Judging Cicely (Strasburg: The New Generation Book 1)

by Pippa Greathouse

  Another voice rang out from the back, this time a female voice, "'Twas not my dog that got your chickens, Amelia. I told you it was a fox."

  "Prove it wasn't your dog."

  "I don't have to prove it wasn't. You have to prove it was."

  "Ladies!" Henson's voice was exhibiting his loss of patience.

  "I saw him with my hen in his mouth."

  "Ladies?" Henson raised his right hand to try to get their attention. With his left, he was rubbing his brow. Abel wondered if he had a headache.

  "You can't see anything, Amelia. You're blind as a bat."

  "Ladies!" He shouted this time. "The next time, you'll both spend the night in the same cell, and you can fight it out there!" He glanced toward Abel, who now was looking at him with a raised eyebrow, and took a deep breath. "Is that the only reason you were involved, Mrs. Martin?"

  "Yep."

  "All right. Take a seat, Mrs. Martin." He looked toward Zeke.

  "Mrs. Emma Harper." He looked down at the collection of bags at his feet. "Using a bag. But I don't know which one it was."

  "Flowered," said Mrs. Harper.

  Zeke's gaze rose to hers in slight disgust. "They're all flowered."

  "Pink and purple."

  After searching for another minute or two, he held up a bag. When she nodded, he laid it up on top of the bench in view. "Good Lord, it's heavy."

  Henson ran his hands through his hair. It was some time before Mrs. Harper's statement was finished.

  One by one, the statements were taken. By the time they were up to the front three rows, it was three o'clock in the afternoon.

  Abel glanced frequently at the face of his little bride, unable to get that look out of his mind. He was forced to fight himself to keep from moving down and setting her in his lap. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her. She looked as if she was so disappointed in herself.

  "Mrs. Jennifer Gregory," Zeke spoke again, staring at his wife, then looked down. "No weapon?"

  Jennifer was looking up at him with wide eyes and shook her head.

  Henson looked down at her. "And why did you get involved, Mrs. Gregory?"

  "I was afraid for Cicely, sir. I was trying to pull Mrs. Baxter off her before she smothered her. That's all. But I couldn't. There were too many people piled on top of her."

  Phebe was next, admitting that she had faced off Mrs. Baxter. She admitted a good many things, in fact. When her statement was finished, she looked down, as the proceedings moved on. Mrs. Baxter was next, taking a great deal of time.

  Cinderella Andrews' statement did not take long, followed by Polly's. Cinderella's statement was much like Jennifer's. She'd gone into the street to try to protect her daughters, but became involved more quickly than she expected and felt the need to protect herself.

  Polly's was much the same as Jennifer's. She'd wanted to protect Cicely.

  "Cicely Allison Carter." Henson's voice caused Cicely's head to come upward, and she gulped. Henson looked toward Zeke. "Age nineteen. Cicely, approach, please."

  Abel's heart was troubled as, trembling, Cicely rose and moved forward to stand in front of her father. Her voice was as tremulous as her body as she began to try to tell her story. As she finished, however, one of the deputies called from the back. Abel glanced up.

  It was Josh Killian. He stood there a moment, running a hand along his stubbled jaw. Finally, he took a breath, and nodded. "These ladies have husbands and families lined up outside, waiting for their wives to come home and care for the children, cook dinner, and so on."

  Henson rolled his eyes. "Wish they'd thought of that before they got involved in this. They were all determined to take the law into their own hands for something totally unrelated to the cause of the original fight." He turned toward Abel. "Judge?"

  Abel leaned forward, brought down his gavel in a deafening report. At once, he took command of the whole courtroom.

  "Court is now in session."

  Setting Bail

  Cicely sat, impatiently waiting. It was almost five o'clock by the time the charges were read and bail was set for each of them. One by one, the husbands came up and paid, if they could. For those ladies whose husbands were unable to cover bail, the sheriff paid out of his pocket and released them to their grateful families. Louisa's bail of five dollars had been paid for by Nick, who stayed in the courtroom even after she left, keeping an eye on Phebe. Jennifer's bail was also five, covered by Zeke.

  Abel nodded toward Henson, who called Miss Phebe Watson next. The charges were read against her. They were numerous, but she had already admitted to most of them.

  The bail was a hefty twenty dollars, and she lowered her eyes to the floor.

  "I can't pay it, sir," she said, in little more than a whisper.

  Abel leaned forward. "Louder, please?"

  "I don't have the money, sir." She raised sad eyes and met his.

  The courtroom was quiet. Abel looked toward the sheriff, who had already begun reaching into his pocket

  "No, Sheriff. I'll cover it," he said.

  "No," another voice called out from the side aisle of the courtroom.

  At the voice, they both halted and looked toward the sound. Nick Wellington stood there a moment and then took out his wallet and came forward.

  Phebe's face was streaming with tears. "No, Nick. You can't."

  "Don't you dare tell me, young lady, what I can and can't do. As long as the law permits it." He turned toward the judge, who nodded.

  "Permitted."

  Nick handed the money over to Zeke and moved to take Phebe's arm firmly. "I'll take her over to the dormitory." He nodded toward Abel. "She'll be here for the hearing. I guarantee it."

  Cicely could see the devastated expression on Phebe's face. She turned to watch as they left the courtroom and Nick closed the door behind them. When she turned back, her father was staring at her, frowning.

  "Mrs. Elizabeth Baxter."

  It took a while for Mrs. Baxter to come to the front. Abel read the charges and then ordered bail of twenty dollars. She glared at him.

  He stared back, waiting. Finally, with a huff, she asked for her bag and got out the money to pay. Then she left the courtroom.

  "Cinderella Andrews."

  Cinderella's charges were read by Abel. Bail was set at fifteen dollars. A stormy faced Henson paid and directed her to sit back down. Polly, shame faced, listened as hers was set at fifteen. But as Henson reached into his pocket, Geoffrey Wellington spoke from the side.

  "No, sir. Please, let me."

  Polly gasped as he walked to the front and posted bond for her. Tears filled her eyes. When Cicely put her arms around her, Polly's whisper was choked. "I thought he would never want to speak to me again."

  That left only Cicely's to be set. She looked around the courtroom. It was still full. Many of the ladies and their husbands were still there, listening to the rest of the proceedings.

  "They're waiting to see what happens to a judge's wife," Polly whispered into her ear.

  Cicely realized with dread, her sister was right. She faced the front again to see Abel, who was frowning, looking back at the crowd behind her. When his eyes moved to hers, she averted her gaze. His strict, unyielding gaze was boring holes through her conscience. Whatever he set for her bail, he knew she did not have the money to pay it.

  "Twenty-five dollars bail. And no, Sheriff. You will not be allowed to pay it. I will."

  The audience gasped, along with Cicely. It was the highest bail he had set that day—higher even, than Phebe's had been. Henson stared at him and then looked down at his daughter. Abel stood and took out his wallet, handing the bills to Zeke.

  With another pound of the gavel, his deep voice announced, "Court is recessed until Tuesday."

  Cicely fought to keep her shoulders from shaking with silent weeping as he strode around the bench. She knew everyone in the courtroom was staring at her. She watched through eyes blurred with tears, as Abel approached her and put his arm around her,
shielding her from the gaze of the crowd. Then, he turned to her father, speaking in such a low voice no one in the crowd could hear. "I'm taking her home. Thank you, Sheriff."

  Her father nodded, guiding her mother down the aisle. When he turned to Polly, Geoffrey was already holding out his arm to her. Polly looked up uncertainly and took it.

  That left only Cicely. She gulped, determined to remain silent, and Abel folded her to his chest. She forced herself to have a straight face, nodding, as he walked her outside. The people inside the courtroom stayed there, still aghast.

  When they reached the outside, Henson was waiting with her mother. He gently reached out and touched Cicely's cheek, much as he had done since she was a child. Glancing at Abel, he said, in a low voice, "Don't be too hard on her, Judge. She didn't start this, nor did she have any ill-intention going into it. Neither did Polly. I believe Cicely's only thought was to rescue Phebe. And I told Geoffrey the same thing about Polly."

  Abel nodded, but said nothing and led her toward home.

  She heard Abel speak softly into her ear, "Come, little one. Let's go home."

  She nodded silently and let him lead her the block toward the house. But when she let out a sob, he spoke again. "Shh, my darling. We'll speak of this when we get home. Not before."

  Comeuppances

  Abel guided Cicely home with his arm about her. He knew she was heartsick at being brought before him as a prisoner. He also knew her embarrassment at being forced to return the next week to the hearing. The courtroom would be full of citizens who wished to see what happened when a judge's wife was brought up in court.

  As soon as they entered the front door, he sent her to the bedroom. The fire was going in the hearth, and Mrs. Morgan had left dinner for them on the stove. She had also left a folded note on the kitchen table, with his name on it. He lit a lantern then set it on the table, before reaching down and picking it up. Unfolding it carefully, he read.

  "Judge,

  I needed to go to the market today, so I waited until Mrs. Carter left for her mother's. I turned the corner less than thirty seconds after she did, and this is what I saw."

  He frowned, staring down at the note, and then brought his gaze outward, across the room, before reading it again.

  "I've never told you this, Judge, nor anyone else. But when I was a little girl, I had a twin sister. We had the kind of relationship that Cicely and her sister have. So close. We shared languages. We shared everything. But the year we turned seven, she was killed. I miss her every single day I live. It's as though part of me died that day, too.

  The only crime your little bride committed today was that of trying to save two people, and one was her sister, Polly. The other girl, perhaps did not deserve someone as kind hearted as Cicely trying to prevent her from being harmed. But we don't all get to choose who cares about us.

  I just wanted to let you know that I witnessed it all, from the start of the fight until the end. When the sheriff brought the ladies into the courtroom, I tried to reach him and then I tried to reach you. I could get close to neither of you. I almost ran out into the middle today, when Mrs. Baxter hit Cicely the first time. Now, I wish I had.

  I know you to be a strict but fair gentleman with your beautiful little wife. But I'm pleading with you to allow lenience in your judgement this time.

  It was not her fault.

  ~Mrs. Morgan"

  Able stared at the note, seeing not her handwriting, but Cicely's devastated little face before him. The pleading in her eyes would not be easy to forget. He rose. He had made his decision.

  He found her huddled in the bedroom before the fire, sobbing. Moving toward her, he lifted her into his arms and took her to the bed. Settling her into his lap, he brought her against his chest. "Shh, sweetheart. Listen to me. I've come to a decision, and I want you to hear it.

  "Abel, I've embarrassed you, and I can't bear it." She wept softly. Everyone in town thinks I'm a-a—" She paused, with a hiccup.

  "Did I tell you that you embarrassed me?"

  She looked up. "Didn't I?"

  "The only thing you did today to upset me was to disobey me when I told you to stay out of the squabbles between Mrs. Baxter and Miss Watson. Do you remember me saying that when I left this morning?"

  She nodded and choked out a sob.

  "I'm quite sure you didn't even think of it when you ran out into the street to try to get Miss Watson to return to the dormitory. But the differences between the two of them were not likely to be resolved by you getting in the middle. Your trying to protect Polly was understandable, even admirable. I hold you responsible for none of what happened after that." He lifted her chin toward the lantern light and touched her cheek gently. "You're going to have a purple little cheek for a few days. But I'm not going to spank you tonight. At least, not until after Tuesday's hearing."

  She looked up gratefully. "You're not?"

  "No. However, the next time you disobey me, you can be sure you'll be unable to sit for quite a few days. I want to know you understand that."

  She nodded. "I understand, sir."

  He held her to him and then gave her a squeeze.

  "Mrs. Morgan left us a meal on the stove. It's still warm. Would you be able to eat something?"

  She sniffled, nodding.

  "And then, my little darling, I'm going to bring you back to bed and strip you down, and examine every precious inch of you. I want to know you have no other bruises on you anywhere else. But you do need to eat."

  "I would like that." Her eyes flickered over his face. "But Abel? What will happen on Tuesday? I mean, what will you have to sentence me to?"

  His blue eyes were studying her face intently. "Hear me, sweetheart. I can't tell you what will happen right now. It requires studying the law a bit more and studying the cases of the other ladies involved. This, as far as I know, is the first all-female brawl that has ever taken place in Strasburg. But other places? That requires research." He frowned down into her face. "I can tell you're not satisfied with my answer, but it's the best I can give you until I've been through the books. I just released a group of men this morning who were guilty of fighting in the saloon. They spent several days in jail and were fined, and the sentences reduced to the time served. But they are men, and our ladies in Strasburg may fall into an entirely different category as far as the law. And I can't put them all in jail, obviously. Do you understand? One thing I do know. Fighting in the street is against the law."

  She was not happy, but nodded.

  He set her on her feet and took her hand, leading her toward the kitchen.

  When he brought her back to bed and helped strip off her garments, he located several bruises on her shoulder blades, her back and bottom. Some were likely due to lying on rocks in the street with the weight of Mrs. Baxter, Phebe, and others on top of her. Her other cheek was beginning to show a bruise now, as well. He went to the pantry and brought out a bottle of ointment and rubbed it on her, with her lying across his lap. By the time he finished, she was asleep.

  Lifting her in his arms, he laid her back among the pillows and disrobed, climbing in next to her.

  "Rest well, sweetheart," he whispered softly. "Tomorrow, you may be sore all over."

  "Oh, ow." Cicely turned over in bed and sat up. "Abel?"

  No answer. Rising, she washed and dressed. When she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror, she viewed her reflection with dismay. Her hand flew to first one cheek, then the other. "Oh my."

  She found Abel in the kitchen, a few minutes later.

  "I had thought to let you sleep," he said. "How do you feel?"

  She made a face. "As if I've been dragged through town by a team of horses."

  He patted his knee, and she went to sit in his lap, but groaned as she sat down and immediately stood back up. Abel raised a brow.

  "I was afraid of that. Mrs. Morgan left us a dish of eggs and ham, with cheese. It's warming. Should I bring you a pillow?"

  She shook her head. "I c
an't carry one with me all day. I'll check on the oven." Seeing the eggs weren't hot enough yet, she reached for the loaf of sourdough and began to slice off a few pieces, smearing them with the sweet cream butter from the icebox. Setting the bread into the oven next to the eggs, she poured Abel another cup of coffee. "And what shall we do today?"

  "I need to spend most of it in the study," he said, grinning. "Can you stay out of trouble today without my supervision?"

  She made a rueful face, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "I'd like to go see Polly and my mother."

  "So you can commiserate?" He chuckled. "I'll take you over in the carriage, and you can wear a scarf, if you like. Unless you want everyone in town who sees you to make a comment on your bruises. They really are impressive." He rose. "Here. Sit down and drink your coffee. I'll man the oven."

  "Thank you, Abel. You are so good to me."

  "Hmm," he said. "You may not think so, come Tuesday."

  Abel left her in the drawing room of her parents' house and kissed her goodbye.

  "Stay here until I return for you. All right?"

  She grinned. "All right."

  Polly waited until Abel left and then spoke softly from behind her. "Mother is in the ladies' parlor. Come on up. We're working on the wedding, and—" She put a hand to her mouth. "Oh, Cissy. Your face."

  "I know. I saw it this morning in the mirror. Abel says I'm impressive."

  Polly shook her head. "Not exactly the word I'd have—"

  "I know. You'd have said hideous."

  Her twin laughed. "Probably. Come."

  She ended up spending the entire morning discussing wedding plans for Polly at her old home. Neither Polly nor her mother had so far mentioned what had happened the day before.

  The wedding was still months away, but plans had been made. Miss Betsy would be making the cake this time, and Pembroke had offered to take care of the refreshments and the staff had planned to do the serving.

  "There should be no mix-up between Pembroke and the Adams House this time," her mother said softly. "And since Phebe is not here and has no idea what kinds of plans we have going, hopefully there won't be any unwelcome intervention from her. You may both need to keep our plans quiet, however." She looked up. "I hear your father. It must be lunch time. Come down in a few minutes, all right? Ciss, can you stay?"