“You can lock me up after this,” she said.
He climbed up beside her. “You should have stayed at the doc’s.”
“I couldn’t. I had to come here.”
“Cells aren’t ready in the new place yet,” he told her. “We aren’t set up for prisoners. And I won’t put you in the temporary jail. No privacy. You’re gonna hafta stay at your hotel. Your things are all still there.”
She glanced at him with a hopeful expression in her dark eyes.
“I’ll post a guard during the day and take the night shift myself.”
Her smile revealed a mixture of relief and expectation.
“Don’t go thinkin’ I’m gonna risk hurtin’ your wound.”
She simply shrugged as though they’d discuss that subject when they got to it.
Benjamin pulled the rig up in front of a small copper-roofed building. The shingle outside the door read George Monday, Dentist, Undertaker.
“Wait here.” Clay climbed down and entered the building. After a few minutes, he came back and helped her down. “Meet us ’round back in a few minutes.”
“What are you going to do?” Sophie asked.
“He’s in the ice house. We’ll bring ’im out.”
Sophie glanced at the watch around her neck. She fingered the ring on her finger for assurance, smiled nervously up at Benjamin.
“You okay, Miss Hollis?”
She nodded. “I’m fine.”
She checked her watch again.
Finally, she made her way around the side of the building.
Clay and a short heavyset man waited for her in front of a small structure. Before them on the ground was a long form draped in white cloth.
“Keepin’ ’im on ice ’til I hear what I’m supposed to do with ’im,” the man said. “Too hot to leave ’im out.”
Sophie stared at the profile beneath the sheeting.
Clay handed her a handkerchief.
Monday bent and folded the drape down and away from the body.
He’d been washed and groomed and dressed in a three-piece suit with a green sheen. Obviously something they’d found in his hotel room, because it was his flamboyant taste and style.
Sophie had expected to gaze fearfully upon a sleeping man who looked as though he could sit up and reclaim her at any moment. She hadn’t expected this person’s shrunken appearance. His eye sockets and cheeks were sallow, and under his lips and cheeks, it looked as though his teeth were too big for his mouth. His skin was a sickly gray, and the hands folded over his chest didn’t even look real.
It was Garrett, though, his hair and features unmistakable.
Clay seemed to be waiting for her to crumple or fall apart. Sophie walked forward without a second’s hesitation and gave Garrett a solid kick in the side.
No sound. No movement.
She glanced up.
Clay was watching as though he saw this kind of thing every day. The undertaker wore an expression of horror, however. Her need to prove to herself Garrett was dead may have been extreme, but she didn’t care.
“This is it then,” she said simply. “Thank you, Mr. Monday.”
Side throbbing, Sophie turned and headed back for the buggy. She needed to lie down.
It only took another week for Judge McNamara to arrive in Newton for the scheduled hearing. A lawman stood watch outside her door during the day. Clay spent every night in her hotel room with her. Each night he held her and told her he loved her, and each night she withheld words of similar sentiment that wouldn’t be fair.
Ellie came to visit her two different mornings. Emma stopped by on her day off, bringing chestnut pudding made fresh that day, and Rosie brought her a sampler the girls had worked on together. The cross stitch held a friendship sentiment.
Sophie prepared for the hearing with a clean conscience and a fresh resignation to handle whatever came her way. She’d made friends, she’d known love. And she was living her life as herself. Still, she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t frightened.
Clay came to escort her to the hearing that had been scheduled as the last appearance of the morning. She was scared to death. All the things she’d kept hidden were about to be public. The most shameful secrets of her past would be revealed. In one way baring that burden would surely be as purging as when she’d told Clay. But Clay had cared about her.
“Just the truth, Sophie,” Clay told her, warming her cold hand between his comforting warm ones as their buggy was drawn toward the courthouse.
It was a square brick building, set back from the street and surrounded by well-tended shade trees and overflowing flowerbeds of red and white petunias. She walked the brick path to the door and waited for Clay to open it.
A bald man ushered them into a room, and Clay told her he’d be sitting with the other lawmen. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and took his place. She took notice to see that there were only one or two people besides the law officers there to observe. She moved to stand before the table where a white-haired man sat. Beside him a younger man waited with pen poised over a tablet.
Judge McNamara cut an impressive figure in his brown pin-striped suit. “You’re the young woman all the fuss is about?” he asked.
“My name is Sophia, sir.”
“Last name is Hollis?”
“I don’t remember my real last name. I’ve been going by Hollis.”
“Well, take a seat right here,” he said, indicating a chair at the side of the table.
She sat gingerly, and the judge took notice of the way she favored her side. “I’ve gone over all the reports,” he began. “Seems we have a bit of a dilemma here. It’s your word against a dead man’s.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Judge McNamara.” Clay’s voice.
“Marshal,” the judge acknowledged.
“Her name is Sophia Hollister.”
Sophie turned and stared at Clay. The name resounded in her head, an elusive memory trying to focus.
The judge slid his glasses onto his forehead and studied Clay. “And how do you know this when she doesn’t even recall her own name?”
Clay carried a stack of documents forward and presented them. “She’s wearin’ a ring there that belonged to her ma. I took it off the dead man. Two names are inscribed inside. The same names are on a passenger list from a wagon train that the man and wife traveled with. Records I found at army forts match the family’s travels right up to the time and the area where reports say they were killed.”
The judge shuffled through lists and telegrams, the rustling paper loud in the large room.
Sophie digested the fact that Clay had searched records and hunted until he found her family and her real name. He could have mentioned this before. She gave him a dumbfounded look. He ignored it.
“Ward and Sela Hollister and their five children were reported killed by a Sioux war party,” the judge said after review. “Miss Hollis’s story fits this family’s right up to that point in time. May I see the ring?”
Sophie took off the band and handed it to Clay who walked round the table and gave it to the judge. The judge used his glasses like a magnifying glass to read the tiny inscription Sophie hadn’t remembered. She hadn’t removed the ring since Clay had returned it to her.
The judge handed Clay the ring to give back to Sophie. Clay returned to his seat. “Okay, we know who you are. But you’re accused of quite an extensive list of crimes. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“If you name them off for me sir I’ll tell you to the best of my recollection whether or not I participated.”
The judge raised an eyebrow in surprise, then held his glasses away from his face so he could read a list of names and the crimes associated with them through the lenses.
“Yes, sir. That was me. That one, too.”
He continued, and she admitted responsibility for taking part in each one. “I’m not sure about those,” she said at one point, “but that was one of our usual scams, so I can’t deny
it.”
Ten minutes later the older man leaned toward her. “Young lady, you’ve just admitted to over sixty acts of crime. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Just the truth, she remembered Clay saying. She swallowed hard. “Did any of those papers tell you that Garrett bought me? I was about twelve.”
The judge’s expression showed his surprise and interest. “Bought you?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir. I remember standing on a public street in the fall. It was a couple years after my mother had died. The Sioux were selling hides and jerky. I’d never been taken on one of their trips before. I had this ring with me.” She fingered the band. “Hidden on a leather thong under my tunic. I wanted to touch it for comfort, but I knew I shouldn’t let anyone see it.
“I saw the goods trade hands, but didn’t realize what was going on right away. Whiskey. A rifle. And then I was being pushed toward the white man. The sun was warm on my face and head, and I remember the way he looked down at me.”
Sophie paused. It felt good to have the truth about her life out in the open at last. “Could I have a drink of water, please?”
The judge’s assistant got up and poured her a glass of water. She took a fortifying sip. “Thank you.”
She told how Garrett had purchased clothing for her. How he’d paid for tutors and teachers of deportment. How he held his own session each day, coaching her to recognize people’s weaknesses, how to play into those, how to play a role.
Occasionally Judge McNamara asked a question.
Sophie didn’t leave out a single detail. Her explanation of when and how their relationship had changed made the men in the room uncomfortable. Sophie noticed they shifted in their chairs. But Judge McNamara looked right at her without flinching.
“How did you come to be here today?”
She went on to explain how Garret had killed the man in Denver and that she’d taken the money and run.
At that point Clay spoke up again. “Judge, there’s someone who’d like to say somethin’ now.”
“Who is it?”
Clay gestured to a woman sitting in one of the rows of seats Sophie’d avoided looking at.
A woman wearing a homespun dress raised her hand tentatively, then stood. “I’d like a chance to make mention of what I know about Miss Hollis’s character.”
“What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Gretchen Forrester.”
“Come on up here, then.” The judge motioned her forward.
The woman stood three feet from the table. “Miss Hollis or Dumont or whoever she is…” she pointed at Sophie. “She came to my home nearly two years ago and returned money that had been taken from my husband.”
“How did your husband lose the money?”
“An investment of some sort that he told me went sour. He didn’t wanna admit he gave it to a flim-flam man. But then when this lady came and offered it back, he told me what really happened. That was money I’d inherited from my father, and I intend to send my son to university with it.”
“I hope your husband has learned his lesson.”
“Oh, he has, sir. He has.”
“You can sit down, Mrs. Forrester.” Judge McNamara turned to Sophie. “What happened when the money ran out?”
“I saved enough back to see me through if I didn’t find work. I was in Dubuque when I saw the advertisement for the Harvey House positions. So I came up with letters and references and traveled here.”
“What did you hope to gain in coming to Kansas?”
Sophie took a moment to form her answer. “I wanted to live like other people. I had to lie to get the position, but lies were all I knew how to do. I figured if I could set aside a nest egg, I could start my own business eventually. I’d be independent. Most of all I wanted to be in control of my own destiny. That’s all I ever thought of really.”
The judge looked to Clay. “How’d you find Mrs. Forrester?”
Clay stepped forward. “Once I started tracin’ Sophie’s trail, the Pinkertons caught on. They’d been lookin’ for Garrett. We shared information, and I got names of people she’d visited.”
Clay glanced at Sophie before addressing the judge again. “What I’m hopin’ you’ll see, Judge, is that Miss Hollis—er—that Sophie was a scared kid doin’ what she had to just t’ survive. She got away. And when she did, she paid back many of the people they’d taken money from.”
“Paying back stolen money with more stolen money doesn’t right the wrong,” the judge replied.
Clay’s expression was grim at that remark.
The judge leaned back in his chair. “I’m beginning to see something here. Have you done all this research into Miss Hollis’s background purely as your official duty?”
Clay looked uncomfortable with the question, and she hoped it was because he didn’t want to compromise the facts and not because he was embarrassed about their association. “No, sir, I didn’t. It’s more personal than that.”
“Did you ever wonder, Marshal, if she was pulling a con over on you?”
Clay nodded, regret evident in his posture. “Wouldn’t be human if I hadn’t. I had feelin’s for her, and as a lawman I wondered if I was lettin’ those shade my judgment.” He glanced at her. “Sorry, Sophie. We’re tellin’ the truth today.”
“It’s okay,” she said.
The judge looked at her again. “Sophia, did you use the marshal?”
She felt like she’d been struck. She couldn’t catch her breath for a moment and her ears rang. Used Clay? Used him?
“Well, I—I guess in a way it would seem I did. I mean I knew he cared for me and that he wanted to help.”
“Have you ever asked him to do anything for you?”
“Yes, sir, I have.”
Clay frowned at her, but she went on.
“I asked him to help me trap Garrett. And—” She’d asked him to spend the night with her, but she couldn’t say that, even if it was the truth. She raised a hand as she thought of something else. “I asked him to let me see the body once Garrett was dead.”
“So, Marshal, the plan to catch Garrett in one of these blackmail schemes was entirely Miss Hollis’s?”
Clay shifted uncomfortably. “It was.”
“But you agreed to go along with it. Care to explain why?”
“Had no idea the man would be killed, o’ course,” he answered. “I thought once he was caught right here in Kansas, there’d be a better chance of a trial here, rather than escorting him directly to Colorado.”
“And what did you hope to gain by holding his first trial here?”
“I was hopin’ Sophie’d stand a better chance of pardon.”
Clay moved to pick up another stack of letters and telegrams and handed them to Judge McNamara. “More people want to say somethin’ on Sophie’s behalf.”
The judge gestured with a sweep of his arm. “Where are they?”
One of the other marshals went to the door and opened it. One by one a dozen or more men and women filed into the room and took seats.
Sophie stared, recognizing some of them as either people she’d returned money to, others as girls from the Arcade. Louis Tripp was there, and even Mr. Webb had come! Her heart could hardly contain her joy that so many people cared and believed in her enough to speak on her behalf.
Clay sat down and one by one the judge let each person say their piece from where they sat. A Pinkerton agent shared his findings. Citizens thanked her for her honesty in bringing them their stolen funds, others shared her kind deeds or her work ethic. They would’ve been passing out lemonade in hell if Mrs. Winters had shown up, she thought.
The door opened again and Caleb and Ellie Chaney entered.
“Dr. Chaney, I suppose you wanted to say something about Miss Hollis’s character, and I suppose too that it would all be glowing.”
“It would.”
Ellie gave Sophie an encouraging smile and Sophie’s throat tightened with humble appreciation.
�
�One more, Judge,” Clay said.
Deputy Sanders strode to the door. A young woman accompanied him back. Blond hair. Amanda! Sophie covered her trembling lips with her hand.
“I’m Amanda Pettyjohn,” she said. Her cheeks were bright with color. “Your honor, Sophie is a dear and loyal friend. She taught me to dance. That’s not why you should let her go, though. You should let her go because she saved me from getting mixed up with Monte—I mean Tek Garrett. She risked our friendship and a lot more to tell me the truth. And then she gave me money she’d earned so I could go home when my cousin Winnie had her baby.” She turned a beaming smile on Sophie. “It’s a girl!”
Sophie smiled through tears.
“Thank you, Miss Pettyjohn. Take a seat.”
Amanda sat two chairs away from Deputy Sanders.
The judge laid his glasses on the tabletop. “I don’t see much sense in taking this any further.”
Sophie anticipated the worst.
“I pretty much had my mind made up after reading the reports and the documentation, little lady. But your marshal here and all your friends intrigued me, so I listened to them. Not all my days are this interesting.”
He looked at the people occupying the chairs. “Sophie was a child when this Garrett got hold of her. He purposefully corrupted her to his way of life and used her.”
Sophie listened, hope growing.
He turned his attention to her again. “I’m of a mind that whatever wrongs you may have participated in before, you had no plans for any further con work.”
“No, sir,” Sophie assured him. “I wanted to put those days behind me.”
“And you risked your life to catch the true criminal.”
This was sounding more hopeful every minute!
“Marshal, you will notify the proper authorities that Tek Garrett was killed while carrying out a criminal act. Also alert them that Miss Hollis has been cleared of all accusations subject to my authority and that I am petitioning a federal judge to make certain she is absolved of her part in any and all charges not included here today.”
Sophie stared at the man in disbelief. “You mean I’m free? I’m not going to jail?”
“You’re free, Sophia. Punishing you would just be more cruel and unfair treatment, which you’ve already endured. Go. Create that destiny you’ve wanted for so long.”
The Lawman's Bride (Harlequin Historical Series) Page 22