by Sara Luck
“Oh!” Despite herself, Phoebe laughed. “Then he got just what he deserves. I only wish it’d been Frank. But it’s over now and Will is home.”
“And do you know what I think he needs? Cookies and milk,” Christian said.
“Then he shall have them,” Gwen said. “We made the kind you like best.”
“Are they oatmeal?”
“Yes, with currents,” Ina Claire said as she and Will ran toward the house.
• • •
As they sat around the table, Will recounted how Frank had come to Prinsen House to get him. “I told Uncle Frank that you wouldn’t like it if you came to get me and I wasn’t there. Hannah tried to stop him, but he pushed her down.” Will motioned to show how Frank had done it.
“When Mr. Frank brought Will to the Evanses, all that boy could say was ‘I want to go home,’ ” Crecy said. “When I found out who he belonged to, I told Miss Myrtle I’d bring him back to you, but Mr. Chauncey told me to mind my own business. I knew that wasn’t right. That’s why I came here, even if I had to walk.”
“And I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that, Crecy.”
Crecy flashed a broad smile. “I remember when we both worked for Miss Juliet, how when she fussed at me you’d take up for me. We were friends then.”
Phoebe walked over to embrace her. “What do you mean then? We’re still friends.”
“Crecy, you said you didn’t want to go back to the Evanses,” Gwen said. “Do you want a job?”
“Yes, ma’am, I expect I need to work.”
“How would you like to work out here in the country? Just the other day, Katie said we needed a full-time cook over at the ostrich farm, and it seems to me like you would be a good candidate for the job.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Phoebe said. “I can vouch for her cooking—except I seem to recall she has a little trouble with rarebit.”
“You would remember that.”
Both women laughed together.
At that moment there was a loud knock, and Phoebe went to the door. Three armed men were standing on the porch, and each was wearing a badge.
“Mrs. Sloan, we’re looking for a big black man who we think works for you. Do you know if he’s here?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“May we look around?”
“I . . .”
“We don’t need your permission: we have a warrant to search the premises.”
“There’s no need for that.” July stepped up behind Phoebe.
“Man oh man, this is a big one, all right, Enoch,” one of the other deputies said. “I’d say he fits the description, wouldn’t you?”
“Were you at the home of Chauncey Evans today?” the deputy asked.
“We both were.” Christian joined Phoebe and July. “Can you tell me what this is about?”
“It’s about assault and battery, and about kidnapping.”
“Nobody kidnapped anybody,” Phoebe said, “unless it was Frank Sloan, who took Will without my permission. He’s the one who took him to the Evanses’, and I sent these two gentlemen to get Will back.”
“Ma’am, we have a warrant to arrest this man,” the deputy said. “It’s not our duty to decide whether he’s guilty or not. But it is our duty to bring him back to Sheriff Sturgeon.”
“How dare you accuse July of kidnapping? I told you, I asked him to go get my son.”
“It’s all right. I’ll go with them.” July looked at the three deputies. “But I’ll not let you tie me to a whipping post.”
“A whipping post? What are you talking about? I don’t even know what that is,” the deputy said. “All we’re going to do is take you to jail. What happens to you after that will be up to the judge.”
“Don’t worry, July, we’ll get a lawyer,” Phoebe said. “We’ll get this all straightened out.”
“Put your hands behind your back,” a deputy said.
“Do you have to handcuff him?” Phoebe asked.
“Ma’am, you can see what a big man he is.” The deputy shook his head. “If he was to try anything, why, all three of us couldn’t bring him down. We’d have to shoot him.”
“No!” Will yelled. “No, no, no. July is my friend. Don’t take him away.” Will wrapped his arms around July’s legs.
July bent down to Will. “I won’t be gone for long, but while I’m gone, I’m leaving you in charge of Wapi. Make sure he has water and he gets alfalfa. Can you do that for me?”
Will nodded.
July stood and then put his hands behind his back. One of the deputies slipped on the handcuffs.
Christian patted his friend on his back as the three deputies led him out to an enclosed and barred wagon.
Christian had a sinking feeling as he watched the wagon roll away. His thoughts went back to their arrival in New York, where July was treated as second-class. He was a foreigner and a black man. Phoebe had said, “We’ll get this all straightened out.” Christian hoped she was right.
20
“July? His name is July?” Clifford Frazier asked. Frazier was the ex–attorney general of the Arizona Territory, and he’d represented Yhomas when he established his ostrich farm.
“July is the only name I’ve ever heard him called,” Yhomas Prinsen said.
“He’s got to have a last name. Can you come up with something?”
Christian smiled. “He does have another name. When we were coming through Ellis Island, he registered as Julius Van Koopmans.”
“Van Koopmans,” Yhomas chuckled. “Of course, that makes sense.”
Frazier looked at Yhomas with a questioning expression. “Is there something significant about the name Van Koopmans that I should be aware of?”
“Just that she’s a wonderful lady and a friend to us both,” Yhomas said.
“A friend to all three of us,” Christian said. “July worked for her for close to twenty years.”
“All right.” Frazier wrote the name on a piece of paper. “As of now, I am officially the counselor of record for Mr. Julius Van Koopmans.”
• • •
Christian, Phoebe, and Will, the Bucknells and the Prinsens, were all in the courtroom, sitting on the left side of the gallery. Chauncey Evans and his wife, along with both sets of Sloans, were there as well, and they sat on the right side. July was before the bar, sitting at the defense table with Clifford Frazier.
Judge Johnstone looked at the charge sheet that was before him. “Is counsel for the defense present?”
Frazier stood. “I am, Your Honor.”
“Prosecution?”
The district attorney stood. “T. W. Flannigan, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Frazier, I’ve been informed that your client has waived trial by jury and wishes his case to be heard by the bench.”
“That is correct, Your Honor.”
“Mr. Van Koopmans, are you aware that in forfeiting a trial by jury you are agreeing to abide by my decision?”
“Yes, sir, Your Honor.”
“I object!” Frank shouted. “I think a case this important should be heard by a jury.”
Judge Johnstone hammered his gavel loudly on the sound block and pointed to Frank. “Mr. Sloan. You have no standing in this case. You are forbidden, sir, from speaking at all, except from the witness stand, and then only in response to questions from counsel. One more outburst from you, and I’ll have you removed from this courtroom until such time as your presence is required as a witness. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” a chastened Frank replied.
“Mr. Prosecutor, make your case.”
Flannigan stood. “Your Honor, this case consists of two charges against the accused—one for assault and battery, and one for kidnapping. I ask that the charges be severed as to verdicts.”
“Do you have any objection, Mr. Frazier?” Judge Johnstone asked.
“No objection, Your Honor.”
“Very well, you may proceed, Mr. Flannigan.”<
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“Prosecution calls Frank Sloan to the witness stand.”
Frank glared at Phoebe as he went to the witness stand and was sworn in.
“Mr. Sloan, did you remove Will Sloan, a boy of four years and your nephew by blood, from the Prinsen House?”
“I did.”
“Why did you take him?”
“I found him to be totally unsupervised, running loose on an ostrich farm. And because my own brother was killed by an ostrich, I was naturally worried about him. My late brother’s wife has, by her scandalous behavior, shown herself to be an unfit mother, and I was preparing to sue for guardianship of Will on that alone. . . . But when I found Will to be abandoned by his mother, I felt that, for my nephew’s safety, I had no choice but to move him.”
“Where did you take him?”
“I took him to the home of Chauncey Evans, my father-in-law, and a gentleman of impeccable reputation.”
“Thank you. I have no further questions.”
“Mr. Frazier?”
Frazier stood, but he didn’t approach Frank. “Mr. Sloan, where was Will when you took him?”
“I’ve already answered that question. He was at the Prinsen farm.”
“Was he outside, among the ostriches?”
“Well, no.”
“Isn’t it true that he was in the house, being looked after by Hannah Bucknell?”
“She’s nothing but a child herself.”
“She is fourteen years old, and it’s standard and acceptable procedure for young ladies, even younger than fourteen, to look after children. In addition, it was broad daylight and they were in the house. Do you know why he was there?”
“Yes. There was a fire at Phoebe’s farm.”
“Thank you. No further questions. But, Your Honor, I reserve the right to recall this witness.”
The next witness called was Chauncey Evans, who, under questioning and at the prosecutor’s urging, showed his bandaged hand to the judge.
“How many fingers were broken?”
“Three,” Evans said angrily. “That black son of a bitch grabbed my hand and squeezed so hard I thought I was going to pass out from the pain.”
The judge rapped his gavel on the sound block again. “Watch your language, sir.”
“I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
“Did you turn Will over to them?”
“No, why should I? I’d never seen either one of them before. I know that Will was my son-in-law’s blood nephew, and he left him with me for safekeeping. I felt obligated to do just what he asked me to do.”
“Did you point a gun at Mr. De Wet?”
“I certainly did. As I said, I didn’t know who he was. Why should I have turned the child over to them?”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
Again Frazier stood, but did not approach the witness.
“Mr. Evans, did Mr. De Wet tell you that Mrs. Sloan had sent him for her son?”
“So what? Any stranger could have said that.”
“What was Will’s reaction to Mr. De Wet’s appearance at your door?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t pay any attention to his reaction. I was more concerned with my obligation to keep him safe.”
“Thank you. You may stand down.”
“I have no more witnesses, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said.
Phoebe was the first witness whom Frazier called, and unlike in his cross of the witnesses for the prosecution, he approached her.
“Did you leave Will in Hannah’s keeping?”
“I did.”
“Have you ever left her with Hannah before?”
“Yes, Hannah and her sister, Adeline, are very responsible young ladies who think the world of Will, and he thinks the world of them. I felt no apprehension at all in leaving him with them.”
“Did you ask Mr. De Wet and Mr. Van Koopmans to go to the Evanses’ house to pick up Will?”
“Yes.”
“So as far as you’re concerned, there was no kidnapping involved.”
“Will is my child; they were picking him up for me. And I hasten to add, Will wasn’t there by my authority in the first place. Frank Sloan had no business taking my son there.”
“Your witness, Counselor.”
The prosecutor stood. “Mrs. Sloan, is it true that you are living with two men: Christian De Wet and this black man, who I understand goes by the name July?”
“No, that isn’t true.”
“May I remind you that you are under oath? I ask you again, are you living with two men?”
“No, I live with three. Mr. De Wet, July, and Trinidad Arriola.”
“Four men, Mama! I live with you, too!”
Those on the left side of the gallery laughed, as did Judge Johnstone. The prosecutor, realizing that the question may have backfired, stepped away.
Frazier’s next witness was Hannah Bucknell. “Hannah, when Mr. Sloan came for Will, what did he say?”
“He said he was taking Will.”
“What did you say?”
“I asked if Miss Phoebe sent him. He didn’t answer me. He just came in and grabbed Will.”
“And did Will agree to go with him?”
“No, sir, Will cried and told me not to let his uncle Frank take him. I asked him again if Miss Phoebe had sent him, and he told me it was none of my business. When I tried to take Will back, Mr. Sloan pushed me down. Will yelled at me to go get his mama and ask her to come get him, so that’s what I did.”
“Thank you, Hannah.”
“I have no questions of this child,” the prosecutor said.
Christian was the next witness and he said that, yes, he and July had gone to retrieve Will for Will’s mother. And, yes, July had grabbed Evans’s hand, but only after Evans had pointed his pistol and threatened to shoot Christian.
“As far as I’m concerned, July . . . that is, Mr. Van Koopmans, saved my life.”
“Are you sure he intended to shoot you?”
“I know that his gun was loaded.”
Frazier walked back over to the defense table, picked up an envelope, then brought it to the bench, where he dumped out six bullets. “Your Honor, I submit these bullets as defense exhibit one.”
The prosecutor did not cross-examine Christian.
Defense’s last witness was Will.
“Will, when Mr. De Wet and July came to Mr. Evans’s house, what did you think?”
“I was happy. I yelled at Wet to take me home.”
“And did you see Mr. Evans point a gun at Mr. De Wet?”
“It scared me. I thought he was going to shoot Wet.”
“Your witness.”
“No questions.”
“Your Honor, I have no more witnesses to call but I would like to—”
“Put that black giant on the stand! Make him tell how he broke my fingers!” Evans shouted.
Again Judge Johnstone pounded his gavel. “This is the second time my court has been interrupted, and I will not have it happen again!”
The judge looked back toward Frazier. “Please continue, Counselor.”
“I would like to call Mr. Frank Sloan back to the stand.”
“The court reminds the witness that he has been previously sworn in,” the judge said as Frank took his seat.
“You testified that you went to pick up Will because you knew there was a fire at Phoebe Sloan’s place.”
“That’s right.”
“How did you know there was fire?”
“I saw the fire.”
“You saw the fire? Or you started the fire?”
“I don’t know what anyone has told you, but I didn’t start that fire!” Frank yelled.
Frazier returned to the defense table, then removed something from a second envelope—the object Christian had found in the brush near the canal.
“Mr. Sloan, do you recognize this?”
“Yes, that’s my brother’s knife.”
“Your brother’s knife, you say?”
&n
bsp; “Yes. As you can see, it has his initials.” Frank told Frazier to turn the knife over. “JES.”
“Isn’t it true, Mr. Sloan, that you’ve been carrying this knife since his death? And I remind you that you’re under oath.”
“Yes, I’ve been carrying it. But I lost it, and I thank whoever found it.” He reached for the knife, but Frazier pulled it back.
“Suppose I told you that this knife was found near the uninvolved part of the alfalfa field that was burned? And suppose I told you that evidence shows use of an accelerant to start the fire? The location of this knife, and the way the fire was started, might suggest that whoever was carrying this knife started the fire, don’t you agree?”
“Objection, Your Honor. Calls for a conclusion,” Flannigan said.
“Sustained.”
“Mr. Sloan, do you have any idea how your brother’s knife, the knife that you admit you’ve been carrying, might’ve turned up near the point where the fire originated?”
“I suggest you ask that Mexican who works for Phoebe. I lost this knife months ago. I thought I’d misplaced it and that it would show up. But now that I think about it, I’m sure Trinidad or Cornello stole it. If you want to know how the knife got there, ask one of them.”
“No further questions, Your Honor,” Frazier said. “Defense rests.”
“Your Honor, I—”
“You may stand down, Mr. Sloan,” the judge interrupted.
Judge Johnstone looked out over the courtroom. “I’ve heard the witnesses, and I see no need to retire before I pronounce the verdicts.
“For the charge of assault and battery, I find that the action of the defendant, Julius Van Koopmans, also known as July, was entirely justified, as he had reasonable cause to believe that Chauncey Evans had every intention of shooting Christian De Wet. Therefore to the charge of assault and battery, I find the defendant innocent.
“As to the charge of kidnapping, it is obvious that the only person guilty of kidnapping is Frank Sloan, who took the boy without consent of the boy’s mother. As Sloan was not charged, I cannot find against him. However, as to the kidnapping charge against the defendant, I find him to be innocent, and I hereby release him from custody. Court is adjourned.”
Those sitting on the left side of the court hurried forward to congratulate a smiling July. Will seemed happiest of all, and he tackled July’s leg before July picked him up and set him on his shoulders.