Page 37 of Love and Order

CHAPTER 7

Wednesday, July 16, 1873

T HE R OCKING J S ALOON …

Andie stared up at the sign from across the street. Her stomach soured as she stared at the largest saloon in Cambria Springs. Since the mountain town had no official courthouse, Rion’s case was to be held there.

She’d never set foot in a saloon. Worse, she couldn’t have Callie, Joe, or Lu by her side because, as witnesses in the case, they weren’t allowed in the courtroom until they were called. The best she had was Mrs. Ingram’s other boarders.

As if it wasn’t frightening enough to face her first solo court case, but to be sitting opposite Daniel Littrick while Rion’s life hung in the bal—?

Hung? “Terrible word choice,” she chided herself under her breath.

“I’m sorry—what?” one of the women asked.

“Not important.”

She led the way into the Rocking J. Even at a little before nine in the morning, spectators filled the room. Cigar smoke tainted the air, and heavy stares settled on them. Several onlookers groaned at their appearance.

Her heart pounded. Walking into a real courtroom knowing she would take an important role in the trial would have been daunting enough, but this? She couldn’t be more out of place.

Lord, how do I get through this? I never expected to try a case, much less try one in a saloon. Especially defending my own brother’s life …

The other women settled at the nearest empty table as she walked to the defense table. She put her carpetbag, full of her law books, notes, and papers, in one of the chairs.

“Pardon, miss,” a tall man with an uncanny likeness to Abraham Lincoln slurred as she unpacked her bag. “That table’s for the defendant.”

“Understood.”

“Don’t reckon you do. That’s where the accused’ll sit. And don’t think about takin’ that place, neither.” He indicated the matching table feet away. “It’s for the prosecution.”

She looked him in the eye with more boldness than she felt. “Let me see if I understand. The big bounty hunter, Orion Braddock, is going to sit here.”

“Now you’re gettin’ it.” His leering grin unsettled her.

“Along with his counsel, I presume?”

“Yeah.” He tossed back a shot of whiskey and clamped a pipe between his teeth.

Andie cleared her throat. “Then I’m in the correct place, thank you.” She began to arrange her things.

Confusion ruled his features. “Are ya settin’ up for your man, there, ma’am?”

Again, she paused to look at the odd fellow. “My man?”

“Your husband.”

“I have no husband.”

“Then, a father or a brother …”

“If you must know, I’m Rion Braddock’s attorney.”

The gent adjusted his glasses and squinted, laughter rippling across the hushed room.

“A woman?” He shoved his shot glass across the bar toward the bartender.

The laughter grew louder.

Oh, Lord … Now that she’d said the words aloud, her head spun.

“Congratulations, sir, for grasping the simple truth that I am, in fact, a woman.”

“Yeah, well … we’ll see about that.” The bartender refilled his shot glass.

Her heart pounded. “Unless the judge is God Himself, I doubt he’ll be able to change my womanhood. Now, good day, sir. I have a case to prepare for.”

The man returned a simpering smile, tossed back the whiskey, and leaving the glass on the bar, tottered toward the back of the establishment to the guffaws of the onlookers.

“Good riddance.” How could that man already be inebriated at this hour of the morning?

To calm her frayed nerves, Andie opened the cover of Blackstone to read Papa’s telegram, which she’d received after sending word home about defending Rion.

Rion has chosen well STOP

You can do this STOP You are ready STOP

Trust what you have learned STOP

More importantly, trust God STOP

We are proud of you and love you STOP

Papa’s voice rang in her thoughts as if he were with her. Always the optimist, he found the bright side in every circumstance. If only she had half his positivity. Or his wily ways in the courtroom.

In a flurry, people entered—among them a whole company of men and women. One man among them was unnaturally tall and muscular, another abnormally short. Still another, a woman, untied her bonnet and—Andie’s eyes rounded. A bearded lady ?

Mr. Littrick, entering with a heavily loaded leather case, beelined for the prosecution’s table, though he also paused to gape. The woman curtsied.

“Howdy, handsome.” She grinned, words dripping with a thick southern drawl. “I’m Annalee Ralston, with Dr. Chellingworth’s Medicine Show.”

“We’re all from Chellingworth’s,” the tall, muscle-bound man boomed, and the collection of odd folks clapped and cheered.

Mr. Littrick gave a respectful nod. “Well, then … welcome to you all.”

Sheriff Downing and a couple of deputies herded Rion in. Shackled hand and foot, her brother looked like a caged animal, ready to fight out of the corner he was in—though once he saw her, he seemed to calm some.

Downing prodded Rion to the table and shoved him into the second chair. “You’re gonna sit there, Braddock, until Judge Oakwell or I tell you otherwise. One wrong move, and I’ll open fire. Understand?”

“We’re clear.”

The sheriff stationed the others who’d entered with him, one guarding the hallway leading toward the back, one at the main door, and himself seated a few feet from them.

Rion turned her way. “Morning.”

“Morning.”

The caged animal look returned as he surveyed the room. “You ready?”

Tears stung her lids, but she swallowed them back, opened the front cover of Blackstone’s thick tome, and reread two lines of Papa’s message. Trust what you have learned. More importantly, trust God.

Her stomach roiled and pitched, threatening to expel her light breakfast. With the addition of the medicine show people, the atmosphere had taken on the feel of a literal circus, but she drew a big breath, clapped the cover closed, and took her brother’s shackled hands as unexpected words rang in her mind.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

“God’s going to walk us both through this, Rion.”

Did she believe her own words?

Lord, let it be true today, please!

Daniel debated greeting Miss McGovern. So far, she’d not looked once in his direction. Without pondering too long on the matter, he crossed the short distance.

“Morning, Miss McGovern.”

“Mr. Littrick.” She dipped her chin slightly. “Can I do something for you?”

“No, miss. I simply wanted to wish you a pleasant morning.” He turned to the bounty hunter. “Mr. Braddock.”

Rion glowered.

“How are you, sir?”

“How would you be if the man gunnin’ to see you strung up asked such a question?”

“I assure you, sir, I have no designs on the outcome of the trial. I’m after the truth—even if that means I lose this case.”

Rion shook his head. “That sounds noble, but I reckon I don’t believe it.”

“Fair enough. I’ll simply have to prove myself.”

“Hope you do.” Braddock faced front and settled his shackled hands on the table.

Daniel nodded. “I wish you both my best.”

“Thank you.” Again, Miss McGovern dipped her chin, morning sunlight playing on the curves of her face and highlighting her brown eyes.

She was a pretty woman—when she wasn’t belching flames.

He returned to his table, unburdened his leather satchel, and as he was arranging the books, papers, and notes, the court crier stepped from the back and cleared his throat.

“Ever’body rise for Judge Zebulun Oakwell.”

Chairs scraped across the floorboards, and the buzz of conversation dulled as everyone stood. Daniel glanced around. The place was packed. Standing room only. Facing forward again, he turned as Judge Oakwell, with his unkempt beard and ever-present pipe, stepped out of the back hallway, glassy-eyed as he took his place behind the table nearest the bar.

Miss McGovern gasped, and when he looked her way, she appeared especially pale.

“Hear ye! Hear ye!” the court crier went on. “Court’s in session. All you mulligrubs in the back of the courtroom keep your traps shut and give these fellers up front a chance to talk.”

Judge Oakwell looked across the room. “Court’s in session.” He banged the gavel. “All y’all sit.”

Again, chairs scraped and boot heels clicked on the plank floor.

“Except for you.” Oakwell jabbed a finger in Miss McGovern’s direction.

For a confused instant, Rion Braddock and Miss McGovern looked between themselves, and she moved to sit while he remained on his feet.

“No. Defendant—sit.” He stabbed a finger at Braddock. “Defendant’s counsel—remain standing.” Again, he motioned her upward.

Wide-eyed, Miss McGovern straightened, obviously trembling.

Oakwell glared at her.

“You’re dismissed, missy.”

She straightened her spine—a move he was realizing she made as she geared up for battle. “On what grounds?”

“In this courtroom, I’m as good as God.” His words slurred. “And I ain’t puttin’ up with shenanigans, like a woman thinkin’ she can argue matters of the law.”

“You can’t dismiss me. Mr. Braddock hired me as his counsel.”

“My courtroom, my rules. Now, skedaddle.” He waved as if shooing a fly.

Was this really happening? Daniel shot Sheriff Downing a look, but he appeared about as flummoxed as he felt.

“Point of clarification, Judge?” He half stood as he called out.

“What?” Oakwell swung toward him.

“Are you dismissing Miss McGovern because she doesn’t understand the law?”

“Women ain’t got the means to understand or argue the finer points.”

The woman turned an even pastier shade as the onlookers laughed.

“Begging your pardon, Judge, but it’s not fair to deny Mr. Braddock his counsel because you fear a woman hasn’t the wherewithal to argue his case. If the defendant trusts her, that ought to be enough.”

“No woman’s gonna make a mockery of my courtroom.”

Daniel shoved a hand in his pants pocket. “I object. Mr. Braddock is entitled to the attorney of his choice.”

From behind him, one of the medicine show workers shouted, “Let the little gal ride, Judge. It’ll be entertainin’, at least! And after bein’ the entertainment for so long, we wanna be entertained!”

“Hear, hear!” another man bellowed from across the room. “And we’ll have us a necktie party once she loses. It’ll make for a great distraction.”

Drunken chuckles followed, and Daniel shot up a prayer—both for Oakwell to see reason and for Miss McGovern and Mr. Braddock not to listen to the doomsday predictions. He glared at the sheriff.

Oakwell threw up his hands and pitched back in his chair, settling his boots on the table, legs crossed at the ankle. “Fine. In the interest of amusement, Miss McCoven can stay.”

His hackles rose. “It’s Miss Andromeda McGovern , Your Honor.”

The judge shrugged. “I was close …”

Lord in heaven, please. Let him show some respect.

The man had no business being a judge.

“Your Honor?” she called.

“What?” His glassy eyes held disdain.

“May I have a five-minute recess?”

“We’re just gettin’ started, missy.”

“We could use us a recess too, Judge!” someone shouted from the back. “Seems as good a time as any for fresh libations.”

“You’re saved, Miss McCoven.” Oakwell reached for his gavel. “Five-minute recess, startin’ now.” He cracked the gavel once, and Miss McGovern darted out the front door.