Holbrook stood. Familiar with court trials, Lance wasn’t surprised when he announced additional indictments. Eleven people had been killed at the mission on November 29th. Two more had been killed a few days later.
Once the entire list had been given and the foreman of the grand jury swore them to be true, Judge Pratt discharged the jurymen with thanks for doing their duty. Lance in turn dismissed his men to resume their regular duty and headed out himself.
The skies had grown heavy again with rain, although it hadn’t yet started to fall. Lance hated nothing more than the feel of a wet uniform and hurried to report to his captain.
Once that was accomplished, he went to the jail, crossing the narrow bridge that connected to Abernathy Island. He heard a report from Eddie, who was on duty, then made his way to check on the Indians.
The one called Telokite approached him and, to his surprise, spoke in fairly good English. “You come to take us back to that place?”
“No.” Lance looked past the old man to the one called Tomahas—the Murderer. If Lance were his lawyer, he would have heartily objected each time the name was used—even though he felt certain of the Cayuse’s guilt.
Tomahas’s dark eyes held Lance’s gaze. Here was a dangerous man. Among the five, Tomahas was definitely the one to be watched.
Lance looked back at Telokite, who watched him with a sense of anticipation. “I’ve only come to check on you and the condition of your cell.”
Telokite frowned and moved away, as if confused. Lance didn’t bother to explain. He’d seen what he’d come to see. His men were treating the prisoners fairly.
Returning to Eddie, Lance gave him a nod. “I’ll trust you to keep things under control.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Eddie gave him a smart salute, and Lance smiled and returned his own.
Lance walked back to the riverbank and for a moment watched the falls. They were beautiful. While many bemoaned them for the barrier they formed to river traffic farther upstream, others praised them for their usefulness to the various industries that lined the banks.
The noise of the water crashing down over the rocks was almost musical to Lance. He’d grown up with the Mississippi River as a vital part of his life, and there was something about a river that spoke to the very heart of him. He doubted he’d ever want to live far from the water. Hopefully the trial would conclude quickly, and then he could be on his way home.
New Orleans was a world away, and Lance had no idea what it might hold for him after an absence of over four years. After his father died, there had been nothing to keep him there—nothing but the holdings of his family. Once he returned, he would no doubt be expected to take a wife, continue the family line, and increase those holdings as his father and grandfather had done.
But was that truly what he wanted to do? There was surely need for good attorneys in this part of the country. Maybe even more than in New Orleans. As for the family plantation and other holdings, they had operated smoothly in his absence so far and would no doubt continue to do so.
The young woman from the courtroom came to mind. He wondered who she was, where she’d come from. Was she married? Did she have children? What had happened to her that day at the Whitman Mission?
He knew a lot about the massacre and the aftermath. Although it had been over two and a half years ago, plenty of people were still willing to talk about it. Of course, most of the discussion happened amongst men—none of whom had been there. The women were completely silent on the matter, as if ashamed that it was somehow their guilt to bear.
Heading back toward the hotel where he and other soldiers were bivouacked, Lance spied the handsome woman who had sat beside the blue-eyed woman at court. She looked enough like the blue-eyed woman that Lance figured they were sisters. As he approached, the woman smiled, but a man called to her from inside the open mercantile door.
“Are you coming in, Grace?”
She turned and hurried inside without bothering to answer. Lance would have liked to follow her—to ask about the woman who’d been at her side in the courtroom—but proper etiquette taught to him by his mother dictated that this was neither the time nor place.
Besides, he’d no doubt see the blue-eyed woman again.
Chapter
6
Hope walked among the sheep, content to be rid of the trial and town, if only for a short while. The ewes fed on the grass while their lambs nursed. Outwardly all was calm, but within her small frame raged a war.
Seeing Tomahas had made Hope think of Faith. When she’d found out that the Cayuse brave’s child grew within her, Hope had longed only to be rid of it. She thought of the unborn baby as a thing of terror akin to the Devil himself. She would rather have died than give that child life, but then her heart had changed.
The woman who adopted Faith, Eletta Browning, had reminded Hope that the baby was innocent of wrongdoing. She was just as much a victim as Hope. Then Eletta pointed out that if Hope killed her baby, she would be forcing her will upon the child just as Tomahas had forced his will upon her. It was more than Hope could bear.
But giving the infant life and raising her were two different things. Hope wanted nothing to do with Faith. She knew the child would only serve as a constant reminder of what had happened. Thankfully, Eletta and her husband had wanted the baby, and because they lived hundreds of miles away, it was easy to forget Faith even existed.
At least it had been until today.
Now Hope not only remembered but felt as if she owed the child something. The conviction and death of Tomahas would fulfill that debt, just as Hope was certain that ending his life would end her nightmares.
“But what if the court doesn’t find them guilty? Or what if it does, but sets them free?” Hope murmured to the sheep. She’d heard more than one person comment on the possibility of the Cayuse being let go as an act of goodwill between the whites and the Indians.
She felt the weight of the revolver in her pocket. She knew the answer to her questions. She would never allow Tomahas to go free. Even if the others were let go, Tomahas could not have that privilege. If need be, she’d put a bullet in him—just as he had done to poor Johnny.
Hope waited for a sense of guilt or horror at the thought of ending a man’s life, but it didn’t come. Tomahas wasn’t a man. Men didn’t act like he had. He was a beast. A rabid, loathsome animal who needed to be put down.
She noted the darkening skies and decided to lead the sheep back to the pen. She found the belled ewe close at heel and prodded the animal with her crook toward the pens. The sheep bleated in momentary protest then casually walked to the pen, her bell calling the others to follow. Hope had just managed to get them all to the safety of the fenced enclosure when the rain began to fall.
She secured the gate and hurried across the yard to the house, barely reaching it before the skies opened up. Leaving her crook by the door, she burst into the house as if being chased.
“Are you all right?” Grace asked, looking up with wide eyes from where she was busy with mending.
“Yes. I was just ahead of the rain.” Hope ran her hands down the sleeves of her dress to rid herself of excess water. “The sheep are penned for the night.”
Grace smiled. “I’m glad you’ve taken such a liking to them.”
Looking around the large, open room, Hope cocked her head. “Alex in the kitchen?”
“No. He’s ridden to town to see Sam Two Moons. They had a lot to say to one another, and I encouraged him to stay as long as he liked. I would have invited Sam here, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Hope nodded and moved to the hearth to warm herself by the fire while Grace went back to her sewing. For a long while, neither sister spoke. Hope had little desire to talk, but Grace would no doubt have much to say about the day. She sighed.
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked me my thoughts on the trial.”
Grace looked up again and shrugged. “I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you wou
ld. You’ve made it clear to me in the past that I shouldn’t pry.”
Hope pushed aside a feeling of guilt. “Thank you.” She sat down at the spinning wheel. “But I know this matter will not go away. I know it must be discussed.”
“In your own time, Hope. It’s going to be hard enough that they’re demanding you testify. I can’t deny I’m curious about your thoughts, but I can also see how troubling this all has been. I don’t want to add to your miseries. Home should be a refuge from all that.”
Hope was deeply touched by her sister’s kind words and by her thoughtfulness in keeping Sam away. She wondered if Grace would be shocked that Hope had contemplated killing Tomahas. And, if it came to that, would her sister ever speak to her again once the deed was done? Would she still allow Hope to live with them?
Weary from the day, Hope yawned. “I think I’m going to go to bed. I know it’s still early, but I want to take the sheep out before we go to town tomorrow.” She got to her feet and waited for Grace to protest. When she didn’t, Hope smiled.
For all that had transpired between them, Hope knew she was loved. Whether she took the law into her own hands and ended Tomahas’s life or not, Hope knew she could always count on her sisters’ love, even if no other love was ever afforded her.
The next day, the trial started with the defense filing a motion. A Plea in Bar declared that the defendants were native-born and their land lay west of the Rocky Mountains. Therefore, they were not subject to the jurisdiction of the Courts of the United States.
Lance had expected this. It was exactly what he would have done had he been forced to defend the Cayuse.
Holbrook had anticipated this move, whether because it was what any decent lawyer would do or because he’d been informed in advance. Either way, he countered with a Replication to Plea in Bar stating to the contrary that in 1834, Congress had passed a law that declared all parts of the United States west of the Mississippi and not within the states or territories to be Indian country. For a moment it seemed he was proving the defense’s point, but then he quoted from the Indian Trade and Intercourse Act of 1834. The act cleared up the matter nicely by detailing that the laws of the United States regarding crimes were in effect for any land under the jurisdiction of the United States.
Agreement rose from the audience, but Judge Pratt quickly pounded his gavel and brought order. He also very quickly rejected the Plea in Bar.
The Indians’ lawyer jumped to his feet to take exception to the ruling. It was a necessary move in order to later appeal the court’s decision—even though everyone knew there would never be an appeal. Just as everyone already knew what the outcome of the trial would be.
The judge noted the exception and moved on to register the defendants’ plea of guilty or not guilty. Again, one of the lawyers for the defense got to his feet to file a Petition to Change the Venue.
Lance knew this would be coming too. He looked around the room at the puzzled spectators who grew less confused as the lawyer declared his reasons.
“The petitioners cannot have a fair and impartial trial,” he began then continued to declare that not only had there been death threats against his clients, but the people of the town were quite vocal about their desire to see these Indians hanged. He declared them both biased and set upon revenge.
This caused an outcry in the courtroom. No one was willing to sit by and accept that they were being cast in the role of unfair and corrupt.
Lance watched the young woman with the blue eyes. She said nothing, but the look on her face spoke volumes. It was a mix of fear and anger.
The judge quickly brought the room to order. He denied the request and declared that the trial would continue as planned. Lance thought it strange that the defense lawyers didn’t take exception to this, but then, it wasn’t important that the people in this area were hostile toward the prisoners. All whites were hostile when it came to Indians massacring settlers. If Lance had been defending them, he would have filed the motion based on the fact that the trial was being held in Clackamas County, several hundred miles west of where the attack had taken place in Clark County.
The petitions caused a great deal of concern amongst the spectators. Lance and his men stood ready with their rifles in case further protests should get out of hand, but to his surprise, things calmed almost immediately. Judge Pratt moved matters forward quickly, allowing Holbrook to bring out two of the additional indictments that had been filed the day before. These focused on the killing of Mrs. Whitman and Luke Saunders, the schoolteacher.
The Indians’ lawyers asked for more time to prepare their defense on those indictments, just as they had with the first one, and Judge Pratt granted it. But Lance felt confident those indictments would receive no further consideration. The court was focused on the Marcus Whitman murder, and there was little doubt that the Indians would be convicted and hanged for that alone.
It was raining when the judge adjourned the court for the day. Lance quickly dismissed his men to return the prisoners to the jail. He turned back to see the young blue-eyed woman was already gone. Strangely, the people she’d come with remained.
Hope knew what had to be done. With all the legal nonsense and objections being bandied back and forth, she had the dreadful feeling that the Cayuse would be set free. She had never thought of herself as a murderess, but she couldn’t risk Tomahas getting off. Nothing would be worse than knowing he was still out there somewhere. Over the last two years, it had been all she could do to imagine herself safe. Only the knowledge that the army and other volunteers were actively searching for the guilty Cayuse gave her any relief at all. Now, however, if they set those men free, Tomahas could come and go as he pleased.
She shivered and looked down the bank of the Willamette River at the island where the Indians were being jailed. She couldn’t let that happen.
A battle raged within her, however. She knew killing another person was wrong, but surely there was some sort of forgiveness in this situation. And even if there wasn’t, she wasn’t overly concerned about it. Forgiveness didn’t matter in light of what she felt. If they put her to death for killing the Cayuse, then so be it. At least her nightmares would finally end.
She moved the gun from her purse to her pocket. The soldiers would probably search her purse, but they wouldn’t be likely to go any further. Of course, most likely they would simply forbid her entry.
But as she approached the jail, she could hear the guards arguing about something. Neither one paid her any attention as she watched them for a moment. Seeing this as God’s way of approving her actions, Hope snuck around the back of the jail and entered while the soldiers were still deeply engrossed in their discussion.
The smell of the room nearly sent her fleeing. It was the same one she couldn’t seem to wash from her body after the attack. She fought back the urge to vomit and forced her steps forward.
Tomahas seemed to be expecting her. He stood a short distance from where the others sat on the ground. His lips curled into a sneer as he assessed her from top to toe. Hope found it impossible to speak. The other Cayuse watched her with looks that wavered between disbelief and curiosity, but not Tomahas.
She returned her gaze to the proud warrior. When he gave a laugh, she felt her body stiffen. He found this amusing. She felt for the revolver in her pocket. The weight of it brought a renewed sense of assurance. She pulled the gun from her pocket and smiled when Tomahas’s eyes narrowed and his face grew sober.
“I’ve come to kill you,” she whispered.
“Good. It’s not right to hang an honored warrior like a dog.”
“There’s nothing of honor in you. You are worse than a dog. You’re a snake.”
He laughed again, shattering her nerves. Hope felt her hand tremble but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging her fear.
She had memorized what she would say to him, but now the words seemed unimportant. He knew why she was here. There was hardly any need for words. In a matter of seconds
, it would all be over.
Once the courtroom was cleared, Lance made his way outside. He could see many of the folks who had been watching the trial gathered in groups. No doubt they were discussing the events of the day despite the rain. He made his way through them, hearing their comments.
“Well, if they intend to let those Injuns go free, we’ll give ’em our own kind of justice,” one man declared.
“I can hardly believe anyone would defend them. What in the world is Mr. Pritchette thinking? He may very well be Secretary of the Territory, but that doesn’t give him call to say we’re prejudiced and unfair,” another man argued.
Lance knew the lawyers responsible for the defense would face a certain amount of ostracizing from their friends and neighbors for their role in the trial. Folks didn’t care if the Indians had fair representation. They were, after all, savages, and the benefit of white laws didn’t apply.
As Lance neared the jail, he heard the argument before he even rounded the corner.
“You take it back,” one private said. He’d squared off with his fists drawn up. “If you don’t, I’m going to wallop you.”
“You couldn’t wallop my sister,” the other private countered.
“Attention!” Lance commanded.
The men immediately straightened and offered wide-eyed salutes.
“What’s the meaning of this?”
“It’s a personal matter, sir,” the first private said.
“This is hardly the setting for personal matters, is it?”
“No, sir.”
Lance opened his mouth to further chastise them, but the clear voice of a woman came from inside the jail. The two privates seemed just as surprised as he felt. “Who’s in there?”
The two men shook their heads and shrugged.
“See to your posts,” Lance ordered.
He rushed inside and found the blue-eyed woman with a Colt pocket revolver in her hands. She stared down the tallest of the five Indians, who stood grinning at her in a sadistic fashion.
Beloved Hope (Heart of the Frontier Book #2) Page 5
