Worthy Brown's Daughter Page 3

  “Portland.”

  “Were you traveling by coach when you arrived in Phoenix?”

  “I was.”

  “You told Mr. Chambers that the defendant stole two hundred dollars from you. How did he come to learn that you were carrying this sum of money?”

  Sharon Hill turned to the all-male jury. The eyes that had stared at Clyde Lukens with such malevolence were now soft, limpid pools that threatened to overflow with tears.

  “I was seated opposite that . . . that man in the coach during the trip to Phoenix. At one point I searched my purse for a comb. We hit a rut. The coach bounced, and I lost my grip on my bag. The contents spilled on the floor, and he handed back my roll of bills.”

  “Did he say anything about the money?” Barbour asked.

  “No, but he held it longer than necessary, and I thought that he eyed it with evil intent.”

  “Objection as to Mr. Lukens’s intent and move to strike,” Matthew said.

  “Yes, Miss Hill, don’t guess at what the defendant may have been thinking,” Tyler said, his tone gentle, as if he were reprimanding a favorite niece for a silly, but minor, infraction.

  “I’m sorry, Your Honor.”

  “Did anyone at the inn besides the defendant know that you had this money in your possession when you arrived in Phoenix?” Barbour asked.

  “Not to my knowledge, and we were the only passengers.”

  “When was the last time you saw your money?”

  “When I placed it in my chest of drawers on the evening we arrived. I realized it was missing in the morning when I went to my room after breakfast.”

  “Did you ever see the defendant in your room, Miss Hill?”

  The witness seemed uncertain. “This may appear foolish, and I wish to be fair.”

  “Just tell the unvarnished truth,” Barbour prodded gently.

  “Well, I believe I saw Mr. Lukens in my room, but . . . This is confusing.”

  “Take your time,” Justice Tyler said protectively.

  “Thank you, Your Honor. I was exhausted by the long coach ride, and I fell into a deep sleep after dinner. At one point I had what I believed to be a dream. In that dream I saw Mr. Lukens closing the door to my room. I now believe that I actually saw him leaving my room, but was so tired that I fell back asleep and thought I’d dreamed it.”

  Barbour pointed at Clyde Lukens with contempt. “This gentleman has claimed that he was in your room for—and I beg your pardon for asking this—immoral purposes. Is that true?”

  “Certainly not!”

  “Except for his possible nighttime incursion, was Mr. Lukens ever in your room to your knowledge?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Thank you, Miss Hill. I have no further questions, Your Honor.”

  Matthew walked to the witness stand and stood inches from Sharon Hill.

  “You concede that Mr. Lukens’s intrusion into your room may simply have been a dream?” he asked.

  “Well, yes, Mr. Penny.” Hill paused and furrowed her brow as if genuinely perplexed. “But how then did he come by my money?”

  “Honestly, if it was his own,” Matthew responded.

  “Objection,” Barbour called out. “Mr. Penny is testifying, and he’s implying that Miss Hill is a liar.”

  “Sustained,” Tyler snapped.

  Matthew knew that Hill had gotten the best of him. Even worse, a quick scan of the jurors’ faces showed quite clearly where their sympathies lay. Matthew decided to change his tactics.

  “Miss Hill, why are you going to Portland?”

  Hill seemed flustered for a moment, but she recovered quickly.

  “I’m looking into business opportunities.”

  “What type of business?”

  “Whatever presents itself. I’m keeping an open mind. A shop, perhaps.”

  “And you planned to finance the business with the two hundred dollars?”

  “It’s all I have in the world.”

  “Please tell the jury how you—a single woman—came by such a large sum of money.”

  Hill’s composure broke, and Matthew was certain he had her. But when she spoke, he knew that Clyde Lukens was doomed.

  “An inheritance from my father. He passed away, and I . . .” Her voice caught, and she fetched a handkerchief from her purse.

  “I’m sorry,” Hill said as she dabbed at her eyes.

  “Would you like some water?” Tyler asked solicitously, reaching for a pitcher Harry Chambers had provided for the judge.

  “No, I’m fine. It’s just that I am only recently alone in the world.”

  “Mr. Penny, I suggest you pursue another line of questioning,” the judge said. Matthew heard angry whispers in the crowd and sympathetic murmurs from the jury box. He knew he was defeated.

  “Nothing further, Your Honor,” Matthew said as he took his seat.

  “The state rests,” Caleb Barbour proclaimed before gallantly assisting Sharon Hill from the witness stand.

  “Any witnesses, Mr. Penny?”

  “Mr. Lukens, Your Honor,” Matthew replied, even though he knew that Clyde Lukens could not be saved. His client must have sensed the inevitability of punishment. When he took the oath, his words were barely audible, and Justice Tyler ordered him to speak up.

  “Did you steal from Miss Hill?” Matthew asked.

  “As God is my judge, that money is mine. She’s doing this to get even.”

  “Get even for what?”

  “She’s a temptress, a harlot.”

  There were angry rumblings in the crowd, and Matthew worried that there might be a second attempt to lynch his client.

  “Explain to the jury what happened between you and Miss Hill,” Matthew said.

  “I will, I will,” Lukens said, looking for understanding from the twelve stone-faced jurors and finding none. “We met on the stage to Portland. We were the only passengers. I’m a bachelor, sir. A salesman. I’m alone on the road most of the year. I . . . I couldn’t help but notice that . . . Well, Miss Hill is a beautiful woman. Quite innocently, I assure you, I struck up a conversation. At first, that’s all it was, a way to pass the time. Then she told me it was a shame that I had to travel the road alone when I could spend some time with her at the inn, if I had the price.

  “I asked her what she meant. She was quite explicit. She wanted to know if I had any money. I told her about my two hundred and seventy-five dollars, which was partly profits from sales and partly expense money from my company. She quoted a price.”

  Lukens bowed his head. “I knew it was sinful, but she was so beautiful. I . . . I couldn’t help myself.”

  “What happened at the inn?” Matthew asked.

  “We agreed to check in separately. She ate in the back room, and I ate in the bar. I waited an appropriate amount of time after she went upstairs before following her. When I entered her room . . .”

  Lukens paused to cast a quick glance at the crowd. He saw angry faces glaring at him. The jurors’ aspects were no kinder.

  “Go on, Mr. Lukens. What happened in Miss Hill’s room?”

  Matthew knew the story Lukens was going to tell, and, while he thoroughly disapproved of the man, he believed it was the truth. Unfortunately for Lukens, Matthew knew he was probably the only one in the field who would feel that way.

  “She was in bed, naked. I joined her.” He hung his head. “I couldn’t help myself. It was as if the devil had taken hold of me.”

  “What happened next?” Matthew asked.

  “The trouble. She demanded twenty-five dollars. I didn’t have it.”

  “But you’ve told the jury that you had two hundred and seventy-five dollars?”

  “I did, but it wasn’t mine. Most of the money belonged to the company. I did have expense money, but how would I live? I told her I wo
uld get the money in Portland and pay her then. She was furious. I tried to explain, but she wouldn’t listen. I begged her to understand. She said she did. She said she believed that I thought I could use her and get away without paying, but that I was wrong. Then she grew calm and smiled at me in a way that chilled my bones. It was the most malevolent smile I’ve ever seen. She told me to get out. I dressed and left.”

  “Whose money did Harry Chambers find in your socks?”

  “My money, the company money.”

  “And you stole nothing from Miss Hill?”

  “Nothing. I swear to God, it was mine.”

  “Your witness, Mr. Barbour.”

  Barbour looked at Lukens with contempt. “I will not waste the time of the court or this jury by questioning this . . . man.”

  Several jurors shook their heads to show their agreement with the prosecutor, and Lukens slunk back to his seat.

  “Any more witnesses, Mr. Penny?” the judge asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Then you may make your closing argument, Mr. Barbour.”

  CHAPTER 5

  The arguments were short and the jury deliberations shorter. Clyde Lukens had barely reached the inn when he was summoned back to hear his guilt pronounced.

  “You are one of the lowest specimens I have ever encountered,” Justice Tyler told the quivering defendant. “You crept into the bedroom of a defenseless woman and stole from her. Then you compounded your crime by trying to sully her reputation before this assemblage.

  “Hanging would be a fit punishment for you. Unfortunately, it’s not prescribed for the crime of theft. There is no jail in Phoenix where you can be incarcerated, and I will burden Mr. Chambers with your unsavory company no longer. Therefore, I sentence you to receive fifty lashes in public on your bare back.”

  Lukens blanched. “But that will kill me.”

  “You should have thought of that possibility before you broke the Eighth Commandment.”

  “It’s my money. Send word to my company. Please. I can prove it.”

  “You’ve had your day in court, sir. Now you shall have judgment.”

  Tyler turned toward Abner Hardesty, who was standing on the edge of the crowd.

  “You may have the honor, Mr. Hardesty. You will tie the prisoner to the oak and commence punishment. If he passes out, revive him. I want Mr. Lukens to savor the fruits of his wrongdoing. Court is adjourned until this afternoon, when we will select a jury for Farber v. Gillette.”

  Lukens begged for mercy as he was dragged to the tree, but Tyler turned away. As he walked toward the inn, hands slapped the judge on the back. Matthew followed Tyler until he was clear of the crowd.

  “Your Honor, if I may have a minute.”

  “Yes, Mr. Penny.”

  “Mr. Lukens has a frail constitution. Fifty lashes may kill him.”

  Tyler thought for a moment. Abner Hardesty was headed to the livery stable to secure a whip. Tyler called to him, and he turned back. The judge took him aside.

  “I’m charging you with Lukens’s punishment, but I’m also charging you with his safety. Theft, no matter how vile, doesn’t carry a death sentence. If it appears that fifty lashes are too much for him, stop and come to me at the inn.”

  Hardesty nodded and went on his way.

  “Does that satisfy you, Mr. Penny?” the judge asked.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  Tyler felt a presence at his side and turned to find Benjamin Gillette and Sharon Hill.

  “Will you join us for lunch?” Benjamin Gillette asked the judge.

  “I’m afraid I must beg off. I have some work I must do before the afternoon session.”

  “Are you returning to Portland soon?” Sharon Hill asked.

  “Not for a while. There are sessions of court in three more towns after I’m through here.”

  “Oh. Well, perhaps I’ll see you when you’re finished riding the circuit.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Tyler answered.

  AS SOON AS HE FINISHED talking to Justice Tyler, Matthew went in search of Glen Farber. He spotted the Farber family among those who gathered around the oak in eager anticipation of the judicially mandated flogging.

  “Do you think our jurors will hold it against us that you defended Lukens?” Farber asked anxiously when Matthew walked up.

  “No, Glen, don’t worry. I’ll make sure they’re not biased.”

  Farber could see that Matthew was upset. “He deserves what he gets,” the farmer assured his attorney.

  “He may have been innocent.”

  “If you believe what he admitted to, he’s a fornicator and a cheat.”

  “You have a point,” Matthew agreed. “And Mr. Lukens is going to pay, no matter what I think, but he’ll need help when Mr. Hardesty has finished with him. Do you think your boys can help me carry Lukens to the river after the flogging so I can clean him up?”

  “I don’t know,” Farber said, looking around nervously.

  “Look, Glen, no one will think less of you if you help me. I’m your lawyer.”

  “It ain’t you. I don’t want nothing to do with that scum.”

  “No lawyer in Portland wanted anything to do with your lawsuit when they heard you wanted to sue Benjamin Gillette,” Matthew reminded his client.

  Farber looked embarrassed.

  “The boys will help,” Millie Farber said firmly. Millie was taller and heavier than her husband. Her wide hips and large breasts offered domestic comfort, but Matthew knew that her unwavering faith in God and the fortitude she required to raise her brood and deal with her husband had coalesced to form a will of iron.

  “Thank you,” Matthew said after waiting a beat to see if Glen would protest. “Do you think one of the boys could drive Lukens to a doctor in Portland in your wagon? I’d pay,” he heard himself say, knowing that he could ill afford any extra expense given the precarious nature of his financial situation, which provided barely enough money for rent and food. But the Farbers were poorer than he and could not afford to let an able-bodied worker go for the time it would take to go from Phoenix to Portland and back. And there was the matter of the guilt Matthew felt for failing to save Clyde Lukens from the lash.

  Glen cast a worried look at his wife, but she laid a hand on his forearm.

  “Mr. Penny’s gone out of his way to help us, Glen.”

  “I know, but I’m worried what everyone will think.”

  “They’ll think we’re good Christians. It’s easy to help someone who obeys the Lord’s word. But Jesus instructed us to show compassion to the sinner so he could be redeemed.”

  Farber didn’t look convinced, but he knew better than to argue with his wife on matters of religion.

  “I’ll talk to John and Peter about taking Lukens to the doctor,” Glen said.

  “Thank you,” Matthew answered, just as Abner Hardesty reappeared, alerting the crowd to his presence by cracking his whip for practice. Lukens, who was already stripped and secured to the oak tree, looked over his shoulder and began to weep in anticipation of the pain.

  “Excuse me,” Matthew said, walking away from the Farbers to position himself where Lukens could see him. He felt it was his duty to bear witness, and he wanted Lukens to know that there was at least one sympathetic soul in the mob.

  Matthew forced himself to watch every minute of the whipping, even though he wanted to close his eyes and cover his ears to block out Lukens’s screams. He suffered with Lukens, and every crack of the whip and cry of pain brought home how badly he had failed his client.

  Lukens did not stand up well. He fainted frequently and whimpered or begged while conscious. When it was clear that he’d had enough, he was cut down and left like a dog in the field. Matthew waited until most of the crowd had drifted away before nodding to Farber. Two of Glen’s sons—one sixtee
n and one seventeen—carried Lukens to the river while the youngest ran to the inn to fetch the salesman’s possessions and the eldest went for the wagon.

  Matthew was no doctor. Millie Farber, who had patched up her husband and most of her children at some time, stepped in when Matthew’s incompetence became obvious. While Millie worked on the salesman, Matthew penned a note to Dr. Raymond Sharp, explaining the situation and offering to pay for his client’s care. When Millie had done all she could, the Farber boys lifted the moaning victim onto the straw in the back of the rig, placing him on his stomach and giving him a rolled blanket to use as a pillow. Lukens had been delirious or unconscious since the whipping, but he came to just as Farber’s boys prepared to drive off.

  “Wait,” Matthew shouted.

  Lukens turned toward the sound. He seemed dazed at first. Then he focused on Matthew, who gave him a drink from a canteen he’d placed near Lukens’s hand.

  “God, it hurts,” Lukens moaned.

  “Bear it as best you can,” Matthew said. “I’ve paid these boys to take you to a doctor in Portland. He’ll treat you.”

  A breeze brushed Lukens’s back and brought a new spasm of pain. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Damn you,” he swore at Matthew. “This is your fault. You were seduced by that witch like the rest of them. If you’d fought for me—”

  More pain brought Lukens up short, and he started to weep. His client’s ingratitude stung Matthew, but he told himself it was the pain talking. He signaled to the boys, and Peter Farber snapped the reins. Lukens gasped as the wagon bounced along the hard ground. Matthew turned back toward the field and noticed a crowd regrouping. He’d spent his lunch hour caring for Lukens and would have to pick Farber’s jury on an empty stomach. He remembered an old adage about no good deed going unpunished as he trudged back toward the makeshift courtroom.

  CHAPTER 6

  Harry Chambers’s establishment stood near a narrow bend where the river slowed before rushing forward as a short stretch of white water. There were no windows in the rear wall of the inn and no moon to light the way, so Matthew used the muted sound of sluggish water churning around the debris that choked the passage to guide him to the riverbank. A log had washed ashore behind a stand of cottonwoods. Matthew sat on it and waited to see if Worthy Brown’s information was correct. The gentle shushing of the river made his eyes heavy, and the sultry night air worked like a sleeping potion. Matthew had almost dozed off when the sound of men approaching jerked him awake.