Death of a Rancher's Daughter

by Susan P. Baker

  “You couldn't have called?” Sandra asked. “Did you have your cell with you?”

  “Yes, Mom, but you know it doesn't always work out here, and, anyway, I thought I'd be all right. Her cottage isn't very far.”

  Erma came back in and slammed the door behind her. “I didn't see anyone.”

  “Put that thing up.” Sandra nodded at the gun.

  “I'm glad I didn't find him. I'd have shot the mo-fo.” She stopped next to them and pulled some leaves from her socks. “No one is going to hurt my granddaughter.” She wrapped an arm around Mel's shoulders.

  “I wonder if whoever it was thought she was Rufina.” Sandra looked from one to the other. “When she got under the porch light, he could see she wasn't.”

  Mel held her hands palms up. “I'm sitting right here. The ‘she’ is me.”

  Sandra hugged Mel. “I know, honey.”

  “She is small like Rufina—well, not exactly like Rufina, but small. If it had been you, Sandra, he would have known you weren't Rufina,” Erma said. “So whoever it was, he doesn't know Rufina's not living here. He, if it was a he, only knows this is Rufina's cottage.”

  “Just about everyone who lives and/or works on the ranch would know this is her cottage,” Sandra said. “Actually, I’d be surprised if everyone hasn't already figured out she's not living here now. We've been coming and going every day.”

  “I'm going to check all the locks on the windows and doors.” Erma held the thirty-eight down by her side. “And put the gun back.”

  When they were alone, Sandra cupped Mel's cheeks. “Is there anything else you want to tell me? Did anything happen you don't want to talk about in front of Grandma, something more than being followed?”

  “No, Mom.” Mel studied Sandra's face. “What? Oh no, Mom. No. I get what you mean, but no, nothing else. I'm okay.”

  Relieved, Sandra hugged Mel again.

  “I'm sorry, really. I should have had Diego take me to BJ's.”

  “You need to understand when I give instructions, I'm looking out for your safety, not trying to make life difficult.”

  “I—I really do know that.” Her lip trembled. “I'm going to take a shower and put on my pajamas. I want to wash off the feeling of someone's eyes on my neck.”

  A lump formed in Sandra's throat. “If you need me, I'm right here.” When Mel left the room, Sandra trod back into the kitchen and dumped out her wine. She wanted to be ready if something else happened. Shivers ran circles on her body, and she took great gulps of air. She could have lost Mel.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Late the next morning, during the recess, Sandra exited a stall in the ladies’ room and found Erma waiting for her. “Hey, what did the sheriff say?” Sandra turned on the faucet to wash her hands.

  “He asked me if I saw anyone when I ran outside.” Erma leaned against the wall. “Then he asked me if Mel could describe whoever followed her. Did she smell him? Was there any noise when he walked, like his gait was off? How tall was he?”

  Sandra checked in the mirror to make sure her blouse was smoothed down before she buttoned her jacket. “We didn't ask her any of those things. I don't think we'd make very good cops.” She brushed at her hair with her fingers.

  “With all the cross-exams we've conducted, you'd think we'd have gotten more information out of her.” Erma started pulling up her long skirt before she closed the stall door behind herself.

  “There wasn't all that much to get. I'll wait for you outside.” Sandra had known it would be useless to go to the sheriff, but Erma had insisted. Earlier, she’d described him and his testimony to Sandra, so Sandra wasn’t really surprised Erma wanted to see the man again. She could use the excuse of the incident with Mel if she wanted to, but Erma wasn’t fooling anybody.

  Rufina stood across the hall, her long braid trailing down one shoulder, the scarred side of her face toward the window. The side toward Sandra showed smile-wrinkles around her eyes, a rounded cheek, knobby nose, and pert lips, or what passed for lips.

  Judging from an eight-by-ten photograph BJ had shown Sandra of the two of them with their arms around each other when they were teenagers, Rufina had been quite attractive in her youth. A twinge of sadness struck Sandra. “What're you thinking about?”

  Rufina sighed. “How much I love spring.”

  “I bet it's beautiful up here once the flowers and trees start to bloom,” Sandra said. “You ready to go back in? Our time's almost up.”

  Sandra stood aside and let Rufina go up the stairs. They always used the downstairs restroom, far away from the jurors and clerks. “I'll be right behind you as soon as I have another word with Erma.”

  Erma came out of the restroom. “How'd the direct on Doug go? Holt score any points with the jury?”

  Sandra beckoned for Erma to precede her up the stairs as well. “He basically testified to the same thing he told Mel and me when we had lunch with him. The jury didn't like it that he found the gun on the path to Rufina's cottage. You should have seen their faces.”

  “Hmm. No surprise there. Have you done your cross?”

  “Nope. Fixing to now.”

  “Not much to ask him.” Erma was breathing hard. She held on to the railing.

  “I have a few things up my sleeve.” Sandra stopped. “Mom, you going to make it?” Erma looked grayer than she had at the beginning of the trial. The stress was wearing on her—both of them had been sleeping restlessly every night, especially the night before.

  “Don't hassle me. I'm just a little tired.” She halted for a moment on the landing. “I don't suppose you were able to talk to Doug before testimony began this morning. I wish I could have been there.” She continued trudging upward. “But the trip to the sheriff had to be done.” A weak smile crossed her lips.

  “I spotted Doug before the judge called the court to order, but he was practically pinned down by one of Holt's assistants.”

  “Damn.” Erma swung the courtroom door open.

  Rufina sat at the end of the counsel table, her folded hands resting on the legal pad. Doug Christian was at the prosecutor's table with Holt. The slow burn that was with Sandra every day of the trial, sizzled. Witnesses should not be sitting at the table of either attorney.

  Sandra stepped over to Holt's table. “Mr. Christian, you may retake the witness stand for my cross-examination.”

  Doug Christian stood.

  Holt rose to his full height and faced-off with Sandra. “You don't tell him what to do.”

  “You are so wrong to do this, Holt. I can't believe you get away with this behavior with the local attorneys. Mr. Christian, please step out from behind the counsel table before the jury comes back.”

  “Yes, ma'am.” He shrugged one shoulder and walked to the witness stand, not stepping up and sitting down.

  “Thank you.” In Holt's direction, Sandra mouthed You're a jerk. She dropped into her chair a moment before the judge entered.

  The bailiff brought in the jury.

  Erma sat to Sandra's right, the trial notebook open to the section with Doug Christian's name on it. “Do you need anything out of here?”

  “Nope.”

  “What is this 'nope' stuff?”

  “I'm in a mood.”

  The judge said, “Mrs. Salinsky, are you ready with your cross-examination?”

  Sandra stood. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Doug Christian sat in the witness box and turned slightly toward Sandra.

  Holt clicked his ballpoint pen two times and whispered something to the assistant beside him.

  “Mr. Christian, we've met, correct?”

  “Yes, ma'am. Back in Galveston County.”

  “And obviously I was present this morning when you testified on direct examination.”

  “Yes, ma'am.” His red hair shone in the fluorescent light. Wearing a long-sleeved red and blue plaid shirt and slacks, Doug could have been from anywhere, of any background. He presented well as a witness.

  “I have a question
about the gun, Mr. Christian. You testified you found the gun on the path leading to Mrs. Barboza's cottage, correct?”

  “Yes, ma'am. Lying there bigger'n—”

  “So what did you do with the gun after you found it? Did you immediately turn it over to the deputy when he came in?”

  Christian shifted in his chair. “No, ma'am.”

  “Why not? Where was the gun when the deputy arrived?”

  “In my jacket pocket.”

  “Your jacket pocket. So you were wearing a winter jacket? The weather was still quite cool, correct?”

  Holt got up. “Judge, she's not letting him answer the questions.”

  “Mrs. Salinsky...” The judge raised his eyebrows.

  “Sorry, Your Honor. Mr. Christian, can you answer my last question?”

  “Yes. I wore a winter jacket because it was cold outside.”

  “You previously testified you and Katy Jo had been at Rufina’s cottage, that Katy Jo hadn't returned from the house, and you went to find out where she was. You put your jacket on when you left Rufina's cottage?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Okay, so you didn't give the gun to the deputy, correct?”

  “Right. Everyone was so upset, crying and all. I forgot the gun was in my pocket.”

  “You forgot that big gun was in your pocket?” Sandra's eyes cut away to the jury. The majority of them looked spellbound.

  “Yes, ma'am, but I remembered later.”

  “Later being when?”

  “When the sheriff came—well before the sheriff came, really—I put my hands in my pockets and realized the gun was in one of them, so I laid it on the kitchen counter.”

  For several seconds, Sandra held her hands in front of her mouth in an attitude of prayer. She wanted the jury to have a few minutes to think about the business with the gun. “Let's move on. Other than what you've revealed, did you testify to anything different this morning from what you told me at our meeting in Galveston County?”

  Holt stared down at his legal pad, his pen poised in his hand.

  “No, ma'am.”

  “Are you positive, Mr. Christian?” His forehead wrinkled, his brows drawing together. “I'm pretty sure.”

  “Pretty sure but not one hundred percent sure?”

  “Well—”

  “So you're not certain?”

  Holt jumped up. “Objection. She needs to let him answer the question, Judge.”

  Sandra held her arms out, palms up, like What-is-this-Judge?

  “Overruled. This is cross, Mr. Holt.”

  “I'm not trying to confuse you, Mr. Christian. Really, I'm not. I want to be sure the story you told this morning was the same story you told me when we met in League City.”

  “Objection!” Holt jumped up again. “That was not a story, Judge. It was his sworn testimony.”

  “All right, then,” Sandra said before the judge could rule. “Your testimony here today was the exact same statement you gave me earlier this year. Is that what you want the jury to believe?”

  “Judge!” Holt got halfway up again.

  “Approach the bench, counselors.” Judge Danforth turned his head away from the jury and grimaced.

  Sandra fisted her hands. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “What is your objection, Mr. Holt?” The judge's breath smelled minty.

  “She's making it sound like my witness isn't telling the truth.” He cut his eyes at her. The ballpoint in his hand clicked several times.

  “His witness, Your Honor? Anyway, I'm not sure what exactly Mr. Holt is objecting to, are you?”

  “I don't like the way you're phrasing your questions.” Holt clicked his pen like nobody's business.

  “Your Honor, is Mr. Holt allowed to tell me how to examine a witness? How to try my case?”

  “She knows what I mean, Judge.”

  The judge focused on Holt. “Just what is your objection, Mr. Holt? I haven't yet heard a proper objection from you.”

  Holt's cheeks blew up like they were filled with bubble gum. “My objection…badgering the witness!” His eyes flared. The pen clicked on.

  The judge turned his attention to Sandra, eyes round, a twitch at the side of his mouth. “Don't badger the witness, Mrs. Salinsky. Now both of you go back to your tables and behave yourselves.”

  Sandra did an about-face. She gave Erma and Rufina a half-smile.

  “For the record,” the judge said, “the objection to badgering the witness is sustained.”

  “So, Mr. Christian, your position is that you have testified here today to the exact same thing you stated to me when I interviewed you, correct?”

  Holt's chair scraped across the floor. Sandra shook her head. He was really going to hate what was coming up.

  Christian nodded. “Yes.”

  “You've testified that you and the decedent were staying in my client's cottage.”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “You and she often stayed together at Mrs. Barboza's cottage, because Mrs. Schindler didn't approve of premarital sex?”

  “Yes, ma'am. Mrs. S is old-fashioned, so Katy Jo had persuaded Rufina—Mrs. Barboza—a long time ago to let us meet there when I was in town.” His face had become blotched and red.

  “Behind Mrs. Schindler's back.”

  He licked his lips. “We planned to be married. We just didn't want to wait until we got married. You know…”

  “But you weren't married, and you were sleeping with the decedent behind her mother's back.”

  Standing up, Mr. Holt said, “Asked and answered.”

  “Sustained.” The judge arched an eyebrow at Sandra.

  “So sometime in the past, Katy Jo had somehow persuaded Rufina Barboza, Mrs. Schindler's best friend, to let y'all stay in the second bedroom at her cottage and keep it a secret from Mrs. Schindler.”

  “You have to understand. Mrs. Barboza was Mrs. Schindler's best friend, yes, but Rufina loved Katy Jo and would do anything for her.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Christian.” Sandra let his testimony sink in while she turned to a blank page and wrote down his exact words, 'Rufina loved Katy Jo and would do anything for her.' She stole a glance at Holt who sat with crossed arms. She could almost hear his teeth gnashing.

  “Mrs. Salinsky, are you through with your questioning?” The judge peered over his glasses.

  “Not quite yet, Judge. Only a few more.” She turned her attention back to Doug Christian. “And your testimony is, the night she was killed, Katy Jo went to tell her mother that y'all wanted to get engaged, to ask for her approval?”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “That's the sum of your testimony under oath today, is that right?”

  Holt stood up. “Your Honor—”

  “Strike that,” Sandra said to the court reporter. “So, Mr. Christian, is it your testimony today that you did not tell me there was a Latino male staying with my client at her cottage on the night of the murder?”

  Holt, who had never sat back down, said again, “Objection.”

  The judge shook his head. “Now what, Mr. Holt?”

  “Assuming facts...” Holt paused like he was rethinking the nature of his objection. He shot a look at Sandra and back at the judge and at the witness and back at the judge again. “Withdrawn.” He sat down.

  Doug Christian hovered over the microphone. “I don't understand your question.” His voice bounced off the walls.

  “You didn't tell me Rufina had a man staying with her that night?”

  Holt stiffened in his chair. His pen clicking, getting on Sandra's last nerve, but she enjoyed knowing he was racking his brain to come up with a valid objection. The real question became whether he'd risk asking about the Latino male on redirect. It was a tricky situation for him that made Sandra feel good for giving him some of his own back. No matter how Doug responded, the idea would be permanently lodged in the jury's mind.

  “I didn't tell you a man was staying with Mrs. Barboza at the same time Katy Jo and I were staying at
Mrs. Barboza's?”

  “Correct.”

  “No, ma'am. I didn't tell you that.” He glanced at Holt and then at the jury.

  “You're sure?”

  Holt jumped up a third time. “Asked and answered, Judge. She's badgering him again.”

  Sandra made her eyes wide and innocent. “Just one more question, Judge, before I pass the witness back. Mr. Christian, did you know where Mrs. Schindler kept the keys to the gun cabinets?”

  Doug wrapped his hands around the microphone. “Yes, ma'am. Almost everybody did.”

  “Pass the witness.”

  The judge looked at Holt. “Redirect?”

  With a mouth formed into a grim line, Holt shook his head, his eyes cutting Sandra to ribbons.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “State Calls Elgin Burgess.”

  A shiver of surprise ran through Erma. Though Burgess was on Holt's witness list, she and Sandra had figured Holt would call Rex and rest the State's case that afternoon.

  All through lunch, Sandra and she discussed whether they should put Rufina on the stand if the judge made them go forward right away. Rufina had watched and listened and hadn't said much. She'd said since they were the lawyers, she'd leave the decision about whether she'd testify to them. Rufina's trust made Erma feel like shit, but she'd taken on the case or rather, practically forced Sandra to take the case. Now Erma had to take responsibility for it.

  Erma rested on her elbows. Her stomach stirred with consternation. “I can't figure out what the hell he thinks he's going to prove through Elgin. Just bolstering his case, maybe.”

  “I'd give you the section in the notebook about Elgin, but what do we have, mostly blank pages?”

  “A brief history of his relationship with BJ.” Erma snickered under her breath. “Or what BJ described as his trying to have a relationship with her.”

  The door to the hall opened and in walked Elgin. Instead of the plaid long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and dirty boots he usually wore, he was dressed in a cowboy suit. He wore a buff-colored jacket and matching pants, brown buttoned-up vest over a white shirt, leather belt, bolo tie, and Lucchese ostrich boots. He carried a tan Stetson. Inclining his head at Holt, he held out his hat in a kind of salute to the defense table.