A Bride for Blake

by Marianne Spitzer

  The Sheriff held up his hands and demanded, “Quiet. Let me speak. I’m sorry, but Constance shot Eliza. I need to take her with me until we sort this out. I’ll send my deputy to ask the preacher and his wife to come to the jail. They should be able to help make Constance’s stay easier. Right now, the jail is empty. She won’t have to share the area with anyone you might consider unacceptable.”

  Aunt Hortense began to complain, but Blake stepped in and did his best to silence her. “Aunt Hortense, you can’t argue with the Sheriff. Let him do what he must do, and I’m sure he’ll allow you to visit Constance. She could have killed Eliza. You haven’t even asked how she is.”

  Aunt Hortense waved her hand in dismissal. “If she were dead, you’d be angry, and that housekeeper of yours would be crying. The doctor wouldn’t need to be here. She will recover from her little scrape with Constance, but Constance will have to suffer the indignity of incarceration.”

  Blake drew in a deep breath and reined in his anger. “I think it would be a good thing if you were closer to Constance. Please pack your things and hers and get a room at the hotel in town. Eliza needs a peaceful place to recover, and this is her home. She can’t recover here with your attitude and behavior.”

  “You’re truly sending me away during this difficult time? Your father and grandfather would be disappointed in the man you’ve become,” Aunt Hortense snapped.

  “No,” Blake argued. “I think they would be proud of me for standing up to you and protecting the woman I love.”

  “Love?” Aunt Hortense said and snorted in a most unladylike fashion. “You can’t possibly love that little slip of a girl when Constance loves you and came all the way here to be your wife. She is the type of woman you need.”

  “I wouldn’t marry Constance if I was still unmarried, and she was the only woman in the territory.”

  Blake turned to the Sheriff, “I don’t think Constance can ride without a side-saddle, and I don’t own one. You can take my carriage, and Ray can follow you and bring it back.”

  The Sheriff nodded, “That’s a good idea. I don’t like this Blake, but I can’t leave her here or at the hotel with your aunt. We both know she has to wait in jail until a judge can determine if she needs to face a trial.”

  “I know, and I have no argument with it. When Ray returns with the carriage, he can take my aunt to town. I think she will become your problem when visiting Constance.”

  “Perhaps the preacher can talk some sense into both Constance and your aunt. I’ve never jailed a lady before. A couple of soiled doves for a few hours and that wife of Old Claude who likes to throw knives at him when she’s been drinking, but never a lady like this,” the Sheriff confided.

  “I don’t envy you the job. Take care. I have to see what Doc has to say about Eliza,” Blake said before leaving the room.

  Ray slipped his gun back in its holster and said to the Sheriff, “I’ll bring the carriage around the front in a few minutes, and I’ll follow you to town.”

  The Sheriff nodded his agreement and said, “Miss Constance, you have to come with me now.”

  Constance shook her head and began to wail.

  “How dare you treat that child that way,” Aunt Hortense yelled, trying to keep the Sheriff from escorting Constance out of the house.

  “Ma’am,” the Sheriff growled. “I don’t care if you’re Blake’s aunt, you can’t interfere with a lawman. If you don’t allow me to remove Miss Constance from the house right now, I’ll arrest you, and you can ride back to town with me in shackles. I’m doing my best to be respectful to both you and Miss Constance by not shackling her now, but if this doesn’t stop, you will both wear them.”

  “Please don’t take me away,” Constance pleaded.

  The Sheriff wiped his hand down his face and took Constance by the elbow. “You don’t have a choice, young lady.”

  “Not without Miss Hortense,” Constance cried louder.

  “Stop this,” Aunt Hortense yelled, matching Constance’s volume.

  “Enough,” shouted the Sheriff quieting both women.

  The doctor, who had just entered the room, cleared his throat. “If you will allow me to be of assistance, Miss Hortense can ride to town with me and be available if Miss Constance needs her. Blake can send their things later.”

  The Sheriff shrugged. “That might work. How is Eliza?”

  “Fortunately, the bullet passed through and didn’t cause any major damage. She has a few stitches and will be sore and black and blue for a while but should recover nicely.”

  “Now,” Aunt Hortense said. “You don’t have to take Constance with you. That girl is going to be all right.”

  The Sheriff removed the shackles from his belt and said, “Do I need these?”

  Aunt Hortense shook her head.

  Blake walked into the parlor and asked, “What is going on? Eliza is trying to rest.”

  “Did you know the sheriff threatened to arrest me?” Aunt Hortense informed Blake.

  Blake ignored her, and she continued, “Blake Montgomery, you disappoint me. You will not inherit any of my estate when I leave this earth.”

  Blake looked directly at his aunt and said, “I don’t want or need your inheritance. I never did. Even if I did, I would never accept it after the way you’ve treated Eliza. She’s my wife, and you have been cruel and disrespectful your entire visit. Give it all to charity. I don’t care.”

  Aunt Hortense glared at Blake, but she and the Doc followed the Sheriff and Constance out to the waiting buggies.

  Chapter 15

  Doc wasn’t sure what he could say to the angry woman sitting next to him and decided to allow her time to simmer down before speaking. Aunt Hortense held the scowl on her face all the way into town, and Doc never did say anything to her. When Aunt Hortense insisted on being taken to the telegraph office before Doc dropped her at the Sheriff’s office, Doc did so with a simple nod of his head.

  Aunt Hortense pushed open the door and stormed up to the counter. “I need to send a telegram immediately.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” came the reply from the thin man in spectacles behind the counter. “I am closed for the evening. Come back in the morning, please.”

  “Closed,” Aunt Hortense screeched. “A telegraph office can’t be closed. What if an important message arrives in the middle of the night or an emergency occurs, and you have to send one?”

  He drew in a deep breath remembering his last encounter with the difficult woman. “In that case, ma’am, the Sheriff will inform me of any outgoing telegrams that need to be sent, and the incoming key is always live. Please, I’m late for my supper.”

  “You’ll be late for everything if you don’t send my telegram right now,” Aunt Hortense insisted with an intensity in her eyes that made the telegrapher honor her request.

  After the message was sent, Aunt Hortense informed the telegrapher that she could be found at the hotel or sheriff’s office when an answer arrived. He merely nodded, and she spun on her heels and left the office.

  Doc assisted her back into his carriage for the short drive to the Sheriff’s office and asked if she needed any more assistance.”

  “No, thank you,” Aunt Hortense replied, “and thank you for the ride into town.”

  Aunt Hortense opened the Sheriff’s door and immediately insisted, “I am here to see Constance. Open the door to wherever you have her confined and let me speak to her.”

  The deputy looked up and asked, “Who are you?”

  “I am Missus John Walter Montgomery, and I demand to see Constance.”

  “Oh, you must be Blake’s aunt. I heard about ya. You’ll have to take a seat and wait. The preacher and his wife are talking to the young lady now, and she can’t have more visitors.”

  “I insist.”

  “You can insist all you want, but there isn’t enough room for more people back there unless you want to sit in the other empty cell,” the deputy stated.

  Aunt Hortense threw her
hands in the air. “There appears to be enough space in this room. Bring Constance and her visitors out here.”

  “I can’t do that, Ma’am. She’s not allowed out of her cell.”

  “Cell?” Aunt Hortense’s voice raised again. “Do you mean to tell me the sheriff actually locked that poor child in a cell?”

  The deputy nodded. “We do that with all people arrested for attempted murder.”

  “Murder?” Aunt Hortense screeched.

  “Yup, she shot Missus Montgomery. That’s attempted murder,” the deputy retorted.

  “I’ll have your badge, and the sheriff’s for this,” Aunt Hortense said before sitting in one of the two empty chairs across from the deputy’s desk.

  The deputy shrugged. “I hear that a lot, but it’s never happened.”

  Aunt Hortense’s glare could have frozen water in the middle of July, but as soon as the door opened and the preacher and his wife stepped out from the holding area, her face brightened with a welcoming smile.

  Aunt Hortense stood and said, “I’m Hortense Montgomery, Constance’s friend, and traveling companion. Is she all right? This gentleman won’t allow me to see her.”

  “I said not until the preacher leaves. I never said you couldn’t,” the deputy interjected.

  The preacher smiled and held out his hand, “I’m Pastor Herbert, and this is my wife, Anna.”

  Aunt Hortense shook the offered hand and smiled back, “It’s nice to meet you, Pastor and Missus Herbert. I am most concerned about Constance.”

  “She’s resting,” the Pastor said. “My wife and I are going home to bring some comforts for her: clean sheets, a soft pillow, and a warm quilt. The Sheriff assured me if he must arrest anyone while Miss Constance is here, they will be held in a shed at the livery. She won’t be subjected to any unsavory men while in custody.”

  “Thank you for that,” Aunt Hortense answered. “I have been worried about her comfort and safety.”

  “We’ll do all we can to assure she is as comfortable as possible. The Sheriff has agreed to have the hotel send her meals over three times a day. It’s the best place in town to eat. She will also be afforded as much privacy as a jail allows. I am a bit worried about one thing. She seems distressed, which is expected, but she tends to mumble to herself quite often and loses her place in our conversation.”

  Aunt Hortense dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “That’s just her way of dealing with things. She has talked to herself for years. We all do that occasionally.”

  The Pastor raised his eyebrows but nodded his understanding and wished Aunt Hortense a good evening.

  “Now, may I see Constance,” Aunt Hortense asked the deputy.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he answered and walked her back to the heavy door that separated the office from the holding area. When he opened the door, Aunt Hortense saw a dejected Constance sitting on the edge of a cot pushed up against a brick wall and surrounded on two sides by steel bars. The fourth side of the cell was also brick with a small barred window.

  “This is inhumane,” Aunt Hortense shouted and whirled, poking her finger into the deputy’s chest. “Open that door immediately and let her out.”

  “I can’t do that, Ma’am. She’s a prisoner.”

  “I insist. What do I have to do to get her out? Is their bail? Do I need to get a gun and force you to open the door?” Aunt Hortense asked, glaring at the young deputy.

  “No bail, Ma’am and most likely won’t be considering it’s attempted murder, and if you bring a gun in here to try and break her out, I’m gonna have to arrest you. Then you’ll be sharing the cell with her,” the deputy warned.

  “All right,” the deputy said. “You can visit for ten minutes. Don’t try nothing. I’ll be right outside the door.”

  Aunt Hortense walked up to the cell bars being careful not to touch them and said, “Don’t worry, Constance. I’m going to send for the best lawyer around. You won’t be in this cell for long, and when you’re free, we’ll go back home to New York. There are plenty of fine eligible men for you to marry. Blake isn’t good enough for you. That woman ruined him.”

  Constance looked up from the cot she was sitting on. “I tried to get him to love me. I did everything they said, and he still didn’t love me. Shooting her was the only way to get her to leave, and they said I could have Blake. Why isn’t Blake here? They said he would be.”

  “Who said?” Aunt Hortense asked.

  “You know, my friends,” Constance answered.

  Aunt Hortense rolled her eyes. “I told you that you spend too much time in your books. You can’t believe everything you read in those stories.”

  “Not in the stories, Miss Hortense. They speak to me like real people. They’re my friends, and they said they’ll help me to get Blake to love me,” Constance insisted.

  “All right, dear, just don’t tell anyone else about them. They might not understand,” Aunt Hortense said.

  Constance smiled and said, “the Pastor and his wife are back. I like them. He’s very kind.”

  Aunt Hortense turned to see the Pastor and his wife carrying the items they promised to bring for Constance.

  “I must go now, Constance, dear. I need to move into the hotel and see if there is an answer to my telegram about hiring you a lawyer, if I can find that annoying telegrapher. I will visit again when they say I can. Try and get some rest. I have been assured that you will get three good meals from the hotel.”

  “I need a book to read,” Constance said. “It is too quiet in here, and it’s boring.”

  The Pastor had just entered the cell area and said, “I brought you a Bible, Miss Constance. It’s the best book to have, and it’ll help you pass the time.”

  “Thank you, Pastor. I’m grateful,” Constance answered.

  Chapter 16

  Half the town turned out for Constance’s trial. Deputy Walters had to stop people at the doors of the town hall when the large room being used as a courtroom was filled. Grunts, complaints, and a few unsavory words were heard, annoyed men turned away from the most significant event to hit the town in ten years. Everyone wanted to see the high society lady on trial for trying to kill one of the town’s own. Blake was well-liked in town, and Eliza had been welcomed by all.

  A table had been set up in the front of the room for the judge to use, and a small chair sat next to the table for witnesses. Two smaller tables sat near the judge’s table for the town prosecutor and Constance and her attorney.

  When the crowd in the room settled down, Sheriff Conroy led Constance into the room, her hands shackled in front of her. She wore a light blue satin gown with a high neck lace collar and matching cuffs. Perched on her head was a small matching blue hat with tiny white flowers and a small bluebird. The women in attendance were whispering about the gown and the uppity young woman from back East that would dare wear something so frivolous to a serious court hearing.

  Sheriff Conroy removed the shackles from Constance’s wrists when she was seated at the table. He told Constance to remain in her chair unless instructed to rise by her attorney. He wasn’t sure if she heard him since she had been humming ever since they left the jail thirty minutes earlier. She refused to make eye contact or answer any of the Sheriff’s questions.

  “She’s all yours, good luck getting her to say anything,” the Sheriff told the attorney. When the attorney leaned toward Constance and spoke to her, she hummed louder.

  A few moments later, the men assigned to the jury filed in and took their seats, followed shortly by the judge.

  When the judge entered the room, Constance remained seated and yanked her elbow from her attorney’s grip when he tried to get her to stand.

  The judge raised his eyebrows at the seated woman but didn’t say anything. He banged his gavel on the table and called the court to order. When he instructed the prosecutor to begin with his opening statement, Constance turned sideways in her seat and began whispering loudly.

  The judge banged his gavel again and s
aid, “Mister Clauson, please instruct your client that she is to remain quiet when I or anyone else in this courtroom speaks.”

  “Yes, your honor, but I have already instructed her, but she refuses to stop speaking,” the frustrated attorney responded.

  “Do we need to gag her for the duration of this trial?” the judge asked.

  Aunt Hortense jumped to her feet and confronted the judge. “You leave her alone. Constance is a good young woman. She only talks to herself when she’s upset. We all do that at times. She’s been doing it since she was a child. She was ignored by her father after her mother died, and it helped ease her pain.”

  “Sit down, Ma’am,” the judge shouted, banging his gavel repeatedly. “If you are called to testify, you will have your chance to speak. If you interrupt again, I will have you removed from the courtroom.”

  Aunt Hortense sat but scowled at the judge.

  Constance continued to whisper, and at times her voice rose, and she argued out loud about whether she should or shouldn’t listen to her attorney.

  The judge waved the prosecutor and defense attorney forward and lowered his voice, “Is this behavior unusual for the young woman, or has she been speaking to herself for some time as the older woman stated?”

  Before either man could answer, Constance jumped from her chair and began to speak rapidly and loudly, “I don’t care what you say. I will not tell them I am sorry for shooting Eliza. We talked about this before, and we all decided she should die.”

  The judge addressed Constance, “Miss Bradshaw, who are you speaking to? Is there someone in this courtroom who colluded with you to try and kill Missus Montgomery?”

  Constance blew out a breath and pointed to the empty space beside her. “They are right here. We are trying to have a discussion. They told me I should do everything possible to remove that woman from Blake’s life.”

  The courtroom sat in stunned silence, and the judge spoke again.

  “Describe them to me please so I can ask them to come forward and testify.”