Page 38 of Love and Order

CHAPTER 8

Queasy, Andie barreled outside and raced to an alley a couple of buildings away. There, she darted alongside the structure and, finding a relatively empty spot between piles of refuse and empty crates, tried to settle her stomach. To no avail. After gulping several breaths, her middle cramped, and she expelled her breakfast into an empty crate beside her. She spit, wiped her mouth, and, embarrassed, leaned against the wall.

Lord Jesus … I can’t do this!

The disrespect in that room! From both the judge and the patrons. She’d seen fiery encounters in Papa’s trials but nothing so demeaning as the judge attempting to dismiss an attorney on a baseless matter. Of course, she was the only female attorney she knew. If there were others, would they have been dismissed because of their gender? And … she should have kept a civil tongue when the drunken man antagonized her before the proceedings. But how was she to know he was the judge? Judges shouldn’t be drunk at nine in the morning—or in their own court proceedings!

She fought back tears.

“Miss McGovern?”

Andie jerked to find Mr. Littrick at the mouth of the alley.

“Please leave me alone.” The last thing she needed was that infernal man rubbing her nose in the dirt.

He picked his way through the stacks of crates, the refuse, and other debris to stand beside her.

“Are you all right?”

Avoiding his eyes, she straightened. “I asked you to go.”

“I was concerned.”

“About me?”

“Yes—for what just happened with the judge and because this isn’t the part of Cambria Springs where a beautiful, refined lady like yourself ought to be found. Particularly alone in an alley.”

She met his brilliant blue eyes, so full of compassion she couldn’t hold her tears back.

“I can’t do this.” Unable to stanch the words, her cheeks flooded with heat.

He produced a handkerchief and offered it to her. “By this, you mean the trial?”

Nodding, she dabbed an eye. “I probably shouldn’t confess that to you.”

“Because I’ll use it to gain some advantage?”

Again, she nodded, dabbing the other eye.

“Would you believe that I have no such intentions?”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I’ve been awful to you from the moment we met.”

“Perhaps a little sharp-tongued, maybe borderin’ on fire-breathing at moments …” His teasing grin softened the jabs until she giggled through a sob.

“Like I said—awful.”

“Well, the first moment we met went cockeyed because of me. I deserved some of those sharp-tongued comments.”

He hadn’t. Not like she’d doled out, though he was kind to say so.

“As far as this case, you’re not givin’ yourself enough credit, miss. Any woman who reads Blackstone to pass the time while traveling across country must have a very sharp mind.”

Her tears flowed more freely, and she dabbed at them furiously. The last thing she needed was to walk back in that saloon looking like she’d been weeping.

“Why are you being so kind? You defended me to the judge, and now this.”

He tugged at his collar. “You want the honest truth, miss?”

She shot him a coy grin. “No, Mr. Littrick. I’d prefer you lie to me—and make it colorful and unexpected.”

He chuckled as he opened the cover on his pocket watch. “That might take more time than we’ve got.” He pocketed the watch again. “Truth is, I never wanted to be a lawyer. I don’t much enjoy it. But facin’ off against you is … a welcome challenge.”

“An easy victory, you mean.”

“I hope not. I’m rather lookin’ forward to you givin’ me a run for my money.”

“What if you’re giving me too much credit?”

“Call it a gut feelin’, but …” His blue eyes sparkled. “I don’t reckon I am.”

She fought down her emotion. “I hope I won’t disappoint you.”

“Keep your sharp wit while you’re challenging me on the law, and you won’t.”

Andie wobbled a smile. “All right.”

She dabbed her eyes once more with the handkerchief, folded it, and reached to return it to him.

“Do you need to keep it, miss?”

“No.” She lifted her chin. “I’m not planning to cry another tear.”

“Good. We’ve got about one minute to get back in the courtroom or that blustering windbag of a judge will make us pay. Ready, Miss McGovern?”

She pressed the folded handkerchief into his hand. “Yes.”

“All right, then.” He deposited it in his pocket and, taking her hand, walked her from the alley.

In between numerous recesses for fresh libations, always called for by the onlookers, they managed to select their six jurors. After the midday break, they presented opening statements. Judge Oakwell then heard and ruled on their motions—including Miss McGovern’s well-thought-out request for a change of venue and her request to throw out the kidnapping and attempted murder charges based on Hattie Ingram’s testimony of several days ago. He overruled every one. Miss McGovern asked pertinent questions and kept her composure firmly in check, despite Oakwell’s attempts to bait her. Beside her, Braddock seethed as the judge needled the little gal, like it was personal. More personal than just her being his attorney. Was there something between Braddock and Miss McGovern?

What if there was? She’d never said she didn’t have a beau.

There’s a lot she’s never said. Yet he’d rather enjoyed their alley conversation. If not for the short five-minute recess and the blasted judge threatening repercussions for tardiness, he’d have stood there quite a while longer.

“Miss McCoven.”

Daniel bristled at the man’s continued use of the wrong name.

“Yes, sir?”

“You keep lookin’ in those books on your table.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What are those? Bring ’em up here.”

She collected the volumes and laid them out on his desk.

“These are English law. Not American. Says so plain on the covers.” He looked at one after the other then swept them off the table.

“Hey!” Braddock moved to rise, his expression stormy, but Miss McGovern gave him a firm shake of her head.

“Sit!” she hissed, and the sheriff clapped a hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat.

Facing Oakwell again, she scrambled to collect the books, tucking a piece of paper that came out of one into the pocket of her dress. “It’s Blackstone, Judge. And Sir Edward Coke.”

“Yeah, and both are old— and English. This is America, missy.”

“I’m well aware, sir.”

“Then why’re you using books on English law? The English, as you ought to recall, oppressed our fathers and the law which they repudiated in the Declaration of Independence. You’ll not impose such in my court!”

The crowd hooted, and someone ribbed one of the medicine show members—a man wearing spectacles with darkened lenses.

As Oakwell spoke, Miss McGovern slunk back toward her table, heavy books in hand, looking like a whipped pup.

“Begging your pardon, Your Honor, but these are all I have. What do you expect me to use?”

“Ain’t my problem, missy—but I don’t want to see those back here again.” He stabbed a finger toward the books.

Daniel gripped the edge of his chair, incensed on her behalf.

The onlookers continued to chuckle as Oakwell sat in his smug self-righteousness. Miss McGovern looked lost.

“Understood, Your Honor.”

“And with that, I’m callin’ it a night. Court is—”

“I object!” Daniel belted the words, gripping the chair even harder.

“Oh, what now?” Oakwell lolled a look his way.

He stood. “I object.”

“To adjourning for the day?”

“Yes, sir. At least until you address the fact that you’ve just undermined Miss McGovern’s ability to argue this case—and hampered mine. Will you delay the start of the case to allow us time to rethink our strategies?”

“First she wants a change of venue, and now you want a delay. Are y’all ready to try this case or not?”

“Not after the monkey wrench you just threw in the works. I’ll need a few days, and Miss McGovern probably needs more than that.”

“Are you stupid? I’m handin’ you the case.”

Howls erupted again, and Miss McGovern stood cloaked in shame and embarrassment. Braddock seethed.

“Would you repeat that, please, Your Honor?”

Oakwell clammed up, seeming to recognize his mistake.

“Judge Oakwell, it’s quite clear Mr. Braddock can’t get a fair trial under you. I’m callin’ for you to step down.”

Judge Oakwell fouled the air with a string of curse words. “Denied! You’re the one what called me to this trifling town. I ain’t leavin’ without hearin’ this case.”

Daniel shot Sheriff Downing an incredulous look, though the lawman pretended not to see him. Something wasn’t right. Oakwell was obviously compromised … and the sheriff turned a blind eye.

“Then please … rethink your decision about books on English law—or I won’t proceed as prosecutor.”

Oakwell’s eye twitched, and his nostrils flared. “You’re a durn fool, Littrick. What do you need to stay on?”

Daniel leaned both hands on the desk and glared. “A fair and impartial trial, and enough time for the prosecution and defense to mount an appropriate case.”

The judge spat on the floor and glared, tossed back the full glass of whiskey in front of him, and nodded. “Fine, Counselor. You got until Monday at nine, sharp—but neither of y’all are bringin’ those English rules into my American court. We’re dismissed.” He slammed the gavel once, poured and drank another glass of whiskey, and seemed to slosh down the hall.

Daniel headed straight for Downing. “We need to talk!”

“Not now.” The lawman shoved him aside. “I got a prisoner to escort.” Downing beckoned the deputies over, then ordered Braddock to his feet and shoved him toward the door.