No One's Bride (Escape to the West Book 1) (20 page)

The following two days and nights passed remarkably quickly, given that Amy was locked up with Adam in a seven foot square cell and surrounded by bars. Or maybe it was
because
she was locked up with Adam that the time seemed to fly by.

They both had books to read and George brought them his chess set. Amy had always wanted to learn to play and after a while spent teaching her Adam pronounced her a natural, although she was fairly sure he was just saying it to make her feel better. They also had more visitors, but much of their time was spent just the two of them, talking, and Amy loved every second of it.

She had thought she knew a lot about Adam, but it turned out there was so much more to discover. He described his childhood growing up in Green Hill Creek, his parents and five siblings, their move to his grandparents’ farm and then his return to the town five years later. His tales of his family made her wish she’d had one of her own.

He even told her briefly about his romance with Daisy which wasn’t her favourite part, even though she wanted to know everything about him. Jealousy wasn’t an emotion she was comfortable with, so she gave it to the Lord and just enjoyed that Adam was being so open and honest with her. Then she gave the jealousy to the Lord again because she seemed to be having trouble letting it go.

For her own part, Amy talked about her years of growing up in the orphanage and on the streets of New York, and then her time with the Courtneys, making sure to tell him the good parts as well as the bad so he didn’t think her life had been one long tragedy.

Finally, the night before the trial was due to take place they lay on their cots, facing each other.

“So you know my hopes for the future are pretty much a wife and a family,” Adam said, blinking sleepily. “What are yours?”

The moonlight filtering through the small window turned his hair jet black, highlighted the contours of his face and transformed the blue of his eyes into liquid silver. Amy didn’t know how to answer him. All her hopes and dreams, so uncertain in the past, now rested solely with him.

“I want... I want to belong somewhere,” she said. “And I want to be safe and happy.”

He gazed into her eyes for a few long seconds before smiling. “We’d better get some sleep, so we’re refreshed for tomorrow.”

She returned his smile, feeling her eyelids drooping already. “Goodnight.”

Just as she drifted off to sleep, she heard Adam whisper, “You belong here.”

Amy smoothed her hand down the front of her green dress then raised it to feel for any hairs that might have strayed from her bun.

She peered into the mirror on the wall of her bedroom. “Do I look all right? Respectable?”

“You look like a fine, upstanding woman,” Adam said from across the room.

She sighed and turned away from her reflection to look out the window. She couldn’t help wondering if this would be the last time she saw her beautiful view of the mountains. Would she be taken to the jail today? Would she be allowed to come back for her things?

Wrapping her arms around herself, she realised she was shivering. When had it got so cold? As if she’d said it out loud, her shawl was draped around her and Adam’s hands rested on her shoulders.

“Don’t be scared.”

She wiped at a rogue tear. “Easier said than done.”

He gently turned her to face him and took her hands, wrapping them in his own, the heat from his skin warming her freezing fingers.

Closing his eyes, he lowered his head. “Dear Father God, thank You for bringing Amy here. Thank You for her courage and her strength and her kindness and thank You for the happiness and joy she’s brought into my life. Lord, You know Amy had no choice in what she did, the desperate situation she was in. Please give the judge wisdom and compassion, that he will do the right thing and let her go. Please bring Your justice to this trial. Please give Amy Your strength, courage and peace now, Lord, and help her to feel Your presence with her today. Father, help us to not be afraid and trust in You. In the Name of Your Son, Jesus Christ, Amen.”

Amy opened her eyes and threw her arms around him. “Thank you,” she said, her voice muffled in the crook of his neck. “For everything.”

He held her tight and for a moment, wrapped in his arms, she felt a joy that rose above her circumstances. For that moment, she was soaring like an eagle.

A knock on the door brought her back to earth.

“Miss Watts, Mr Emerson, you ready?”

Adam pressed a kiss to her forehead and stepped back. Amy let him go reluctantly. If she could have, she would have held onto him forever.

Deputy Filbert took up most of the landing outside the bedroom door.

“Thank you for letting me come home to get ready,” Amy said, having to crick her neck to look up at him in the confined space.

He nodded, holding his hat against his ample chest. “Don’t worry, Miss Watts, Judge Hamilton’s a fair man. I’m sure he’ll do what’s right.”

Amy hoped he was correct, but fear still coiled its cold tendrils around her gut as she followed the deputy marshal down the stairs and through the post office to the street. George was waiting outside, scowling at everyone looking in their direction, and he and Adam took their places either side of her as they walked through the town towards the hotel where the trial would be held.

It felt as if the whole town was scattered along their route and Amy had a deep urge to run away and hide as they walked along the busy street. A sizeable crowd was gathered at the entrance to the hotel.

First she was a harlot, now a thief. She couldn’t help wondering how, even if she was acquitted, she would be able to stay here. Adam had already lost his job at the bank because of her, could he also lose his position as postmaster? Lose his home? Would George suffer because she worked for him? The thought of having to leave was more painful even than the thought of going to jail, but she wasn’t at all sure she would have a choice. She couldn’t hurt Adam and George, not anymore.

Inside the hotel the small ballroom had been crammed with chairs, every one of which was occupied. Amy clutched her hands together as she followed Deputy Filbert to the front.

She saw friendly faces; Sara, Lizzie, Jo and Louisa were together, sitting near Pastor and Mrs Jones, Daisy and other members of the church. She also saw unfriendly faces, first and foremost Mr and Mrs Vernon who sat off to one side making no effort at all to hide their disapproval. The majority of those present seemed in agreement with them, judging by the looks Amy received from the gathered spectators.

Deputy Filbert showed her to a table at the front with a single chair. Adam and George sat behind her in the front row of seating where Marshal Cade had apparently saved them the two chairs beside him.

Mr Courtney was already seated at another table to her right. With him was his lawyer, Mr Williamson, who Amy had seen a few times at the house in New York. One night a few months previously, when Courtney had invited a few of his upper class, boorish friends for drinks, and more drinks, the inebriated lawyer had tried to corner Amy in the hallway. After almost a lifetime of escaping tight situations she’d had no trouble escaping his clumsy advances, and the next time she’d seen him sober he had apologised profusely and with much embarrassment and pleading that she never tell his wife. Nevertheless, being anywhere near the man still made her uncomfortable.

In front of the wall facing her was a long table with several unoccupied chairs tucked in behind. After a few minutes a door in the wall beyond the table opened and two men walked out. The first was dressed in a black suit and long black coat and appeared to be in his early fifties, although it was hard to tell with much of his face hidden behind the biggest, bushiest moustache Amy had ever seen. It dominated his face, stretching from his upper lip to his extensive sideburns, and she couldn’t help wondering if he was married how he ever managed to kiss his wife around the astounding facial hair. Surely she would be suffocated in the thing.

The whole effect was somewhat intimidating and Amy had to clutch her hands together in her lap beneath the table to stop them from trembling.

The second, younger man carried a pile of papers which he placed on the table in front of the judge as he pulled out a chair in the centre of the row and sat, placing a gavel next to the papers. The younger man took a chair to the far left of the table. Amy guessed he was the judge’s clerk. He was clean-shaven, probably to provide a little balance. 

Courtney rose from his seat, strolled up to the judge’s table and held out his hand. “Your Honour, I’m Franklin Courtney, the wronged party in this trial. I’d like to thank you for hearing the case so promptly. I believe we have a mutual friend in New York city, Judge Matthew Farley? We’re both members of the same gentleman’s club. He mentioned you and he went to law school together.”

Ignoring the hand hovering in front of him, Judge Hamilton glanced up at Courtney. “Ah yes, Farley. How is the self-serving, spineless bigot?”

“Uh...” Courtney’s hand dropped to his side. He gave a nervous laugh. “I, erm, don’t really know him that well, to be honest. Just in passing. Haven’t seen him in months.”

The judge lowered his eyes to the paperwork in front of him. “Please take a seat, Mr Courtney. It’s against regulations for me to speak with either the plaintiff or defendant before a trial.”

“Of course it is. You wouldn’t want any accusations of partiality.” Courtney laughed again. Judge Hamilton didn’t look up. “So I’ll just go and sit down then.” He backed away, turned and walked rapidly back to his chair.

A few minutes of silence from the judge followed. The assembled crowd, who had quietened when the judge and his clerk entered, began to murmur. Amy glanced back at Adam and he smiled encouragingly. She tried to feel encouraged.

Finally, the judge looked up, took hold of the gavel on the table before him and pounded it three times onto the wooden surface. There were gasps of surprise from the crowd. Someone yelped. Amy couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw the hint of a smile beneath the huge moustache.

The clerk rose to his feet. “Court is now in session. Judge Ebenezer Hamilton presiding.”

For a small, wiry man, he had a voice that cut through the air like the crack of a bullet. The room silenced instantly.

“All right,” the judge’s voice boomed through the room, “let’s get this trial started. For those who’ve never attended a trial before, what I say here goes. You may address me as Judge Hamilton or Your Honour. All those in the audience, you are here as spectators, not participants, so keep your opinions to yourselves. Keep to those rules and we will all get along fine.” He looked down at the papers again. “Mr Franklin Courtney, I see you’ve brought your lawyer with you.” He fixed his gaze on Courtney’s lawyer and raised his eyebrows which were almost as impressive as his moustache.

Mr Williamson stood, said, “Arthur Williamson, esquire, Your Honour,” and sat again.

Judge Hamilton moved his eyes to Amy. “Miss Watts, do you have legal counsel?”

“Um, no, Sir. I mean, Your Honour.” Was she supposed to stand when she spoke to him? He didn’t correct her, so she assumed not.

He nodded. “Have you ever been to a trial before?”

“No, Your Honour.”

“Well, what will happen is that Mr Williamson will detail the charges against you and call any witnesses or present any evidence he may have. You’ll have the opportunity to give your own defence. I’ll let you know when it’s your turn to do that.”

“Thank you, Your Honour.” Amy relaxed just a little. Despite his imposing appearance, the judge seemed kind. She hoped he was fair as well.

“Right,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “let’s hear it, Mr Williamson.”

Courtney’s lawyer stood and walked from behind the table. “Your Honour, we will show that Miss Amy Watts, when in the employ of my client, Mr Franklin Courtney, stole the sum of seventy-five dollars from him, absconding with the money across the country here to Green Hill Creek.”

“Well, go ahead and show me then,” Judge Hamilton said.

The lawyer seemed slightly thrown. Maybe they did things differently here than he was used to in New York. “Uh, yes, Your Honour. I’d like to call Mr Franklin Courtney to the witness... um...” He looked around. “...stand?”

Judge Hamilton inclined his head to a chair at the opposite end of the table to where the clerk sat.

Williamson looked at the simple seat as though it had offended him in some way. “Ah, yes.” He gestured for Courtney to take the seat. “Sir.”

Marshal Cade rose and walked forward with a large, leather bound Bible in his hand and held it out to Courtney. “Place your left hand on...”

“Yes, yes, I know what to do,” Courtney snapped, putting one hand on the Bible and raising the other. The marshal was clearly not on his list of favourite people.

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

Courtney lifted his chin in an attempt to look down on the taller man. “I do.”

Williamson walked forward as Marshal Cade returned to his seat. “Mr Courtney, would you describe to us the details of Miss Watts’ employ in your household and the circumstances of the theft?”

Courtney smiled, clearly revelling in the rapt attention of the assembled townsfolk. “I certainly will.”

What followed was a litany of lies and half-truths about Amy’s time working for the Courtneys. He peppered her years of service with thinly concealed allusions to other thefts and deceits, made it sound like his deep kindness was all that had kept her in his employ, and even accused her of trying to seduce him on more than one occasion. Amy had to clamp her lips together and sit on her hands to stop herself from leaping up and shouting that none of it was true. She kept darting glances at the people behind her. Adam and George and her friends looked angry with Courtney, but most of the rest of the people appeared either shocked or were nodding and whispering to each other as they looked at her, as if to say yes, we knew all along she was no good.

Amy looked down at the table in front of her and tried to shut out the sound of Courtney’s lies. What was the purpose for his coming all the way here? Why couldn’t he have just let her be? It wasn’t like the money she’d taken meant anything to him, he had more than enough to squander for the rest of his life. The train ticket for him to come here alone would have cost double what she’d taken.

Finally, after an entirely fabricated tale of how she’d been seen stealing the money from Courtney’s office, Williamson handed a piece of paper to the judge. “Your Honour, this is a signed statement from another of Mr Courtney’s staff, Mr James Sutton, that he witnessed the theft.”

Amy looked up at that. How did Courtney dare to drag James into this? The man had no hint of morals. Didn’t he fear God at all?

Mr Courtney stood and returned to his seat, casting a smug look in her direction. A desperate desire to claw his eyes out swept over her and she quietly asked God to forgive her and help her to forgive Courtney. Eventually.

“Do you have any more witnesses, Mr Williamson?” Judge Hamilton said.

“Yes, Your Honour. I’d like to call Miss Amy Watts to the stand.”

She looked up in surprise. Could he do that? Would she get to tell her side now?

The judge indicated the chair Courtney had just vacated. “Miss Watts, would you sit here?”

She rose on shaky legs and looked back at Adam. He gave her a smile and she tried to take courage from it, but her heart was pounding as she walked to the seat, said her oath on the Bible, and sat.

Mr Williamson walked up to her. “Miss Watts, I’m going to ask you one question and I remind you before you answer that you are under oath before God.”