A weathered bench stood along the side of the house. Instead of sitting, Mr. Ward propped his foot on the seat. “I’m glad you came, Rhyan. To be honest, I’m worried about this case.”
“Why?” Jake asked. “It’s a matter of self-defense. Everyone knew Harp Munson beat his step-children.”
“Everyone knew he was a cad to be sure, but they didn’t know what went on inside their home. That’s something you can help with, Rhyan. You know how the press works better than anyone. This case has wide publicity already—across the state, and probably, across the country. All kind of rumors are swirling about. I’d like you to call on your newspaper contacts tomorrow and give them a tip about Harp Munson.”
He dropped his foot, and drew a paper from his inside pocket. “Here is the name and address of my chief detective. He’ll give you all the dirt on Munson.”
Rhyan took the paper. “You want the word to get out about what a lowlife Munson was?”
That was a rhetorical question, so Jake put in one that worried him. “Juliette told me the prosecutor was responsible for all the publicity. Is that normal?”
Mr. Ward’s brows pulled together, and he studied the sidewalk like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. “No, it’s not normal. It’s not even normal for the state’s chief prosecutor to get involved in a local murder case. However, the judge, who’s friends with Charles Hawkins, the prosecutor in question, decided this case was beyond the locals’ capability, ostensibly because of the salacious nature of the case—a young woman shoots her step-father and buries him in her garden. Runs away with her lover to Nebraska.”
Jake’s fists clenched, ready to slug someone. “We weren’t lovers. That’s an outright lie.”
“I told you they were rumors. Rhyan will have to correct the record in the press. I understand your ire, Mr. Gresham, but in truth, the judge assigned the case to Hawkins because of me.”
“So Hawkins is gunning for you.” Rhyan said.
“Exactly. We’ve battled in the courtroom a dozen times, and he’s come out the loser.”
“That’s hardly fair to Juliette.” Jake’s nerves tighten to the breaking point. Sounded like this prosecutor was more interested in his own battle with Mr. Ward than in justice.
“It isn’t fair, Mr. Gresham, but I want you to know I have a team working around the clock to get Miss Kendal acquitted, and now, with Rhyan working the press, we’ll have a better chance.”
That was fine, but Jake needed something to do. “You said I could help.”
“I’ve put in a plea of innocent by way of self-defense. However, that’s not going to be easy because the coroner reported Munson’s clothing indicated he was shot in the back. Miss Kendal says she was protecting her sister, however, she’s the only witness on her behalf.” He tugged on the lapels of his coat and pierced Jake with a no-nonsense stare. “She refuses to testify because she fears the shame it will bring on her sister. You, Mr. Gresham, must convince her otherwise.”
That wouldn’t be easy. There was a reason a family’s dirty secrets remained secret. “I’ll do that,” he said. But could he? Juliette was very protective of her sister.
“Where is the telegraph office around here?” Rhyan asked. “I think Annie and Corky should come on down here. Juliette will need her family beside her at a time like this. I’m going to ask Mrs. Darlington to accompany them since she’s been working with Annie, but if she can’t, Katherine will.”
Mrs. Darlington. A new idea jumped at Jake. He slashed the air with his hand to stop Rhyan. If Juliette wouldn’t testify… “Mrs. Darlington could be a witness. She’s a mental health nurse and knows what happened to Annie.”
Understanding flashed in Matthew Ward’s eyes. “A nurse is an expert witness. Yes, by all means, Mrs. Darlington must come.” He turned to Rhyan. “Get that woman down here at all possible speed.”
“I’ll do my best. Even if she won’t come, we can get an affidavit.”
Mr. Ward slapped Rhyan on the back. “No, we need this nurse. I’ve no doubt you can get her down here.” Making eye contact with Jake, he added, “Don’t worry, Mr. Gresham, before this is over I’ll have Hawkins tied up in knots.” He gestured with a nod to Rhyan. “I’ll show you the telegraph office.”
Jake watched them walk off across the empty street. He had his own mission. In case Mrs. Darlington refused to come, he had to convince Juliette to tell her story to a jury that might already be prejudiced against her.
Chapter 25
Juliette’s hand shook as she placed the fork next to the plate of Miss Lydee’s renowned peach pie. All flutters and coy smiles, the ladies decided Jake could eat supper in the parlor and had already laid out the dishes on a low table in front of the sofa. This would allow him to dine with Juliette since she couldn’t show her face in the dining room.
She’d already eaten in her room but tried, unnecessarily, to serve Jake. Almost toppling his water glass, Juliette flicked his napkin in his lap, and heat rose from her neck to her hairline. She was behaving like a schoolgirl with her first beau.
He gripped her hand and offered a short blessing. Before releasing her, he kissed her fingers, sending shivers up her arm and intensifying the yearning that had already taken up residence in her heart.
She didn’t ask what Mr. Ward had to say. Her nerves were probably better off without knowing. Jake held her gaze long after he dropped her hand, and her mouth worked into a smile. “Go ahead and eat before it gets cold.”
He seemed to come out of his trance, and dug in. After finishing almost half the bowl of chicken pie, he wiped his lips with the napkin, and said with a contented sigh. “I’d forgotten what a good cook Miss Lydee was.” He pointed his spoon at Juliette. “I hope you get some of her recipes before we leave.”
“You’re assuming I am going to leave?”
In the process of sipping his water, he sent her a pointed look over the rim of the glass. “You’re not going to use this little trial to get out of marrying me.”
“You know I’d never try to get out of marrying you.”
“Good. Rhyan and I are going down to your house and load up all your furniture to ship back to Westerfield. It should arrive there before we do.” He grinned. “So—that means we’ll be ready to move in as soon as we get back home.” He went back to his meal.
She appreciated that he tried to make her feel better by pretending all would go well with the trial—that she’d be released—but reality rode her too hard to accept that that would happen.
He finished and took another drink of water. “Mighty good. Now I can pay full attention to you.” He pushed the table away to give them more room.
“No, I should be looking after you. How is your leg? I haven’t even asked.”
As if he’d just thought of it, he swung the leg up on the sofa on the other side of them and pulled up the leg of his jeans until the scars came into view. “What do you think? I hardly hobble anymore.”
She got up to get a better look and kneeled beside the sofa. The scars ran deep, but none were red, the skin was a healthy pink. She tenderly caressed the wound. “I’m so glad, but don’t overdo for some weeks yet.”
“Oh, no, ma’am.” He reached over and rolled the jean leg down over the scars like he didn’t want her to scrutinize the wound overlong. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her down beside him and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “Why aren’t you going to testify for yourself?”
That was just like him to disarm her before asking the hard questions. “I don’t know why Mr. Ward felt it necessary to disclose that.”
“He thought I might be able to change your mind.”
She looked away, folding her arms, hugging herself. “I can’t. He’d ask me to say why I shot Harp.”
“And why can’t you?”
She let her head sag as she closed her eyes. It was hard enough explaining to Mr. Ward, but she didn’t want to pollute her time with Jake discussing the matter. “I’m not going to tell what he did to Annie. The s
hame she’d have to endure would last a lifetime.” She shook her head, and it turned into a shiver that ran clear through her. “Please try to understand. Mrs. Darlington is making progress with her. She’ll regain her speech, and no one will know she’s not like every other normal thirteen-year-old girl. She’ll have a future.”
He didn’t understand. She could see the confusion in his eyes, though he was trying his best. Dear Jake. How could any decent man understand?
“She’ll have a good future without you having to sacrifice yourself, Juliette.”
Like sitting on a hot coal, that shot her to the floor. He shoved the table further away and rose to stand by her, and she felt his hand on her shoulder.
She turned her head to glance at where his hand lay and fought the tears burning the backs of her eyes. “If anyone must sacrifice, it must be me. I should have protected her all along. All the while I was congratulating myself that I’d bested Harp—scared him into leaving the children alone—he was…he was—”
Jake took her into his arms and let her weep against his chest. “I’m sorry, Jake. I can’t.”
“It’s all right, my Juliette. God will find a way. Just believe.”
“I can’t Jake. That’s just it. I can’t believe. It’s too hard.” She couldn’t keep her voice from shaking. “My prayers don’t go further than the ceiling.”
“You have more faith than you know. I’ve seen it. You were kind of like Jacob wrestling with God when you were praying over me.”
She sniffed. “It was easier to believe God would help you because you were innocent.”
He cupped her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Did you ever have trouble believing your father?”
The question surprised her enough to check her tears. She shook her head. “No, I loved my father.”
His dark eyes probed hers for several beats like he tried to look into her soul. “I think it’s more like you knew he loved you. You trusted him because he loved you. It won’t work to try to have faith when you jump over the obvious.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
“You know when I was trapped in that swamp? I told you I turned my life over to Christ before your brothers showed up, but I didn’t tell you how easy it was. Or why.”
She really wanted to know. “Why was it easy for you?”
“I’d been reading that little testament.” He laughed. “I was ordered to, actually. Anyway, the night before I set out toward the land I was to scout, I read all about how God loves us. I don’t remember which chapter exactly, but it was in the Book of John. Anyway, I kept pondering on that all the way to that swamp near your house.”
He slid his hands to her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “I finally came to an understanding of Who God is and why He loves us.”
“Which is?”
“We’re His. His creation. We’re His children—or can be if we accept Him for Who He is.” His smile warmed her to the core. “Little did I know how soon and how much my faith was about to be tested.”
She nodded, knowing what he said was right, but still unable to convince herself it applied to her. Of course, she already knew she was God’s child. And that He loved her.
Or she thought she had.
“You see, Juliette. We all have to be tested. I think it was Rhyan who told me life is just one test after another. Get used to it.” He chuckled. “This trial coming up is just one in a long line.”
“I know what you say is true, Jake. But I’ve never faced a trial like this.” With so much depending on the outcome.
He pulled her closer and kissed her hair. “No matter how hard the trial, if you can believe God loves you, the trust will come easy. Take it from one who’s faced the ultimate trial. And—”
The seconds ticked until she reared back to spear him with a questioning gaze. “And?”
“And those mistakes you made. Not protecting Annie like you should’ve. Well, you can lump them all in that pile the Bible calls sin, and let Jesus have it. Believe me, He can carry it better than you can.”
She couldn’t dispute that. And He’d have to carry it for her. It was so heavy it would squash her if she even tried.
***
For the next two days, Jake steered clear of topics like the trial or God. Or his and Juliette’s future. He could sense her tension and, though he tried to hide it from her, he was nervous himself. Only with great effort did he manage to focus on other things. He had to stay strong for her like she’d been strong for him when he needed her.
Staying strong when fear wanted to crouch in wasn’t easy. It was draining, and when Rhyan said he’d found a freighter to transport the furniture to the depot, Jake was ready to go—even if it meant spending time away from Juliette. Something he was loath to do. For all his bravado, he didn’t know what the future held, or how much time they had left.
The freighter provided Rhyan and Jake horses to follow the two wagon teams sent to transfer Juliette’s furniture to the depot. After breakfast, they found the roan geldings waiting outside the Country Cooking Café. Upon their approach, one of the animals swiveled his head to take a look.
Jake judged that one to be the more intelligent and claimed him.
They’d given the freighter a two-hour lead, hoping they’d all arrive at the house about the same time. But it wouldn’t be necessary to get in a hurry, so they galloped along at a conversational speed.
The road was wide and empty and, this early in the morning, quiet except for a bevy of songbirds in search of the best worm. After having considered the matter all night, Jake decided to confide in Rhyan. “I almost told Juliette Mrs. Darlington was coming down here to testify. Didn’t realize she’d be so opposed to bringing up anything about Annie.”
Rhyan slowed to a canter. “It’s probably not a good idea to discuss the trial at all. Keep her mind off it.” He removed his hat and finger combed his hair.
“I came to the same conclusion pretty quick. But you do think Mr. Ward can win this case, don’t you?”
“I think the tide of public opinion is turning in his favor. Whether in time or not, I don’t know. The jury’s been selected—secret, of course—not that I think Matt would try to influence them.”
Jake would be sorely tempted to try to influence the jury if he knew them. There were so many things that wouldn’t, couldn’t, come out in a trial that would favor Juliette. Like what a wonderful woman she was. But he’d keep his thoughts to himself.
The cloud cover burned off, and Jake’s shirt stuck to his back by the time they got to the Forest Glen cutoff. The cool of the woods fell on them quickly, and he breathed in the pine scent, remembering that day not three months ago when he’d followed the path to the springs.
How different would his life be except for that fateful turn?
“Is that the farm?” Rhyan’s question jerked him from his musings.
The familiar farmhouse appeared through the pines and scrub oaks. “Yeah.” Jake took the lead.
The wagons were already there, the drivers and freighter standing around. They all turned their heads as Jake and Rhyan approached.
Rhyan slid out of the saddle in a fluid motion. “Been waiting long?”
“Nah,” the man rubbed his neck. “Some fellow here said we can’t load up the furniture.”
At that moment, Abner Wexman came around the corner of the house. “What do y’all think you’re doing?”
Rhyan pulled a document from his vest pocket. “Taking possession of the house’s contents.”
“I own this house. The judge ruled.”
“I know what the judge ruled, and this is his other ruling. Your IOU said nothing about the contents, and that belongs to the Kendals.”
“Juliette Kendal is in jail, about to be convicted for murder. Maybe hung. She won’t be needing any furniture.”
Jake dismounted, in case Rhyan needed help handling the fellow. His hands itched to smash into the lowdown skunk.
“Her b
rothers and sister own the property too,” Rhyan said, his tone calm but with an edge that meant no-nonsense. He addressed the freighter. “Go ahead and take everything, including the rugs, the stove, the dishes, wall hangings—everything.”
Wexman sputtered, his face red. “What are them boys going to do with it? And I hear the girl’s loony.”
Jake got in his face. “Annie is not loony.”
Rhyan jerked his head toward the freighter. “Get moving and get this stuff out on the next train.” His order came like a pistol shot, and the men jumped into action.
Wexman still stared at the court order. He looked up and his countenance changed in a flash. “Y’all want to see where she buried him? It’s around back.” His eyes glittered in deep-set sockets.
“I’d like to water the horses if you have a trough back there.”
“There’s a trough and a pump.” Jake said. “We can fill our canteens, too.” He remembered how cold the water was coming out of the black earth, even this far from the springs.
He stopped with the horses at the trough, but Rhyan followed Wexman to the scarred earth where some of Juliette’s tomato plants still hung with ripe fruit.
“What made you dig up the garden?” Rhyan asked. Jake left the horses to drink their fill and strode to the broken ground. He’d like to hear the answer to that too.
“I hate tomatoes. Gives me indigestion. Besides, I wanted to use this patch to plant some turnip seeds. Takes turnips a long time to grow.” He glanced back as Jake moved up. “I was hoeing and found this root that went down deep. Well, I started tugging on it and pulled up a piece of cloth. That got me curious, so I dug deeper. That’s when I found him—course I didn’t know who it was at that time. I dropped everything and went to get the sheriff. No sir, I didn’t touch anything.”
“I assume they’ve removed the body by now,” Rhyan said.
Wexman reared back like Rhyan had shot him. “’Course they removed it. The little church down the road gave him a decent burial.”
“That’s good to know.” Rhyan gestured to Jake he was ready to go. They both knew it would take a while for the furniture to be removed, but now they’d confronted Wexman, they didn’t have to stay.
Escaped (Intrigue Under Western Skies Book 4) Page 22
