not before he saw a knowing look exchanged between the man and his wife.
“Are you Charlotte Morgan, Louis Morgan’s wife?” he asked.
“Yes; what is this about?” she asked, tossing her head back a bit and looking him up and down.
The sheriff led Charlotte into the room he had used to talk to each of the men. One of his men stood watch by the door and was there as another witness to each person’s statement.
“What can you tell me about your husband’s involvement in the murder of his brother Morgan, and Morgan’s wife, Rachel?” the sheriff asked as he motioned to her to sit down.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What nonsense is this?” Charlotte asked.
“A little over eighteen years ago, your husband hired some men to kill his brother, his sister-in-law, and their baby son, Grayson Morgan. You don’t know anything about this?” he said.
“That’s ridiculous. Who is making up this preposterous story?”
“You’re saying you had nothing to do with it and don’t know anything about it?” he reiterated.
“Of course not,” she said, sneering.
The sheriff knew she was lying, but there was nothing he could do about it. He told her she was free to leave and went out to say goodbye to Mrs. Morgan.
Mrs. Morgan was sitting with her grandson in her favorite spot on the front porch. Lessons had been suspended for t
he next few days.
She had to lower her eyes; she could not bear to watch the sheriff’s man take a handcuffed Louis to the wagon. Oh’Dar said nothing, just sat keeping her company, gently rocking the swing.
Having been given the next few days off with pay, Miss Blain came out and announced she was going into town if anyone wanted anything.
Mrs. Morgan looked at her grandson, and he looked at her. Miss Blain still didn’t know that he could talk. It was the first time Mrs. Morgan had felt able to smile since the day before. She gave Grayson a wink and nodded.
With a twinkle in his eyes, the young man said, “No, but thank you for the offer, Miss Blain.”
The teacher’s eyes flew open wide. She looked at Grayson, then at Mrs. Morgan, then back at Grayson again.
“What? What?” she asked.
Mrs. Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle along with her grandson.
“You mean to tell me that you could talk all this time? Have you understood everything we’ve been saying?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Blain. I’ve already apologized to my grandmother, and I must apologize to you as well. It was deception on my part, but I wasn’t sure what I was getting into. I knew nothing about your world or what any of you were like. I had no foundation for anything. I wanted to have some advantage while I worked out what I had gotten myself into,” he explained.
Miss Blain listened to him. “Well, this changes everything. I’m going to have to redo all your lessons.”
Grayson chuckled again.
“I would expect no other reaction, Miss Blain, coming from a teacher,” he chided her affectionately.
“A lot has happened in the last day, dear. I’ll fill you in later. Go, and please enjoy your days off,” said Mrs. Morgan.
Miss Blain shook her head at Oh’Dar in mock disapproval and continued on her way. One of Mr. Jenkin’s men stood ready at the curb with a horse and wagon for her trip to town.
Chapter 9
The next days passed slowly.
The sheriff pressed charges against Louis Morgan based on the testimony of the nineteen eyewitnesses but was unable to find any way to prosecute his wife. He knew it was a long shot to find the men they had hired. Not only would they not be willing to come forward, but a long time had passed.
Mrs. Morgan had thought long and hard about Charlotte. On the one hand, she had no proof of her daughter-in-law’s involvement. On the other hand, she realized upon reflection that they were both not all that happy about Grayson’s discovery. Mrs. Morgan remembered catching the tail end of looks exchanged between Louis and Charlotte. She didn’t mean to be cruel, but she didn’t want Charlotte around; enough time had passed that it couldn’t continue any longer. She didn’t trust the woman and feared she might even try to harm Grayson out of spite.
Charlotte Morgan had kept mostly to her room over the past days, asking for a tray to be brought to her at mealtimes. A knock on the door startled her. Waiting there to speak with her was Louis’ mother.
“Come in; please, come in.”
Mrs. Morgan sat down in one of the brocade chairs, smoothing her skirts.
“Good morning, Charlotte. To spare us both, I will get right to the point. Do you have family who would take you in?”
Charlotte hadn’t been sure what to expect. She hadn’t known if she would be allowed to stay or would be kicked out. Apparently, she was being kicked out.
“I have a sister and her husband back in Boston, yes. Are you telling me to leave?” she asked point-blank, her heart beating wildly.
“I’m not telling you to, Charlotte. But I am asking you to.”
“I see. I’m not welcome, though I had no part in what you claim my husband did?”
“It isn’t a claim. Nearly twenty men overheard him confess the whole story,” Mrs. Morgan stated plainly. “Please make whatever arrangements are necessary. I’ll pay for your travel, and I’ll establish a monthly stipend for your care, to be administered by a local bookkeeper once I find one. I’ll need the name and address of your family to set this up.”
Mrs. Morgan got up to leave.
Charlotte stood there for a moment, weighing her options. Her husband was going to be in jail for a long time, that was if they didn’t hang him. If she left, she would be out of mind, and Louis’ mother was making her a very generous offer. It wasn’t as good as the inheritance would have been—and living in this spacious home and grounds for the rest of her life—but that option was now off the table. Thanks to her stupid husband.
“Alright, Mrs. Morgan. As soon as I can, I’ll let you know when I’ll be leaving. May I take my belongings with me?”
“Within reason, of course, though I don’t recall you or Louis ever purchasing anything of size. I’m sure everything will fit in one or two trunks. I’ll have some brought from town.”
The sheriff was still bothered by Charlotte Morgan. He was convinced she was guilty. Even if she only took part in planning the murder, or only had knowledge of it, he could not stand the idea of her getting away scot-free.
He wrote a letter and dispatched it with one of his men to the local penitentiary. He instructed the man to wait for a reply if the Warden thought he could compose an immediate response, but otherwise to return straight away.
Within a few days, the sheriff had a reply. He smiled as he read what the Warden had written. He wrote another letter and sent it directly back to the Warden.
Charlotte Morgan was packing the last of her things into the two large trunks that Mrs. Morgan had provided as promised. In a few days, this would all be behind her. She would be back in a decent city and never have to worry about money again. Not a bad outcome considering she could be sitting in jail like her husband.
A knock on the door interrupted her task. She opened it and stared directly at the sheriff and two men.
They entered the room uninvited. One of the men stepped behind her and pulled her hands behind her back. She felt the cold, hard steel clamp around her wrists.
“Charlotte Morgan, you’re under arrest as an accessory in the murder of Grayson Morgan Junior, known as Morgan, and his wife, Rachel Morgan.” And with that, the deputy took her out of the room and down the stairs.
Mrs. Morgan, Mrs. Thomas, and all the staff—everyone—was lined up at the bottom of the stairs, and she was paraded past them. No one said a word, but Mrs. Morgan gave her a steely glare as she was marched by.
The trial was set. Mrs. Morgan insisted on attending. She knew it would be painful but needed to have clear in her mind just what her son and daughter-in-law had done so she could deal with it and move forward. With many years still to live, she hoped, she wanted to be there for her grandson. He was all she had left.
Because they had his confession, the trial of Louis Morgan was cut and dried. There were enough witnesses that Grayson didn’t need to be called. Mrs. Morgan wanted to spare him the scrutiny—she wasn’t sure if they could raise questions about his past but didn’t want to risk the possibility out of respect for his privacy.
The trial of Charlotte Morgan was more involved. The sheriff’s note had indeed uncovered information concerning her involvement. Whether the jury would believe her or two convicted inmates was yet to be seen.
There is something about human nature that drives men to confess their crimes to someone at some point—even another inmate—in some cases perhaps bragging; in others a need to purge their consciences.
No matter what their motivation, the sheriff’s note to the Warden had produced two men who claimed they were hired by Louis and Charlotte Morgan to kill Morgan and Rachel Morgan, and their baby. Both the men were willing to talk in return for a reduced sentence. Considering the heinous nature of their crime, everyone involved was willing to make the deal.
Mrs. Morgan listened intently to the first man’s testimony, steeling herself for what she was about to hear.
After he was sworn in, the prosecutor asked the man to tell the court what had happened.
“It was abo
ut eighteen years ago, thereabouts. This fancy dressed man who said his name was Louis Morgan hired us to track down his brother and the brother’s wife on their way back home. We found them easily enough because there was only one route back from where they were coming. We scouted out a place to kill them, and then as they drove near, we came up behind them. The man had a rifle, so it took both of us to handle him. Once he was out of the way, the woman was easy. Before we killed her, my partner decided to have a little fun with her, if you know what I mean.”
The prosecutor said no that they didn’t know what he meant and that he needed to explain.
Having no fear of prosecution, the man went on to tell the jury that his partner had raped the woman before killing her. Then he recounted how they had scalped both, trying to make it look like a raid by a band of Locals.
“Was there any more to the plan that you haven’t told us?” the prosecutor asked.
“Well, there was supposed to be a baby somewhere, but by then, we were pretty nervous, and the excitement was wearing off. My partner thought he saw something big, very big, moving through the treeline way up on the ridge, so we hurried up and left. We figured later that whatever it was probably took care of the brat—either that or the coyotes would get it,” he finished up.
“In your meeting with Louis Morgan, was his wife ever in the room when this was discussed?”
“Yeah, she was there the whole time. Even made suggestions about how to do it,” said the man.
Then, to sweeten the pot, though no one could know if this was true, he added,
“To me, she even looked like she enjoyed the idea of it all,” he smiled, staring at Charlotte, who was sitting at one of the tables and glared daggers back at him.
The next inmate was called and gave similar testimony. He left out the part about raping Rachel Morgan, but did say that Charlotte Morgan was involved in it too—not just the planning, but was also there when Louis Morgan called them out on not killing the baby.
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