Death of a Rancher's Daughter

by Susan P. Baker

  “If you don't mind an early dinner, I'll let you take me wherever would be a good place. But no dessert.” Their eyes met.

  “No problem. I understand. I've seen the paperwork spread out in my office. You must still have prep work to do for the next witnesses.” He held the hospital door for her. “That's me over there. The blue Chevy pickup.”

  Sandra raised her eyebrows. A pickup truck? She wasn't real surprised. He did, after all, live in the country. “May I use your cell when we get to your truck? I need to see where they are in the trial.” She drew a deep breath as they walked through the parking lot. The lack of antiseptic smell was a welcome change. “Depending on what's going on, would it be all right if Erma, Mel, and Rufina joined us? Or, should I tell them to meet us back at your office after dinner.”

  “Whatever you want. I don't have anything else scheduled today.”

  “You're too good to be true.” She didn't know why he liked her, with all the other women in the world, but for now, she was glad he did.

  When they were inside the truck, he handed her the phone and drove out of the lot. Mel answered on the first ring.

  “Mel, Mom. They released me from the hospital.”

  “Yea! I'm so happy they let you out. I told Grandma they were going to. So you're okay?”

  “I'm fine, just some stomach spasms, so no worries. I guess you're not in court or you wouldn't be answering.”

  “The judge just let us go. He said he was adjourning early, because he had a lot of other stuff on his calendar.”

  Sandra glanced at her watch. Four o'clock was the judge's idea of early? “Jared's taking me to eat. Ask Grandma if y'all can join us for an early dinner. Rufina, too, if she wants to come.”

  “Rufina went back to the ranch with BJ. Grandma and I were going to walk around downtown a little. I wanted to look in the shops, but I'd rather eat at a restaurant with you. Grandma heard what you were saying. She said we can meet y'all.”

  Jared told her where they were going, and Sandra relayed it to Mel. “Bring my purse and cell phone, please. See you in a bit.”

  Sandra handed the phone back to Jared. She admired his profile. He was one good-looking son of a bitch. Strong jaw. Slightly reddish stubble. Dark blond hair.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “You, fella.” Now wasn't the time to discuss “them,” so she steered the conversation away. “Do you have any idea what went on in court today?”

  “Only a little.” He cut through some side streets. “I called Annie in the clerk's office. The sheriff testified for most of the afternoon.”

  She would have liked to cross-examine the sheriff. “I've been thinking of taking a job at an insurance firm.” Why did she spit that out after the soul-searching she'd just done? For feedback? Too late to take it back.

  He maneuvered his truck out on the highway and through the traffic in front of the high school. Sandra didn't know where they were going. She had to trust him. He didn't respond. “Aren't you going to say anything?”

  His jaw flexed. “I think it's kind of cool you practice law with your mother. Not too many people get to do that.”

  “Yeah. I guess not.” She stared straight ahead, the oak trees on the side of the road in her peripheral vision. The two-lane road was busy with pickups of kids—mostly high school boys—driving too fast.

  “You don't get along with your mother?” He kept one hand on the steering wheel, and the other rested on the console between them.

  Why had she started this conversation? He turned left off the road onto a smaller two-lane, not-quite-dirt road. They came to a large parking lot beside a replica of a log cabin with a wide porch. The strong wind moved empty rocking chairs forward and back like they were occupied by ghosts. Milk cans filled with flowers sat out front. Jared parked and cut the engine.

  He laid an arm across the steering wheel, his other hand stayed on the console close to her arm. “I might be wrong, but Erma appears to be happy with things the way they are. The little I saw, she was giving Sam Holt hell and enjoying it.” He stroked her forearm with one finger.

  “It's me, not her.” His touch went further than the surface of her skin. She unsnapped her seat belt and turned in the seat. “I've been questioning whether criminal law is for me.”

  “From what I've been told, you're good at it. Something happen to make you want out?”

  How much should she confide in this man? Was he interested in what she was saying? She still hadn't figured out why he was attracted to her at all, except she was someone new and different from the women in that small town. She could tell him what she had been thinking of doing with her future and get an outsider's perspective. Their eyes met. His were greener than the last time she'd focused on them. He stared at her, solemn faced.

  “I always thought I was a good judge of character.” She watched for a reaction. “When I was in the DA's office, I was pretty good at understanding where the defense attorneys were coming from and predicting how they'd proceed with their cases.”

  His forehead drew up in a studied look, his eyes on her eyes.

  “Well, turns out I wasn't so good at it in my personal life.” She ran the side of her forefinger back and forth over her lips.

  Jared didn't say anything. His eyes roved over her face as she spoke.

  She was uncomfortable with the scrutiny. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

  He nodded. “Very much so.”

  Her stomach growled again. Where were Erma and Mel? She hoped they hadn't gotten lost. He continued to stare at her as if to say, get-on-with-it. “Well, I was in a relationship with an attorney in a civil practice. His name was Stuart. Wait, I told you I've been married twice, didn't I?”

  “Yes. Mel is from your first marriage?”

  “Yeah, she lives with her father and step-mother most of the time. I have liberal visitation rights. She works with us after school and gets credit in a program they have at the high school.”

  He smiled on one side of his mouth. “You're getting off topic.”

  Sandra hunched her shoulders. “I guess I'm nervous. I don't normally spill my guts to anyone.”

  “No close girlfriends?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. I've always been kind of a loner.”

  “You're stalling.”

  She shrugged. “Well, so Stuart and I were going hot and heavy. In fact, I thought he wanted to move our relationship to the next level. He said he did. I wasn't sure I did.”

  “So you're not with him anymore? What happened?”

  “Umm—I was so not a good judge of character.” She looked out the window, knowing she was being evasive, but still not comfortable telling Jared all the sordid details. Erma pulled into the parking lot and took the space closest to the restaurant entrance. Saved.

  Jared glanced where she was looking and grasped her arm. “Sandra—”

  She faced him again. “Turned out he had a secret life. Some people say everyone does, that everyone keeps secrets from their partner. I never believed that. I thought if some things weren't shared, they didn't amount to much.” Shaking her head, she said, “Well, stupid me, I believe it now. Stuart turned out to be a different man than I thought he was. A very different man with a completely secret life. Not in a good way, either.”

  Jared leaned toward her. “I'm so sorry.”

  “I've thought and thought about what happened. I was depressed for a long while and though I've pulled out of that, I've concluded I'm not a good judge of character. I've been thinking I need to take myself out of any position where I'd have to rely on my judgment. I never want to make a mistake like that again.”

  “And you think that means giving up the practice of law, or at least litigation?”

  “Well, I did.” Mel and Erma had gotten out of the car and were walking toward the restaurant. Jared's eyes followed hers.

  Sandra said, “I've given myself until the end of this trial to make a final decision about what I'm going to do.”
She wasn't ready to say she'd pretty much made up her mind to stay, still wanting to see if she felt the same when she woke up tomorrow. She yanked on the door handle. “You never know. Something might turn up to convince me I'm wrong.”

  Jared gave her arm a squeeze and reached for his own door handle. “You're right. You never know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Late the following morning, Holt said, “The state calls BJ Schindler.” He wore another pinstripe suit and a smirk from hell.

  “What the heck?” Sandra whispered to Erma, toning down her rhetoric since Mel, who was on the first row of benches behind them, could overhear most of what they said. “Did she tell you she was going to testify? I thought she was going to Mexico to find what's-his-face.” Sandra was first chair again, so she sat next to the aisle, closest to Holt. She wanted to reach over and smack that expression off his face.

  “She didn't say anything.” Erma spoke in a hushed tone. “When we left this morning, she was fixing to go find Efrain. Wait a minute, is BJ on their witness list?” Erma flipped through the trial notebook and took out the State's response to their discovery motion. She paged through it. “I don't see her name.”

  Sandra sprang to her feet. “Judge, I object to this witness.”

  The jurors perked up. The morning had been slow, with a state's expert testifying about the wound and the autopsy. On cross, Sandra had made short shrift of him. Nothing to be gained from a lengthy cross-examination of some witnesses.

  “Approach the bench.” The judge beckoned them to come around to the side farthest from the jury.

  Matthew picked up his machine and preceded them. Once Matt was in place, the judge rolled his chair to the edge of the steps leading up to the platform and hunkered down so the jury couldn't hear the conversation. “What's the nature of your objection, Mrs. Salinsky?”

  Sandra cringed at his calling her Mrs. again. “Mrs. Schindler is not on the State's witness list.”

  With raised eyebrows, he regarded Holt. “Response, Mr. Holt?”

  Holt, a pen clenched in one fist and a manila folder in the other, cleared his throat. “That's true, Judge. She is, however, present at the courthouse every day and hanging out with the defense. They excluded her from the courtroom, when they invoked the rule against witnesses being in the courtroom during testimony, so I figured they were going to call her.”

  “Judge, you know that doesn't mean he can call her without listing her. He can't rely on what we might do.” Sandra clenched her fists behind her back.

  “I was going to file an amended witness list earlier, but this trial has been moving so rapidly my office couldn't prepare it in time.” Holt opened the folder, revealing some legal documents. “I have the amended list here and would like to file it with the court now.”

  The judge took some stapled pages from Holt, who also handed a copy to Sandra.

  Before she'd even grasped it, Sandra said, “What? No, Judge. He can't do this. If he wants to cross-examine Mrs. Schindler after we put her on, if we call her as a witness, he's certainly welcome to do so, but he can't call her as a witness and then file the motion.”

  “You do intend to call her, Mrs. Salinsky?” Judge Danforth gave her the stink eye.

  Sandra's head throbbed like it would explode. What was that about? Holt was the one who wasn't abiding by the rules. “We're considering it.”

  “Then no harm, no foul,” the judge said.

  “No, Judge. I'm not sure who I'll call until all the State's witnesses have testified, until we've seen all the evidence. We might not call anyone.” She'd like to rip the copy Holt had given her to shreds and throw it in their faces.

  The judge's deep frown made her feel like a three-time loser waiting to be sentenced. “I'm going to allow it.” He pushed back in his chair, rolling to the center of the platform.

  Flames of anger licked at Sandra. What the hell? Was he treating their side of the case unfairly because he was a jerk, because she was an out-of-town lawyer, or because he thought a little Mexican woman didn't deserve a fair trial? She huffed and strode back to her place, tossing the motion on the table.

  Holt just about two-stepped back to his side of the room.

  “Objection overruled,” the judge said. “Mrs. Schindler may testify.” He picked up a pen and wrote something before leaning back in his chair.

  When BJ arrived at the front of the courtroom, her face held a help-me expression, but there was nothing they could do. They hadn't prepared her, but BJ was a mature woman who should be able to hold her own.

  Erma whispered. “Can't say I've never seen such favoritism, but it's been a while. Probably payback for the sheriff being as friendly as he was.”

  “Unbelievable,” Sandra muttered under her breath, hoping the ruling didn't reflect the judge's personal attitude toward minority defendants.

  BJ took the oath and sat down, still looking their way in apparent confusion.

  “You may proceed, Mr. Holt.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Schindler. I'm Samuel Holt, the duly elected district attorney for this judicial district, which includes Gillespie County.”

  “I'm well aware of who you are.” BJ held her handbag in her lap as though she were afraid someone might snatch it.

  “Ma'am, you were the mother of Katy Jo Schindler, were you not?”

  BJ bit her lip and nodded, her face crinkling up like she was about to burst into tears.

  “Ma'am, I need you to answer out loud for the record.”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you describe for the jury the events on the night she died?”

  BJ, who wore a jacket over a button-down shirt, fiddled with the shirt collar, her hand trembling. “We were having dinner at my home.”

  Erma murmured, “She's way more nervous than I thought she'd be. If we'd had just a few more months before trial, she'd have had more time to deal with her grief.”

  Sandra put her finger to her lips.

  “When you say we, who are you speaking of?” Holt asked.

  “The girls—”

  “Katy Jo had a twin sister, correct? An identical twin?”

  “Yes. The girls, Katy Jo's boyfriend, Doug, my son, Rex...”

  “That would be Roy Schindler the Third, correct?”

  BJ's expression had changed, her jaw set. “If you'll quit interrupting me, I'll tell you who was present.”

  Holt's cheeks sprouted roses. “Yes, ma'am. Continue.”

  “So Katy Jo, Kathy Lynn, Doug, Rex, Elgin Burgess—the man who owns the ranch next over from mine,” she said, shooting daggers at Holt as if daring him to interrupt her again, “and me.”

  “And the defendant?” Holt pointed to Rufina.

  “No.”

  “No? What do you mean?” He reared back as though surprised, the look on his face full of wide-eyed, fake disbelief. “Let me ask you this, Mrs. Schindler. You and the defendant have known each other for a long time, am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long?”

  “About fifty or so years.”

  “She lives on your ranch?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she live in the house with you?”

  “No, she does not.”

  “Did she?”

  “Did she what?”

  Did the defendant ever live in the house with you?”

  “No, she did not.”

  “Didn't she live in the house with you after her house burned to the ground?”

  “She stayed with me for a while after she was released from the hospital, but she didn't live with me.”

  “Mrs. Schindler, you were subpoenaed to be here today, were you not?”

  “Just this morning.” She turned to the judge. “Shouldn't I have been given more notice, Judge? I would have had time to rearrange my schedule for the day.”

  Judge Danforth shrugged but otherwise didn't respond.

  Erma spoke behind her hand, “Son of a bitch.”

  Holt tapped his pen on
the legal pad in front of him. “So you didn't come here voluntarily.”

  “Correct.”

  “What is your relationship with the defendant?”

  “She's my best friend.”

  Sandra watched the members of the jury. When the last answer came, there were tells on the faces of a couple of them. Nothing too obvious, just little movements of surprise. One of them, who'd been rocking back in his chair, sat up straight.

  “Yet, she wasn't invited to the dinner party.”

  “Do you invite all your friends to every event you have at your house, Mr. Holt?”

  Holt stood. “Objection. Non-responsive.” Without waiting for the judge to speak, Holt said, “Was she invited to the dinner party that night at your house? Yes or no.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It was a family get together.”

  “If she's been your best friend for nigh on fifty years, isn't she like a member of the family?”

  “She is to me.”

  “Not to your children?”

  “Not to all of them.”

  “Which ones?”

  “Which ones what?”

  Holt stood again. “Judge, would you instruct the witness to answer the questions?”

  The judge said, “Mrs. Schindler, listen to the questions asked by Mr. Holt and answer them to the best of your ability.”

  BJ didn't say anything. She stared at Holt.

  “Which members of your family didn't consider Rufina to be part of the family?”

  “You'd have to ask them.”

  Holt blew out a breath and shook his head. He stood again. “Judge—”

  The judge rolled his chair closer to the witness box. “Mrs. Schindler, this will go a lot faster if you'd be so kind as to answer the questions.”

  BJ's eyebrows drew together, and she nodded.

  “Mrs. Schindler, let's look at the relationship of the defendant with each of your children. Rex doesn't like her, isn't that correct?”

  “He blows hot and cold.”

  “Kathy Lynn doesn't like her, isn't that correct?”