"What would you have me ask? The problem is you're guilty as hell and every time I try to make one of the witnesses look bad they only make you look worse.
"As it is, I have no witnesses for you."
"You should have at least made sure that Belle, Lee, and Brumbell remained in town so they could testify."
"Why? Anything any of them said would have only made things worse. And, as long as I don't ask any questions about them, I'm hoping we can keep their inquest testimony out completely."
"So what are you planning on doing? I mean what is your strategy?"
"Strategy? What strategy? I have no strategy. I haven't even got the vaguest idea of a plan. All I can hope for is to try to keep you from hanging."
"That's it?"
"Pretty much. Unless you want to testify. You could always take the stand. Of course, Lynchburg would rip you apart when he cross-examines you."
"I'm paying you a lot of money and you aren't doing anything."
"Seriously, Brent, how long have I known you? And, even you have to admit that I've been pretty successful over the years. After all, you've never spent much time in prison, have you? But you went too far this time. I can only hope to keep you from hanging. And, seriously, I'm not at all sure I can even manage that."
"But I'm paying you a fortune!"
"I tell you what, if you end up hanging, I'll donate my fee to the children you exploited."
"Don't you dare! Those girls would have ended up as whores in Chicago. They were better off here, with me."
"Yes, except for the ones you ki—I mean, the ones that died."
"Christ! Now, you are saying I'm a murderer. You are saying I'm guilty."
"That's because you are guilty! You told me you killed the two girls and the two men. I don't, however, think that you had anything directly to do with the second girl that bled to death."
"And that's the best you can say in my defense?"
"Brent, you are guilty! You're guilty of everything you're accused of. The best thing you can do is to make peace with your maker if you're at all religious. Because you aren't coming out of this well."
"I see."
"I'm not at all sure you do. The odds that you are going to be found guilty and sentenced to hang are about ninety-nine to one. Then you will sit in some dreary cell until they come for you one morning and take you for that 'long drop'. Perhaps it would be better to just plead guilty."
"Never!"
"Then I really am at a total loss as to how to put up a defense for you."
"Then don't. Just do your closing argument. That's always been your strong suit. I've never understood why, since you're never particularly assertive. But, you've always been extremely compelling in your big finales."
"Thank you. I think," Mr. Clarence said, looking at his client and wondering just what made him tick.
*****
"Mr. Clarence, are you ready to begin your defense?"
"Ah... yes and no."
"What exactly does that mean? Is this some trick?"
"No, not at all. I'm trying to be honest. It's just I—"
"Mr. Clarence, let's get on with it, shall we?"
"But—"
"No buts. No seesawing. No quibbling. Just call your first witness."
"That's the problem, Your Honor. I have no witnesses to call."
"Mr. Clarence, if this is a feeble attempt to set up a situation where another lawyer can claim a mistrial, I'll have you disbarred. Do we understand one another?"
"Yes, sir."
"This is your opportunity to speak for your client. And, I suggest you avail yourself of the opportunity.
"However, if you'd like a little time, we can adjourn a bit early for the day. But, I do think you might want to rethink the strategy of presenting no defense at all."
******
"Brent, I think you're going to have to testify."
"I am not going to let that bastard, Lynchburg, crucify me. Think of something else."
"You could always change your plea and throw yourself on the mercy of the court. They might not hang you if you did that."
"That's the best thing you can think of, is it? I'm not going to change my plea. I'm not even going to get on that..." Harding paused. A strange look came over his face. Then, with an eerie grin, he looked directly at his attorney, and said, "All right. You win. I'll testify."
"And, are you going to change your plea?" the lawyer asked, staring at Harding's facial expression and getting an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"I don't think so," Harding said in a low, evil voice. "No, I don't think so, at all."
*****
Mr. Clarence requested another chance to speak to his client in private before court the next morning. And it was of course, granted. However, as they sat at a small, rather rickety table he was again filled with apprehension.
"Are you still willing to take the stand?" Clarence asked.
"Oh, yes," Harding said, in a low and rather cruel voice. "I most certainly am."
"I don't know what you're up to. But, I've known you long enough to see you are definitely up to something. Whatever you do, do not call any of those girls 'whores', or anything else derogatory. Do you understand me? None of the town people like you, with the possible exception of the men who patronized your establishment. And I promise you, none of them is going to come to your rescue. Especially, since Lee's ledger has been accepted by Lynchburg and me."
"That reminds me, why did you roll over and accept his journal as gospel?"
"Because this way, the jury doesn't get to examine it. The last thing you need is for your customers to be exposed. As it is now, things are all right. The citizens of Manchester realize that some men were availing themselves of your services.
"I'm sure some of the women have their suspicions about their men. And, some innocent men are feeling their women's displeasure. But, no one, aside from other customers, knows who's guilty for sure. The last thing you want is for that to change."
"But why?"
"For the simple fact that should they find out, you being found guilty is the least of your worries, because the women of Manchester might simply drag you outside and lynch you themselves, along with their philandering husbands."
"I don't see why I'm the bad person. I didn't force anyone to purchase my... my wares."
"It doesn't matter. Whether it's reasonable or not, it's much easier to tar you as guilty, even if you weren't, which I'll again remind you, you are, than believe that any of their sons, husbands, or fathers visited your establishment.
"You could be absolutely innocent of everything, and they'd still hang you."
"That's not fair."
"Brent, I'm not saying it is. It's human nature. It's easier. Oh, hell. I'm not going to go over this again. We've had this conversation too many times in the past. Besides, you running a brothel is the very least of your problems right now. It's the four murders you need to worry about.
"If you're still willing to take the stand, I'll call you. If not, I'm resting my case, so we can move on to closing arguments."
"No, I'm still willing," Harding answered. "In fact, I insist on taking the stand."
"All right," the attorney agreed, "but remember what I said."
"Oh, I will," Harding told him. "I absolutely will."
*****
"Are you more prepared this morning, Mr. Clarence?"
"Yes, sir. I'd like to call the defendant, Brent Harding to the stand, Your Honor."
Hilton gave the defense attorney an incredulous look. But after a moment, shrugged his shoulders and said, "It's your case. The court calls Mr. Brent Harding."
The pair of deputies responsible for guarding Harding moved to allow him to go to the stand. But as he slipped passed the nearest guard, he snatched the deputy's gun and shoved him into the other guard.
The second guard drew his weapon and pointed it at Harding, calling out, "Drop the gun and put your arms in the air!" Harding did
neither, instead choosing to point the gun in the judge's direction.
The deputy fired.
Even though the doctor was right in the courtroom and had her bag, Harding was dead by the time she reached him.
The deputies took charge of the body while the court clerk, Mr. Jensen, jumped up and retrieved the gun Harding dropped when he fell to the floor.
The case was over. And, although Harding had not been found guilty, the death sentence had been carried out.
Brent Harding was dead and would never harm anyone else ever again.
Chapter Twenty-One
No one expected January to be anything but rough for everyone. Victoria was restricted, first to the waiting area and then the courtroom. Even after she testified, she had to remain in the courtroom in case one of the attorneys wanted her to clarify something.
That meant she spent her evenings doing her best to take care of townspeople suffering from a variety of minor ailments, made worse by the general malaise that follows the holidays. And, that was not counting the added stress of Harding's trial placed on some of them.
And, of course, this time coincided with the girls' hitting their low points. Tempers at the Hendriksen place were short and volatile. But, luckily, the women had prepared the girls adequately, so usually, even they realized how badly they were acting, and apologized often, when they were calmer—if they remembered.
Late one afternoon, there was a knock at the door. It was so late, in fact, it was almost dark, and if Jake hadn't already come in for dinner, Miranda might not have opened the door. Although, such an unusual occurrence caused everyone to congregate at the back door.
When Miranda opened it, she discovered Victoria and Neil, both gray and wearing distressed expressions.
"I didn't expect you two so late. But, please, come in."
"No. No, we can't. We aren't staying. We just came to... to tell you some news."
Jake looked uncomfortable and announced, "I need to go bring in some wood." Then he made his way outside, with Neil following him.
Something was clearly wrong, so Miranda turned and told the girls, "Please, leave us alone for a moment." And, only after they'd gone, did she ask, "What wrong? What's happened?"
"It's over," the doctor answered.
"What? What's over?" she asked. Then, the blood drained from her face and said, "He didn't get off? You can't be telling me they found him innocent. Please, don't tell me he's free!"
Victoria stepped in and pulled her friend into a hug. "No! No, he's not free." Then a strange look crossed her face, and she added, "Well, some might say, 'he's finally free', but no. He's not at large."
"Then what happened?"
"He's dead!"
This was so unexpected, Miranda took several steps back, until she felt a chair. Then, practically collapsing in it, gasped, "Dead... but... how?"
"One of the bailiffs killed him. Shot him dead!"
"But... why?"
"He tried to escape. It was while he was walking to the witness stand. He grabbed one of the bailiff's guns and pointed it at the judge, but before he could fire, the other bailiff shot him."
"How awful."
"What? I thought you'd be relieved."
"I am. I mean, at least that it's over. I just never thought it would end like this... so violently.
"I suppose I'll have to tell the girls. They should be relieved."
"Would you like me to tell them? Or, be with you? I don't know what we could do to calm them. I mean, we mustn't backslide and give them the tiniest bit of laudanum. That would negate all the work they've done already."
"No, it's late, and I'm sure you and Neil haven't eaten dinner. And, I don't really have enough to feed the two of you. I was planning on cooking a roast tomorrow. Tonight, we're having the little amount of leftovers there are, augmented by scrambled eggs and toast."
"Aren't they eating anything else yet?"
"Not really," Miranda answered, "but they are beginning to eat a little more at one sitting. And, no one seems to be nauseous, anymore."
Neil and Jake appeared, each loaded down with firewood. So the ladies moved to make way for them. But, once they'd stowed the wood away, Victoria tugged on Neil's sleeve, and said, "Come on. Let's get back before it gets any later. I'm exhausted."
*****
Miranda stood in the doorway, watching their buggy drive away, before she turned to discover all four young women staring at her from the hallway.
"Come on, let's get dinner ready. You all might not be terribly hungry, but I'm sure Jake is starving." Then she began bustling around, all the while, avoiding their eyes.
Miranda sliced what meat was left on the roasted chicken carcass, carelessly dropping it onto a platter. Kathy sliced bread and Kit set the table. Colleen stood at the stove, stirring several pots of leftover vegetables and Lynn poured boiling water into a prepared teapot. And soon they were all gathered around the table.
Kathy and Lynn took tiny bites of food, along with bread and butter, and hot tea. Jake took most of the larger slices of chicken, slapped them on buttered bread, and headed for the back door.
"Surely, that's not all you're going to eat for dinner?" Miranda asked him.
"Well, if it's all right, I'll come back inside later for some tea and pie, if you ladies leave any, that is," Jake answered, before passing through the door and back into the cold.
Kit, always intuitive, looked up from the cheese dish she was placing on the large table, stared at Miranda, and sighed. But, she remained silent.
Once the girls had eaten as much as they were going to, Kit took them upstairs while Colleen cleaned up the kitchen. Miranda indulged in one last cup of tea. Then, with a deep sigh, she pushed her chair back from the table, stood up wearily, and headed upstairs.
Lynn looked up as Miranda reached the landing and called out, "Something's going on? Why did the doctor come out here and not stay longer?"
"Yes, Miss," Kathy added. "You looked funny all through supper."
"The doctor was tired and hungry and wanted to get dinner and then go to bed."
"But," Kathy picked up, "that doesn't explain why she came out at all."
"No," Miranda conceded, sighing deeply, "it doesn't. She wanted to tell me something. And now, I'm going to tell you."
"They let Harding go!" Kathy cried out.
"No! No, not at all."
"Then what?" she demanded. "What is it?"
Miranda sat down on the edge of Lynn's bed, and pulled the younger girl into her lap, as she patted the mattress beside her, for Kathy to come sit down next to them. Once she was there, Miranda began, "Something happened in court today."
"What?" Lynn asked, the pitch of her voice rising somehow within that single word. "Is it 'Sir'? Did they let him go?"
"No, they didn't. But, you are never to refer to him as 'Sir' ever again. Don't even think of him in that term," Miranda told her, and even she could hear the hard edge in her voice.
"Are you mad at us? At me?" the young girl asked, with a wounded look.
"No, of course, I'm not angry with you," she answered, as she hugged Lynn closer to her. "I'm not angry at either one of you," she added, smiling at Kathy.
"I didn't mean to speak harshly to you about... about calling Brent Harding 'Sir'. I know I shouldn't. But I still get upset at how you were all treated. However, I shouldn't take it out on you. I never meant to take it out on you." She hugged them a moment, before she continued, "Now, as I was saying the reason Dr. Thorne came out here so late this evening, was to tell us what happened in court today."
"Yes..."
"What happened?" Kathy asked.
"Mr. Harding tried to escape and was killed. It's all over, the trial, everything. And you never have to worry about him again. You never need to look over your shoulder. He will never hurt you, or anyone else, ever again."
"But you said we wouldn't have to worry about him again, before."
"Yes, and I meant it. However, I wasn't sure you be
lieved me. I wasn't even sure you could allow yourself to believe that.
"Now, you can. He's dead. He's gone. And he will never hurt you two or anyone else ever, ever again."
Lynn looked into Miranda's eyes, and asked, "You promise?"
"I promise. So now you only need to worry about taking care of yourselves and your babies. Although, I hope you realize that you will never be doing that alone.
"I am very much afraid you're stuck with all of us, forever."
They both giggled, and answered in unison, "Oh, we've known that for a while now."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Once the trial was over and things settled back to normal, such as it was, Colleen kept close to home. The girls were gradually becoming less agitated, but it was a decidedly slow process. Although, both the girls had a few bad nights after they heard of Harding's death.
However, Lynn's shivering ended, and she began having night sweats. Although, Victoria believed this was pregnancy related and not because of the opium addiction. The problem was, it didn't matter what the cause, it still made the child uncomfortable and made extra work for the caregivers.
Miranda, Kit, and Eva took turns giving Lynn sponge baths. Even though the doctor felt this was caused by the pregnancy, it gave her cause for concern since the upstairs was unheated. There were more than the normal number of influenza cases in January. And, everyone worried about the girls being more susceptible to catching colds, if not pneumonia because of the flu going around. The cold sponge baths just made them worry more. But, at least they were less exposed to the flu, being isolated at home.
*****
Gradually, the girls started feeling a little better every day. Colleen's idea about feeding them honey, and Meg's purchase of large quantities of peppermint candies helped keep them from being overly queasy. And, as long as they ate only a bite or two of scrambled eggs or custard at a time, they usually managed to keep it down. Then, there came a morning when they ate two soft boiled eggs and drank an entire glass of milk, each.
Their bodies seemed to have shaken off their opium addiction because the shivering and sweats ended. Their tempers evened out as well. However, even after their success with the boiled eggs and glasses of milk, they still wouldn't eat very much at any one time.
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