Death of a Rancher's Daughter

by Susan P. Baker

  He nodded. “Right.”

  “For a year or more.”

  “That's what I said.”

  “That's a lot of steak dinners.”

  Some of the jurors laughed.

  Holt sprang up. “Objection!”

  Erma ignored Holt, as did the judge. “In the last year or more, how many times did you take Mrs. Schindler out for a steak dinner, or for that matter, any kind of dinner, or to any event?”

  Elgin shifted in the chair. “We never went out. She never would go out with me.” He turned to the jury. “Always had an excuse.”

  “In the last year or more, you've never slept with the Widow Schindler, have you?”

  “Judge!” Holt almost knocked over his chair as he scrambled to his feet.

  The judge had perked up during Erma’s cross. From the expression on his face, almost a smile, he looked like he was enjoying himself. “What, Mr. Holt?”

  Holt stood for a moment, his pen now tapping on the table, his eyes averted. “Nothing.” He sat back down.

  “You may answer, Mr. Burgess,” the judge said, still leaning toward him. “Do you want the question repeated?”

  Erma almost laughed out loud. The judge was toying with Elgin. Everyone in the courtroom knew what the question was.

  “No.” Burgess shook his head at Erma. “No to repeating the question, and no, I haven't ever slept with Mrs. Schindler.”

  “Have the two of you necked or whatever the kids call it today? Made out?”

  He shook his head. “No.” He glowered, his lips stretching across his teeth.

  “Have you ever even kissed?” Erma raised her eyebrows in an expression she hoped showed doubt.

  “I kissed her, yes.” He rolled his shoulders back and turned toward the jury.

  “Did she kiss you back?”

  His slump was noticeable. “To be perfectly honest, no.”

  Erma loved it when witnesses said to be perfectly honest, like they haven't been honest before. She took a moment so it would appear she was reviewing her notes before eyeballing the jury. Everyone must be getting tired, but the judge didn't seem inclined to take another break. She mouthed at Sandra and Rufina, “Any questions?” They shook their heads. She had one more line of questioning, only a question or two, and she'd be finished.

  “Why do you think that is, Mr. Burgess? Why do you think Mrs. Schindler didn't respond to your advances?” Erma knew the answer. Because he was an asshole. But she'd like to hear his version.

  Elgin tilted his head to one side and shook it. “I don't know, to tell you the truth. We've known each other for years. I was friends with her late husband. I thought I was making progress with her.”

  There it was again. To be perfectly honest. To tell you the truth. But now was not the time to hassle him over it. “You implied that my client, Rufina Barboza, feels the same way about BJ Schindler as you do, correct?”

  He sat silent.

  “Are you trying to tell this jury BJ Schindler must have reciprocated the feelings you say Rufina Barboza has for her? That otherwise she would have welcomed your advances?”

  He shrugged. “Well, I don't know. Maybe.”

  “In other words, you're saying you think Rufina Barboza and BJ Schindler were lesbian lovers, correct?”

  Holt breathed out like a deflating balloon. He rolled back in his chair, hitting the bar behind him. Erma ignored him, her eyes on Elgin Burgess. The ruddiness had drained from Elgin's face.

  “I didn't say that,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “You implied it. You implied it when you said Rufina made ‘goo-goo’ eyes at BJ, and if BJ didn't reciprocate your feelings, it must have been because she had feelings for Rufina. Isn't that what you meant to imply?”

  His lips twitched, but he didn't answer. Erma let the silence linger. To her right, Sandra bore down on a legal pad, writing fast and furiously.

  When the silence had gone on long enough, Erma asked, “Who told you BJ Schindler and Rufina Barboza were lovers?”

  Burgess had crossed his arms. He clamped his lips shut. His cheeks puffed out, his face almost white except for his red, veiny nose.

  After a minute that felt like an hour, Erma asked, “Judge, would you be so kind as to instruct the witness to answer?”

  The judge rolled his chair to the bar separating the bench from the witness chair. “Mr. Burgess—”

  “Rex,” Burgess said, his voice faint. Then louder, “Rex Schindler.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  At Jared's office after the judge recessed the trial for the evening, Erma said, “I always thought that son of a bitch, Rex, was somehow the root cause of all this mess.” She sat at the conference table, a short bourbon in front of her.

  “Yeah. Me, too.” With her shoes off, Sandra was massaging her toes through her tights. Her feet would be a lot better off if she'd ignore the current fashion in ladies' shoes. “He's been nothing but trouble.”

  “If BJ had known how much trouble he would be, I wonder whether she would have considered an abortion.” Erma took a gulp from her glass and wiped her chin where some bourbon had missed her mouth.

  Sandra straightened up. Her mother could be harsh. “Speaking of BJ, I just remembered. I received a text from her. Want to hear what she says?”

  “When'd you get that?”

  “During your cross. I forgot about it.” Sandra read from her phone, “‘Can't call, lousy cell service. Found Efrain. Heading back now.’”

  “Does she say when she'll return?”

  “No, but she says, ’14 hours to border from San Miguel. Then have to drive there.’”

  “Shit. She say where she was texting from?” Erma hung over the table.

  Sandra shook her head. “No, that's it.”

  “We're running out of time. Holt's gonna run out of witnesses. He's got to rest his case soon.”

  “I can probably drag out Rex's testimony for at least a full day. Can't think who else Holt will call, in spite of all those names on his witness list.” Sandra sipped from a glass of white wine.

  Jared stuck his head in the room. His tie was askew, the collar of his pale blue shirt unbuttoned. “You ladies up for some dinner in a little while?” His eyes roved over Sandra's body, meeting her eyes with a smile full of promise and a cocked eyebrow.

  Sandra pushed thoughts of a possible liaison from her mind. “What did I tell you, Jared?” She made a pretend mean face, knowing he understood she meant his once-over.

  Erma coughed. “I wouldn't object to something meaty, like duck or quail or a big piece of—”

  “Not beef,” Sandra said. “I don't want to think of anyone eating beef for a long time.”

  “What's that about?” Jared stepped inside the room and rested a hand on the back of a chair.

  “Elgin Burgess mooching steaks off BJ.” Erma shook her head. “Freeloader.”

  Jared looked from one woman to the other. “Wish I had time to sit in on the testimony. I'm missing all the fun.”

  “If you only knew,” Sandra said. “I'll tell you about it sometime.”

  “In the future?” His face lit up with a huge, telling smile.

  She didn't respond and avoided his eyes.

  Erma shook her head. “Okay, you two, we have more talking to do about what tomorrow might bring, and I really do want to eat.”

  “You always want to eat,” Sandra said.

  “I'll be back for y'all in about thirty-minutes,” Jared said. “There are some things waiting for me on my desk anyway.” He closed the door as he left.

  “Wish I could have what I’m assuming you're going to have.” Erma chuckled and took another slug of bourbon.

  “Ha. Ha.” Her mother knew her better than she’d like. Sandra poised a finger over her phone. “Should we text something back? Ask her when she thinks she'll arrive?”

  “Yeah, do that. I'm going to walk a cramp out of my foot.”

  “You're going to ask Laura to give you a refill, and right now I
don't care.”

  Erma rubbed the arch of her foot as if to show Sandra there really was a cramp and then went to find Laura.

  Sandra texted BJ and reclined in her chair, studying the top shelf of law books. Some of them were antique, old with gold lettering. She closed her eyes, enjoying the momentary peace. She'd had little quiet in the past days and weeks and months since they'd taken Rufina's case.

  Though the trial wasn't far from her mind, thoughts of Jared dominated. She was tempted to accept his offer—his implied offer. She could use a night with him. He'd proved to be a more than considerate lover. Anticipating his touch, the warmth of his caresses on her body, she shivered. Did she dare spend the night with him when Mel was with them? What would her daughter think? At fifteen, Mel understood what went on between women and men. Would she think less of her if she knew her mother was having sex outside of marriage?

  “What're you doing?” Erma asked. “You're not sleeping, are you?”

  “I wasn't asleep. Just enjoying the feeling of the inside of my eyelids on my eyeballs.”

  “Sometimes you're weird, Sandra.” Erma clapped her refilled glass down on the conference table. “I think we should take Jared up on dinner. I called Rufina. The girl who picked Mel and her up has gotten them safely back to her cottage. She's going to stay with them until after dinner. After we eat, I can take the car back to the ranch.” She stood beside the chair she had previously been sitting in, rising up on her toes and lowering herself, then repeating.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to rid my foot of that cramp. So, you can go with Jared, get laid, and he can bring you home. I'll tell Mel y'all went out for an after-dinner delight.”

  “Erma!”

  “I meant to say after dinner drinks.” She swallowed from her bourbon.

  “Drink more water and less booze. You think it would be terrible of me not to see my daughter until tomorrow at breakfast?”

  “If I thought it was terrible, I wouldn't be suggesting it.”

  Sandra covered her mouth with her hands. Putting thoughts of Mel aside, she wanted to be with Jared, but she didn't want to lead him on. Their relationship had no future, not with her in Galveston and him in Fredericksburg. She'd never leave the Galveston area while Erma was alive, even after Mel went off to college. Those two were her only family.

  Jared's family was in Fredericksburg, and his real estate work didn't take him out of town, as far as she could tell. Even if she wanted things to develop between them, long distance relationships rarely lasted. Still, she'd like to spend some time with him. They hadn't been together in a while, though it seemed like forever.

  Sandra's phone emitted two musical notes, a signal she'd received a text. “Gotta be from BJ.”

  Erma perked up. “What's she say?”

  “’Hope to arrive with Efrain the day after tomorrow late.’”

  “That's good news.”

  Sandra said, “It's only good news if I can keep Rex talking for a day or a day and a half or however long it'll be until she gets here. I'm going to tell her to hurry.” She texted back.

  “There's Kathy Lynn, too, don't forget.”

  “Holt's not going to call her. You can count on it. I don't know what's behind his hesitancy, but I feel certain she won't be testifying.” Sandra sat up. “He probably had as hard a time pinning her down as we did.”

  Erma rubbed her lips. “We still have Rufina. We can start with Rufina instead of taking her last, and when BJ and Efrain show up, we can put them on.”

  “If we decide to call Rufina, that's the only way we can proceed. The thing is, Judge Danforth said we only have until the end of this week. We're running out of time.”

  “He's full of shit. His assignment may have given him a set number of days, but he can't rush us. He can't make us do anything. This is a murder trial, and anything he does like that will be reversible error.”

  Sandra nodded throughout Erma's statement. What she said was true, but pushy judges sometimes influenced jurors. She hoped it wouldn't come to that. She didn't want the jury to think the judge had an opinion on the case—that he favored the prosecution, for instance.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The next morning, they took Mel with them so she could watch Rex's testimony. They arrived back in the courtroom to find Holt and a young lawyer huddled near the empty jury box. Holt nodded at them. The defense team took their usual places, with Sandra in the lead counsel chair.

  When the judge came in, Holt and his associate scurried to their table. The associate remained standing next to Holt, a cell phone in her hand. She looked ready to run. While the jury filed in, Sandra let her mind wander. The evening with Jared had been great, just what she'd needed, even if it was in the middle of a trial. The more time she spent with him, the more she thought she'd like to try to make a long-distance relationship work.

  Erma interrupted her reverie. “Hey, something's up.”

  “Call your next witness, Mr. Holt.”

  “Roy Schindler the Third, also known as Rex Schindler.”

  Erma watched the door. Sandra watched Holt. He didn't indicate by his body language he was expecting anyone to enter, not looking in the direction of the door. A minute passed. Another two minutes. Three, a long time to wait for a witness. The judge's quiet tapping of a pen on his desk pad sounded like a loud thumping.

  “Mr. Holt?”

  “Yes, Your Honor?”

  “Where is your witness?”

  Holt shook his head. “I don't know, sir. He said he'd be here early, at eight-thirty, but no one has seen him.”

  “Approach the bench.” When all four attorneys were within spitting distance, the judge whispered, “I trust you've phoned his home number?”

  “All he has is a cell phone. We've called it continuously for the last hour.”

  The judge looked at Sandra. Sandra looked at Erma. “Was he at BJ's last night?”

  Erma shook her head. “No sign of him. Just us girls.”

  The judge asked Holt, “When's the last time you saw him?”

  “Last evening.”

  The judge lifted his head. “Deputy Cortez, accompany the jurors back to the jury room.” He flicked his fingers at the attorneys. “Y'all go back to your tables.”

  After the jurors left, the judge said, “You have another witness you can call, Mr. Holt?”

  Holt licked his lips. He said something to his associate. He tossed a pen from hand to hand and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

  “Mr. Holt, I asked you a question.” The judge's face was like a dark cloud.

  Holt asked, “May we have a short recess, Judge?”

  “Thirty-minutes. If you don't have a witness here to testify in thirty-minutes, you'll have to rest your case. I warned both of you at pretrial that I will not wait on witnesses.” The judge's chair banged against the back wall when he vacated it.

  Holt's face reflected the fear in Sandra's gut—an airy adrenaline rush, alarm sweeping over her like a wave.

  “Holy shit.” Erma’s eyes had grown as round as fifty-cent pieces. “What are we going to do?”

  Sandra's hands shook. Holt conferred in harsh tones with his associate, who had misery written all over her face. Erma grabbed Sandra's elbow.

  “I heard you.” Sandra jerked away. “We have less than thirty-minutes to decide if Rufina will testify or not.”

  “Regardless,” Erma hissed, “BJ and Efrain will never make it here in time.”

  “Let's get out of here.” Sandra took her purse and pushed through the swinging door that separated them from the gallery. She beckoned at Rufina and Mel. “You, too.”

  “What the hell could be up with Rex?” Erma asked as the four of them traipsed to the end of the hall, out of anyone's earshot.

  “No clue,” Sandra said. “If he doesn't show up, he'd better be dead, because if he's not, Holt’s going to kill him.” If Rex failed to appear, Holt would rest his case, making it show time for the defense. Sandr
a's heart thumped. Nut-cutting time.

  Rufina leaned against the windowsill with her arms around herself, dark brown eyes darting back and forth between the lawyers. Mel had the same stance, except she stared toward the floor. Erma muttered under her breath.

  Sandra stood with hands on her hips, like she was about to lecture a class. “This is how I see it. Our case consists of Rufina,” she nodded as she gave Rufina a hint of a smile, “BJ, Efrain, and possibly Kathy Lynn, if we could find her to testify.”

  “Kathy Lynn has made herself as scarce as Rex has today,” Erma said.

  “Just about,” Sandra said. “BJ and Efrain are on their way from Mexico. I have no idea if she can get him past the border. I don't even know what mode of transportation she took down there.” If BJ didn't hide Efrain in her vehicle, how would he come over? Did BJ have access to whatever legal documents he needed? She hadn't told them how she would go about getting him across, just that she would. If Border Patrol caught her smuggling him, she'd be in real trouble.

  “She took that giant car,” Mel said. “The one with the ginormous trunk.” Her eyes went from her mother to her grandmother. “What? One of the maids told me.”

  “The Chrysler 300.” Rufina ran her hands up and down her skirt. “It's Billie J's favorite car.”

  “How come I haven't seen it?” Erma's eyebrows drew together.

  “Doesn't matter,” Sandra said. “Let's focus on the trial.”

  “She doesn't drive it much since Roy died,” Rufina said. “She keeps it closed up in the garage.”

  Sandra's fingers tingled. She kept flexing them. She needed to shake off her nervousness. “I hope it's not so fancy that Border Patrol will want to check it out, but that's not my immediate problem.” She eyed each one of them and frowned. If she lost Rufina's case, she would be letting them down, but Rufina most of all, of course.

  “Unless we put you on the witness stand, Rufina, and drag out your testimony, and unless Holt crosses you until the cows come home, there still isn't enough time for them to make the drive.” Sandra began pacing.