Stands a Calder Man (52 page)

Before they entered the courtroom, Doyle Pettit drew the handcuffed Kreuger aside, out of earshot but under the eye of Sheriff Potter, He could see the dark suspicion and mistrust for the trial proceedings in Kreuger's face and needed to allay them before the man stopped listening to him.

“A lot depends on you doing exactly as I say,” Doyle
murmured. Hopefully, Kreuger would never know how much depended on it. “You're going to have to plead guilty and throw yourself at the mercy of the court.”

“I won't go to prison.” There was a threatening gleam in his eyes.

“If you do what I say, you won't.” His palms were sweating. He wasn't sure if he could convince Kreuger. And he had to, because there was too much to lose. “Have I ever misled you about anything? I'm trying to help you, Kreuger.” The man said nothing and showed signs of listening, however sullenly. “The twelve men on the jury are all drylanders, so they know what you've been through. They'll be sympathetic. Don't worry about the judge, either. There isn't any way Calder has gotten to him, so you don't need to be thinking that. He's my man.” Thanks to an overdue loan the judge had with his bank, but Doyle didn't mention that. “Now we've got a few minutes. Do you want to run through it again?”

“I am not an ignorant man.” Kreuger straightened, reading an implied insult into the question. “You have already told me several times what it is I should do.”

“All right.” Doyle didn't go into it again, although he would have felt more confident if they had. Kreuger was so damned unpredictable. He was taking a big chance risking so much on this man, but if he could pull it off, all his own problems were going to be behind him. People were beginning to wonder why the bank wasn't open every day. When he ran out of excuses, it was all going to collapse unless this scheme succeeded.

People were packed in the courtroom like steers in a cattle car. Lilli and Webb found seats in the second row behind the prosecutor's table. When they saw Simon Bardolph searching for a place to sit, there was such a gabble of voices that it was useless to call to the physician. Webb stood up and motioned to him that there was a small space next to them. Lilli squeezed closer to Webb so Simon would have room to sit.

“I didn't know you were coming.” Simon shouldered his way into the space and kept his elbows tucked in close to his sides.

“Lilli insisted on coming.” Disapproval was in Webb's voice, but he carried the subject no further.

“They're calling me to testify as to the cause of death.” His mouth twisted wryly. “It's going to be a five-word answer, A bullet in the back.”

A hush came over the courtroom as the lawyers arguing the case entered, followed by the defendant. Both Doyle Pettit, who was the attorney for the defense, and Franz Kreuger remained standing by their chairs. Their action stirred a murmur of confusion that ran through the courtroom crowd.

“Good God, what's she doing here?” Simon muttered angrily under his breath, and Lilli noticed the tubercular-wasted woman being led to the front, a man on each side, half-carrying her to an empty chair behind the defense table. “She shouldn't be out of bed.”

“Doyle obviously plans to play on their sympathy.” Dryness rustled through Webb's voice as a grim watchfulness came over him. It was a clever move. Its brilliance was made even more apparent when the jury filed in and Webb saw it consisted of wheat farmers. He had the uneasy feeling he had underestimated Doyle Pettit for a second time, although he couldn't see what Doyle hoped to gain by getting Kreuger off. Surely he stood a better chance of getting Kreuger's land if the man were convicted.

Once Helga Kreuger was seated, Doyle Pettit sat down and motioned to his client to take the chair next to him. Kreuger did so slowly, his look turning malevolent when he saw Webb Calder in the second row.

“Calder is here,” he told Pettit.

“Don't think about him now,” Doyle ordered, barely moving his lips as he issued the low warning. “And wipe that look off your face. If the jury sees it, you'll wind up with your neck in a noose.”

“That's what he's hoping will happen to me.” Kreuger turned to face the judge's bench.

“Then we'll just have to fool him, won't we?” Doyle looked at Kreuger and smiled with his eyes. There was a moment when he thought his appeal wasn't going to work; then Kreuger's expression changed to one of blankness. Doyle mentally reminded himself that Kreuger might be a simple matter to maneuver.

The judge entered and everyone stood as he pounded the gavel and called the room to order. The trial began.

With the entering of the guilty plea, Doyle Pettit then sought to prove that the act was committed under extenuating circumstances. Within minutes, Webb realized that it was Hobie Evans who was on trial, not Franz Kreuger. A dozen witnesses testified to the physical harassment and abuse they had suffered at the hands of the murder victim. When Evans was painted blacker than the devil, Pettit eloquently set about detailing all the hardships and losses Kreuger had endured—the killing drought, the crop wiped out by a plague of grasshoppers, the deaths of his children, and the debilitating illness of his wife. He compared his trials with those that beset Job in the Bible, trials he had borne in silence until he'd seen a neighbor suffering at the hands of a cruel, villainous blackguard. Then it had become too much for him. In summation, Pettit pleaded with the jury to show mercy for this man and his pitifully ill wife who needed him.

Webb listened to it all. Beside him, Lilli was transmitting her tension to him, strain whitening her complexion. When the jury filed out of the courtroom to arrive at a verdict, he took her hand and threaded his fingers between hers.

She couldn't find any comfort in the gesture, although she held tightly on to his hand. No one left the courtroom, as if they all suspected the jury of twelve good and true men wouldn't deliberate long over the
verdict. In less than twenty minutes, they filed back in and took their seats.

When the judge read the verdict that found Kreuger guilty of a lesser charge and suspended the sentence, Lilli came to her feet. “No!” She angrily protested the decision that set Kreuger free. “No, you can't do it!” Her hands were knotted into fists, clenched rigidly at her side.

Then Webb was standing and taking hold of her arms to restrain her. “It's no good, Lilli.” His voice was low and rough. “You can't change it.” His grip forced her to turn away as he guided her down the row to the aisle so they could exit the courtroom. She didn't resist him, but her body remained stiff, everything held tightly in check.

Other people were already milling, some pausing to watch the touching scene as the handcuffs were taken off Kreuger's wrists and he was reunited with his wife. Simon separated himself from the Calders and made his way through the crowd to Helga Kreuger, concerned that the trial had been too much for her.

Tears were streaming down her sallow cheeks as she lay in her husband's embrace. She was too weak to cry or cough, making feeble attempts at each that just drained more of her strength.

Simon turned his scowling and angry countenance on Doyle Pettit. “Get her out of here,” he demanded. “She needs complete quiet and bedrest—and plenty of it.”

“I have a room for her at the boarding house up the street.” Doyle showed little concern as he signaled to the two men who had brought Helga Kreuger to the courtroom to take her back.

Franz protested, “I will take her home.”

“She's in no condition to travel,” Simon Bardolpb snapped, “Can't you see she's sick? She needs rest, and I don't just mean an hour or two. I'm talking days and weeks.”

The terrible sound of her cough convinced Franz
when the doctor's warning failed. Grudgingly, he assisted one of the men to help his wife to her feet and supported her while they made their way through the thinning crowd.

“How could you put her through an ordeal like this?” Simon looked narrowly at the man he had believed to be a compassionate individual.

“I had no choice.”

“No, I suppose she was a necessary tool in obtaining Kreuger's release,” he said thinly. “So you used her and won. I hope you know what you're doing by setting a man like that free.”

“I didn't set him free. The judge did that,” Doyle reminded him smoothly. “As a doctor, it's your duty to do all you can to save a patient. And it's my duty to defend my client to the best of my ability. The right and wrong of something is for the judge and jury to decide. I can't do that any more than you can play God.”

It was an unarguable comparison, but Simon still didn't like it. It was written in the sternness of his expression as he pivoted away from Pettit, his opinion of the man rapidly dropping.

Outside the courthouse, Webb paused with Lilli on the sidewalk. She hadn't said a word, but he'd seen the I-told-you-so look in her eyes the one time she had glanced at him. It had been her fear all along that Kreuger would somehow be set free, and he hadn't believed it was possible. He had killed a man, shot him in the back in front of a score of witnesses, and he was walking out of the courthouse a free man. Webb watched Kreuger carrying his frail wife the last few yards to the waiting buggy.

“Webb, I want to go home. Now.” Lilli was seized by the urge and couldn't shake it. It was an unreasoning kind of fear that she couldn't explain. But it was suddenly imperative that they go back to the ranch this afternoon.

He took his watch from his vest pocket and looked at
the time, “It's late. We'd never make it before nightfall, and I'm not going to try to travel over those roads in the dark.”

“Please. I have this feeling we should go.” She looked at him earnestly, silently imploring him to listen to her. “I want to see Chase, and make sure he's all right.”

Webb hesitated. For an instant, Lilli thought she had won him over; then he shook his head. “No. We'll spend the night here as we planned and get an early start in the morning. Ruth's taking good care of our son.”

“Yes.” She admitted that, but with more than a trace of agitation.

He put his arm around her waist and fitted her close to his side. “This business with Kreuger has spooked you.” He smiled warmly at her. There was pride in his eyes for this slim, strong woman who carried his name. She was beautiful and spirited, with a will to match his. Even now, she was pushing away the fear that shadowed her eyes.

“Maybe so,” she conceded.

“Do you suppose I can persuade a certain married woman to have dinner with me tonight?” he murmured, his voice growing husky.

“You can try,” she replied on a faint note of challenge.

The afternoon sun was leaning toward the west, slanting its rays through the boarding-house window. Franz Kreuger pulled the blind so the light wouldn't disturb his wife. She had closed her eyes only minutes ago, finally drifting into a much-needed sleep. He slipped quietly out of the room and down the stairs to the parlor.

“How is she?” Doyle Pettit looked up briefly, then finished pouring liquid from his pocket flask into a glass.

“She finally went to sleep. She will be better.” Franz Kreuger refused to believe anything else. He moved to
the window, an impatience claiming his actions; his gaze was restless and hard. “We should be going home. We have been away from our place too long. So much work has been left undone for so long.”

“It looks as if it's going to be some time before your wife is in any condition to travel.” Doyle took a drink of the bootlegged whiskey.

“I'll have to leave her here until she is better.” Franz was confident his wife would understand. She had never disagreed with any of his decisions, and she would see the sense of this one. “I have decided to go this afternoon.”

“Calder won't be leaving until in the morning, so it's probably a good idea that you leave today.” Doyle nodded his agreement. “I'll arrange for Mrs. Rogers to look after your wife until she's better.”

Kreuger faced him, suspicion lurking in his narrowed eyes. “You have done much for me, and I can't pay you.”

“But you will.” Doyle smiled away that concern. “I pride myself on being a good judge of character, Kreuger. You are the sort that always pays your debts. This drought won't last forever. And as long as you have your land, you'll be harvesting wheat one day. That means business for my grain elevator, my bank, and my hardware store. By helping you, I stand to gain a lot, too.” Much more than Kreuger ever suspected. Doyle was confident that everything was going to work out as he had planned it. He lifted his glass in a silent drink to it.

When Kreuger saw the many ways Pettit stood to profit from helping him, it eased his mind. The day would come when he would pay him back. He accepted charity from no man. Pettit indicated he respected him for that, which pleased Kreuger. He'd rather die than grovel at the feet of any man, so he didn't offer his thanks for the help Pettit had given him. The man would be paid, so gratitude wasn't necessary.

“I will leave now,” Kreuger announced. “Please tell my wife that I will come to fetch her in three weeks.”

“Of course.” Doyle inclined his head. Not until after Kreuger had left the boarding house did a smile spread across his face and a different light began to shine in his eyes. “Hurry home, Kreuger,” he murmured and chuckled softly, “Hurry home.”

Early the next morning, the Model T was on the road, making the return journey to the ranch. Webb and Lilli passed families of drylanders, a common sight now. Some were on foot, others in dilapidated trucks, and still more in wagons. But the dust didn't seem as bad. And the wind generated by the fast-traveling automobile made the hot temperature bearable. There were stretches of land blackened by range fires, and more acres mounded into dirt dunes, dotted with thistles that were fodder for milk cows. They drove by hardscrabble farms with chickens scratching futilely in the dirt and bone-thin pigs wallowing in the dust.