Meadowlark

by Carolyn Lampman

  Garrick smiled reluctantly to himself. There was nobody in the world like his Becky. Then the smile faded. She didn’t understand. It wasn’t a simple matter of being tried for assault. Daniel Dutton could arrive any day, and Garrick’s past would become an open book.

  Except for Becky, Garrick really didn’t care. He was tired of running, of looking over his shoulder constantly, and never having a normal life. The time had come to pay for his crime. It was impossible to keep it from touching Becky and Alaina, but perhaps he could insulate them a bit. “Will you do me a favor, Stolks?”

  “Depends on what it is.”

  “Don’t let her in to see me anymore.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I don’t want her in here again.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence. “I reckon I can see to it if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

  No, it wasn’t what he wanted, but it was best for Becky.

  Becky wondered what more could happen today. She decided to check on Sophie and the colt while she waited for Garrick and Constable Stolks to finish their supper. As usual, the livery stable was deserted this time of evening, and Becky welcomed the serene atmosphere inside the barn. Sophie nickered a greeting as Becky approached her stall. For once, though, Sophie’s companionship didn’t ease Becky’s troubled mind.

  Garrick was too resigned to the idea of being found guilty. All the evidence against him was circumstantial, yet he wasn’t even trying to fight it. There was something he wasn’t telling her; she could feel it in her bones. He hadn’t even asked about Cameron. With Cameron’s fate so closely tied to his own, Garrick’s disinterest was odd to say the least.

  And why did he deny his feelings for her? It was obvious from the kiss they’d shared that he was far from indifferent. A lump formed in Becky’s throat. The trial loomed ahead, and she had no way to protect the man she loved. Her very existence provided the motive for Garrick’s alleged crime, though she knew in her heart he hadn’t done it.

  Standing there feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t help Garrick or change tomorrow’s outcome. More depressed than ever, she patted Sophie on the neck and turned to go. Suddenly, she needed to hold Alaina in her arms, to embrace the one truly good thing left in her life.

  But even that particular joy had to wait, for when she stepped outside, she ran into Sheriff Lucien and an unfamiliar young man.

  “There you are,” said the Sheriff. “Abner thought you’d come this way. This is John Simkins. He’s agreed to be Swede’s lawyer.”

  “How do you do?”

  Joe Simkins was about the same height as Becky with red hair and pale freckled skin. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Swenson.”

  “Becky,” she said, trying to keep the dismay out of her voice. He didn’t look much older than she was. “Have you been practicing law long?”

  “No, not long.” He blushed and tugged at his collar as though it was suddenly too tight. “This will be my first case.”

  Becky kept her face carefully blank. The hanging judge and a lawyer who’d never tried a case before? Could things get any worse for Garrick? “Have you talked to my husband yet?”

  “Uh—”

  “We just came from there,” Sheriff Lucien said. “Swede wasn’t any more open with him than he was with me.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “I was hoping you could tell Joe what you and I discussed.”

  “Of course. Shall we go to my husband’s shop? There’s no one there this time of day.”

  Though telling her story to Sheriff Lucien hadn’t been particularly pleasant, repeating it to Joe Simkins was a nightmare. His face turned an alarming shade of red right at the beginning and never faded. Becky couldn’t decide if he was embarrassed or disapproving.

  “I see,” he said when she finished. “So, you’re not married to either one?”

  “No.”

  “But you’ve slept with both?”

  Becky’s face burned with humiliation. He obviously hadn’t been embarrassed. “I—”

  “You’re missing the point, Simkins,” Sheriff Lucien broke in. “Swede relinquished all claim to her and the baby. In other words, he had no motive to attack Cameron Price. That’s your defense.”

  “Oh, right. Of course. Thank you, Mrs... uh...Yes, well, I’m sure I’ll be able to use this all somehow. Good night.” Joe Simkins gave Becky a look that made her feel like some sort of disgusting bug, then turned and walked away.

  Joe Lucien glared after him. “Damned uncivilized whelp. Somebody ought to teach him some manners. I’m sorry, Becky. If I’d had any idea—”

  “Th-that’s all right, sheriff. I have a feeling I’d better get used to it. Did you find out anything about the medal?”

  “Yes, but you aren’t going to like it, I’m afraid.”

  “After the day I’ve had, that doesn’t surprise me. No one had ever seen anything like it before, right?”

  “No, actually, the Lieutenant was very informative.”

  “He recognized it?”

  “It’s the medal of honor. Very few have ever been awarded, and only for bravery above and beyond the call of duty.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s what I thought too. Of course, that makes it easier to trace back to its owner.”

  “And it belongs to one of the soldiers at the fort?”

  “No.”

  Becky’s face fell. “Then we’re no closer than before?”

  “Not really, though the Lieutenant knew all about this particular medal.”

  “He did?” she said hopefully.

  The sheriff looked grave. “I’m afraid it doesn’t help Swede’s case. They found it on a renegade half-breed they arrested last week. The Lieutenant returned it to its owner the morning before the attack.”

  “Well, for heaven’s sake, who does it belong to?”

  “Cameron Price.”

  Chapter 33

  “There she is, the hussy that caused it all.”

  “You can tell what she is just by looking at her.”

  Becky stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the vicious whispers that went on around her. She felt horribly exposed where she sat in the middle of the room. Situated in the center of the unoccupied chairs, the seat had seemed comfortably anonymous when she came in. But as the courtroom filled, and no one sat in the chairs surrounding her, she became more and more ill at ease. Every person’s gaze scanned her at least once. Some were merely curious, others unfriendly and condemning. She was pointed out to those who didn’t know her and shunned by those who did.

  Only one person didn’t glance her way at all. Garrick. His eyes never wavered as he walked in with Abner Stolks. Even with manacles on his wrists, he exuded an aura of physical strength. The heavy metal cuffs pulled his arms forward and down, stretching his simple cotton shirt across shoulders that looked as wide as a barn door. The thin material did little to hide the huge biceps and powerful forearms.

  Becky felt like crying. The image of Abner Stolks trying to control his prisoner should the need arise was ludicrous. Garrick dwarfed his guard. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was fully capable of killing a man even with his hands in chains. Irrationally, she wished she could shrink him down to the size of Joe Simkins.

  Becky jumped as Judge Jones slammed his gavel down on the table. “The first circuit court of Sweetwater County in the Territory of Wyoming is now in session.” He surveyed the crowded courtroom. A good portion of the town was there, their excitement barely controlled as they waited for the show to start. Judge Jones fixed them with a fierce stare. “Before we begin, I want to remind all of you this is a court of law, not a circus. If there is any sort of disturbance, you will be fined and removed. I will not tolerate rowdiness of any kind. Is that understood?”

  Every head nodded, and the Judge turned his attention to a paper on the table in front of him. “The matter before the court is the people verses Garrick Swenson, alias Swede. Bailiff, has the jury be
en seated?”

  “They have, your honor.”

  “Very well.” As the judge studied his paper, Becky looked at the twelve-man jury. They represented a true cross section of the population of South Pass City. Over half were dressed in the flannel shirts and hobnail boots of miners, but there were several merchants in coats and vests, a mine owner in a fancy suit, and even a couple of cowboys. Becky didn’t know any of them.

  Suddenly, Ox Bruford was there sitting down in the chair next to her. “I just got into town, and Angel told me what was going on,” he whispered, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “We decided to take turns staying with Alaina and being here with you and Swede.”

  Becky gave him a wobbly smile. “I don’t know what we’d do without you two.”

  Judge Jones glanced up from his paper. “Is Dr. Caldwell here?”

  The doctor stood up. “Yes, sir.”

  “It says here Cameron Price received multiple injuries as a result of a beating on the night of June twenty-second. You took care of him, right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “What was the extent of those injuries?”

  “A broken wrist, several large lumps on his head, a badly damaged knee, severe lacerations and bruises on his face and body. He had slipped into a coma by the time I saw him.”

  “That was almost a week ago. Has his condition changed in that time?”

  “Very little. The swelling has gone down some, and the cuts are beginning to heal, but he still doesn’t respond to light or sound.”

  “Will he live?”

  “I really don’t know. It’s difficult to tell with head injuries.”

  “In your best professional opinion, will Cameron Price recover?”

  “Well, I—”

  “Yes or no, Dr. Caldwell.”

  The doctor sighed. “No, I’d say probably not.”

  “Thank you.” The judge looked at the paper again then set it down. “Since the doctor says the man’s as good as dead, the charge will remain assault until Cameron Price dies, then it will change to murder. That will allow this court to try the case now and save the territory significant time and money.”

  “Objection,” Joe Simkins cried, jumping to his feet. “That’s completely unorthodox.”

  “Objection over-ruled. This is my court, Mr. Simkins, and I will run it the way I see fit. Will the defendant rise and state your full name?”

  The chains on the manacles clanked as Garrick rose to his full height. “Garrick Ellinson.”

  Judge Jones looked up in surprise. “Ellinson?”

  “Ja.”

  “Your name isn’t Swenson?”

  “No.”

  “I see. How do you plead?”

  “My client pleads not guilty,” Joe Simkins said quickly before Garrick had a chance to answer.

  The judge gave the lawyer an irritated glance. “Is that how you wish to plead, Mr. Ellinson?”

  Garrick shrugged and said nothing.

  “I’ll take that as an affirmative. Mr. Breton, you may call your first witness.”

  The prosecuting attorney was Simkins’ complete opposite, stocky, middle-aged and frighteningly competent. Becky didn’t think she’d ever heard a deeper, more compelling voice as he called Collette to the stand.

  Becky hardly recognized the woman who walked up to the front of the room and raised her hand to be sworn in. She wore a demure gown of black striped lavender satin. From the high neck and full sleeves to the modest bustle in back, her costume was tasteful and sedate. Even the becoming hairstyle helped disguise her full, sensuous mouth and lines of dissipation around her eyes. She sat on the edge of her chair as gracefully as any proper young lady and waited patiently for Mr. Breton to begin his questioning.

  “Is it true you were the last one to see Cameron Price in good health?”

  Collette dabbed at her eye with a lace handkerchief. “Yes. We spent most of the evening together.”

  “Was there a time during that evening that you weren’t with Mr. Price?”

  “Only when Swede came in and told Cameron he wanted to talk to him alone.”

  “Did you hear any of their conversation?”

  “Some.”

  “Will you please tell the court what you heard?”

  “Swede told Cameron he’d better get his priorities straight or he was going to knock his teeth out. Then he warned Cameron not to mess with him. I’ve never seen Swede so angry.”

  “Did you ever hear any other conversations between the two men?”

  “Once, right after Cameron came to town. I was on my way home after shopping and happened to see him go into Swede’s blacksmith shop. I thought I’d stop and see how he was doing since he’d been quite ill the day before. I overheard the two of them talking.”

  “What were they discussing?”

  “Swede’s wife.”

  “Could you tell us the gist of that conversation?”

  “They were talking about Becky’s baby and how Cameron was the father...”

  Becky thought she might be sick as she listened to Collette’s warped version of the story. She made Garrick’s noble reasons for the pseudo-marriage sound like sexual opportunism.

  About halfway through the sordid tale, Ox reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. It kept her tears at bay, but just barely. Through it all, Garrick sat there expressionless. Not a flicker of emotion showed, not even when Collette said Garrick had admitted Becky was afraid of him.

  “Thank you,” Mr. Breton said at last. “I have no further questions for the witness.”

  Simkins rose to his feet. “How long have you known the man they call Swede?”

  “Since I came to town.”

  “Was that before his marriage?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what was your relationship?”

  She dabbed her at eyes again. “He was my lover.”

  “Little liar,” muttered Ox. “One of her customers, maybe.”

  “During the time that you’ve known him, have you seen him angry other than the two confrontations with Cameron Price?”

  “A few times.”

  “And what were the circumstances?”

  “In every case he’d had a fight with his…” She paused as though not quite sure what word to use. “With his wife.”

  “So, in your estimation, Becky Swenson was behind every flare of anger.”

  “Oh, yes. He’s the sweetest person imaginable when she isn’t around. She’s twisted the poor man into knots.”

  “And how do you know Becky Swenson?”

  “She works at The Green Garter, the same as I do.”

  “Thank you. No further questions.” Joe Simkins wore a self-satisfied smile as he sat down amid the shocked murmur of voices. He might not have been so complacent if he’d noticed the look his client gave him. It was the only emotion Garrick had yet shown, and it wasn’t love.

  “Order in the court,” Judge Jones said, pounding his gavel. “You may step down, Madam. Mr. Breton, call the next witness.”

  Sam Collins answered the prosecutor’s summons with a jaunty step. Becky relaxed as he was sworn in. Here, at least, was a friendly witness.

  “I believe you were tending bar the night of the twenty-second.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Were you a witness to the conversation between Swede and Cameron Price?”

  “Not really. I saw them talkin’, but I didn’t hear any of it.”

  “Would you call it a fight?”

  “No, in fact Mr. Price seemed real interested in what Swede was saying. He took something out of his pocket and showed it to Swede. After that, Swede seemed satisfied and never talked to Mr. Price again.”

  “What did Swede do?”

  “Just had a few drinks.”

  “How many drinks?”

  “I don’t know for sure.”

  “More than usual?”

  “Well, some,” Sam hedged.

  “Could you describe h
is condition as drunk?”

  “I guess so, but he left without causing any trouble.”

  “Is it common for Swede to get drunk?”

  “No, sir. Ain’t never seen him do it before.”

  “So, his condition that night was most unusual?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it true that you were the one who found Cameron Price?”

  “Yes, right after we closed down for the night.”

  “Would you describe the scene?”

  “He was lying right by the trail. There was a full moon and...”

  Becky watched Garrick as Sam described going for the doctor and helping the Sheriff look for clues in the scuffed-up dirt. Sitting behind him and to the side, she could only see his profile. There was no expression whatsoever on the strong-featured face as Breton established the fact that the fight had obviously been one-sided.

  “And would you say Swede is capable of inflicting those injuries on someone of Cameron Price’s size and strength?”

  “Couldn’t say. I ain’t seen either one of them fight.”

  “I see.” Breton turned and walked away from Sam; his face wore a pensive look. “How long have you known Swede?”

  “A little over two years.”

  “And who would you say are his closest friends?”

  “Why, Miss Angel and Ox Bruford.”

  “What the hell is he digging for?” Ox whispered to Becky. “There’s no way he can use Angel and me against Swede.”

  “I see.” Breton turned and paced back to Sam. “Would you say this Mr. Bruford is a good-sized man?”

  “Well, he ain’t as big as Swede, but he’s got a fair amount of muscle on him.”

  “As big as Cameron Price?”

  “He ain’t quite as tall, but I reckon he’s about as strong.”

  “Weren’t you and Mr. Bruford called upon to help Mrs. Swenson last winter when Swede came down with influenza?”

  “Oh, hell.” Ox whispered, closing his eyes and gripping Becky’s hand as Sam reluctantly agreed, then described how they’d gone with Angel to transfer Swede to the pest house.