Noah tugged on Amber’s jacket sleeve. “You’re a lawyer?”
“I am, yes.”
“Lawyers get licenses from Judge Adams, and you could get yours from him. Then sue Mr. Tabor.”
“Judge Adams isn’t back from Denver,” Daniel said.
“He’s back, Pa. He was walking into the courthouse when the wagon rode by. He had an armload of books and nodded to me, but I couldn’t wave back because I was playing”—Noah’s lower lip quivered—“I was playing my drum.”
Amber rubbed her hand through Noah’s hair, making it stand up like the bushy quills on a porcupine. “I should clean up a bit and put on a dress before I see the judge. He might not take me seriously the way I look now.”
“He’s not like that. He cares what you think, not what you look like.” Noah took her hand. “Come on. I’ll explain that we have an emergency.”
Amber glanced at Daniel, hoping he would intervene. He didn’t. “I should make an appointment. It isn’t proper to go to court in mud-splattered jeans. Practicing law is a serious matter. And it would be disrespectful to meet a judge looking like I do right now.”
“Ma always said, ‘Don’t put off for tomorrow what you can do today.’ You don’t have to worry about the judge. He’s very kind.”
“Noah’s right about Judge Adams.”
Noah broke away from his father and ran down the sidewalk.
“Come back here,” Daniel yelled.
“Where’s he going?” she asked.
“I reckon he’s gone to the courthouse. It’s been hard on Noah since his ma died.”
She quickly caught on to the subtext and didn’t respond for a moment. “I didn’t lose my mom, but I was very attached to my grandmother. I don’t think the hole in my heart has ever filled up. It’s filled in some, but it’s still there.”
Daniel squeezed the bridge of his nose and didn’t say anything for a moment or two. Finally, he said, “My father sent the drum from Scotland. It was a family heirloom and had been played during the Uprising. It had great sentimental value.”
“I guess learning to play the instrument helped Noah get over the worst of his grief.” Like Noah, she had taught herself how to weave after her grandmother died, to get over the worst of it.
“Now that he’s lost the drum, I’m not sure what he’ll do.”
She held Daniel with a hard stare. “Come on. Let’s go get Noah.” She didn’t know how, but she was going to get Noah a new drum. There was money to be made in Leadville, and she intended to make some for herself. She needed funds to travel to Morrison and possibly to Caǹon City. She just had to match her skills with the city’s needs.
They reached the steps to the courthouse and glanced up. The cupola was topped with a statute of Lady Justice standing above all else in town. That gave her hope and inspiration that she could help Noah.
“Mr. Grant. I’m going to try to fix this.”
“Do ye have a plan?” He looked at her, a bit perplexed.
She hurried up the steps. “I always have a plan.”
He held the door and she entered the building. “Good.”
She turned back, scratched a spot below her ear, and smiled. “Except this time, I don’t. I’m going to wing it.”
Daniel pressed his lips together so tightly that his mouth was barely visible in the depths of his luxuriant and well-tended clipped beard. He nodded for her to step over to the side, away from the dozen or so men transacting city business in the corridor. There was no sign of Noah.
“I don’t know what wing it means, but if ye’re going in unprepared, that’s not wise.”
She glanced at the office door with Judge Adams’ name painted on the door. “Noah’s been in there for over five minutes in an ex parte conference. He could already have prejudiced his case. I’ll have to play it as I see it.” She gave Daniel’s arm a gentle squeeze before crossing the hall and knocking on the Judge’s door.
A male voice said, “Come in.”
Daniel opened the door, removed his hat, and stepped aside for Amber to precede him into the judge’s chambers. The pungent scent of sweetness and spice unfurled from the bowl of the judge’s pipe and reminded her of her grandfather. She glanced around the office, but Noah wasn’t there. Daniel frowned, but then his face relaxed. He obviously knew something she didn’t. If he wasn’t going to ask about Noah, she wouldn’t either.
The judge finished straightening a set of books in his bookcase and walked heavily for such a rail-thin man toward his desk. He flung himself into a wooden swivel chair, which squeaked as he rocked in it. “How can I help you, Daniel?”
While Amber debated how to handle the uncomfortable situation, Daniel took the lead and said, “John, this is Miss Kelly, a lawyer from…”
“Chicago,” Amber said.
“Miss Kelly has agreed to represent me, but she doesn’t have a license in Colorado.”
The judge raised speculative eyebrows toward Daniel. “I don’t hand out licenses to everyone who requests them. Candidates must stand for a bar examination. Is your lawyer prepared to do that?”
Amber gave a slight nod to Daniel, indicating she could take it from there. “I am, your honor.”
The judge eyed her with a measured glance. “I assume you’ve read the law or you wouldn’t be here. The last lawyer who stood before me for an exam now has a successful Leadville practice. He has an uncanny ability to guess which way the judge and jury will lean. You might want to visit him after you leave here. So, Miss Kelly, where’d you study the law?”
Why did he have to ask a question that forced her to lie right off the bat? She broke away from his gaze and stared out the window, noting the whitewash on the building next door. It seemed so close that if she reached out her hand, she could touch the painted boards. Whitewash. Coverup. Gloss over. How appropriate that her mind was drifting in that direction.
The judge’s comment butted the line between statement and question, allowing her to respond with a simple yes, or an explanation—in this case, a bigger lie. Since Yale didn’t allow women in the 1870s she had to come up with another school.
Whitewash…
She shifted her stance slightly and arranged her features into a semblance of calm confidence. Her knees didn’t knock, but they came damn close. “I attended Smith College near Hartford.”
Coverup…
“I also studied geology under Dr. Marsh of the Peabody Museum of Natural History at Yale…College. Unofficially, since they didn’t admit women.”
Gloss over…
“Then, following in the footsteps of Ada Kepley, I earned a Bachelor of Laws from the Union College of Law in Chicago.”
The muscles in her neck and back tensed in expectation of a karate chop between her shoulder blades that would come quickly and expectantly when her lies were exposed.
Because lies always were…
The judge put his pipe between his teeth with a click and hooked a long bony finger around the stem to support the bowl while he puffed. Then he removed it, and she saw for the first time the odd notch in his stained teeth probably worn by years of smoking. He returned to the bookcase. As he perused the shelves of law books, she was treated to a view of the small bald spot on the back of his head.
“Ah, here it is.” He pulled down a book, held his pipe between his teeth while he paged through it, then smoothed it out before returning to his desk. Using the pipe as a pointer to emphasize his words, he asked, “Your first question, Miss Kelly is, ‘What is the nature of law in general?’”
Amber considered the question and how to frame her answer. This was much like the two-hour defense of her master’s thesis. And like then, she knew the material inside out and upside down. If she took her time, thought through the questions, she’d answer them accurately.
“In its most general and comprehensive sense,” she began, “the law signifies a rule of action; and is applied indiscriminately to all kinds of action, whether animate or inanimate, rational or irra
tional. And it is that rule of action, which is prescribed by some superior, and which the inferior is bound to obey.”
He closed the book and set it to one side of the polished top of his walnut desk. “How is a rule distinguished from a compact or agreement?”
“A compact is a promise proceeding from us, law is a command directed to us. The language of a compact is, ‘I will, or will not, do this.’ A law, however, says, ‘Thou shall or shalt not, do it.’” She continued, and for the next ninety minutes the judge peppered her with questions about the rights of persons, the rights of things, private wrongs, and public wrongs. She stood attentively in front of his desk, hands clasped behind her back, and answered each thought-provoking question. She recognized some of them as coming from Sir William Blackstone’s Commentaries on the Laws of England, the most important legal treaties ever written in the English language. The rest were questions about applying the law in cases that had come before his court.
Finally, he sat back in his chair. His pipe had long since burned out. He turned the pipe over and knocked the dottle neatly out against the edge of the ashtray on his desk. “I’ve examined dozens of lawyers during my twenty years on the bench. You are the first woman, and surprisingly one of the most intelligent. I look forward to having you in my court, Miss Kelly. Now raise your right hand and repeat after me.”
As instructed, she raised her hand and for the second time in her career repeated the attorney’s oath: “I solemnly swear or affirm that I will support the Constitution of the United States and the Constitution of the State of Colorado, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of an attorney and counselor of law to the best of my knowledge and ability.”
The judge placed a blank sheet of paper on his desk, followed by a nib pen, before pulling an inkwell toward him. He tapped the uninked pen on the blotter, staring at her as if to reassure himself that what he was about to do was the right thing. Reaching a decision, he dipped the pen, once and then again, before writing several lines in a forward-slanting script. He then signed and dated the document. After sprinkling sand over the writing, he blew off the excess. When he was satisfied the ink was dry, he meticulously folded the paper into thirds and slid it into an envelope.
“Here’s your license, madam. If I have an opportunity to recommend you, I will in all good conscience. Good luck.”
5
1878 Leadville, Colorado—Amber
During the bar examination, Daniel had stood quietly at the rear of the room. His presence made her nervous. She’d considered asking him to step outside and wait. But after the judge asked his first question, she slid into a zone, and forgot about him being there.
Now it was over, and Amber was a member of the nineteenth-century and twenty-first century Colorado Bar. How many other lawyers could say that? Zip, zero. Just her. As a lawyer and lover of history, her dad would be so proud of her. The day she and Olivia were sworn in as members of the Colorado Bar, he had stood at the rear of the room and beamed with pride. Today, if he’d been present, his smile would be ear to ear.
Amber left the judge’s chambers with Daniel and stood outside in the corridor, almost trembling with excitement. “Where’s Noah? I want to tell him I have a license and can represent him.”
Daniel’s eyes blinked rapidly as if his brain was struggling to process what he had witnessed. He looked away, shaking his head. Then after a moment, he gazed at her again, his eyes no longer blinking. Either he now accepted what he had witnessed as true, or else he shoved his confusion into another portion of his brain to take out and dissect later.
“Noah was in the closet.”
She pointed toward the judge’s door. “In there? In the judge’s office? In the closet?”
Daniel guided her toward the exit. “The closet door was slightly ajar. If ye noticed, it was next to where the judge was straightening his bookcase. The judge is meticulous. The books didn’t need straightening.”
If she had spent time around children she might understand Noah’s behavior, but she was at a loss and couldn’t even dig up a similar childhood experience to draw from. “I don’t get it. Why did he hide?”
“I don’t know what he was thinking, but after ten minutes, I know he was asking that same question. The lad has never been accused of having idle hands. From the time he wakes up until he falls asleep, he’s earning money, keeping up with his studies, or helping our landlady, Mrs. Garland, around the house.”
“How old is he? He’s very mature, or at least I thought so until you told me that he hid in the closet.”
Daniel’s lips curled up into a smile, holding the look of a proud dad. “Ten.”
She had just been outfoxed by a ten-year-old who tricked her into appearing before the judge and lying to him. She wasn’t happy about that, but at least she was in a position now to get a replacement drum.
“Should we leave the building and let him escape the closet?”
“He probably went out the window as soon as we left the room and is sitting on the steps, pretending he’s been there all along.”
She shuddered at the thought of the little guy dangling from the window ledge before dropping to the ground. She could see herself perched on Amber’s rock. Going up there as a kid had been a dumb stunt, too, but it didn’t mean she had to condone Noah’s behavior.
“I can’t believe the judge allowed him to do that, especially after almost getting run over by a wagon.”
Daniel shrugged. “It’s just a wee window.”
She gave a brief, shocked laugh.
Daniel clapped his hat on his head, and they exited the building. He was right about Noah. The boy was sitting on the steps with the dog that had caused the accident. He was removing the sandwich board by untying the straps attached to the placards. Seeing his dad, Noah pulled stiffly to his feet.
Daniel looked at his son with a cautious eye.
“I heard you went to see the judge. Did you get a license?” Noah asked.
Noah’s stiffness alarmed her. In the past two hours, he’d fallen out of a wagon, been jerked up and pushed aside, and then dropped out of a window. The muscles in his back and shoulders were probably strained.
“Is there a doctor in town?” she asked.
“I don’t need a doctor,” Noah said quickly. “What I need is a lawyer to sue Mr. Tabor, so I can buy a new drum.”
“I’m going to do that,” she said, “but first you should see a doctor. You fell out of the wagon and I jerked you out of the street. Your arm and shoulder must be sore.”
Neither she nor Daniel mentioned climbing out of the window. They had no proof he’d been in the office and escaped, but when Noah glanced up toward the corner of the building where the judge’s office was located, he confirmed what they suspected.
“The doctor’s office is on the way to the theatre, lad. If the doc’s in, we’ll stop there first,” Daniel said.
“He’s not in his office, Pa. He just rode out of town. It’s Mrs. Miller’s time.”
Amber gave an exaggerated sigh even as a smile formed on her lips. “Do you know everything that happens in Leadville?”
“Most of it,” he said. “I earn pennies from folks who don’t know as much. I could have gotten a penny for telling someone Doc left town, and another penny for saying where he went.”
“So, I got two pennies’ worth of information for free. Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Golly, Miss Kelly. I won’t ever charge you for information. You’re my lawyer.”
“Then you shouldn’t charge me for any information you might have about a boy climbing out of one of those decorative, arched windows, say in the last ten minutes.”
Noah seemed to physically deflate. He looked up at his dad, shoulders square, and his gaze didn’t flicker. If he was in trouble, he intended to take his punishment like a man. “I can’t give away information about myself.”
Amber rolled back on her heels, signaling with her body language that she was stepping back and
letting Daniel handle it from here.
“Why’d ye do it, son? Why’d ye hide in the closet?”
“Judge Adams saw the accident and was relieved I wasn’t hurt. He didn’t know about the drum, and I didn’t have time to tell him our plan before you knocked on the door. He sent me to the closet and told me to wait. If I’d known you’d take as long as you did, Miss Kelly, I would have gone out the window before you came in.” Noah looked down at his feet and kicked a few clots of dirt then returned his gaze to her. “Judge wanted to meet you without me butting into the conversation. He didn’t say that exactly, but I figured it out.”
“Oh, I see.” She put her arm around his slender shoulders and hugged him. He twitched slightly, and she released him. He probably had reddish-looking bruises forming all over his back. “I was worried about you. Your pa knew you were in the closet, but I didn’t.”
He merely blinked as if struggling to make sense of that. Then he asked, “Why were you worried?”
“I don’t pull a ten-year-old from the jaws of death very often,” she said. “I have a vested interest in you now. In your education, your future.” How she was going to do that, she didn’t know, only that she had to try. Maybe, before she returned to her time, she could leave him a list of investments to make and situations to avoid.
Daniel tugged on a gold chain, lifted his watch from his vest pocket, and checked the hour. A photograph of a woman was tucked into the case back. He closed the watch before Amber could study her face, and slipped the timepiece back into his pocket, patting it reassuringly.
“We’ve taken up enough of Miss Kelly’s time today—”
Noah’s feathery brows drew together in puzzlement. “No, Pa. We have to go see Mr. Tabor about the drum.”
The dog—a retriever, dark brown in color—nudged Noah’s hand. If the canine continued to run through Leadville unleashed, she wouldn’t survive much longer.
“We can do that another day,” Daniel said.
Amber didn’t want to come between Noah and his dad, but Noah had his heart set on replacing his drum, and she couldn’t walk away from him now. “If you want me to represent you in a lawsuit against Mr. Tabor, I’d like to approach him today while the incident is still fresh on our minds. Do you know where we can find him?”
The Amber Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 8) Page 8
