Firefly

by Linda Hilton

  “Did you actually see them leave his house?”

  Undaunted, Wilhelm did not stammer or even hesitate in his reply.

  “They came down the lane, and there are only four houses there. I do not think they had been anywhere else but his house at that hour.”

  “Are you sure you can correctly identify the people you saw? Can you be positive it was Miss Hollstrom and Dr. Morgan, not someone else?”

  “She is my daughter! Would you not know your own daughter? It was not midnight; there was plenty of light to see. She was wearing the same dress she has on now and a shawl. He walked her to the gate in front of my house and after she went inside, he walked over to the porch of this hotel. He was there when the marshal arrested him.”

  Morgan listened, knowing the man spoke the truth, for once. He had hoped for lies, even little ones, but it didn’t really matter. Wilhelm had told enough lies already; Morgan would see to it that no one believed him even when he told the truth.

  The judge, however, already seemed to have doubts of his own, or perhaps, Morgan thought, he was merely playing his role as advocate well.

  “All right, Mr. Hollstrom, let us assume that you saw whom you say you saw. What made you think that anything, shall we say, untoward had happened between Dr. Morgan and your daughter?”

  There was, for a change, dead silence. Even the paper fans stopped fluttering. Julie held her breath and found a warm hand clutching hers under a fold of her skirt. Something of the bond between her and her mother had survived; they clasped hands for strength and to show affection.

  When Wilhelm spoke, Julie’s reaction was a pale echo of the outrage that shook the entire ballroom.

  “Morgan had shown improper attention to her on other occasions. He seduced her away from her family and her betrothed, using his medical practice as an excuse to keep her out all night. I was forced to stop her working for him because her reputation was becoming tarnished.”

  The gavel pounded loudly as shouts rose. A dozen people or more leaped to their feet, their cries denouncing Wilhelm in an unintelligible jumble of epithets and oaths. Julie heard more than one voice urge that her father be tarred and feathered for even suggesting that Morgan was anything less than honorable. Winnie Upshaw’s voice was among the most strident.

  Ted Phillips finally restored calm and order and got the most vociferous protesters to return to their seats. The judge, though he held more authority, could not command the obedience the marshal’s sheer size could.

  “Now, look, folks!” Phillips shouted with a voice that matched his physical proportions. “Judge Booth is just doin’ his job. Every man’s got a right to his opinion; we ain’t a state yet, but we abide by the Constitution anyway, so Mr. Hollstrom here’s got the right to his say. Sooner we all shut up and let the judge get on with things, the sooner we can all go home and get back to work. Dr. Morgan, too.”

  The scuffling of chairs and mutterings settled once again, but Phillips nodded to the two deputies who had come in from their post on the porch at the sound of the disturbance. Lucas and Skip Jenkins brought their chairs into the lobby, where they would be just that much more convenient if another disturbance erupted.

  Morgan, following the marshal’s gesture, watched the two men take their places just outside the double doors to the ballroom. It was near noon now, and they were probably glad to get in out of the sun anyway. Warm as it was in the hotel, the porch would soon be as hot as the surface of a griddle, and Lucas and Skip would develop a new respect for fried eggs.

  Judge Booth rapped once for attention and then addressed the crowd.

  “I have had just about all the interruptions my limited patience can stand. I warn you all: One more interruption of this sort and I will clear you all out. Is that understood?”

  Like a penitent classroom, the assembled townspeople mumbled their agreement, and silence reigned once more. Morgan wondered with a wry smile just how long they would remember the judge’s warning.

  “Once again to you, Mr. Hollstrom. Can you recall any particular incidents that would lead you to believe Dr. Morgan had made any overt attempts on your daughter’s honor?”

  “I am not sure what that word ‘overt’ means, Your Honor, but I think I understand your question.” Wilhelm, too, seemed subdued, as though determined not to let his anger control him and distract the judge. “Once she came home with her dress torn. He is known to be a drunkard and spends much of his time at the house operated by the woman called Nellie.”

  “And who is Nellie?”

  Ted Phillips answered quickly, before Wilhelm had a chance.

  “Nellie’s the local madam, Your Honor. Runs a little whorehouse down the alley behind the general store. Nellie don’t bother nobody, and if it wasn’t fer her profession, I’d say she was a right decent person.”

  “Thank you, marshal, for the information and your testimonial.”

  Phillips reddened a little and retreated to his post between the jury and the witness.

  “One last question, Mr. Hollstrom. Did your daughter ever complain to you about Dr. Morgan’s actions? Did she ever mention any acts of violence or threats of harm to her?”

  For the first time, Wilhelm faltered. His eyes darted from his daughter to the physician who sat so calm and confident on the other side of the room. Yet he knew he must answer the question. And Morgan, knowing the same thing, smiled.

  This is a farce, he laughed to himself. If it weren’t for Julie, I would make this scheming snake crawl on his miserable belly.

  Finally, Wilhelm found his tongue and words for it to speak.

  “No, she did not complain of his actions. He seduced her, I told you. She was such a good daughter, so loyal, so hard-working, until he came along. Now she behaves like a common slut, and it is all because of him.”

  Another ripple of conversation began to run through the crowd, but a single tap of Booth’s ivory gavel silenced it.

  “All right, Dr. Morgan. I am finished with this witness for now, but I may wish to question him further, if you don’t mind, after you.”

  Morgan nodded his assent politely and then got to his feet. He scraped the chair back quietly and gathered into his hand a pile of small slips of paper. Holding them but calling no attention to them, he approached his adversary.

  “I’m a doctor, not a lawyer,” Morgan told the judge by way of excuse. “We’ve only got one lawyer here in Plato, and he drinks. I didn’t practice medicine when I drank, so I don’t think I should expect him to practice law when he’s three sheets to the wind either.”

  He did not look at Booth while he said this but kept his eyes on Wilhelm. He would give the man credit; Hollstrom never batted an eye or showed the least sign of nervousness. It didn’t matter.

  “I’ll see to it, Dr. Morgan, that you keep within the boundaries of the law,” Booth replied.

  “Thanks. I figured you would.” He paused, and for a moment all the regrets, all the hesitations came back. No matter what he did, Julie would be hurt, humiliated, and he had no way to warn or console her. He could only hope and pray that her show of defiance earlier would see her through the worst that was yet to come.

  “I don’t have too many questions for you, Mr. Hollstrom. I can’t deny that I was walking with your daughter the other morning, but I can’t very well call her a liar. Besides, if I did, that would be incriminating myself, and I believe there is something in that Constitution that Mr. Phillips is so proud to uphold that prevents a man from incriminating himself. So I’ll just ask you if you don’t think there might be another reason why the two of us were together early in the morning. Isn’t it possible that I was called on an emergency and needed her help?”

  “No,” Wilhelm answered firmly, without hesitation. “She no longer works for you. She told you that herself Monday morning.”

  Morgan ignored the fact that it was Hans who told him of their wedding date, not Julie, and said, “But in an emergency, I would certainly have called on her, nevertheless.”


  “She would not have gone.”

  “Wouldn’t she? How can you be so sure?”

  “I forbade her to work for you! She is to marry Hans, and it is not right for her to work for another man!”

  While Wilhelm regained his composure, Morgan smiled knowingly at the jury. Ard Hammond smiled back.

  “Hans?” Morgan asked. “Perhaps you should tell us a little about this Hans, the man you consented for your daughter to marry. Is he a wealthy man?”

  Wilhelm drew himself up proudly.

  “Hans is prosperous, yes. He has a farm not far from here and raises Holstein cows.”

  “I see. And you would not object to having a ‘prosperous’ son-in-law.”

  “Hans is a good man; he will make a good husband. Julie should be thankful she is getting him, after the way she has disgraced herself.”

  “Disgraced herself? But I thought you blamed me for her downfall.” He hadn’t worded it as a question and therefore did not need to wait for any response from Wilhelm. If the jury noticed it, so much the better. “Or is there another problem with the intended son-in-law?”

  “What kind of problem could there be?”

  “Well, it would be a problem, wouldn’t it, if the prospective groom decided he didn’t want damaged merchandise? How much have you promised to pay him to take your daughter off your hands? Did his price go up when he found out his bride might be slightly less than perfect?”

  Oh, God, how he hated to say that! How he wanted to turn and face Julie and let her know he hated it. But Wilhelm’s answer demanded Morgan pay attention to him.

  “I agreed, when Hans first expressed his wish to marry Julie, to settle a certain amount of money on her. This is the custom in the old country, you know.”

  Morgan breathed a sigh of belief. At least he hadn’t been wrong.

  “But I did not pay Hans to marry her.”

  “And what was he to give you in return? Isn’t also custom for the groom to give a bride-price, to compensate the family for the loss of their daughter? In your case I would imagine the price would be quite high, seeing as how Julie did all the cooking, the laundry, the cleaning, while your wife sat around and read The Saturday Evening Post all day.”

  Julie felt the blue eyes behind her harden into narrow slits of hatred. Hans’ threat echoed more and more loudly through her brain, almost shutting out the bitter feud fought in front of her. Her fingers tightened around Katharine’s.

  A far worse pain came from the helplessness. Julie wanted so badly to scream, to warn Morgan that he was courting a jealous man’s vengeance, but she couldn’t, not now. There was still the chance that he might be found guilty, which was a much more frightening prospect, and she must deal with that first. Later, when the curtain had fallen on this first act of the nightmare drama, she could warn him and they would deal with Hans together.

  “Yes.” Wilhelm was answering when she turned her attention to the trial once more. “I am not a young man. My son is weak and in poor health; I cannot count on him to help me when I grow too old to provide for myself. I spent everything I had to bring my family west, and Hans has put all his money into his farm. Now he has nothing to make a good home for his bride. So we make a deal, all right? Is there something wrong about that? I give him some money to buy furniture for his house and he gives me an interest in his farm.”

  Morgan understood the murmur of the crowd. They saw nothing wrong with Hollstrom’s explanation. He knew they would not agree with the man for long.

  “I don’t know how you can expect Mr. Wallenmund to give you anything when he doesn’t have anything to give.”

  “What are you talking about? He has a fine farm, a new house, a big new—”

  Morgan interrupted quietly, “He has nothing, Mr. Hollstrom. I saw his farm the other day. Have you ever seen it? A ramshackle cabin, a couple of sheds that may or may not house some cows, maybe a few chickens and a pig or two. If he offered you an interest in that, you got the raw end of the deal, Mr. Hollstrom.”

  A good portion of the audience ignored the judge’s threat of expulsion and gave vent to some laughter, but even that didn’t last long. The judge intervened, but he addressed his remarks to Morgan, not the crowd.

  “I really fail to see where this line of questioning is leading, Dr. Morgan,” he said. “I warned you that I don’t like my time to be wasted.”

  “Of course not, Your Honor, and if you’ll just let me continue a few minutes longer, I believe you’ll understand.”

  Booth leaned back in his chair and wiped a handkerchief across his forehead.

  “All right, proceed. But it’s past noon already, and I believe we could all do with some refreshment. Do you wish to finish your questioning now, or shall we recess for luncheon first and continue when we return?”

  Morgan had to think for a moment. He had planned to strike now, when Hollstrom was already weakened by this unexpected revelation, but perhaps the anticipation would do the man some good. Besides, Morgan suspected that Julie had had little to eat or drink in the past twenty-four hours, and at least he could assure her of a decent meal. Somehow, he’d get word to Ted to see to it.

  “I could use a bit of refreshment myself, Your Honor.”

  “Then court is in recess until two o’clock. Marshal, you will see that the accused is kept under guard?”

  “I will, sir.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The noon stage was late and didn’t pull into Plato until almost half past one. A single passenger stepped out of the dusty coach, to be greeted by Ard Hammond’s son. The driver tossed down a faded, well-worn carpetbag and a packet marked “U.S. Mail,” then, there being no passengers or parcels to take on, he slapped the reins and the horses lurched to a reluctant trot northward through the town.

  Thaddeus Burton leaned on his cane and rubbed the sore spot on his leg. The ache came more from the cramped quarters the big man had had to endure than the wound itself, though he knew it would be a long time before he was completely recovered.

  “Town’s awful quiet,” he commented to the Hammond boy. “Doc Morgan got his office open today? I want to settle up with him and then go get that strawberry horse o’ mine.”

  Dave Hammond shook his head with the morbid sagacity of his father’s profession.

  “Dr. Morgan is at the hotel, like just about everyone else. They got a trial goin’ on there.”

  Burton took the carpetbag from the boy and shifted his weight to ease the bum leg a little more.

  “Trial? Who done what?”

  “I don’t rightly know. Pa told me I wasn’t old enough to hear about it.”

  Guessing the tall, gawky youngster to be at least fifteen, Burton wondered what crime could possibly be so horrendous.

  “I s’pose Doc’s gotta testify about the body and so on,” he mused out loud.

  “I don’t know about that, seein’s how he’s the one on trial.”

  “Doc Morgan?”

  “Yep. Had him in jail overnight, too,” the boy added.

  “Well, I guess I better hightail it over to that hotel then an’ let ‘em know what I think of the Doc. You don’t suppose they’re all done, do you?”

  The Hammond boy lifted his thin shoulders.

  “Ma just came home a little while ago to fix us lunch and said it looked like it was gonna be a while ‘fore Pa got done. He’s on the jury, see. But Ma didn’t say much. If I didn’t have to stay here and watch the place for Pa, I’d be over there myself, even just listenin’ by the window.”

  Burton tucked the carpetbag under his other arm for a minute to fish a coin from his pocket and flip it to the boy, who grinned gratefully. Then the big man limped off. He headed first for the hotel but changed his mind after a few steps and turned in the direction of the livery stable.

  *

  Hans Wallenmund had been caught in the crowd rushing back into the courtroom. A dusty-faced rancher took the chair directly behind Julie. Though he was angry, Hans knew he did
not dare insist on what he considered his rightful place. He had been publicly humiliated and would only be laughed at if he made a scene.

  He waited impatiently in the lobby until the judge called the court to order again. Hans watched as Wilhelm returned to the witness stand. It made no difference now what either of them said. Whether Morgan was found guilty or not, Wilhelm would never consent to the wedding. Hans knew that.

  If he could not have Julie and the money he had been promised as her dowry, he would see to it that Morgan did not have her either. That, too, had been a promise.

  Hans walked up to Lucas Carter, who had taken his post just outside the courtroom door.

  “I would like to have my rifle back now,” he asked the temporary deputy.

  “Leavin’ so soon?”

  “I must get back to my farm,” Hans answered, bracing himself for a sarcastic reply.

  “Me, I wouldn’t miss this fer nuthin’,” Lucas drawled. He sorted through the weapons stacked against the wall behind him and found the battered Winchester Hans had duly checked earlier. “Ain’t been nuthin’ this excitin’ since Walt Noomer kilt his old man back in ‘79. Plenty o’ eyewitnesses that time; trial lasted damn near two weeks.”

  But Hans didn’t wait around to hear that last sentence, nor the questions about the infamous Noomer trial that young Jenkins began to fire at Lucas. Hans was already out the door and standing on the sun-blasted porch.

  He thanked God for that ungodly sun. Carter and the blacksmith’s apprentice should by rights have been stationed outside, but the west-facing porch was an inferno once the sun passed its zenith. That as much as the threat of a riot in the courtroom had brought them indoors. Hans took a handkerchief from his hip pocket and wiped it across his forehead.

  He scanned the single street, and saw no sign of life. There were sounds coming from the Castle, but not a single living creature ventured out in the sun. He regretted leaving his horse and wagon at the livery, but there was no time now for such thoughts. Pushing that and a few others out of his mind, Hans descended the steps and walked around the corner of the hotel into the alley. Here there was some shade at least, but with no breeze to stir the sultry air, he felt no relief. That would come later. He had no intention of remaining very long in the alley anyway.