by Bobbi Smith
Ralph asked him simple questions to start, beginning with the uneasy relations between the Stevenson family and Thompson, then focusing in on the murder.
"Did you kill Ben Thompson?" Ralph asked Walker pointedly, wanting his answer on the record.
"No, I did not."
"Where did you go after you left Dr. Reynolds's office on the night of the murder?"
"I went straight to the hotel."
"Did you leave the hotel that night for any reason?"
"No. As I told the prosecutor, I was in my room all night. I didn't come out until the following morning."
"Thank you."
It was early afternoon when all the testimony had been given, and the judge turned the case over to the jury. The twelve men went into the small, window-less room to deliberate.
Sheriff Protzel and Deputy Davis took Walker out the back door.
"How long do you think the jury will be out?" Walker asked as they made their way to the jail.
"There's no way of knowing," Sheriff Protzel answered honestly. "I've seen verdicts come in in less than an hour, and I've seen the deliberations go on for several days."
When they came around the side of the courthouse, the lawmen saw Mick and two of Thompson's other ranch hands lingering out front.
"Let's cross the street," the sheriff directed.
They had just started to cross when Mick caught sight of them and moved to confront them.
"You'd better keep a good eye on him, Sheriff!" Mick taunted. "I'd hate to have to shoot him for trying to escape!"
"Go on about your business," the lawman ordered.
The troublemakers moved away, but not before giving Walker one last threatening look.
Roni was devastated as she watched the sheriff and his deputy take Walker from the building. The thought that her testimony might ultimately be responsible for convicting him of a crime he hadn't committed tortured her, and knowing there was nothing she could do to change the outcome of the trial only made her feel worse.
"Let's get out of here," Jim said to Roni, taking her arm to usher her through the crowd that was lingering in the courthouse.
Chet and Stacy followed them, glad to be gone from the scene. The trial hadn't been easy on her—Stacy had to struggle to control her emotions. So had Chet, but for completely different reasons. He was delighted with how things had gone, and he believed it wouldn't take the jury long at all to come up with a guilty verdict.
"What do we do now?" Stacy asked nervously.
"It's in the hands of the jury," Jim told her sympathetically. "There's nothing we can do, but wait—and pray." He added the last in a solemn tone.
Stacy looked up at Jim, seeing his inner strength. She realized then what a strong man he really was, and deep in her heart she was grateful for his support.
"There's no proof Walker had anything to do with the shooting. He's innocent," Chet remarked, wanting to try to encourage her. "There's no way they can convict him."
"We know that, but will the jury believe it? The way Luther emphasized Walker's Comanche heritage . . ." Roni worried. "Did you hear the comments some of the people in the courtroom made?"
"I heard them," Stacy said in disgust, "and if the jury feels the way those people do . . ."
They all shared a worried look.
"I need to go down to the bank," Jim told them. "If you hear that the jury's coming back in, send word."
"I will," Stacy promised. She and Chet accompanied Roni back to her office.
They were going to pass the long, empty hours there, waiting for news of the verdict.
Chapter Eleven
Sheriff Protzel and Deputy Davis settled in the office after locking Walker in his cell.
"Is something bothering you?" the deputy asked, noticing the sheriff's dark mood.
Protzel looked over at Davis and said uneasily, "I got a bad feeling about all this."
"Why?"
"I'm not sure Walker's guilty."
"Who else could it be?" Davis asked.
"Anybody," he countered. "Thompson was nothing but trouble. A lot of folks in the area had run-ins with him, and a lot of folks hated him. But proving it was someone else when Walker had the fight with him at the dance and threatened him right there in front of witnesses—not to mention what happened later . . ." Protzel shook his head slowly. "It doesn't look good for him. No, it doesn't look good at all."
"What else can we do?"
"There's nothing we can do now, but wait."
Chet sat with Stacy and Roni at Roni's kitchen table.
"It's almost over," Chet said, trying to reassure them. "And once the verdict's in, we can celebrate."
Real soon, now, he knew he'd be celebrating for sure.
"I hope you're right," Stacy said worriedly.
"So do I." Roni was miserable. "I just feel so guilty. The prosecutor twisted everything I said. I know Walker didn't kill Ben Thompson, but Luther made it sound like he'd planned the whole thing."
"Roni, you were under oath, and so was I," he said supportively. "I testified to the same thing. There was nothing else we could do. We had to tell the truth."
"I know, but if he's convicted—"
"Walker knows you had no choice," Stacy said. "But don't even think that way. He's innocent. Surely the jury will realize that."
"How much longer do you think it will take them to reach their verdict?" Roni asked, her emotions on edge.
"There's no way of telling," Chet answered. "We can only wait."
"And, like Jim said, pray," Stacy added.
Walker was sitting on the side of his cot, staring blankly around the jail cell. His mood had grown even darker after returning to the jail. There had been only one other time in his life when he'd felt this unsure of himself and his future, and that had been the day his father had taken him from the Comanche village after his mother's death. It had been hard to ride away from the only life he'd ever known, but somehow he'd made the transition and had adapted to living in the white world.
It hadn't been easy, but he'd survived.
He'd worked side by side with his father to make the Dollar the most successful ranch in the area, and after his father had passed away, he'd dedicated himself to keeping the place running smoothly. He'd wanted to fulfill his father's dream.
And he'd done it—up until now.
Now, Walker knew all that had changed. The things that were happening to him were totally out of his control, and there was nothing he could do to change any of it.
Restless, he got up to pace the cell.
Being helpless didn't sit well with him.
He could only hope that justice would win out in his trial. He had no doubt, though, that some of the people in Two Guns had already convicted him in their minds and were just waiting to see him hang.
Walker drew a ragged breath and struggled for control.
Thoughts of Roni came to him then, memories of the forbidden kiss they'd shared in the cell—the sweetness of her lips, the hunger she aroused in him. He finally accepted the truth of his feelings for her: he loved her. It was a painful acknowledgment, for he feared there could be no future for them.
He was tormented by memories of Chet's and Roni's testimonies and how the prosecutor had manipulated his own words and used them against him. He knew he had no one to blame but himself. His anger at Ben had been real, and Roni and Chet had only told the truth.
In frustration, he sat back down on the cot to bide his time.
He had no choice.
There was nothing else he could do, but wait.
It was less than two hours later when a messenger came running over to the sheriff's office.
"Sheriff Protzel! The verdict is in! The judge said to be back in court in half an hour!"
"Tell him we'll be there."
The sheriff gave his deputy a knowing look before they went back to tell Walker. When verdicts were reached this quickly, he always had a bad feeling about them, and he'd found over the y
ears that he was usually right.
"It's time, Walker," Sheriff Protzel said sympathetically. "The jury's reached a verdict."
Walker said nothing. He got up and stepped out of the cell once the deputy had unlocked and opened the door. As he passed through the doorway, he hoped he would never see the inside of a jail cell again.
They made their way over to the courthouse.
Once the news had gone out that a verdict had been reached, word traveled fast around town. Everyone was hurrying back over to hear what the jury had decided.
Walker had himself under control as he entered the building, accompanied by the sheriff and deputy. He caught sight of Roni sitting near the front with Stacy, Jim and Chet again, and his gaze lingered on her as he made his way to his chair.
Roni sensed the change in the mood in the courtroom and looked around to see the lawmen bringing Walker down the center aisle. Their gazes met as he passed by, then sat down with his lawyer. He did not look back again, but stared straight ahead as he waited to learn his fate.
He wanted to believe that the jury had recognized the truth and would declare him innocent.
He wanted to believe that very soon he would be walking out of the courthouse a free man.
He wanted to believe the real killer would be found and punished.
He waited.
Roni was tense and on edge as the jury filed in. The moment she'd been dreading was finally upon them. She glanced at Stacy and saw how she was clinging to Chet's hand for strength. She found Jim watching her, and they shared a look of understanding as the judge called the court to order.
"Gentlemen of the jury," the judge began, "it is my understanding that you've reached a verdict in this case."
"We have, Your Honor," the jury spokesman answered.
"How do you find the defendant, Walker Stevenson?"
"We find the defendant . . ."
A hushed silence fell over the onlookers as they anticipated what he was about to announce.
"Guilty."
A roar echoed through the room.
"I knew he was guilty!"
"The damned half-breed is nothing but an animal!"
"Let's hang him now!"
"No!" Stacy cried aloud.
The verdict slammed into Walker like a violent, physical blow, shattering his self-control. Furious, he surged to his feet, shouting in protest. "You're wrong! I'm innocent! I didn't kill Ben Thompson!"
Roni started to get up to rush to Walker, but she had no chance as the sheriff and his deputy were instantly on him. It took both men to restrain him and force him back down in his chair.
"Order in the court!" the judge exclaimed loudly, banging his gavel forcefully. When things had finally quieted down, he turned his attention to Walker. "Walker Stevenson, you have been found guilty of the murder of Ben Thompson. You are hereby sentenced to life in prison."
"What?" someone yelled in the back.
"He should hang!" another called out.
The judge banged his gavel to restore order again. "There were no witnesses to the murder, so I will not sentence him to hang!"
"But he's guilty!" they were shouting. "The jury convicted him!"
"Sheriff Protzel, please make arrangements to have the prisoner transported to the penitentiary. This court is adjourned."
"No, this is wrong! This is all wrong!!" Stacy stood up, crying out to the judge. "My brother's innocent! He didn't do it! I know he didn't do it!"
But no one was listening to her.
Stacy collapsed into Chet's arms as Sheriff Protzel and Deputy Davis made short order of getting Walker out of the courthouse. The way tempers were flaring over his sentence, they feared there might be a riot.
Jim and Roni stood with the others at the front of the courtroom.
"What are we going to do?" Stacy cried.
Roni was heartbroken. "Walker can't go to prison!"
Chet held Stacy close. He tried to sound sorrowful as he told her, "There's nothing we can do now. The verdict's in. It's over."
Jim couldn't believe what he'd just heard Chet say. He glared at him, erupting in his fury at the injustice. "This isn't over—not by a long shot," he declared. "The real killer is out there somewhere, and I'm going to find him—no matter how long it takes!"
Roni and Stacy gazed up at Jim, buoyed up by his determination.
"Thank you, Jim," Roni told him.
"Yes, Jim," Stacy said miserably. "Thank you." He was the only one offering them any hope.
Chet realized he needed to follow Jim's lead. "Whatever I can do to help, Jim, just say the word."
Slowly, they left the courthouse, ignoring the hateful comments that were being thrown at them as they passed by.
Two Days Later
The arrangements had been made to transport Walker to the prison. The trip to the penitentiary was a long, arduous one, and Sheriff Protzel was sending Deputy Davis along to guard the prisoner.
Mick Jones and several of the other hands from the Thompson ranch heard the news and made it a point to be in town the day Walker was leaving on the stage. They wanted to be there to give him a good send-off.
Devastated by the verdict, Stacy had remained in town, staying with Roni so she could visit Walker every chance she got. Roni always accompanied her, and they tried to remain positive when they were around him. But as the fateful day drew near, Stacy could no long hide her sorrow from her brother. They were at the jail that last morning with Jim and Chet to tell him good-bye.
"Walker, what am I going to do without you?" Stacy was trying to be strong as she faced her brother where he stood in the cell.
He was grim as he answered, "Chet and Jim are here, and so is Roni. Whatever you need, they'll help you."
She started crying so hard that Chet had to lead her from the jail, keeping a supportive arm around her shoulders.
Jim looked at his friend, his expression fiercely determined. "I'm going to find the real killer. I'm not going to give up until I prove your innocence."
Through the cell bars, the two friends shook hands, then Jim followed Stacy and Chet out to give Walker a last moment alone with Roni.
Roni didn't hesitate. She moved to the cell and touched his hand. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him. So many times he had saved her from trouble, and now when he needed her most, there was nothing she could do to help him. Her heart was breaking.
"We'll find a way to free you! Somehow, we'll do it!" she vowed.
He covered her hand with his as he gazed into the depths of her eyes, seeing all her beauty and innocence, and he wondered if he would ever see her again. He longed to take her in his arms and hold her close. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but the metal bars separating them were a harsh reminder of what the future held for him.
"You'd better go now," he said solemnly.
"But I don't want to leave you. Walker . . . I love you."
The words he'd always longed to hear her say were pure torture for him. "I love you, too, Roni."
"Oh, Walker." She ached to hold him and kiss him and never let him go. "Why did this have to happen?"
"I don't know."
"I'll wait for you. I'll be right here," she promised.
"No, don't wait for me," he told her, wanting her to live her life to the fullest.
Before either one of them could say anything else, Sheriff Protzel and Deputy Davis appeared in the doorway.
"I have to ask you to leave now," the sheriff told her.
Roni nodded and tore herself away, hurrying past the two lawmen to go outside.
Jim saw her come out of the sheriff's office and he went to her. He put a supportive arm around her shoulders and drew her with him to join Stacy and Chet.
The stage would be pulling out shortly and they wanted to be there.
Mick and the others knew it was time. They left the saloon and made their way over to the stage office, eager to see the halfbreed off.
Jim was angry as he stood with Roni. "If I
thought I could get Walker safely out of town, I'd break him out right now."
"I know. I was thinking the same thing," Roni said, understanding his frustration. "The only problem is, when a wanted man is on the run, folks shoot first and ask questions later."
"Here he comes!" Mick shouted when he saw Deputy Davis leading Walker out of the sheriff's office in handcuffs.
The other men with Mick started hooting and hollering as more folks gathered around to jeer at Walker.
Sheriff Protzel was disgusted by the display, but didn't try to break it up. He didn't want to start a fight. He just wanted to get Walker on the stage without any incidents.
They made short order of getting Walker onboard and then the deputy climbed in after him and closed the door.
The stage driver took up the reins. "You ready?" he called down to the deputy.
"Let's go," Davis answered.
The stage driver hoped the rowdy bunch of cowboys didn't follow them and cause any trouble on the trip. He urged his team on, glad to be leaving Two Guns behind.
Roni and Stacy stood together in heartbroken silence, watching the stage as it pulled away. They caught only one quick glimpse of Walker through the window, and then the stage was gone, leaving only a trail of dust behind.
Chet stayed close by Stacy's side, playing the role of loving, supportive fiancé. He had a lot on his mind. He had big plans for what he wanted to do next, but right then all he could do was bide his time.
Jim was glad the sheriff remained vigilant, standing in the street after the stagecoach had gone. His presence was enough to send Mick and the rest of the crowd that had gathered on their way. Jim nodded his thanks to the sheriff before turning to Stacy.
"Are you going to be all right?" he asked.
"I don't think I'll ever be all right again," she managed brokenly.
"Come on. Let's get you out of here," Chet said. Friend though Jim was to her, Chet didn't want Stacy getting too dependent on him. She was his. As fast as he could get her to the altar, they were getting married.
Stacy didn't protest. She gave herself into Chet's keeping and let him lead her away.
Roni looked at Jim. "If you find any clues as to who might have killed Ben and you need help, let me know."
"I will. And if you hear anything around town that sounds suspicious—"
