Patricia Rice (49 page)

Pace brazenly presented the backdated marriage certificate. Had Mitchell known he would do this, he could have called the preacher as witness. But Joe had expected Pace to cave and it was too late now. He had filed the certificate at the courthouse with last year's date.

Pace just couldn't turn and face Dora right away. She didn't like these little necessary lies, although all the rest was true. He couldn't help it if he'd been a little slow in realizing how much he needed her.

Joe threw a tantrum, but his attorney stepped in to drown him out with the presentation of copies of Carlson Nicholls's will leaving the entire estate to Charlie. With a glance of triumph at Pace, he declared that Dora had no legal right to sign the deed since Pace was not the owner at that time.

The courtroom grew hushed. Pace could see Dora nervously twining her fingers, but he'd known all his opponents' arguments in advance. He didn't enter a courtroom unprepared. Retrieving another paper from his dwindling stack, he added that to the growing one in front of the judge.

"I took the liberty of wiring the military authorities in charge of the prison camp where my brother died, Your Honor. The defendant could have had the decency to wait until my brother was dead a little longer before attempting to steal his widow's home, but the fact remains, Charlie died the week prior to Joe Mitchell's efforts to auction off my home."

The other attorney immediately objected to this prejudicial declaration, but the judge, irritated enough by the earlier histrionics, just ordered him to shut up. Pace's opponent retreated to his table where he triumphantly removed several formal documents from his stack of papers.

"I have here the copy of a birth certificate for one Lady Alexandra Theodora Beaumont and signed statements from both her brother and her father's solicitor to the effect that Dora Smythe Nicholls is said person. If Your Honor will take notice of the signatures on both deed and marriage certificate, he will note they are signed under the alias Dora Smythe, and not under her true name, thereby making both marriage and deed null and void."

Pace heard the gasp circling the courtroom. He'd hoped to protect Dora from this little bit of nastiness, but he had come prepared for it just the same. Picking up his law book, he proceeded to the bench and began to quote letter and verse of the official acts of Kentucky's assembly declaring themselves herewith dissolved of all acts of English common law and independent as to the construction of their own constitution and liberties.

As the crowd rustled and coughed while waiting for him to make his point. Pace slammed the book shut and faced the judge firmly. "Your Honor, the legal redress under which these men seek to nullify my marriage is based entirely on English common law and acts of their Parliament. There is no place within the Kentucky statutes stating that my wife could not take the name of her adopted parents instead of carrying the despised name of her mother's murderer!"

The courtroom burst into shouts of triumph and gasps of horror. The earl's solicitor raised a hand covering his eyes and offered no objection. Pace couldn't tell if the older man expressed mortification at the appalling theatrics of a country courtroom or conceded the point. He didn't care. The judge pounded his gavel and overturned Mitchell's appeal. The marriage and the deed would stand as is.

Pace turned around in time to catch Dora as she flew into his arms. This was neither the time nor the place to indulge his joy but he couldn't resist the sweet victory of her kiss. He smoothed her poor, battered face and held her as close as her skirts would allow.

Behind him, the judge coughed and declared a fifteen-minute recess.

Chapter 38

Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments.

Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds.

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no; it is an ever-fixed mark.

~ Shakespeare,
Sonnets
(116)

"Hallelujah, you did it, Nicholls!" Robert McCoy raced down the courthouse steps to pound Pace on the back. The milling crowd gathering on the courthouse lawn looked up at Robert's yell. As if in concert, people surged in the direction of the courthouse steps until a human barricade formed at the bottom and spilled upward.

Pace determinedly held Dora's waist as he answered Robert while keeping a wary eye on the crowd. Crowds easily became mobs in these uncertain times. He didn't want Dora caught in the middle. He caught sight of Jackson lingering beneath the elm tree on the lawn and felt a modicum of relief. He had one friend in the crowd at least, should he need to call on someone for help.

"I haven't done anything yet," Pace answered. "It's up to the original owners of those parcels to file suit now. All I did was prove that Mitchell is an unscrupulous crook. Seems everyone should have known that."

Dora gripped her skirts as they gradually eased down the stairs. Pace sensed her nervousness, but he hadn't seen any overt signs of hostility. This crowd seemed more ready for a Sunday gossip than a hanging. He should have experience enough to know the difference by now.

A scarecrow of a man in red galluses and a patched workshirt called out, "Does this mean I can get my bottom pasture back, Pace?"

Pace turned in the man's direction. "Get yourself a good lawyer, Amos, and prove Mitchell obtained it under false pretenses or with fraud. The judge has to look at each case individually. I just opened it up for the law to take a look at it."

The man shrugged his narrow shoulders diffidently beneath the suspenders. "Reckon you could take the job? Seems like you made a pretty good case in there today."

A murmur rumbled through the crowd. Heads nodded. Beside him, Dora looked up at him expectantly, her sky-blue eyes watching him with all the admiration and approval he had ever desired from her. Pace choked on the emotion welling inside him, paralyzing his usually easy tongue. He didn't deserve what he saw in her eyes, but he craved it with every ounce of his misbegotten soul.

He ripped his gaze away to nod at his inquirer. "All right, Amos, I'll come out and look at what you've got tomorrow evening, if that's all right."

A clamor rose from the crowd, demanding his attention, throwing out questions, asking his opinions. Pace acknowledged only the joy rising from the woman beside him. He hugged her waist and gave her a grin of triumph as he tugged her downward and into the clamoring mob. It was a heady feeling, knowing these people who had despised his politics now needed his talents. He wanted to savor it for a while.

Mostly, though, Pace wanted to celebrate his triumph by taking Dora home and into his bed. Not every day did a woman whistle away a fortune in return for what little he could offer.

"Somebody ought to lynch Mitchell!" A voice screamed from the back of the mob.

On every side people complained bitterly of the way the mayor's smooth words and cheap promises or his blackmail, lies, and threats had robbed them and their families. Another shout rose in agreement with the first. Fists shook in the air as the crowd realized Joe Mitchell had not yet left the building. The shifting winds of violence found a new direction.

The crush of people pushed toward the steps, flowing upward. Caught in the middle, Pace held Dora and glanced back at the courthouse. He saw no sign of Joe Mitchell and his attorney, but Josie emerged on the arm of the gray-haired English solicitor.

Sensing the ugly violence growing, Pace turned back to Jackson and breathed easier when he saw the tall black man shoving through the crowd in their direction. Catching Dora's shoulders, Pace whispered in her ear, "Get over to Jackson. I've got to stop this."

She nodded and slipped between two farmers. A path of sorts opened for her, and Pace saw her safely in Jackson's care before he took the courthouse steps upward, two at a time. When he reached the top, he turned and waved his arms to draw the crowd’s attention. The men in front of him halted and shouted at the people behind them. Gradually, the surging anger quieted until Pace could shout above their complaints.

"I think the war has proved that killing isn't the answer! If you want to get rid of Joe Mitchell, then impeach him. Go to the council and demand his withdrawal from office. You're the ones who voted him in. Be men and admit you were wrong. Take responsibility for correcting your mistake by voting him out. Let the world see that we aren't ignorant savages but intelligent, civilized men who uphold the Constitution and want justice done. That's what our laws are for. Let's use them to get rid of the greedy vultures who would feed off our carcasses if we let them!"

A roar of approval rang through the crowd. Dora stepped back into the shade of the old elm where Jackson had led her. Pace's words rang clearly in her ears even from this distance. He looked magnificent out there with his waistcoat undone and his fingers hooked in his trouser band, controlling the crowd with his voice. He had a marvelous voice, a commanding one.

She turned hesitantly to Jackson. "He was born to be a politician, wasn't he?"

"Reckon so. He sure can swing them words around, cain't he?"

"Maybe I should have let him go," she whispered, more to herself than the man beside her.

Jackson made a grunt of outrage. "Maybe you should've told me to put a bullet through his haid, then. That man's been madder than a rabid fox for days. I thought I'se gonna have to put him out of his misery soon enough. You give up that notion real quick, missy. That man needs you, whether he admits it or not."

"I'm not a politician's wife," Dora reminded him, watching with admiration as Pace worked his way back down the steps, shaking hands, pounding backs, and roaring with laughter at some joke. The crippled muscles of his right arm worked well enough when he used them for this.

"I never heerd that Lincoln's wife was much either, but he managed. Some men can stand alone when they meet the world. Reckon Pace is one of 'em. He ain't done nothin' else but face the world alone. But he sure is a might easier to live with when he's got someone keeping him on the straight and narrow. That's your job."

"My job," Dora echoed in wonderment, staring at the handsome man working his way toward her. She could feel his gaze on her even as he shook the hand of someone pouring their troubles into his ear. Her job. Her lips curved as she realized she really did have a place in this world—as Pace's wife.

Jackson was right. Any woman could give Pace children and feed him meals. Only she could calm his rages, soothe his fears, and give him joy. She knew that with a certainty that came from deep inside her, that spilled over and filled her as she stepped out from the shade to meet him. The love in his eyes confirmed it when she walked into his arms.

Pace swallowed her up in his hug. Not releasing her, he looked over her shoulder at Jackson. "Take Gallant. I'll drive Dora home."

"Josie?" she asked breathlessly, clinging to his shirt frills. She wanted what he wanted right this moment, but she couldn't desert her friend.

Pace glanced back up the courthouse steps where Josie flirted with the solicitor while walking toward the Andrewses' carriage. "She's found herself a beau. She'll be fine."

Dora followed the direction of his glance and frowned, but Josie's choice in men wasn't her concern any longer. She looked up to Pace. "Let's go then," she murmured.

He didn't need convincing. They reached the carriage and rattled down the road within minutes, leaving the town and the crowds well behind. Dora breathed a sigh of relief as familiar cedars and sassafras whipped by.

"I'll never be a town person," she said idly, apropos of nothing.

"You don't need to be," Pace agreed without question. "You can stay home and make jams and jellies and applesauce if that's what you want."

She thought about it a minute. "Yes, that's what I want. And I'd like to learn to ride. The county doesn't have a midwife, and some of these roads aren't fit for carriages."

Pace gave her a grin. "Got mighty big plans, have we? What happens if the farm goes broke? You planning on supporting us with the ham hocks you'll get in return for your services?"

She gave him an indignant glare. "I can do just as well as Mother Elizabeth, you just wait and see." She turned her gaze ahead and away from him. "Besides, thou wilt be a wonderful lawyer. We can use the payments from Jackson to buy a little place of our own if thou must sell."

He shook his head and gave her a look of amazement. "You really mean that, don't you? You don't care if I can dress you in satins or lace or not. Fancy gewgaws don't mean a blamed thing to you, do they?"

"Of course not! Have I ever said otherwise?" She gave him a look of surprise.

He continued shaking his head. "I don't know where you come from, Alexandra Theodora, but it certainly isn't from that fancy family of your brother's. The fairies must have left you."

A smile turned the corners of her mouth. "Angels. They thought a devil like you needed all the help he could get."

Pace caught her shoulders with one arm and drew her closer, pressing a kiss to her hair as he guided the horse with his other hand. "Thank them for me, will you? They couldn't have found anyone more perfect."