by Sara Orwig
“I have to let all concerned know I’m related to him.”
“I don’t give a damn if you don’t…. You and Travis will be safer that way. You saw the mob out front. We have to get on with this trial.”
“I’m worried about Travis if his brother is found guilty.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve already ordered three of my deputies to close in on him. For his own sake, I’m going to lock him up. It isn’t legal, but it’ll keep him safe.”
She closed his eyes as relief made her weak. “Thank you! I’m terrified for his safety. You know he’ll be wild to protect his brother.”
“We’re ready. I won’t let him into the courtroom with his gun. And Crystal, when this is over, you’re going to have to hide him and get him out of town. Maybe for a long time.”
She nodded, her terror increasing because she couldn’t imagine them taking Travis prisoner without a dreadful fight. “You know he fought in the war. He was a captain.”
Wade’s brows drew together as he frowned. “No, I didn’t know that. Out here men don’t talk much about their pasts. Well, I know he can shoot. But I don’t think he’ll shoot men he knows who are only trying to hold him. We’ll get him locked up behind bars as fast as we can. If he has to hand over his weapons before the trial begins, he won’t be able to cause much trouble.”
“He’s also a Comanche. I don’t know—”
“Oh, hell!”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, startled by Wade’s frown and exclamation.
“Comanche. The best. Or the worst, depending on how you want to describe them—best damn cavalry there is. They’re the best or meanest fighters on the plains. Damn. I may not wait until a verdict to lock him up … a Comanche!”
“I wish I had never taken this job!”
“I thought you liked being justice of the peace more than anything else,” Wade said, focusing on her.
“No,” she answered bluntly, wishing she were home with Jacob and did not have to make the decisions that faced her today.
“I don’t want to have to hang a man and I don’t want to have to hurt a friend. And Travis is a friend. You be careful, Judge. The only person enjoying himself today is Rufus. He’s ready for a fight and looking forward to it. I don’t think he has any case, though.”
Wade turned and left, and she was alone. Dread filled her. It was almost time to put on her robe and go into the courtroom, yet all she wanted to do was go home. Go home with her handsome, dashing, impetuous husband, who had coolly walked up to her when she’d held a gun on him. She covered her face with her hands, fighting against shedding tears.
On the other side of the building, down the hall, Travis paced Brett’s small cell while Rufus had last words with his client. Rufus turned to Travis.
“When we’re handed a verdict, if it is not guilty, you need to get your brother to hell and gone as fast as you can.”
“I’ve already made plans.”
Rufus nodded. “Keep calm, but then I don’t need to tell you that. We should go now.”
Travis clasped Brett on the shoulder. “You’re a tough one,” he said, marveling at Brett’s recovery. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it away from our barn that night.”
“Don’t talk about my being at your place,” Brett said quietly. “No one knows. It’d be better if no one ever knows you’re my brother.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Don’t tell people, Travis. They don’t know you by any name other than Black Eagle. Don’t claim kinship.”
“Let me worry about that.”
“Promise me. Keep it quiet. I’ll be happier. You and your family will be safer.”
“Until after the trial, I promise.”
Brett nodded as a deputy appeared.
“I’ll see you in the courtroom,” Travis said, clamping his mouth shut grimly and leaving the jail. In the hallway, he glanced at Crystal’s office, but it wasn’t the time to go declare his love. She wouldn’t believe him now.
Wade Hinckel and Jed Larson moved close on either side of him. Wade held out his hand. “Sorry, Travis, but I need your rifle and revolver.”
Mildly surprised, Travis handed the rifle over. “I thought the deputies were keeping their arms.”
“All of them are except you, since you’re kin to the accused.”
It was useless to argue, and Travis handed over the revolver from his holster.
“Any knives?”
Travis bent down and removed a knife from his boot. “When do I get them back?”
“When the trial is over. I don’t want any weapons in this courthouse except on specific deputies and myself.”
Travis nodded and glanced across the hall at Raymond Parnell, who stared at Travis with a cold gaze. Anger burned inside him, but Travis kept his features impassive. Parnell had beaten Brett badly after he had taken him prisoner, and Travis knew Parnell hated Indians. By now, Parnell had learned that Travis and Brett were brothers.
He turned his back on Parnell and strode into the courtroom, thankful he had the hidden rifle, a revolver beneath his shirt at the small of his back, and a knife in his other boot. He hated to break Wade Hinckel’s trust, but he had no choice if he were to save Brett.
Elgin Thomas served as bailiff and announced court was in session, Judge Spencer presiding. All rose to their feet as she entered, and her gaze went straight to Travis, who sat directly behind his brother on the front row. Travis’s dark eyes cut into her sharply. His expression was impassive, but she could feel his anger in waves as strong as gusting winds. It was an effort to tear her gaze from his.
Between her table and the rows of benches filled with spectators were two smaller tables, one for the prosecution, the other for the defense. A chair was beside her table where witnesses could sit to give their testimony.
The benches were filled with spectators and reporters. Rufus Milligan always drew a crowd. Armed deputies guarded the doors and were posted throughout the courtroom. She was thankful Wade had not allowed any other weapons into the building.
When she entered the room, Brett rose to his feet and stood, and she was astounded by his swift recovery. The gunshot in his side alone should have kept him flat. The family resemblance showed clearly, even though Brett had braided his hair and it hung down his back in a long pigtail while Travis had his black hair caught behind his head with a strip of rawhide.
And again, she realized how tough the Black Eagles were. Brett looked far better. The swelling had gone down in his face, although he was still covered with dark bruises and angry cuts and welts. He wore a fresh white shirt, a black coat and tie, and black pants which she recognized as Travis’s.
Brett stood beside Rufus, who looked handsome in a fancy white suit. How he kept it white in Cheyenne, she couldn’t imagine. His thick red hair was combed smoothly down. His blue eyes sparkled with eagerness. He looked confident and successful, whereas Clarence Hoyt made no such appearance. He merely looked angry and tired. Usually, Clarence presented a winning case, but when he was up against Rufus, he rarely did well. This time, however, the odds lay with Clarence.
“Be seated,” the bailiff instructed as he called the court to order.
“Before we begin,” she said, once again looking at Travis and hurting, “I want to go on record to disclose my relationship to the defendant, Brett Dancer.” In the next few minutes, she was going to destroy both Travis and Jacob with Cheyenne society, just when Travis had begun to win more of them over. But to have a fair trial, she had to reveal her relationship, even though it meant letting the town know Travis’s relationship to Brett.
Travis focused on her, his dark eyes like daggers going into her heart. She took a deep breath. “If anyone so desires, I will recuse myself. But due to the lack of a district judge in the Territory at present and the delay it will cause if I do not sit as judge, I will preside … but only if all parties agree. Here are my connections with the parties of the case: the defendant, Brett Dancer, is related to me by marri
age. He is my brother-in-law and the brother of my husband, Travis Black Eagle.”
A stir arose in the courtroom, and she banged her gavel for order.
“Judge,” Clarence said, rising to his feet, “the prosecution has no desire for you to remove yourself from this case. We waive any objection to your presiding in this instance.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hoyt.” Rufus rose and she gave him her attention, expecting a welcome opposition. “Mr. Milligan.”
“The defense likewise waives any objection, Judge Spencer.”
Surprised, she stared at him. She had been certain Rufus would demand another judge. “Would the attorneys please approach the bench?”
Both men came forward and she stared at Rufus. “Mr. Milligan, are you certain you want me as judge?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Rufus gazed blandly at her.
“Do you think that’s wise for your client?”
“I think so,” he whispered firmly. “And my client agrees. We think you will be fair.”
“I am more than satisfied to have you, Judge Spencer,” Clarence said.
“And so am I,” Rufus reaffirmed.
“All right. You had your chance.” She watched them walk back to their seats and she looked at Travis, whose stormy countenance was fearsome. She remembered the day she had heard Andrew’s case and how terrified she had been then of Travis. He was no less intimidating today.
She banged her gavel. “We shall have the arraignment.” She held the paper in front of her reading the legal charge of murder. “The defendant, Brett Dancer, is hereby arraigned on the charges of wilful and premeditated murder, this crime being committed against the peace and dignity of the Territory of Wyoming.” She looked up. “How does the defendant plead? Guilty or not guilty?”
His dark eyes met her with a straightforward, steady gaze that looked honest, but she knew how treacherous men could be in the courtroom when they were on the wrong side of the law. And Brett was an outlaw. An outlaw who was destroying her marriage as surely as he must have destroyed a life.
“Not guilty,” he replied in a strong, clear voice above the angry grumble in the courtroom. She banged her gavel.
“Is the prosecution ready to proceed? Can you present sufficient evidence to show that the defendant should be bound over for trial?
“Yes, Your Honor.”
As Clarence called his first witness, she was aware of Travis’s steady gaze on her. It was disconcerting, yet she was doing the job she was sworn to do.
The first witness was Slim Tipton, who glared at her before he testified. His brown shirt stretched tightly across his beefy shoulders. The shirt was as stained as ever, and Crystal wondered whether the man ever bathed or washed his clothes.
He was sworn in and Clarence asked Slim to recount what had happened. Slim told of hearing a gunshot and riding with his employer, Whit Odell, and another employee, Virgil Shank, to investigate. They had found outlaw Brett Dancer bending over the body of Abner Kendrick, who was dead from a gunshot wound.
Crystal listened to the damning eyewitness testimony of Slim, Virgil Shank, and Whit Odell. She knew that Travis did not believe them, but they had sworn under oath to tell the truth. However, as far as she knew, of the three men, Whit Odell was the only truly law-abiding citizen.
There was no question that the testimonies of the witnesses were enough to hold Brett for trial. “It is the court’s ruling that the defendant should stand trial for the murder of Abner Kendrick,” Crystal declared, only too aware of Travis’s proximity to her.
“The court is required to provide sufficient time for both the defense and the prosecution to prepare their cases. However, both sides have expressed their willingness to waive the normal interval between arraignment and trial in the interest of justice. Is that correct, Mr. Hoyt?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“And Mr. Milligan? For the record, do you agree to proceed directly to trial at this time?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Then we will proceed with jury selection.”
“Your Honor,” Rufus said, coming to his feet. “The defense at this time wishes to waive our right to a trial by jury. We’d like to request that the defendant, Brett Dancer, be judged by Your Honor.”
Stunned, she stared at him. Then her gaze slid to Travis, whose eyes were fiery, a muscle clenching in his jaw, and she knew he did not agree with Rufus’s request.
“We will have a ten-minute recess. I want to see the attorneys in my office.” She banged her gavel and left the room, but her back tingled and she was conscious of Travis watching her every step of the way.
Once Clarence and Rufus had entered her office, she banged the door shut.
“Rufus, you’ve lost your mind to give up a trial by a jury! I don’t want to make this decision. The man is my relative!”
“All of us know you will be fair and impartial. A jury of local men will be no such thing. You know many of them hate redskins. They have a violent dislike for any man with Indian blood, even if he is completely law-abiding. Ask your husband, if you don’t believe me.”
He spoke only the truth, but she was horrified by the prospect of rendering judgment on Brett.
“I can’t do this. I’ve never tried a murder case. As justice of the peace, I shouldn’t have to do this.”
“But these are desperate times in a desperate place, so you will and you’ll do a fine job. Don’t you agree, Clarence?”
“As a matter of fact, for what is probably the only time in this trial, I do agree with you, Rufus,” Clarence replied, studying Crystal. “Your Honor, all parties are satisfied with your fairness. I understand your great reluctance to sentence your brother-in-law to hang; but if we don’t get on with this, that mob is going to storm the courthouse. A lot of innocent men are likely to get hurt, and Brett Dancer will be lynched and hanged anyway.”
“If that weren’t the case, I would resign right now,” she said fervently. To her own surprise, she meant it. This job that used to be her whole life and had been so thrilling and challenging was now a block of granite around her neck. She no longer loved being the justice of the peace. She wanted a home with Jacob and Travis; but because of this job, she would never have that home with them as once she had. She would never win the love of the man who had completely taken her heart.
Hot tears stung her eyes, and she struggled for control. It was going to be difficult to be fair and she didn’t want this decision to be hers alone. “I think you’re making a mistake. If I free him, they’ll want to hang me.”
“I don’t think so,” Rufus replied easily. “Everyone knows you are hard on outlaws and everyone knows you are fair. And Wade will protect you if I get my client off.” He leaned closer. “You know damn well your husband will protect you.”
“I don’t know that anyone can protect a person from a mob.”
“This is difficult for you, Judge,” Clarence said, “but we all know you’ll be fair.”
Both men had to have seen her tears, and both looked satisfied. She wanted to shake her fist at them, especially when one look at Clarence’s pleased countenance showed he expected to win this case swiftly and with little effort.
“Very well. We’ll return to the courtroom.”
Once again, Crystal declared court in session, and Rufus rose to his feet.
“Your Honor, I would like to request that any witness who will testify will remain out of the courtroom except for his testimony.”
“Any objection, Mr. Hoyt?”
“No, Your Honor.”
She nodded. “Witnesses are excused until called. Bailiff will show them where to wait. Deputy Parnell, you will remain with the witnesses.”
They filed out of the room. When Elgin Thomas reappeared, Crystal started the proceedings, inviting Clarence to present his argument and tell what his evidence would show. Next Rufus gave his opening statement, which emphasized the lack of actual eyewitnesses to the murder. The only evidence came from those who had come
upon the scene after the fact.
Clarence called the prosecution’s first witness, Whit Odell, and Crystal studied the tall, gaunt man with weathered skin who was ushered into the courtroom from the waiting room. He ambled to the front and was sworn in. She listened to his monotone testimony. He had heard a gunshot and found Kendrick dead, Brett Dancer robbing him.
At midday, Crystal adjourned for lunch and hurried to her office, having her meal sent in because she wanted time alone. Whit Odell’s testimony had been damning. He had described finding Kendrick sprawled on his back, shot through the heart, with Brett bending over him, going through his pockets.
When the trial commenced again, Rufus called Whit Odell back to cross-examine him.
“When you rode up, was the defendant holding a revolver?”
“Yes, he was.”
“Earlier, Mr. Odell, you said he was not holding a revolver because his hands were filled with the deceased’s possessions.”
“I guess he wasn’t holding a revolver.”
“You guess? Is it just a guess?”
“I don’t remember if I said that earlier,” Odell replied, rubbing the back of his neck and frowning.
“Perhaps you don’t remember now.”
“Objection,” Clarence said, rising slowly.
“Overruled.”
“Was the defendant holding a revolver when you rode up?”
“No, he was not.”
“Tell us again where the body was when you reached the scene.”
“Kendrick was sprawled on his back, shot through the heart. His arms were flung out.”
“Was he armed?”
“Of course.”
“And he hadn’t drawn his revolver to try to protect himself?”
In the pause that followed, Whit Odell’s gaze shifted beyond Rufus. “I don’t know.”
“I would think it would be only natural for any man who is armed and suddenly faces a man who draws a revolver to draw his own weapon. Wouldn’t you think so?”
“Maybe he did have his sidearm in hand,” Odell replied, shifting in his seat. “It all happened so fast, I don’t remember.”
“Mr. Odell, either he did or he didn’t. Which is it?”