by Judith Pella
Fuller questioned her for some time about hers and Leonard’s relations with friends and neighbors.
Deborah finally said, “But they were all his friends. They were all loyal to him and saw only what they wanted to see.”
“You mean only you knew the real Leonard Stoner?”
“I suppose.”
“How convenient, Mrs. Stoner. But that hardly is much of a foundation on which to build a case.”
“There were his half brothers,” Deborah said. “He treated them like dirt, and they hated him.”
“Ah, yes, his half brothers,” Fuller said smugly. “We have already heard from Laban.”
“He didn’t tell everything.”
“Mrs. Killion, are you suggesting that he lied—perjured himself?”
“No, there is just more to it than what he said. Jacob told me things that had happened in the past, cruel things Leonard did to them as children.”
“Unfortunately we cannot accept such third-hand testimony.”
“I saw things, too.”
“Mrs. Killion, why don’t you tell me about Jacob Stoner?”
“Jacob and I became friends,” Deborah answered as calmly as she could, but she could feel her nerves unraveling. “We often rode together. After the misery I’d experienced with Leonard, it was a comfort to be with someone who treated me like a human being.”
“You were only friends?”
“Of course.”
“Why did you meet in secret?”
“Leonard would never have understood such a friendship.”
“Did you ever broach the subject with your husband?”
“No, I—”
“Then, how did you know he wouldn’t understand?”
“It was just the kind of person he was.”
“Wasn’t the true reason you never told him about Jacob because you feared he’d understand only too well, draw the only conclusion one could draw from such a situation in which a young man and woman met secretly in secluded places?”
“I…” Deborah was so confused she wasn’t certain how to answer that question.
“Answer my question, Mrs. Killion,” Fuller persisted.
“Yes. But that’s what—”
“Thank you, Mrs. Killion. Would you please tell me about the derringer you purchased?”
“But you don’t know what I meant before—your question was exactly what I said. He’d draw those conclusions—”
“The gun, Mrs. Killion.”
“No! I won’t have you twist what I say. We did not—”
“Your Honor,” interjected the prosecutor smoothly, “due to the lateness of the day and to Mrs. Killion’s obvious distress, I recommend that we recess until tomorrow.”
“A very good suggestion,” said the judge.
“You can’t do that!” protested Deborah.
“Your Honor,” objected Jonathan, “can’t you see the prosecution’s obvious ploy to discredit my client?” Jonathan realized he had phrased his question poorly the moment it came out of his mouth.
“Mr. Barnum, are you questioning the judgment of the court?”
“No, I’m not, but—”
“Then in the judgment of this court, I consider Mr. Fuller’s suggestion to be a wise one.” The judge slammed his gavel on the table and was about to speak again, but the sound of the gavel seemed to make the whole courtroom erupt.
Deborah broke down in tears, and Carolyn rushed from her seat toward the front. Sam jumped to his feet with protests, and only Jonathan could keep him restrained.
“Sam, it’s not worth it,” Jonathan said. “I don’t want you in jail, too.”
Sam wrenched his arm from Jonathan’s grasp. “I’m just going to Deborah!”
Jonathan let him go.
“I will have order in this court!” ordered the judge.
But no one seemed to be listening. Newspaper men were surging forward; others of the spectators were talking in a loud babble, commenting on the fairness or unfairness of the court. And many of the spectators, thinking the session was over, began to talk among themselves.
Deborah was aware only of Carolyn kneeling before her with tears in her eyes, hugging her.
“Carolyn, it’s not how it sounds; you must believe me.”
“Oh, Ma! I know that,” sobbed Carolyn.
“Thank you, my dear.”
“I wish you didn’t have to go through this. If only Jacob could testify.”
“Jacob?” Deborah studied her daughter and knew it was more than just a passing comment. “What do you know of Jacob, Carolyn?”
“He’s back, Ma. I haven’t said anything because…well, there’s lots of reasons. This ain’t the place to talk about it.”
Sam and Jonathan were with them now and Deborah looked up at them. “Did you hear that, Sam?”
“Well, some of it.”
“I heard enough to know we need some more time,” Jonathan said. He swung around to face the judge, who was pounding his gavel again.
“Order! We have not been recessed.”
“Your Honor,” said Jonathan. “I agree with the prosecutor. A recess is a good idea. And, due to my client’s extreme distress, I would like to request a two-day recess.”
Carolyn wanted to stop him. She had little or nothing to offer them. She didn’t even know if she would see Jacob again. But the gavel was striking the table as the judge dismissed the court until Monday morning.
64
Carolyn told Jonathan about her meeting with Jacob. She knew she was breaking her word to Jacob, but on the other hand, he had let her down by not showing up at their appointed time. What else could she do, especially after her careless statement in the courtroom?
But, as Carolyn feared, there really was nothing Jonathan, or even Sam, could do about her revelation. Even if Jacob did agree to take the risk and testify, his testimony might be as easily disputed as had Mabel Vernon’s or even Deborah’s.
“Hard evidence is what we need,” said Jonathan. “I do think we are stirring things up enough so that the jury will not be able to convict Deborah beyond a reasonable doubt. But we may have to settle for self-defense.”
Since Carolyn had wanted to spend some time with her family, Caleb had returned home on his own. When she was ready to leave after a brief reunion with Griff, Slim, and Longjim, Carolyn rented a horse at the livery stable, and Sky accompanied her back to the ranch.
It was late when they arrived after the long ride from Leander, but Sky declined Carolyn’s invitation to spend the night at the ranch.
“I’ll stay in town tonight, but if you want I can come out tomorrow if you think I can help with anything.”
“I’ve missed having you around, Sky. But it might only muddy things up for someone new to enter the scene. There is one thing—no, it would probably just be wasted effort.”
“What is it? We better not discount any possibilities at this point.”
“I don’t like Laban being missing. How are we ever gonna prove he did it if he’s not around? I think we should find some way to flush him out so at least we know what he’s up to and can’t disappear completely. Also, I was just thinking that maybe you could nose around town and maybe even question some of the Mexicans around here to see if we can find Jacob. He mentioned that they sometimes helped him and gave him information, and they might speak more freely to you than to a white person.”
“I’ll see what I can do. You’ll be all right here?”
“Of course.”
****
Caleb had been exhausted after the long day. It amazed him that sitting in a hot court could be so tiring, but the emotional strain of the trial alone was probably enough to knock him off his feet. Nevertheless, when he returned home that day he could neither rest nor relax.
After the court session, he had spoken to a lawyer friend who was attending the trial in order to see the great Jonathan Barnum in action. Caleb had wanted a professional viewpoint of how the proceedings were progressing, and
during the conversation with this lawyer, he realized for the first time that there was little hope of the earlier conviction, much less the sentence, to be repeated.
“It’ll be next to impossible to get the death sentence for a woman in this state, Caleb. It only happened before because you were on the edge of the frontier. It wouldn’t have happened in a city.”
“What’s the most she could get?” asked Caleb.
“Life in prison for murder in the first degree. But I just don’t see that first-degree murder can be proven. Perhaps manslaughter, which would garner a shorter prison term, ten years perhaps. But, let’s face it, Caleb, self-defense will be the probable outcome.”
“That can’t be!” Caleb pounded the table.
“I know it will be a hard thing to take, Caleb, because of the implications it will have regarding your son. But the burden of proof is on the prosecution, and they really have no hard evidence that Mrs. Killion was not abused, nor that she was having an affair.”
“I will not have my son’s character sullied like that.”
“What else can you do?”
That question had hounded him constantly since hearing it. It goaded him that he was so helpless. It had been different during the first trial, when he had bullied and bribed the townsfolk to slant their testimony to favor Leonard. It hadn’t been hard to do because most of them leaned in that direction anyway—they did if they knew what was good for them!
But the passage of time had taken much of the edge off that testimony. And Jonathan Barnum was a shrewd character; he knew just how to manipulate things to favor Deborah.
But it would indeed be a hard blow for Caleb if Deborah should walk away free. And worse, if that should happen at Leonard’s expense. He simply refused to allow that to happen. Nineteen years ago he had been robbed of his revenge. He had been so close to seeing her pay for his son’s death. She deserved to pay because she had killed Leonard, and she still deserved it because, in addition to her first crime, she would also kill his reputation. It was not right that his dear son should be accused of such things. What would his mother think? Leonard had been so dear to her. And Caleb would not see her son’s memory besmirched. Caleb owed Elizabeth that much.
Pacing in his study, agitated and restless, Caleb paused at his desk. His gaze lingered a moment on the daguerreotype of Leonard; then he sat in his desk chair and unlocked a drawer from which he withdrew another picture frame. This photograph showed a woman with dark hair and eyes and skin as pale and pure as fresh cream. By the look of her clothing—a high-necked, dark dress with puffy sleeves, trim waist and huge, hooped skirt—the photo was many years old. In fact, it was almost forty-four years old. It was the last photo of Elizabeth Stoner, Caleb’s first wife.
“I won’t let you down again, Elizabeth,” Caleb murmured to the picture. “It’s too late to make up for all my wrongs, but this, at least, I will promise you. Even in his death, our son will not be dragged through the dirt by Deborah.”
The lawyer friend had asked what Caleb could do, and the answer was simple. This sham of a trial had gone on long enough. No man could be expected to continue to watch such a travesty. There was not a man in that courtroom who’d stand by while his son was made to seem a monster. Maybe they wouldn’t exonerate Caleb for what he had in mind to do, but was that really important? His life had ended nineteen years ago when that woman’s despicable crime had left him with no one but a half-breed greaser to carry on his name.
No matter what they did to him, no one could hurt Caleb anymore.
14
Secrets Revealed
65
Caleb was gone all the next day. When he returned home after dinner, he was exhausted, but he did not respond to any of Carolyn’s queries about his activities. He went directly to bed.
After her brief conversation with Caleb, Carolyn returned to her room for want of something better to do. She was tired—mostly from frustration and helplessness—but she felt too restless to go to bed. It did not take long for her to decide to try to make contact with Jacob Stoner again.
She was descending the porch steps when a rider came into the yard. It was Sean Toliver. He saw her, stopped in front of the house, and dismounted.
“Well, well!” he said. “I wondered if I’d ever see you again.”
“My ma’s trial has been taking all my time.”
“I suppose I can understand that. I’ve been away, anyway.”
“I’m sorry, Sean, I didn’t even realize it.”
He laughed. “I’m crushed. I expected you’d be crying your eyes out missing me.”
She saw he was being sarcastic; she also realized that she hadn’t missed him at all. Yes, she had been preoccupied with the trial, but she had not even thought to seek him out when she returned home in the evenings.
What had attracted her to him in the first place? His kisses? His handsome looks? Surely if there had been more, she would have wanted to be with him every chance she could. But was there any more to Sean Toliver? What had they ever talked about or done together? The only thing he had seemed interested in was kissing her and such. But had she even tried to develop a deeper relationship with him? She knew much more about Matt Gentry, and he had not so much as touched her, much less kissed her.
Carolyn knew enough about love to know that there was more than kisses to a good relationship between a man and woman. She had her mother and Sam to look to for an example; they simply enjoyed each other’s company and were always talking and sharing things. They had so much in common.
Did she have anything in common with Sean? She had never bothered to find out. Perhaps she owed him that much.
She decided she could look for Jacob another time. “Sean, I was just going to go for a ride under the stars. Would you like to join me?”
“Well, love, I’m just getting back from a long ride, and I’m not particularly eager to get back on my horse for a spell.”
“Why don’t we just sit here on the porch and talk for a while then?”
“Talk, eh?”
“Sure. We hardly know each other.”
“I know all I want to know about you.” He stepped to her, put his hands on her waist, and ran them up and down. “Like how good you feel, Carolyn, how soft and inviting.” He pulled her close and brought his lips down on hers hard and passionately.
She tried to pull away. “Sean, not now.”
“You’re right. This is hardly the place.” Keeping an arm firmly around her, he started to lead her around to the side of the house that was out of sight of the gate and the bunkhouse.
“I just want to talk, Sean,” Carolyn protested. But she stumbled along, unable to break away from his grip without considerable effort that she was not yet ready to expend.
“Talk, yeah…” But he wasn’t listening. When he got her into the shadows he came at her again. Talking was the furthest thing from his mind.
Then Carolyn got mad. He didn’t give a hoot about her except as some female he could seduce. He didn’t want to know who she was, or what she liked, or about the pain her mother’s trial was causing her. Sean had shown no interest at all in her mother’s trial—or anything about her life. He was totally self-absorbed.
“Sean, I don’t want to kiss you.” She pushed him, but he didn’t stop.
“You don’t know what you want, Carolyn.”
“If you don’t stop, I’ll scream and bring out every cowboy on this place.”
“I told you once before, Carolyn, I’m a man who gets what he wants.”
“Well, you ain’t getting me!” She gave him a mighty shove and, because he was not prepared, he stumbled back from her.
Before she could get away, he grabbed her arm and forced his kisses on her as he had the night of the dance, ignoring her struggles. But Carolyn was more angry than helpless now. When she freed her mouth from his she didn’t scream, but instead taunted him bitterly. “Is that the only way you can get a girl, Sean, by forcing her?”
“I ca
n get any girl I want.”
“Don’t look that way to me.”
“Why, you—!”
For a brief moment, Carolyn felt a wave of fear. His voice had been like a frightening growl, filled with ire and sudden hostility. He could hurt her if he chose to. He had stopped kissing her but continued to grip her arms in a painful grasp.
Then he let her go. Panting and glaring at her he said, “You’re not worth it.” And he walked away.
Carolyn felt more relief than sadness at his departure. She could finally admit to herself that she felt no remorse at all, except the brief thought that it was too bad Sean didn’t have character to match his looks. What were looks, anyway? Well, maybe they played a tiny part in these things, but hardly enough to sacrifice everything else for. She was just glad she’d had enough sense to realize that before it was too late.
Carolyn laughed at herself. “As if I have any sense at all, except what God’s given me! Thank you, Lord, for opening my eyes. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t around to get me out of these scrapes I get myself into.”
Then, hardly connecting her next decision to her so recently uttered prayer, Carolyn decided to go ahead with her plans to find Jacob.
66
A dark, moonless night greeted her as she rode away from the stables. At first, she was glad she hadn’t run into Sean in the stable, but then she realized how late it was and began wishing she wasn’t alone. She thought of Sean and quickly realized that the kind of companionship he offered was definitely not what she was looking for. Too bad she had sent Sky away. Even Matt or Ramón would be better—just a friend who truly cared about her. She glanced over her shoulder toward the bunkhouse, where a light still shone in the window. But it would cause too much of a stir for her to go after Matt or Ramón now. Besides, Sean might be there.
On reaching the line cabin, she found it deserted. She supposed she really didn’t expect to find anyone there, especially since it was a good two hours after sundown, the time Jacob had said he’d meet her there many days ago. She headed for the ridge.
