Soiled Dove

by Brenda Adcock

  You’re charged with two counts of murder for Thaddeus Garner and Jack Coulter.”

  “They were trying to kill me. I was defending myself,” Clare said, refusing to look at Beutler.

  “Thad’s pistol never left his holster and Coulter was shot in the back. Don’t sound like self-defense to me. If I was you, I’d find myself a lawyer. Even if the jury don’t decide to hang you, prison won’t be no picnic either.”

  “Get out,” she responded. “I don’t need a lawyer.”

  “Suit yourself. Soon as you can walk I’ll take you to the jail until the trial starts. Probably in a few days.

  Doc Wayne can check on you there.”

  As soon as Beutler left, Doc Wayne stepped into the room. “Time to check your bandages,” he said.

  “Can you sit up?”

  “Yeah,” she answered. Wayne placed a hand behind Clare and helped her up.

  “It’s only been a few days, but everything seems to be healing just fine,” the doctor said as he listened to her breathing and changed the bandages on her leg and arm. “You were lucky the bullets didn’t hit anything vital.”

  “They’ll probably hang me anyway,” she said as she released a breath. “Thanks for takin’ care of me, but I probably would have been better off dyin’.”

  “Dying’s never the best option.”

  “It is when there’s nothin’ left to live for.”

  “You have visitors again. You ever going to allow them in?”

  “Nothin’ to say.”

  “They’re worried about you. Give them a break.”

  “I don’t want to see anyone,” Clare insisted.

  Wayne nodded and held his hand against Clare’s back as she lay down again. He left the room and she heard the sound of loud voices arguing from his office. A few moments later the door to her room burst open and Loretta stomped toward the bed.

  “Why won’t you see us?” Loretta demanded as she approached the bed.

  “Got nothin’ to say. You should stay with the reverend and his family.”

  “The men still have to be fed and they’re all worried sick about you.”

  “Get out,” Clare said without conviction.

  “No! We need to get a lawyer to defend you.”

  “Nothin’ to defend. I shot and killed Thad. He never had a chance. Then I shot Coulter in the back while he was trying to get away. Ain’t much defense for that. Just leave me alone.”

  Loretta leaned closer and said, “What about me?

  What happened between us didn’t mean anything to you?”

  “It’s only important that no one ever know. Then you can get on with your life.”

  “I don’t want a life without you and I know you didn’t shoot Jack in the back.”

  “You weren’t there so you don’t know shit! You don’t know me as well as you think. I know what I did and will face the consequences for my actions. Now leave me the fuck alone!”

  Loretta had tears forming in her eyes, but brushed them away before she turned to leave.

  “Tell Ino the ranch is his. He should marry Mavis and give her a real home,” Clare said softly to Loretta’s back.

  Chapter Seventeen

  LORETTA PACED UP and down the boardwalk in front of the Wells Fargo Office. The telegram promised the attorney would be on the stage arriving in Trinidad that day. Loretta remembered her own journey into town less than a year before. The final sixty miles had been tortuous and she regretted having to ask anyone to make the journey. Especially in the winter. Snow had begun falling in earnest earlier in the day and there were no signs it would let up during the evening. Perhaps in another year or two the train would finally make its way into the growing town, although Loretta had to admit the train ride wasn’t much more comfortable than the stage.

  Loretta came into Trinidad as soon as she heard the news about the shooting and had been staying at Cyrus’ house near the church. It seemed that everything had changed. Amelia and Cyrus were unusually quiet.

  “Why don’t you go inside and sit down?” Hettie asked. “Pacing won’t make the horses run any faster and it’s freezing out here.”

  “I know, but I can’t stand the idea of Clare sitting in a jail cell not even trying to defend herself. She’s tough, but she’s not a cold-blooded killer.”

  “Does she know this lawyer is coming?”

  Loretta bowed her head slightly and studied her hands. “No,” she answered softly. “I told her I knew someone who might be able to help, but she refused.

  She won’t talk about what happened that night with anyone. Including me.”

  “An attorney from St. Louis will be expensive.

  What if Clare refuses this attorney completely?”

  “I’ll find a way to pay the fee. I have some money saved up.”

  “How did you find this attorney anyway?” Hettie asked.

  “We met in St. Joe,” Loretta said. Before she could explain any further, she heard the crack of a whip and looked up to see the team of horses pulling the Wells Fargo coach turn onto Main Street. “They’re here. I hope.”

  The two women stepped back from the edge of the boardwalk and waited for the driver to bring the team to a halt in front of the office. Loretta tried to remain calm as she waited for the driver and shotgun rider to climb from their seat atop the stage. The driver jumped down and opened the passenger door to drop the steps down while the shotgun rider began lifting bags from the rear baggage compartment.

  A tall, handsome man, almost pretty actually, in his early thirties stepped from the coach and snow began accumulating on his hat and shoulders immediately. He removed his hat and thumped it against his leg. As he reseated it on his head with one hand, he extended his other to assist a second passenger from the coach. Loretta smiled when she saw a woman’s head lean out of the passenger compartment and take in the surroundings of their final destination. A moment later the woman’s eyes found Loretta. She broke into a broad smile as she stepped from the stage. She said something to the man and walked toward Loretta, engulfing the younger woman in a warm embrace.

  “It’s wonderful to see you again, Retta,” she said softly, placing a light kiss on Loretta’s cheek.

  “I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances, Jo,”

  Loretta said. She stepped away from the handsome woman she had only met one other time and turned toward Hettie. “Jo, this is my friend Hettie Langford.

  Hettie, this is Josephine Barclay, the attorney I sent for.”The two women exchanged pleasantries and waited for Jo’s luggage.

  “I have a room for you at the Columbian Hotel,”

  Loretta said. “I didn’t know anyone would be with you.”

  “Ah, yes. This is my legal assistant, Mr. Ripley Sinclair,” Jo said as the young man joined them on the boardwalk and set their luggage down. A dazzling smile added to his attractiveness. He removed his hat, exposing a neatly trimmed shock of black hair.

  Loretta and Jo walked arm-in-arm away from the stage office toward the hotel, followed by Mr. Sinclair and Hettie.

  “Ripley and I can share a room,” Jo said. “We’ve done so many times in the past. His presence has saved me from an embarrassing situation on more than one occasion. We’ll need to be close so we can work on putting together the pieces of our case.”

  Loretta glanced over her shoulder at the people behind them. “He’s very attractive.”

  “If you’re interested in him, I’m sure I can arrange something, my dear,” Jo grinned. “However, I should warn you that he has a penchant for gentlemen.”

  “Then he’s going to be very lonely in Trinidad.

  Why is he here besides to carry your luggage?”

  “Ripley is an excellent attorney in his own right and Colorado isn’t exactly friendly toward female attorneys. He will be my voice in court while I direct him from behind the scenes.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Loretta frowned.

  Jo leaned closer. “Perhaps I might interest yo
u in spending some time with me while I’m here,” she whispered.

  “As tempting as that certainly is, Jo, I asked you here only for legal assistance.”

  “A shame. I can hardly wait to meet the woman who won your heart.”

  “I haven’t won her heart. I thought I had, but now she won’t even talk to me except to tell me to get out.

  She doesn’t know I sent for an attorney to represent her. Frankly, I was a little surprised you agreed to come.”

  “I have to admit this is a little off the beaten path, but I thought it was the least I could do for the woman who gave me such a memorable night. I think of it often.”

  “You paid well for that night. More than I was worth,” Loretta said, blushing slightly.

  “You’re very attractive when you blush, my dear.

  Your friend must be a fool.”

  Loretta laughed. “She’s concerned about my reputation if anyone in Trinidad discovers my past.”

  “What has she been charged with?” Jo asked as she nodded to a passerby.

  “Two counts of murder.”

  “And who were the victims of such an obviously heinous crime?”

  “Thaddeus Garner was a rancher whose property abuts Clare’s.” Loretta paused for a moment before speaking again. “The other was Jack Coulter. He found me and came here to have me arrested, presumably for stealing from him, which, by the way, I never did.”

  “I believe you,” Jo said with a smile. “If anything, he stole from the customers his girls serviced. Quite exorbitant.” She glanced at Loretta. “But I would have gladly paid twice the amount to be with you.”

  The party arrived at the Columbian Hotel and waited as Ripley registered and received their room key. He handed the key to a young man in a deep red jacket and blue pants. They followed him up a flight of stairs to their room and waited until he set their luggage at the foot of the bed. Ripley handed the bellboy a tip and flashed him a suggestive grin.

  Jo removed her hat and placed it on the dresser across the room from the bed. When they were finally alone, Jo sat on an upholstered chair and stretched her legs out in front of her. Ripley opened a leather briefcase and took out a pad of paper and a pen before sitting in a straight-back chair next to a small table under the room’s window.

  “Okay, Ripley, we have a double homicide charge.

  I’ll need you to find out everything you can about Thaddeus Garner, a rancher, and then everything you can about the movements of Jack Coulter after he came to Trinidad. I am already familiar with his business in St. Joseph. If I need to I can contact a friend in St. Joe for more details.”

  Jo turned her head and looked at Hettie, her expression benign. “Are you comfortable speaking in front of Mrs. Langford?” she asked Loretta. “I’m not sure of her connection with this situation other than being a friend.”

  “Hettie knows what I did for a living in St. Joe.

  Her husband was one of my customers when I first met her. She helped save my life. However, her reputation and that of her husband could be seriously compromised if the entire town knew about their past involvement with me and what I was.”

  “Hm. That could make things slightly more difficult. Mrs. Langford, have you and your husband discussed how you might be affected if you had to testify at the trial?”

  “We have and while I wouldn’t relish being forced to leave Trinidad, we will do what we have to to help Loretta.”

  “Loretta’s not the one on trial,” Jo said. “I’m more concerned with how you can help Clare McIlhenney.”

  “I…I don’t know her very well, but I trust Loretta’s judgment.”

  “Ripley,” Jo said returning her attention to her assistant. “I don’t yet know our client’s opinion about having an attorney. Do you think it would be best for you to speak to her first?”

  Ripley shook his head. “I will have to be there, of course, but I think she will respond more freely if talking to another woman.”

  “If she’ll agree to speak to either one of us. Will she tell us the truth?” she asked Loretta.

  “I’m not sure. I know what she’s done in the past and I know why she shot Thaddeus Garner.”

  “And why was that?”

  “Revenge. She believes Garner was the leader of a group of marauders who murdered her family twenty years ago. Anything else she knows she’ll have to reveal to you herself. She admits she shot at Jack, but I don’t believe she shot him in the back. Willis Manning and Mavis Calendar might have witnessed the shooting. I have no idea what they saw though.”

  “We might have to assist in a jail break to get this one off,” Ripley quipped.

  “Clare’s ready to die if found guilty,” Loretta said. “I don’t know how much she’ll assist in her own defense.”

  “Goodie,” Jo exhaled. “We’ll go to the jail after we’ve had a chance to change and rest a little. The road between Trinidad and Pueblo was damned bumpy. I’ll feel much better after a hot soak. Why don’t you come back in about three hours, Loretta, and accompany us to the jail. I’m sure Clare trusts you more than she will us.”

  RIPLEY SINCLAIR ENTERED the Trinidad jail followed by Josephine Barclay and Loretta.

  Sheriff Beutler leaned back in his chair when they entered. His deputy, Monroe Hardcastle, leaned against the door leading to the prisoners’ cells.

  “What can I do for you?” Beutler asked.

  Ripley removed his hat and dropped it on the sheriff’s desk. “My name is Ripley Sinclair and I’m here to speak to my client, Miss Clare McIlhenney,”

  he announced.

  Beutler looked over his shoulder at Hardcastle. “Is that right? I didn’t know Clare had hired an attorney.”

  “My associate and I need to speak to her privately.”

  “What about her?” Beutler asked, pointing at Loretta.

  “Miss Digby is here in case we need a few points clarified,” Ripley answered smoothly. “Otherwise she will remain here.”

  “You got any credentials?”

  Ripley reached into the inside pocket of his coat and handed the sheriff a folded copy of his license to practice law as well as an order from a Denver judge which gave him permission to practice in Colorado.

  Beutler read over the two documents and handed them back to Ripley.

  “Let ‘em in to see the prisoner, Monroe.”

  Hardcastle pushed the door open and motioned them inside. “Can’t miss her. She’s the only prisoner,”

  he said as he closed the door behind them.”

  As soon as they were alone, Jo stepped in front of Ripley and walked to a cell two down from the entrance. Clare was lying on a cot, her back to the cell door.

  “Miss McIlhenney?” Jo asked.

  “Go away,” a voice answered.

  “My name is Josephine Barclay. I’m an attorney from St. Louis. My associate is Mr. Ripley Sinclair.

  We’ve been hired to defend you.”

  Clare rolled over and stared at the two attorneys.

  “I didn’t hire an attorney and I don’t want one. You made a long trip for nothin’.”

  “Truthfully, we were hired by Loretta Digby to work on your behalf,” Jo explained. “She’s convinced you’re innocent and wants you to receive a fair trial.”

  Clare launched her body off the cot and grabbed the bars of the cell. Jo was startled when she saw her client face-to-face for the first time. “I heard you had been shot. What happened to your face?”

  “I tripped.”

  “And you fell on your face, apparently more than once.” Clare’s nose looked as if it had been broken without being reset and a puffy face surrounded two black eyes. Dried blood caked her split and swollen lower lip. “Ripley, we need to get the doctor here right away.”

  “He can’t do nothin’ for me,” Clare snapped.

  “Your nose is broken. He can reset it unless you want to spend the rest of your life breathing from your mouth.” Jo looked at her associate. “Now, Ripley.”

&
nbsp; Ripley left the cell area quickly. When he was gone Jo said, “Now do you want to tell me what really happened?”

  “I slipped and fell into the bars with my face.”

  “Who helped you do that?”

  Clare gave her a lop-sided grin. “A couple of real pissed off, law-abiding citizens.”

  “Where was the sheriff when this attack occurred?”

  “Makin’ his rounds and havin’ a beer over at the saloon, I suppose.”

  “He left you alone in the jail. For how long?”

  “An hour or so.”

  “The doctor’s on his way,” Ripley said when he returned to the cell. “Miss Digby is upset and a little adamant about coming in.”

  “No!” Clare said loudly. “I don’t want her in here.

  That’s my right isn’t it? Not to have any visitors?”

  “Well, yes, but surely you want to see Loretta.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Is there a photographer in this burg?”

  “I think so. Why?”

  “I need to have pictures taken of your face so I can press charges against the sheriff for negligence.”

  Clare laughed. “No judge will accept that case and you know it.”

  “Colorado is a state now, Miss McIlhenney. There are laws in place to protect citizens from assault, no matter the circumstances.”

  Doctor Wayne arrived at the jail and examined Clare’s injuries, old and new. “I’ll have to re-stitch the bullet wound on your leg, Clare.”

  “Please don’t reset the nose until I tell you to, Doctor,” Jo requested.

  Jo and Ripley left the cell area and rejoined Loretta in the office. Jo whispered to Loretta, who nodded and left. She returned half an hour later accompanied by a middle aged man carrying a camera over his shoulder.

  “What’s this shit?” Beutler demanded.

  “I believe this gentleman is a photographer with the local newspaper. He’s here to photograph your prisoner, Sheriff. Apparently, she’s the clumsy type. I want her injuries documented for the record, just in case she should accidentally run her face into the bars after we leave,” Ripley explained.

  The photographer, a man named Lester Pennington, looked nervously at Beutler as he followed Jo and Ripley into the cell area.