by Jody Hedlund
Drew watched Marianne, the longing in his eyes palpable and the yearning in his expression almost desperate. He nodded at Marianne and then slowly turned, resignation tightening his features.
Marianne’s smile faltered for only a second, and the sparkle in her eyes dimmed. But she strode forward nonetheless until she reached the front of the church. There she directed the children to sit on the floor in front of the pews, then took her place standing off to the side.
Only after the judge began to address the gathering did Reinhold finally catch her attention. He nodded and gave a slight wave of his hand. Her smile in return was forced, almost sad. The truth was there for all who wanted to see it. Marianne loved Drew, but he’d given her up. After all that had happened, he was doing the honorable thing and setting Marianne free to find a better life rather than being tied to a man charged with murder. He’d tasked Reinhold with helping him. And now Reinhold couldn’t let him down, could he?
Drew sat stiffly in the front pew. The room was stuffy, even with the windows open, and his shirt clung to his back. He wanted to tear off the bow tie his father had made him wear and throw aside the suit coat that confined him. Deep inside, though, he realized that even if he tossed off the shackles, he still wouldn’t be free.
His father had been talking for some time and making a case for his innocence. But Drew had heard it all before. A general in a battle couldn’t be held responsible for the deaths of the men under him. He was only the leader, and as carefully as he attempted to protect his regiment, he wasn’t God. He couldn’t prevent accidents either from within or outside their camp. Although a general might feel sorrowful when he lost good men, it was inevitable at times because life was a battle. Their enemy, the devil, was sneaking around seeking whom he may devour.
His father had used the same line of defense the day of the last trial. Drew understood the rationale behind it. Nevertheless, it didn’t ease his guilt. And likely never would. But that wasn’t his father’s concern. His father had one goal in mind. He wanted a declaration of innocence for Drew, and he’d stop at nothing to get it.
Drew stared at his shoes, which had been polished to a perfect shine. Only a dozen steps away, Marianne stood against the wall. He didn’t dare look up from his shoes or he’d lock eyes with her again. And it was torture to see her and know he was leaving her behind. As soon as the trial was over today, he was catching the first train out of Illinois.
“Your Honor,” his father was saying to the judge, “although the sheriff has gathered testimonies from townspeople as well as from other orphans, none of them were at the pond when Ned Colson was killed and tossed into the water. All the sheriff’s so-called evidence is pure conjecture.”
The sheriff sat several seats back. The stout man had done nothing but scowl since Drew and his father had entered the church.
“In fact,” his father continued, “I’d even go so far as to say the sheriff has a bias against my client. He’s made his dislike and opposition of the orphans and the Children’s Aid Society very clear in this town. As a result it would appear he has ulterior motives for smearing my client’s good name.”
The sheriff started to grumble, but a sharp look from the judge silenced him.
“We have only one true witness of the murder, a young lad by the name of Liverpool.”
“Your Honor,” Marianne interrupted, “I hate to contradict Mr. Brady, but I’ve brought a couple dozen witnesses.”
At her declaration, Drew’s head snapped up, and he couldn’t keep himself from looking at her. Again she smiled at him in such a way that told him everything would be all right. It was the same confident smile he’d always given her to assuage her worries. It was strange to be on the receiving end this time.
“A couple dozen witnesses?” The judge was a friend of his father; his father had made sure of that. Thus Drew didn’t need a couple dozen witnesses to rise to his defense. He really didn’t need any. His father would bring Liverpool to the front, tear him apart in front of everyone, and then the judge would rule in Drew’s favor. The proceedings would be over in less than a quarter of an hour. There was no sense dragging this out.
“Your Honor,” Marianne said, waving her hand toward the children sitting on the floor in front of him, “surely you can’t deny these eager young children the chance to speak on behalf of Mr. Brady?”
Drew sat up straight and took stock of the children. He hadn’t paid them any attention when they’d come in with Marianne, but now he saw that they were the orphans. Familiar faces peered back at him, smiling tentatively. They were the children he’d grown to love during the long days and nights of travel.
He smiled back, touching each dear face with his gaze before landing upon the last one, a little girl with blond curls and big brown eyes. She wasn’t with the others. Instead, she was dressed in the most exquisite white dress, almost as if she were a princess. She was standing next to an elegant woman, clinging tightly to her hand.
Dorothea?
His sights snapped to Marianne. As if sensing his unasked question, she nodded. And this time he saw the peace in her eyes and knew she’d finally accepted the hardest part about loving the children—letting them go.
“Please, Your Honor,” Marianne said more earnestly. “Many of these children have traveled for miles to support Mr. Brady. Won’t you let them each say a sentence or two? I promise it won’t take long.”
His father perked up at the word support. He exchanged a glance with the judge, clearly giving the judge permission to allow the unusual proceedings.
As one by one the children rose and stood facing the crowded room, they began to list off all the things he’d done on the trip.
“Mr. Brady stayed up all night to empty the buckets in our leaky room at the hotel the night it rained.”
“When I was sick, he gave up his seat on the train so I could lay down.”
“I left my shoes behind at one of our stops and he bought me new ones the very next day.”
“I liked his stories and games. They kept me from cryin’ and missing my grandma.”
“He listened to me and prayed with me every day.”
“I had a big sliver in my finger and Mr. Brady got it out.”
“He always had a cheerful attitude and made me smile or laugh.”
The children looked straight at him when they spoke, and each word filled his heart until it felt like it would burst.
“You cared about each one of us like we were real people, and no one’s ever done that before,” the last little boy said with a toothless smile that made Drew’s eyes sting with unshed tears. “We love you, Mr. Brady.”
Around him, sniffles filled the air. Marianne walked to the front, wiping tears from her cheeks. She hugged the boy, who then scampered back to his spot on the floor amidst the others.
“As you can see, Your Honor,” Marianne said, “Mr. Brady has done an exemplary job with the children. I too bear witness to the love Mr. Brady showed. I watched him day in and day out tirelessly sacrifice for these children. Time after time he put their needs ahead of his own.”
Her gaze radiated a pride for him that rushed through him, running into the cracks and crevices of his past hurts—the hurts of a young boy who’d never received praise, who’d always lived in the shadow of his older brother, who’d somehow never been able to live up to his family name.
“Mr. Brady is a rare kind of man who deserves to be lauded for all the many things he’s done right and not singled out for something over which he had no control. His great concern and sense of responsibility for the loss of Ned Colson proves just how deeply he loves the orphans. Even though he wasn’t involved in the boy’s death in any way, he still holds himself accountable for it.”
Neither his father nor the judge made any effort to stop Marianne. Drew had to admit, she was making a good case for him. Maybe his father wouldn’t have to say anything more.
“If you must hold anyone accountable for Ned’s death, then it should
be me, not Drew,” she continued.
He sat up straighter and shook his head.
She didn’t look at him but instead spoke in a rush. “I was the one watching the children when the boys wandered off. I should have tried harder to make them obey. At the very least, I should have gone after them. I should have sensed there were problems. If I’d been a better leader, I would have been able to stop them—”
“That’s ludicrous.” Drew stood to his feet. His pulse was thumping erratically, and he was suddenly overcome with fear for Marianne. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his father or the judge or the townspeople decided to blame her for the crime. “You know you weren’t involved.”
“I’m just as much involved as you, if not more,” she replied.
He turned around and looked out over the sanctuary. People stood in every inch of space available. The doors were open, and there were people standing outside too.
He had to make them understand that Marianne wasn’t to blame. “You cannot accuse Miss Neumann. She wasn’t the one who killed Ned Colson and tied the stone to his body.”
“Neither were you.”
“I know that, but as the leader of the trip, I should have done more to protect him.”
“And as the co-leader of the trip, I should have done more too.”
With each of her rebuttals, his frustration mounted. “You’re being irrational. There’s nothing more you could have done!”
“And there’s nothing more you could have done either.”
Her words rang out over the deathly silence of the sanctuary and echoed down to the deepest part of his soul. There’s nothing more you could have done. There’s nothing more you could have done.
Every pair of eyes in the room was fixed on him waiting for his answer. But what could he say? She’d backed him into a corner. If he demanded she free herself of responsibility for the crime, then how could he do any less for himself?
He’d clung to his guilt for so long he didn’t know that he could let go. And yet, if he held on, would she do the same? He didn’t want her to be strangled by the same chains that bound him.
“You’re a good man, Andrew Brady. Everyone in this room knows it, and it’s time you accepted it too.”
Someone in the back of the room began to clap, and soon the entire room joined in. People surged to their feet clapping. The children jumped up and cheered. Even his father was clapping, slowly, almost begrudgingly.
Marianne smiled at Drew, her eyes daring him to defy her. In doing so he’d have to defy a hundred or more other people. And she knew it.
A whisper of release blew gently through him. It was soft, but it was there, almost as if someone had turned the lock that had held him prisoner for so long. He was free. All he had to do was let go of the chains. Could he do it?
“Now that we’ve heard from all the children,” the judge said after the clapping had faded and everyone sat back down, “I do need to call forth our witness—”
A commotion at the back of the sanctuary halted the judge. Two young boys had burst into the room and were followed by an older couple. Immediately Drew recognized George and Peter and the dairy farmer he’d placed them with.
“Sorry we’re late, Mr. Brady,” George said, dragging his older brother behind him. Peter stumbled along after his brother. He stopped every few feet, causing George to stop and jerk him forward.
Drew was satisfied to see the two boys still together. From a quick survey of their new parents, who’d stopped at the back of the aisle, Drew could once again tell from their demeanor they were good people and the boys would be well taken care of.
“When Miss Neumann rode out to the farm yesterday and told us you were being put on trial today for murder, we knew we had to come to town even if we had to walk the whole way to git here.” George had been the more talkative of the two boys, and that apparently hadn’t changed.
So Marianne had ridden all over the countryside to gather the orphans? He studied her, noting the dark circles under her eyes. She must have spent hours during the past week spreading the news of his trial and imploring the families to come.
“Young man,” the judge said, frowning at George and Peter, “we’re ready to move on to our next witness. If you’d like to say something nice about Mr. Brady, you’ll need to wait until we’ve finished the trial.”
George proceeded to the front, regardless of the judge’s dismissal. Peter had no choice but to follow his brother. When the pair stood side by side near the desk the judge occupied, George stared out over the crowd with a solemn expression.
“Me and Peter didn’t want Mr. Brady to get hanged on account of Ned’s death,” George said. “Mr. Brady don’t deserve to swing from the end of a rope any more than you do, Judge. We can swear on it.”
The judge started to dismiss the boys again, but Drew’s father held up a hand. “Boys, are you telling us you can prove Mr. Brady’s innocence beyond a shadow of a doubt?”
“Yes, sir,” George replied. “I’m a-sayin’ that Mr. Brady didn’t kill no one nohow.”
“And how do you know this?” His father’s voice remained calm and kind, the same tone he used when trying to win someone’s favor.
“Me and Pete,” George said, “well, we saw what really happened the day Ned drowned.”
“You did?” Mr. Brady stepped forward. “Then why are you only now coming forward to tell us the truth about what happened?”
George glanced at Peter, who hung his head. “We wanted to, mister, but . . . well, we were afeared.”
“Frightened?” Mr. Brady said gently. “And why’s that?”
George turned to face the crowd, his gaze fixed on Liverpool, who was sitting next to Reinhold. “Because Liverpool told Peter not to say anything or he’d drown me.”
Liverpool glared back a warning.
But George quickly turned back to Mr. Brady. “We decided Liverpool never said he would drown Peter if I said anything, so I’m doin’ the telling. Besides, my new ma and pa told me God would want us to come clean with the truth. Thataway we can be forgiven and grow up to be good men.”
The dairy farmer at the back clutched his hat in large work-roughened hands. His face was plain but kind. He nodded at George, the earnestness in his eyes imploring him to tell the rest of his tale.
George nodded back and then faced the judge. “I’m here to tell you that Liverpool got spittin’ mad at Ned and hit him over the head with a rock. When he realized Ned weren’t alive, he rigged up Ned’s body to the rock, dragged him out into the pond and let him go. He sank clear away.”
At the new revelation, murmurs and whispers filled the air around Drew.
Liverpool shot to his feet. His face had gone pale, making his pocked scars stand out. “He’s lying through his teeth! That ain’t the way it happened. Mr. Brady tied him up and dropped him in.”
“Were you there to see this happen?” Drew’s father asked sharply.
Liverpool hesitated and then jutted out his chin, his expression taut with defiance. “No, I already ran off by then. But—”
“So you’re asking us to believe your account of what happened that day when supposedly you ran off and didn’t see everything. But we’re to ignore two witnesses who claim they saw the murder firsthand?”
“They’re lying, I tell you!”
“They have no reason to lie. In fact, with the threat leveled against them, it’s quite a feat of courage for them to come forward and say anything at all.”
Liverpool’s retort died in the air.
“Your Honor,” Drew’s father said, his lips curling in disgust, “we have an unreliable witness, one who quite clearly has the ulterior motive of shifting the blame away from himself. And now we have two witnesses who have come forward with the truth.”
“I’d like to hear from the other witness.” The judge nodded at Peter.
Peter visibly swallowed and turned his attention to his boots. Drew was tempted to jump up, cross to him, and squeeze h
is shoulders. But he held himself back. Such a move could be taken as collaboration and arouse suspicion.
“I know you’re worried about keeping your brother out of trouble,” the judge said to Peter. “But if I’m going to count you as a witness to the crime, I need to hear directly from you too.”
Peter glanced up, and for a moment Drew thought he was going to look at Liverpool. Instead, Peter looked at the dairy farmer standing at the back just inside the door in his scuffed boots, faded trousers, and patched shirt. The man nodded to Peter the same way he had to George. His kind eyes, crinkled at the corners from age and the elements, encouraged Peter to go on.
“What did you see, young man?” the judge asked.
Peter again swallowed hard. “I s-saw Liverp-pool h-hit Ned.” Peter’s voice constricted, and for a long while he couldn’t seem to get another word out. Seeing Peter’s predicament, George slipped his smaller hand into his brother’s and squeezed.
Peter took a deep breath and spoke again, this time as smoothly as if he’d never stuttered in his life. “Liverpool killed Ned and then tried to cover up the murder by sinking him to the bottom of Percy’s Pond.”
When he finished his statement, he looked at the dairy farmer again. The man smiled at Peter, pleasure shining in his weathered face. At the sight of the man’s approval, Peter’s eyes rounded, revealing pride in himself for his courage, for facing his fear and coming out stronger as a result.
Once again, whispers and chatter rose around the church. The judge silenced the gathering with a bang of his gavel. “I think I have more than enough information to make a decision regarding the murder of Ned Colson.”
“If you ain’t gonna believe me, I’m leaving.” Liverpool started to rise, but Reinhold laid a hand on the boy’s arm. Reinhold’s expression contained everything Drew felt—sadness but determination to help the boy. Sullenly, Liverpool sank back down on the pew next to Reinhold.
Drew’s father’s closing statement and the judge’s pronouncement of his innocence passed in a blur. When the trial was adjourned, the children swarmed around him. He spoke to each one by name, thanked them for coming, and made a point of going to each of their new parents and thanking them as well.