Texas Tall

by Kaki Warner

  Today, the good doctor brought with him a large box that he set on the floor at his feet when he took the witness chair beside the judge’s bench.

  Ramsey asked him about his duties as medical examiner then told him to describe what he had found when he was summoned to the Lofton place.

  Again, Lottie tried not to listen. Tried not to see the ruin of her home through a stranger’s eyes. The shed. Her grandfather. But his words pierced the brittle shell of numbness that surrounded her and demanded she listen.

  “Please remove the item marked exhibit one,” Ramsey told Tillips.

  Her dread intensified as Lottie watched the doctor pull out a length of chain with padlocks at both ends. “Found this chain in the burned shed. One end was around the neck of the skeleton. The other was locked around the center pole.”

  Ramsey laid the chain on his table. “And item number two?”

  Her heart speeded up when Tillips reached into the box. Her lungs burned. Each breath felt like it was ripping through her chest yet she never seemed to draw in enough air. Unable to look away, she watched in horror as he lifted out a blackened skull, eye sockets empty, mouth open in a silent scream, the metal cuspids fused to the upper jaw in a predator’s evil grin.

  No more, she begged silently. Please . . . no more. With a strangled sob, she dropped her head into her hands and wept in soundless despair.

  Chapter 18

  Pandemonium exploded in the courtroom.

  Cries, gasps. Wild-eyed spectators climbed onto pews to get a better look at the charred skull. Others crowded the aisle.

  “Move!” Ty snarled, pushing aside those who blocked his way to Lottie.

  Up front, Sims shouted objections and tried to protect her from the surging crowd, while Judge Yarborough pounded his gavel against the sound block like a demented carpenter.

  By the time Ty had worked his way to the front, the bailiff was herding Sims and Lottie out the door the judge had come through earlier. Ramsey watched the chaos with a smug expression, and the judge continued to shriek and wave his black-robed arms as if attempting to take flight.

  Ty vaulted the low railing at the front of the pews and raced to the door where Lottie had disappeared.

  A narrow hall ran the width of the courtroom, with two doors on the far side. One carried a brass plate: Office of the Circuit Judge. The other was unmarked.

  Ty flung open the unmarked door.

  A small room. One window. Sims consoling Lottie at the far end of a skinny table.

  “See to the judge,” Ty ordered the frightened bailiff standing inside the door. Without waiting to see if he obeyed, Ty rushed forward. “Lottie?”

  At the sound of his voice, she whirled and ran into his arms. His relief was so great he had to remind himself not to hold her too tight.

  “It’s okay, honey,” he murmured over her broken sobs. “I’m here. Breathe. I’ve got you.”

  She clutched at him, her nails digging through his shirt. “D-did you see, Ty? Grandpa’s head . . . how c-could they do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Rage burned through him, searing a path through his belly, his lungs, to lodge like a closed fist in his heart. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “Lieutenant Benton,” Sims said, hovering at his elbow. “Might I say—”

  “Now?” Ty whipped his head toward the old man, a ready target for his fury. “You want to say something now after you said nothing all morning? You call that a defense?”

  The smaller man retreated a step. “I regret she had to hear all that. I tried to get Miss Weyland to wait in here until Ramsey finished with his witnesses, but she insisted on being present.”

  She would. Damn hardheaded woman.

  “I can hear you,” Lottie mumbled against his tear-dampened shirt.

  Ty pulled her closer, not aware he had spoken aloud. Were it possible, he would have pulled her inside his chest to shield her from this farce of a hearing. “She can’t take any more of this, Sims.”

  “I’ll decide what I can take,” Lottie muttered, obviously feeling better.

  “She won’t have to,” Sims assured him. “An hour more. That’s all.”

  “Then what?”

  The lawyer smiled, his faded hazel eyes twinkling behind his wire spectacles. “Then she’ll be free.”

  Her head flew up, clipping his chin. “Free?”

  “You can guarantee that?” Ty demanded.

  “Of course. I have proof of her innocence right here.” The attorney patted his coat pocket. “Now if you don’t mind watching over Miss Weyland, I’ll see what’s going on in the courtroom and send for lunch. How does that sound?”

  It sounded grand to Ty. Especially the part about watching over Lottie. And now that he had some small hope that she might come through this relatively unscathed, lunch sounded grand, too.

  As soon as the door closed behind Sims, he bent down and kissed her like he’d wanted to do since he’d walked into the courtroom hours ago. He felt the quiver of her response. Tasted the salt of her tears. Sensed within her the same connection that had driven him back to her every time they’d been apart. This was where he belonged. Whatever she had done, or thought she had done, he didn’t care. She was his woman.

  And once he had rebuilt her trust in him, she would realize that, too.

  The door opened.

  Lottie jumped out of his arms.

  Ty whirled, thrusting her behind him.

  Lt. Millsap grinned from the doorway, thumbs hooked in his gun belt. “Figured this is where you’d run, Benton.”

  “Her lawyer asked me to watch over her while he brought her lunch.”

  “Now I can watch over her, so get out.”

  Ty didn’t budge. “I’m not leaving until her lawyer returns.”

  “You’re a civilian now. You’re not allowed in here.”

  Lottie shot him a surprised look.

  Ty ignored it. He wondered how far to take this confrontation when he saw the San Angela sheriff standing behind Millsap. “Sheriff.” He motioned him into the room. “Since the rangers have signed off and this is no longer our case, will you stay with Miss Weyland until her lawyer returns with lunch?”

  “Well . . .”

  “I think he’s bringing enough for you, too.”

  “Then sure. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  Ty looked past him at Millsap, saw the sneer as the ranger turned and headed back down the hall, and knew this wasn’t over. “Lock the door after I leave,” he instructed the sheriff. “Don’t let anyone in but her lawyer or the bailiff. Especially don’t let in Lt. Millsap. Understand?”

  “No.”

  “Do it anyway. Miss Weyland’s safety depends on it. Lottie, I’ll see you at the hearing.” Without waiting for a response, he slipped out the door and headed in the direction Millsap had taken.

  The bailiff escorted Lottie and Sims back to the courtroom shortly after they ate. While they waited for the judge, Lottie looked for Ty. He hadn’t returned to the small conference room for lunch and she didn’t see him now. But she might have missed him with all the people filing in. There seemed double the number of spectators than had been there for the morning session. Yet despite the stares aimed her way, Lottie felt stronger now that she knew Sims had a plan—whatever it was—although she would have felt better if she knew Ty was behind her, ready to come to her aid should she need it. Worried where he might be, she scanned the pews again.

  “Miss Weyland,” Sims said, drawing her attention. “I didn’t tell you this before because I didn’t want to add to your nervousness.”

  Oh, God. Lottie braced herself.

  “If the judge is to hear the full account of your grandfather’s passing, you will have to explain what happened and why Mr. Lofton asked you to do what you did.”

  Lottie was afraid of that.
She just didn’t know if it would make a difference. “It will only be my word against all of Ramsey’s witnesses. Why would he believe me?”

  That crafty smile again. “He’ll believe you, my dear. I’m certain of it. Just be truthful. You have nothing to hide.”

  Before she could question him further, the bailiff called “All rise,” and the judge came into the courtroom—this time with more glower and less flamboyance. Probably still mad about the disruption earlier. Or maybe it was the late-day droop in his mustache that made him look so dour.

  After taking his seat, the judge frowned at the empty table reserved for the prosecutor. “Where’s Ramsey?”

  “Celebrating at the Golden Doe,” someone called out. “He figures he won.”

  “Bailiff, find the sheriff and have him arrested.”

  Chester gave him a fish-eyed look. “Have the sheriff arrested?”

  “For God’s sake, pay attention! Not the sheriff! Ramsey!”

  “Yes, sir. Okay. Why?”

  “Just do it. I’ll think of a reason later.”

  After the bailiff left, Yarborough told Sims to call his first witness.

  “I have only two, Your Honor. And one piece of evidence, which I will present later. Miss Charlotte Weyland, please come forward.”

  Lottie rose on trembling legs. Her time of reckoning had finally come.

  In a way, she was glad. She had dreaded this moment for so long it was almost a relief to finally be able to unburden herself. She had thought about it a great deal while she lay too nervous to sleep, waiting for dawn to bring light into her dark, stifling cell. In her heart, she knew the only thing she had done wrong was not telling anyone what had happened, no matter what Grandpa said. Out of cowardice and guilt and shame, she had run. For that, she must answer. The rest of it, she would do again.

  As she took the chair beside the judge’s bench, she looked again for Ty, and found him standing against the back wall again, arms crossed and shoulders tense. Just seeing his face calmed her. As long as he was nearby, she could do this.

  Don’t leave me.

  As if reading her thoughts, he nodded and gave one of his rare smiles. I’m here.

  Sims began with a series of questions that were easy to answer. He asked about her father’s death when she was three and her mother’s death seven years later. Grandpa stepping in to raise her rather than putting her in a church home. Their struggles to keep the ranch going. His strong faith in God and the teachings of the Bible.

  “Would you call your grandfather a hard man to deal with? Or an easy one?”

  Lottie gave a wry smile. “Hard to please sometimes. But easy to love.”

  “You loved him?”

  “Very much.” Just saying that aloud brought up a catch in her throat. “He raised me, taught me my lessons, provided for me, protected me. I owed him everything.”

  “Did he treat you well?”

  “Yes.”

  “He never harmed you in some heinous, unforgivable manner?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Did he beat you? Refuse you food and water? Force his attentions on you?”

  Lottie scowled at the solicitor, incensed by his insinuations. “Never!”

  “Never,” Sims repeated. He paced for a moment as if trying to make sense of that. Then he faced the pews, his hands lifted in a gesture of confusion. “And yet, you chained in a shed the man who raised you—the man you professed to love and to whom you owed everything—locked the door, and set it on fire?”

  “Yes.”

  He turned to study her, his head tilted to one side as though trying to understand. “Why would you do such a thing, Miss Weyland?”

  “Because he asked me to.”

  Murmurs of surprise rippled through the pews. Judge Yarborough called for order, then gave Sims a hard look. “You playing to the rabble, Ridley?”

  “Sorry, Your Honor. It simply got away from me.”

  “I bet. See that it doesn’t happen again or you’ll be rooming with Ramsey.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Continue. And watch your step.”

  Mr. Sims took a moment to consult his notes, then he turned again to Lottie.

  “Mr. Lofton asked you to chain him and lock him in the shed? Is that correct, Miss Weyland?”

  “Not precisely. I purchased the chain and locks at his request, but he put them on. He was already becoming erratic by that time and was afraid he might hurt me, so I wasn’t allowed to go into the shed.”

  “Why would he hurt his own granddaughter?”

  “He wouldn’t have done so on purpose. He was a gentle man. A good man. But he was ill. It made him violent sometimes. So to keep me safe and prevent harm to anyone else, he locked himself in.”

  Despite open windows, no breeze stirred the stagnant air in the courtroom. It stank of too many people crowded into too small a space and felt heavy against Lottie’s skin. Hard to breathe. The smell reminded her of the odors seeping through the gaps in the walls of the shed. Sweat, urine, the stink of madness and decay. She could almost hear his cries of frustration. The crashes as he tried to free himself. The screams—

  “Miss Weyland?”

  Lottie startled. Saw Sims and the judge staring at her, and forced her mind away from the horrors of the past and back into the courtroom. “I’m sorry. Would you repeat the question, please?”

  The kindly lawyer studied her with an expression of deep compassion. He didn’t like doing this, she realized. He had been Grandpa’s friend, and this was hurting him as much as it hurt her.

  Ty looked concerned, too. He had come off the back wall and looked ready to charge forward. She tried to smile to reassure him. I’m all right.

  He stepped back against the wall again. But the concern in those beautiful blue eyes remained.

  “I asked you how long your grandfather remained locked in the shed,” Sims said.

  “Until he died.”

  “And how long was that?”

  “I’m not sure. A week. Maybe a little longer. It was a difficult time.”

  “Did you bring him food and water during that time?”

  “I did. But he had little appetite and was deathly afraid of the water. Sometimes he didn’t even know me and thought I had come to attack him.” Feeling wetness on her cheek, she wiped it away.

  “He was that ill?”

  She met Ty’s gaze and drew strength from it. “He was dying.”

  “You know this for a fact, Miss Weyland?”

  She nodded.

  “How? Do you have medical training?”

  “No, but our hound had died of the same sickness. After Blue bit Grandpa, he was worried he might die the same way. That’s when he started making preparations.”

  “Like sending you to purchase the chain and locks so he could imprison himself in the shed.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he also ride into San Angela himself?”

  Lottie frowned, trying to remember. “Yes, I recall he did. Before he took sick. He wouldn’t let me come with him and it made me mad. I wasn’t aware at the time that Grandpa had been bitten.”

  “Do you know why he went to San Angela?”

  “He never said. And once he got sick, I forgot to ask.”

  Sims made a dismissive gesture. “We’ll come back to that later. For now, let’s move on to the day you set the fire. Is that something he asked you to do, as well?”

  Lottie nodded. “By then, I knew what was wrong with him and that there was no hope he would recover.”

  “And what was wrong with him?”

  “He’d caught the same sickness that killed the hound.”

  “Which was what?”

  “Rabies. It’s also called hydrophobia because those stricken with it are afraid of water even though
they have a terrible thirst. It—it’s a horrible way to die.” Tears rose again, but she willed them away. She needed to stay strong. She owed that to Grandpa.

  “Can you describe for Judge Yarborough your grandfather’s last days?”

  Her mind recoiled. She hated to even think about that time, and the idea of recounting Grandpa’s ordeal to strangers made her stomach churn. She turned to the judge. “Must I? His suffering was terrible. I know he wouldn’t want others to remember him that way.”

  “All right, Miss Weyland. But you need to explain why you set the fire and how you knew for certain your grandfather was dead when you did.”

  She had dreaded this part the most. The uncertainty. The guilt. The horror of never knowing for sure if he was still alive when she struck that first match.

  “Miss Weyland?”

  She took a deep breath, let it out.

  At the back wall, Ty gave an encouraging nod. You can do this.

  Some of the tension eased. “We talked about it. At first, I wouldn’t listen. I was only fourteen. I had already lost a father and a mother. I couldn’t imagine a future without Grandpa, too. But he kept at me. Told me he didn’t want strangers messing with him and was afraid if anyone handled his body or prepared it for burial, they would be exposed to the disease. Fire was the only way. Burn everything after he died so there was no sickness left. He said if I helped him do this one last thing, he could meet his Maker with an easy heart.

  “Eventually, he wore me down. Made me promise on his Bible to burn everything after he died, then leave and never look back. He said the ranch was failing anyway, but I was smart enough to start over somewhere else. I didn’t want to do it, but he begged and begged. I was still a child. I didn’t know how to disobey him. Or what else I could do. He had given me everything and all he asked of me was to help him die in peace.”