Firefly

by Linda Hilton

  Booth looked down a long, hooked nose at the accused.

  “A request? For what?”

  “I wish to be confronted by my accuser. Surely no one in this courtroom is going to believe that the crimes I’m accused of were perpetrated against Mr. Hollstrom himself.”

  There were some snickers from the crowd and a few quiet groans of disgust that he should even suggest such a thing.

  “No!” Wilhelm protested, coming to his feet, too. “I have made the charges, so now he must answer to me.”

  Morgan held his temper in check, but only barely. His fingers itched to curl around the man’s throat and stop his vilifications once and for all. But that would not do Julie any good.

  “A crime, Your Honor, must have a victim. If Mr. Hollstrom is not the victim, then I say he must produce one or there is no crime.”

  Now the agreement from the crowd was more enthusiastic, forcing the judge to pound his ivory gavel and call for order. He tugged at his beard a moment and trained his bright black eyes first on one man, then the other.

  “Is Miss Hollstrom physically or mentally incapacitated as a result of this attack?” he asked.

  Morgan waited patiently while Wilhelm answered first.

  “My daughter is in no condition to appear in public and give testimony,” he spouted, full of self-confidence.

  “As the only licensed physician in this town, I have seen no evidence that Miss Hollstrom is in any way incapacitated,” Morgan then replied with unruffled calm. “When last I saw her, she was uninjured and in perfect health both physically and mentally. I have not, however, examined her since the charges were brought against me.”

  Ted Phillips gave a thumbs up to that speech, but Morgan did not acknowledge the gesture.

  Judge Booth raised the gavel again, as if anticipating an outburst. When there was none, he laid the instrument down and said calmly, “Then I order Mr. Hollstrom to bring his daughter to the courtroom. Will thirty minutes be enough time, or do you live at some distance?”

  Morgan resisted the temptation to watch Hollstrom’s reaction and instead kept his gaze on the judge. But Wilhelm’s anger was almost a tangible essence, a smoldering heat ready to explode. As though the gathered citizens of Plato felt it, too, they waited quietly under the crystal chandeliers for Wilhelm’s answer.

  “Half an hour will be sufficient,” he grumblingly acknowledged.

  “Fine. Mr. Phillips, you and a deputy will accompany Mr. Hollstrom. Court is recessed until ten-twenty-five.”

  *

  Katharine lamented her appearance but wasted no real time bemoaning the absence of brush and comb. Wilhelm had brought the women a pitcher of cold water, nothing else, before he left for the courtroom.

  “All right, Julie, now will you go out the window? At least then you can open the back door and let me out of this room. We’ll get your clothes so you’ll be properly dressed when you march into that courtroom and tell them the truth.”

  Julie, stiff from sleeping on the floor, shook her head slowly.

  “No, Mama, I’m going to wait right here.”

  “But don’t you see? You could be here forever! He may never let you out! How can you save Dr. Morgan unless you tell the judge what really happened? You love the man, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “And he loves you?”

  “He told me he did.”

  “Then you had better help me with these sheets and get downstairs before it’s too late.”

  But they were already too late, as the sound of masculine voices and heavy footsteps told them. Julie sighed, relieved she had not had to argue further. She did not want to be forced to tell her mother the true reason behind her decision. One night of confession might have been good for Katharine’s soul, but it was not enough to make up for nine years of mistrust. Julie would keep her own counsel at least a little longer.

  When Wilhelm unbolted and opened the door, Julie experienced a small flush of satisfaction. Her tactic had worked, at least in part. Ted Phillips, standing just behind Wilhelm, wore a look of shocked disapproval when he saw Julie wearing just the thin shift. He turned his head away politely, though she had shown him no embarrassment and made no attempt even to shield her scantily clad body from his view.

  “You have fifteen minutes,” Wilhelm told her. “Dress, or I’ll—”

  The marshal’s voice interrupted.

  “The judge says you gotta come, Miss Julie,” he said, keeping his eyes averted. “Del—Dr. Morgan—says he wants to be confronted by his accuser.”

  “I’ve accused him of nothing,” she answered. “It is my father who made the charges, not I.”

  “Well, it’s got somethin’ to do with producin’ a victim. Anyway, the judge says you gotta come.”

  Katharine, still facing Julie and with her back to the door, silently reiterated her plea.

  “Go,” she mouth sternly. “Tell them the truth.”

  Julie thought for a moment, then walked toward the marshal, who had somehow eased his bulk between the door and Wilhelm.

  “All right, I’ll go. But I expect you to testify, Mr. Phillips, that I do so under duress.”

  Ted shook his head as though he weren’t quite sure what the word meant, but he understood her meaning.

  “Okay, Miss Julie. Mr. Hollstrom, you give her them clothes and then we’ll go downstairs. If it takes her a little longer, then we’ll just let the judge wait.”

  In maneuvering himself past Wilhelm again, Phillips pushed the door further open and revealed to Julie the other two men who had accompanied him. One she vaguely recognized as a local man though she couldn’t recall his name. The other was Hans, his face a mask of fury. He waited until the others had left and then spoke to Julie in a low, heated whisper.

  “He is guilty, Julie,” he warned in such a way that she could not mistake his meaning. “If you want him alive, you will accuse him just like your papa said. Otherwise I will kill him. I swear it.”

  Then he pulled the door shut and followed the others down the stairs.

  She walked to the clothes Wilhelm had laid on the dresser. To her relief he had brought the blue calico, not the batiste blouse. Her shoes and stockings were there as well as her comb and brush.

  “Mama, I want you to listen to me.” She pulled on pantalettes, then wriggled out of the shift before slipping a camisole over her head. “I’m going to tell them the truth, all of it.”

  “But…but you heard what Hans just said. Oh, damn him! If it weren’t for him, I’d agree with you. It’s what I’ve been telling you to do all along, but now, under the circumstances….”

  “No, Mama, I have to do it. And it’s not just because of what you said earlier.”

  She tucked her petticoat into the dress and then slipped her arms into the sleeves. “Here, Mama, can you get these buttons?”

  “Well, I was wrong. Oh, dear, my fingers won’t hold still.” Katharine fumbled with the buttons. “It’s better, don’t you think, to keep him alive? I feel quite positive that Hans meant what he said.”

  “I’m sure he did, Mama, but I don’t intend to let him get away with his threats any more.”

  Unlike her mother’s, Julie’s fingers were steady and sure while she began to brush her hair over one shoulder. She remembered how Del had run his fingers through it and she wanted to leave it loose for him to see, but she knew there were other, more important considerations. She quickly braided the long hank of pale gold hair and then wrapped it into a tight coil just above the top button of her dress. When she had inserted the last securing pin, she took a pair of stockings and sat on the end of the bed to pull them on.

  “And just how are you going to stop him? He hasn’t left you much of a choice.”

  “Actually, he hasn’t left me any choice at all. That’s why I have to do this.”

  She tied her shoes firmly and then stood up.

  “Are you ready, Mama?”

  *

  The courtroom buzzed wi
th muted conversation that subsided the instant Ted Phillips strode through the open door from the hotel lobby. Aware that every eye was on her, Julie hung back for a brief second, but she regained her courage even before Lucas Carter prodded her with a bony finger in the small of her back.

  “You can’t get out, Miss Julie,” he drawled. “Me ‘n’ Skip’s gonna be sittin’ on the porch, and no prisoners leaves without the marshal’s say-so.” He patted the gun at his hip for emphasis. “Now, you just walk up there where the marshal’s waitin’.”

  She moved, slowly at first, then more determinedly, past all those leering, accusing eyes. Not a whisper reached her ears, but she knew the words were in their minds. Harlot. Wanton. Fallen woman. Somehow she didn’t care. All that mattered was the man she had spent one wonderful night of her life with. It would not, she vowed, be the last.

  Yet she did not look at Morgan when she reached the front of the room. She kept her eyes on the judge. The man’s eyes, narrowed under black brows, fastened brutally on her as she approached the banquet table behind which he sat.

  “Swear the witness in, Mr. Phillips,” he ordered.

  Ted took the worn Bible from the table and held it in front of Julie. She lifted her hands almost mechanically, placing her left on the cracked leather cover of the Bible and raising her right palm to face the marshal.

  Tears welled in her eyes as she murmured “I do” when Phillips had muttered the familiar oath. She couldn’t help but think of other vows to which the same two words could have and should have been replied.

  “Please be seated, Miss Hollstrom.”

  She let Phillips lead her to the chair provided for witnesses and sat down slowly.

  Then she saw Morgan for the first time since kissing him good-bye in the freshness of dawn. She could read nothing in his expression; even his green eyes seemed black and lifeless. He betrayed no emotion and gave her no hint of what he expected from her in return.

  She wanted to cry, to run to him and beg for his forgiveness, but the idea of his cold rejection kept her seated, twisting a fold of her skirt around her finger. Even when she met his eyes and stared boldly, unwaveringly, she found no response.

  “Miss Hollstrom,” the judge began in a gentle voice that did not fit his image. “I am not going to question you now. I merely want to clarify the charges against the accused. Do you understand that?”

  “I believe I do, Your Honor.”

  “Fine. Now, please speak loudly enough for the jury to hear you. I don’t care if the rabble in the back row can hear or not, but it is important that those men over there hear every word clearly.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Despite her resolve, Julie could not hide her nervousness. Her lips were dry; she kept licking them with the tip of her tongue. Her hands perspired so that she had to wipe them repeatedly on her skirt. Though the crowded ballroom was hot, it was not the August heat that brought beads of sweat to her forehead.

  “Then we’ll begin. Do you confirm the charges brought against Delbert R. Morgan, M.D., by Wilhelm Hollstrom, that Dr. Morgan had unlawful and forcible sexual congress with you on the night of July thirty-first?”

  She glanced only briefly at the judge, then turned her attention fully to Morgan. He sat without moving a muscle, not looking at her. She struggled by sheer force of will to draw his gaze, needing his encouragement, some sign of his love, but he continued to stare to her left, at the velvet-curtained window that faced the alley between the hotel and the general store.

  How beautiful that night had been! she recalled in the split second before giving her answer. How beautiful she had felt, letting him love her until they slept in satiated exhaustion. He had even told her she was beautiful. And he had told her he loved her. He had asked her to marry him. She could not deny that love. If it had been hers only for a brief moment, for a single precious night, she could not now deny it. Though it branded her for life, she would proclaim it loudly.

  “No, Your Honor, it is not true at all.”

  A breathless cry of surprise went up from the audience at her clearly voiced declaration, but that was not what Julie noticed. She heard only one man’s quiet gasp. At last Morgan looked at her, and his eyes were clear now, brilliantly sparkling as he tried to hide a smile.

  He couldn’t believe his ears.

  Her response was not what he had expected at all. For the past nine years Julie had believed the worst of herself; Morgan hoped one night might have changed that, but he hadn’t dared to count on it, because in the past twenty-four hours or so she must have gone through a thousand years of torture. God only knew what Wallenmund and her father had done to her to try to persuade her to their way of thinking. She didn’t look physically abused, but Morgan knew a lot of bruises might be hidden under that dress. Besides, Julie was the type to suffer more from the mental torment Wilhelm Hollstrom practiced to perfection.

  Whatever he had done, however, wasn’t enough to destroy her this time.

  “She’s lying!” Wilhelm stormed, jumping to his feet. He very likely would have attacked Julie, had Ted Phillips not blocked the way. “She’s lying! I saw them together!”

  There was such an uproar from the crowd that Booth had to rap repeatedly with the gavel before quiet returned.

  “Mr. Hollstrom, this is my courtroom and I am asking the questions!” The judge shouted with every bit as much fury as the man being hustled back to his chair. When Wilhelm was once again seated, Booth turned his attention back to Julie.

  “Miss Hollstrom, are you or are you not charging that man—” he pointed with the gavel at Morgan “—with rape? Remember, you are under oath to tell the truth.”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, then, did he or did he not rape you?”

  Another murmur rose from the crowd, perhaps startled at Booth’s bluntness, but it died quickly. Julie stammered a bit as she overcame her own embarrassment, but when she spoke, her voice held steady with the strength of her convictions.

  “No, Your Honor, he did not.”

  “Then he seduced her!” Wilhelm screamed, stirring the crowd again.

  This time Booth had to wait until the commotion died of its own accord. No one could have heard the gavel.

  “You, sir,” the judge threatened Wilhelm, “will confine yourself to speaking when requested to do so. Another outburst and I will have you removed from the courtroom.” Chastened, Wilhelm slumped in his chair.

  “Someone is lying,” Booth announced in a tone worthy of a revival preacher. “I rode sixty miles to try this man, and his alleged victim now says nothing happened to her. I do not like my time to be wasted.”

  He raised his gavel, but before he could bring it down, Morgan jumped to his feet.

  “Another minute, please, Your Honor.”

  Booth favored the accused with a biblical glare, and not a whisper was heard in the courtroom.

  “What is it now? I’m prepared to dismiss the charges against you, Dr. Morgan.”

  Morgan breathed a sigh of relief, then chuckled quietly to himself. He wondered if he was putting his head right back in the noose Julie had rescued him from.

  “I don’t want the charges dropped,” he said. “I want my name cleared completely, and Miss Hollstrom’s, too. Let her father make the charge in open court.”

  Booth pondered that request for a moment. As a few whispers of speculation began to flutter through the audience, he had only to reach for the gavel to quell them instantly.

  “All right, Dr. Morgan. I’ve been called to this God-forsaken corner of Arizona to hear this case and hear it I will. Miss Hollstrom, you are excused for the time being, but remember that if I call you to the stand again, you will still be under oath.”

  Ted Phillips jumped to take Julie’s elbow and escort her to the chair between her father and mother. Julie refused to jeopardize Morgan’s future by looking his way at this critical moment and instead made herself meet the stare of the man who sat immediately behind the chair left v
acant for her. She would not give Hans the satisfaction of seeing her cower. Demonstrating her own innocence and hoping that she thereby proved Morgan’s, she held her head high.

  The judge, after he had assured himself with a sweeping glance that his courtroom was in order, called Wilhelm Hollstrom to the stand. Julie watched with a silent prayer as Ted Phillips held the Bible and Wilhelm solemnly swore to tell the truth. She wondered if he would honor that oath.

  Booth’s initial questions were innocuous enough. He asked for the usual basic information regarding name and business and relation to the victim, all of which Julie found impossible to maintain interest in. The heat and her lack of adequate rest made her drowsy, and her mind started to wander when a familiar but unwelcome voice penetrated her consciousness and brought her back to reality.

  Hans leaned forward and put his mouth so close to Julie’s ear that when he licked his lips, she felt the wetness of his tongue graze her skin. She shuddered, then his words made her stiffen.

  “He will not leave this room alive, Julie,” he hissed, barely audible even so close. “You are promised to me, and I will not let you break that promise. I warned you what would happen, and I swear to you, I do not break my promises.”

  She did not turn around, but she knew Hans had slid back on his chair and was now once gain staring at the back of her head. She had not forgotten his threat, but having him remind her frightened her more than his initial promise. A cold lump in the pit of her stomach spread a chill through her. Had she done the wrong thing in declaring Morgan innocent, despite Hans’ threat? her terrified heart asked her.

  She had no answer. More afraid and yet more determined than she had been before, Julie cleared her head of all such thoughts and focused her attention entirely on the present.

  The judge had finished his preliminary examination and gone on to the details, for Wilhelm was speaking, venom in his every word.

  “I saw them, Your Honor,” he insisted. “It was five o’clock in the morning, and they were walking together from his house.”