“You’d better keep an eye on that Frannie,” Earl teased. “She’s a woman after my heart.”
Maysie was enjoying this scene of love and devotion between Marilyn and Earl. She smiled as Earl looked over Marilyn’s shoulder and winked at her.
Then she turned her eyes back to the road. As a horseman turned into the lane that led to the house, she stepped closer to the window and placed her hands on the sill, her heart skipping a beat. Then it slowed to its regular pace when she saw that it was not Four Winds.
Earl heard the horse drawing close outside, and he bristled, thinking that perhaps it was a gentleman who did not yet know that this house was no longer a bordello. He eased away from Marilyn, ran a nervous finger around the white, tight collar at his throat, and walked toward the foyer.
With blinking eyes, Marilyn went after him. “Please don’t think that every time a man arrives here, it’s for the wrong reason,” she pleaded, catching up with him as he reached the front door. “There are legitimate reasons why I have callers. And Earl, I have a friend who is looking for Thomas, my accountant. It might be Sam, Earl. He may have found Thomas.”
Earl sucked in an uneasy breath and raked his fingers through his hair. Then he turned to the door and stared at it as the knocker sounded three knocks.
Stiff-legged, Earl jerked it open, Marilyn at his side. Both stared at a youthful, pockmarked face, and long, stringy hair hanging from beneath a sweat-stained Stetson. The boy’s clothes were wet from the misty rain. Earl recognized him as one of the workers that he had hired for the fishery—now unemployed, thanks to the damnable fire.
“Well, hello, Brad,” Earl said, extending a hand toward the lad. “What brings you here this time of day, and in the rain?”
“Mr. Easton, it’s something I heard.” Brad said, removing his hat, holding on to the brim and slowly turning it between his fingers. “I thought you should know. Or has someone else come and told you?”
“Told me what?” Earl said, raising an eyebrow.
Brad looked from Earl to Marilyn, and then back at Earl. “It’s your daughter,” he said, his voice weak. “She’s—she’s in jail. And so is that Indian that she ran off with.”
Marilyn placed a hand over her heart.
Earl had to grab hold of the doorjamb, to steady himself in his alarm over what he had just heard. “Elizabeth?” he said, almost choking on the word. “My Elizabeth? She’s in jail? Again?”
“The posse brought her in just a while ago,” Brad said, swallowing hard. “And they brought in the Indian, too. There’s a rumor that there might be a hangin’. Maybe two.”
“My Lord,” Marilyn gasped, swaying as a nausea swept through her. Then she crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.
Earl was in a state of shock, but when Marilyn fainted, he came to life. “Marilyn!” he shouted, falling to a knee beside her.
He swept her into his arms and carried her to the parlor, stretching her out on the sofa. “Maysie, get some smelling salts,” he shouted.
Wide-eyed, and numb from the news of Elizabeth’s capture, Maysie hurried and got the smelling salts.
She went back to Marilyn and knelt beside her, waving the salts beneath her nose. Marilyn began and coughing and rolling her head from side to side. Her eyes flew open and she sat up on the couch.
“Are you going to be all right?” Earl asked, placing a hand to Marilyn’s cheek. “I must go to Elizabeth. I’ve got to find a way to get her out of that place.”
“But, how, Earl?” Marilyn cried, sniffling into a lacy handkerchief that she had taken from the pocket of her dress. “That requires money, Earl. We do not have that kind of money.”
Earl began pacing back and forth across the carpeted floor in a frenzied manner. “There must be a way,” he said, his throat tight.
Brad, forgotten in the doorway, overheard their dilemma. He took it upon himself to enter the parlor. “Sir, might I make a suggestion?” he asked, clasping his hands behind him.
Earl stopped. “Eh, what is that you said, lad?” he asked, staring at Brad.
“I know someone that’s interested in purchasing your ship,” Brad said. “This man came into town yesterday on a clipper ship. He’s spread the word that he’s prepared to buy anyone’s ship, should they have any for sale. Seems he hit it rich panning for gold in San Francisco. He says he wants the ship to travel the high seas, more for pleasure than for business.”
Earl listened with a quickly beating heart, his eyes anxious. “His name,” he said, going to Brad. “Lad, give me his name. I think he may have found a buyer.”
“He’s stayin’ at the Gooseneck Inn on Third Street,” Brad said, placing his hat on his head as Earl took him by an elbow and began pulling him toward the door. “Should I go and fetch him for you, sir? I could have him back here to talk business with you quicker than you can wink your eye.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Earl said, ushering Brad on outside. “I’ll tend to it myself. Thanks, lad. Thanks a million.”
“My pleasure,” Brad said, tipping his hat and going to his horse.
Earl went to the hat rack and got his top hat, and gathered his white gloves from a table in the foyer. Then he turned and met Marilyn’s approach. He embraced her. “I shouldn’t be long,” he tried to reassure her. “And when I return, by damn, Elizabeth will be with me.”
Marilyn gazed up at him. “What about Strong Heart?” she asked softly. “You know how Elizabeth feels about him.”
“Let Strong Heart take care of himself,” Earl muttered, still resenting how the Suquamish had turned his offer down. He could not help but feel that if that deal had gone through, things would somehow be different.
Deep inside himself, where he weighed matters to find answers to whatever happened to him, he knew that somehow the fire had not started from a faulty flue.
A fire that fierce, one that had spread and burned that quickly, had surely been set.
But there was no proof, and his life was now changed because of it. He had to make the best of what he had left—and a big part of that was Elizabeth.
Marilyn watched Earl as he rushed out the door. Maysie came to her and slipped an arm around her waist, and they listened to Earl riding away on his horse.
Then Marilyn broke away from Maysie. Numbly, she closed the door and went back to the parlor and sat down, staring into space, feeling nothing but dread and impending doom.
* * *
Elizabeth shoved her breakfast tray aside, her appetite gone as she surveyed her surroundings. The cells were overcrowded with prisoners—men and women.
Although this was a new jail, smelling of fresh wood and plaster, it could not take away the feeling of terror that gripped her at the thought of what lay ahead. She had heard the sheriff and deputy laughing and talking about hangings—hers and Strong Heart’s.
Yet she knew that they did not have the power to sentence anyone. A judge would be coming from a neighboring city to make that decision.
Hers and Strong Heart’s futures were in the hands of that judge. There may never be a marriage. There may never be children. There may never be a Chief Strong Heart.
Elizabeth’s gaze shifted, and her heart ached when she saw Strong Heart sitting cross-legged on the floor of his cell across the way from hers. His hands rested on his knees, his eyes unwavering as he stared straight ahead. She had heard him chanting quietly only moments ago, and realized that he had been trying to reach his Great Spirit. Just as she had been trying to reach her own God with soft prayers to be set free from this place of degradation.
A commotion in the outer office took Elizabeth’s breath away as she recognized her father’s voice. Then there was only a hushed murmur of conversation between the sheriff and her father.
She waited eagerly. Soon they were coming toward her, a key in the sheriff’s hand.
Elizabeth’s eyes met her father’s, seeing a twinkling in them and a smile that told her that somehow he had managed to get her free.
She could not believe it, even when the door creaked open and the sheriff gestured for her to step outside the cell.
“Elizabeth,” Earl said, drawing her quickly into his arms, hugging her tightly. “I’ve come to take you home. Baby, I’ve come to take you home.”
At this moment, Elizabeth cast aside all resentment toward her father. The fact that he had managed to get her free was all that mattered.
Then she blanched and looked over at Strong Heart, who was now standing in his cell, his hands gripping the bars. As their eyes locked, she felt torn with grief, knowing that whatever bargain her father struck, it did not include her beloved Suquamish brave.
“I can’t,” she said, moving quickly back inside the cell. She even closed the door. “If Strong Heart isn’t going to be released, I shall not leave.”
Earl frowned. He yanked the door open and placed a hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “You’re not going to stay here another minute,” he said, his voice flat. “Elizabeth, damn it, let’s get out of here while the getting is good.” He leaned close to her ear. “I paid the sheriff under the table. If anyone figures it out, we’ll both be locked up. Come on. We’ll see to Strong Heart’s release later.”
Elizabeth’s eyes wavered as she gazed with longing at Strong Heart. But the thought came to her that there might be some benefit in her not being in jail. Strong Heart could be better served if she was free. Even though her father had said that he would see to Strong Heart’s release later, she knew enough about the way things were between the Indians and the whites to realize that no matter how much her father paid, Strong Heart would not be set free without a trial.
And she doubted her father had any intention of getting Strong Heart out of there. It was all up to her, and she had a plan. She would speak up for Strong Heart at his trial. She would make sure that he was set free, for she already knew what she was going to say to ensure it.
“All right, I shall go with you,” Elizabeth consented. Then she went to Strong Heart’s cell and placed her fingers over his. “Darling, do not think that I am deserting you. I have a plan that will set both of us free. Please have faith in me. Soon, my darling. Soon we shall be married. Soon we shall see small footprints in the snows of winter—our children’s footprints, my love. Our children’s.”
With many eyes on her, Elizabeth stood on tiptoe and kissed Strong Heart. Then, with tears burning at the corners of her eyes, she fled the jail with her father. She was numb as she rode the streets on horseback with him. She expected to be taken to his ship, where she supposed was his home until he could rebuild his fishery.
But her mouth dropped open and she emitted a low gasp of wonder when her father took her to her mother’s stately house. She was speechless, until she was inside and she saw the changes—not only in the decor of the house, but also the sincere warmth between her mother and father.
“Elizabeth,” Marilyn said, rushing to her after giving Earl a deep kiss. She touched Elizabeth’s face, then seemed to be feeling for broken bones as she touched her all over, tears rushing down her cheeks.
“Oh, sweetheart, you are all right, aren’t you?” Marilyn said, flinging herself into her daughter’s arms.
“I’m fine,” Elizabeth said, smiling at Maysie as she stepped into view. Then her smile faded when she realized that Maysie’s exit from Seattle with Four Winds had been delayed because of his loyalty to Strong Heart.
She eased away from her mother and everything about her father and mother’s reunion was explained to her, even the revelation of her father’s bankruptcy in San Francisco, and his subsequent money problems.
Elizabeth suspected that her father had probably gone back to his wife only for the security that she offered him.
That suspicion was squelched when her mother explained her own money problems, and how Earl had managed to get enough money to set Elizabeth free.
“You sold your ship?” Elizabeth asked, astonished. “Father, that ship meant the world to you.”
Earl went to Elizabeth and took her hands in his. “My daughter means even more than that to me,” he said thickly.
Elizabeth’s feelings were beginning to soften toward her father. Yet nothing could excuse the fact that he had plotted against Strong Heart’s people.
No. She doubted if she could ever truly forgive him.
Chapter 34
The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.
—ANNE BRADSTREET
The courtroom was packed with people who were curious to see an Indian put on trial. A strained hush came over the crowd as Strong Heart was escorted into the room and led to a chair at the front.
Elizabeth sat between her mother and father, looking sedate and prim in a plain cotton dress devoid of frilly trim, and wearing a matching bonnet. Her hair streamed long and free from beneath it across her shoulders and down her back. Frannie sat beside Marilyn.
Maysie sat on Earl’s other side, wearing a dress as colorless as Elizabeth’s, and sporting a bonnet where, beneath it, she had woven her hair into a tight bun. Her face was pale and lined with sadness. Maysie’s gaze moved slowly around the room as she looked for Four Winds, even though she knew that he would not be there. He was still wanted and he could not take his place alongside Strong Heart. He had already had a trial, one which had condemned him to death.
At times, Maysie had grieved over Four Winds, thinking that he had forgotten her. She knew that she should hate him for his deception, but her very soul cried out to be with him again, and would not lose hope. It was this trial, which had brought lawmen from all corners of the Pacific Northwest, that had frightened Four Winds away.
Elizabeth strained her neck to see over the shoulder of a man in front of her. But she still could not see Strong Heart easily. There were people blocking her view.
Nervously chewing on her lower lip, she settled back in her chair. Then she sat more erect and felt an anxious blush rise heatedly to her cheeks as the judge came into the room and took his place on the bench. He reached for his gavel and slammed it hard against the top of his desk.
“Let’s have silence in the room and get on with this,” Judge Cline said, looking soberly at Strong Heart, pausing as he studied him. Obviously he was assessing this man whom he would either set free or condemn to death.
Elizabeth watched the judge, seeing so much about him that hinted that his reputation for being a kind and considerate man could be true. Behind gold-rimmed glasses were dark eyes that looked gentle and caring. Although his thinning hair and bent shoulders indicated that he was perhaps in his early seventies, there were not many lines on his face. This man had smile wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth. His color was good. His voice was pleasant when he talked to the two attorneys who sat on opposite sides of the room from each other. No jurors had been chosen for this particular trial. The judge would be judge and jury today.
“I have read the record of the accused,” Judge Cline said, his voice smooth and even. “I see that he is accused of helping more than one person escape from Copper Hill Prison.” He studied the papers that he was now laying out on the desk. “I see here that he is also blamed for the deaths of the sheriff and his deputy, and for setting fire to the prison.”
He removed his glasses and sucked on one of the stems, again looking at Strong Heart intently. “That’s an awful lot of meanness for one man to get into, wouldn’t you say, young man?” he asked, laying his glasses aside, leaning forward, his eyes locked with Strong Heart’s. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Strong Heart rose to his feet and squared his shoulders. “Strong Heart is guilty for only two things of which he is accused,” he said plainly, glancing over at Elizabeth. “My friend Four Winds had an unfair trial. Nothing was proven that should have condemned him to the hangman’s noose. I saw no other choice but to set him free. Elizabeth Easton was unjustly arrested by the corrupt sheriff and was treated disrespectfully by the deputy. She did not deserve to be housed with criminals, under a sheriff and de
puty whose respect for law and order was a mockery to the white community as well as the red. For this, I became her judge and jury. I set her free. These things I confess to, and it seems everything else which followed was by chance.”
Judge Cline raised a shaggy, gray eyebrow, his gaze moving slowly to Elizabeth, whose testimony was to be heard today. He thought of her as nothing less than beautiful, and he could understand why any man would be pulled under her spell. Even an Indian.
Looking closer, he saw how frightened she was, and understood. Her testimony today was the only one, besides Strong Heart’s, that he would listen to.
Judge Cline looked at Strong Heart again. “You may be seated,” he said. “And thank you for your honesty. An honest man is hard to find these days. It is refreshing when I come across one.” He smiled warmly at Strong Heart as he slowly sat down. “Lad, this trial won’t take long, I can promise you that.”
Hearing Judge Cline speak so kindly to Strong Heart gave Elizabeth cause to hope. The judge narrowed his eyes as he stared at her, again.
Then Judge Cline gently spoke her name, and gestured for her to come to the podium to take a seat. Her legs trembled as she rose from her chair. The whole courtroom had fallen into a hushed silence, everyone shocked that she, a white woman, would testify on an Indian’s behalf.
And she alone knew that they had not seen or heard anything yet. Before God and the town, she was going to openly defy all the unspoken laws that had been set down between the whites and Indians.
And she was going to do more than that.
She was going to reveal things to these gawking, high and mighty people that would set their tongues to wagging into the night and many days to follow.
When Maysie reached a comforting hand to her, Elizabeth took it and clung to it for a moment, then went to the podium. She sat down gingerly on the padded seat after swearing to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth.
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