The Scoundrel's Bride (39 page)

Jess nudged Zach’s side, scowling. He nodded toward the bench where the judge had taken his chair. Zach knew he probably should pay attention to what was happening in the court, but he couldn’t quit thinking about the emotion in Morality’s eyes.

On the witness stand, Stephen Carstairs related what he had observed of the meeting between Reverend Harrison and the defendant aboard the riverboat
Miracle
. As the questioning progressed, Jess made notes on a pad of paper, including one he passed to Zach that read,
Sounds like he’s with us
.

Zach leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, and took a good long gander at the man in the witness chair. Carstairs had “money” written all over him, from his finely tailored jacket to the shine on his shoes. He appeared comfortable on the stand and spoke with the clear, precise diction of a university-educated man.

Zach had learned to mimic the style years ago.

When the prosecution had finished with the witness, Jess Tanner rose for the defense. After asking three preliminary questions concerning issues the prosecutor raised, he asked his fourth question as if it were an afterthought. “You testified that you watched Mr. Burkett leave the
Miracle
. Tell me, Mr. Carstairs, what did you do after that?”

Stephen Carstairs squared his shoulders, held his head high, and announced in a clear, ringing voice. “I returned to the riverboat, where I shared a medicinal brandy with Reverend Harrison.”

The courtroom erupted. One of the jurors cried out, “You drank with a dead man?”

Someone called from the gallery, “Sounds like something a Yankee would do.”

Judge Mills pounded his gavel. “Order! Order! Shut up, I’m tellin’ ya!” He glared at the witness. “What the hell are you tryin’ to say?”

Carstairs remained unruffled. He fingered his lapel and announced, “It’s quite simple. Reverend Harrison was very much alive when Zach Burkett left the
Miracle
.”

“Well, I’ll be dipped.” The judge banged his gavel over the roar of the crowd and looked across the courtroom toward the Marston contingent. “Joshua, what do you want us to do now?”

Jess Tanner lifted his hands into the air and shouted, “
I ob-ject
!”

Into the sudden cessation of noise came the sound of Zach Burkett’s lazy drawl. “Keep practicing like that, Jess, and you can be a pulpit pounder, too.”

“Keep quiet, Burkett,” the judge snapped. “I have a question for you, Mr. Carstairs. Why is it you’ve not mentioned this detail before? Have you been bribed?”

Stephen Carstairs laughed aloud. “Really, your honor. You can’t possibly expect anyone in Cottonwood Creek to have the wherewithal to bribe a man of my means.”

The judge glanced at the Marstons, then shrugged. “You have a point there.”

The prosecutor approached the bench. “The witness didn’t answer our question, your honor.”

“Excuse me.” Jess turned on the opposing attorney. “Do you think it might be possible for us to return to a more traditional method of holding trial?” Without waiting for an answer, he addressed the witness. “I, along with Judge Mills, would like to know why you waited until now to reveal that you returned to the
Miracle
.”

Carstairs shrugged. “You asked me what I did after Mr. Burkett left the riverboat. You were the first to pose that particular question, Mr. Tanner. As a general rule, I make it a practice not to volunteer information unless asked. For business purposes, it has served to my benefit a number of times.”

“I see.”

“Hanged selfish way to be, in my opinion,” muttered the prosecutor.

“Your honor!” Jess protested, though it was obvious by his expression it was a token effort. Judge Mills simply waved a dismissive hand. The attorney continued. “Mr. Carstairs, please explain to the court what happened after you boarded the
Miracle
for the second time the night in question.”

Carstairs nodded. “As I stated earlier, Mr. Burkett interrupted a meeting between Reverend Harrison and myself. As I walked back to my hotel, I decided I wanted to finish our discussion, so I returned to the riverboat. I remained nearby while Mr. Burkett…um…conversed with Reverend Harrison.”

Jess turned and gave the jury a significant look. “And how nearby was nearby?”

“Right outside the window.”

“Eavesdropping, Mr. Carstairs?”

He shrugged. “Another practice I occasionally find useful.”

“What happened then?” Jess watched him closely.

“They argued. Mr. Burkett was furious over the vicious beating the reverend had given Mrs. Burkett. Judging from the conversation, Mr. Burkett did not go to the
Miracle
with intentions to avenge his wife’s battering. He swung his fist only when provoked. Mightily provoked.”

Judge Mills interjected. “How was that?”

“I object!” Zach surged to his feet, one thought uppermost in his mind. Morality couldn’t hear this. Not about her miracle. Not like this.

Judge Mills pounded his gavel. “Sit down, Burkett. You can’t object. That’s against legal rules.”

“What do legal rules have to do with this courtroom?” he shot back. He locked gazes with Carstairs, silently pleading as he said, “The conversation between Harrison and myself was private. No one else need know what was said.”

The judge glared at Zach. “Sit down and shut up, Burkett. Carstairs, answer my question.”

Zach’s gaze never left the man on the witness stand.
Please don’t hurt her more. She’s faced so much already.

Carstairs nodded imperceptibly and said, “Mr. Burkett lost his temper when the reverend admitted to secretly administering a hallucinatory drug to the people of Cottonwood Creek.”

The crowd breathed a collective gasp, then broke into a thunder of voices. Zach whispered, “Thank God.” Then he sank into his seat.

During the commotion, Jess strode over to the defense table and flipped through the pages of his notes. Leaning over, he murmured to Zach, “Carstairs is definitely on our side, but I have the feeling there’s more to it. Any ideas?”

Zach shook his head. “I don’t have a clue. You said his wife is friendly with Morality. I don’t like this, Jess. Something is going on and it could hurt my wife.”

The judge hammered his gavel like a hurried carpenter. Zach glanced over at Morality. Her face was as white as bleached bones.

“Listen here, Carstairs.” Judge Mills scowled down from his bench. “I don’t know how y’all do things up amongst the Yanks, but down here we don’t talk against our preachers. You’d best be meanin’ what you say.”

“Judge Mills, I have not committed a crime in my entire life. Were I to break that record, it would not be with an act as abhorrent as perjury.”

Jess spoke up. “Why don’t you relate to the court what you overheard Reverend Harrison say about drugging the townspeople?”

Carstairs s version of the conversation ran pretty close to Zach’s recollection. As he spoke, the crowd’s murmuring grew, and the men on the jury took to shifting in their seats uncomfortably. They’ll be after Marston to pay ‘em more bribe money after this testimony, Zach thought. Bringing back a guilty verdict wouldn’t be as easy as it once had appeared.

Returning his attention to the testimony, he heard Carstairs speak of seeing him disappear into the woods. Out of the corner of his eye, Zach saw Joshua Marston lean forward and whisper something in the prosecutor’s ear. The man nodded, but sat quietly while Jess completed his questioning, assisted a time or two by Judge Mills.

“That’s an amazing story, Mr. Carstairs,” the judge said, shaking his head. “Morning-glory seeds. Who would’ve thought it?”

When Jess excused the witness, the prosecutor rose to say, “I’ve another question or two for Mr. Carstairs. Please remain in your seat.”

The prosecutor tugged on the lapels of his dove-gray jacket and approached the bench, showing the witness a benign smile. Zach knew then he had something up his sleeve. Lawyers and faith-healers had a lot in common when you thought about it.

“Mr. Carstairs, when you returned to the
Miracle’s
salon after Zach Burkett departed, how much time did you spend with the deceased?”

“I’d say between thirty and forty-five minutes. It was shortly after nine when I returned to my hotel room.”

“Did you kill Reverend Harrison?”

Carstairs arched a sardonic brow. “No.”

“Did you witness the murder?”

“No.”

“So when you left the
Miracle
, Reverend Harrison was alive?”

“Yes. Alive and pouring himself a second whiskey, as a matter of fact.”

The prosecutor nodded thoughtfully and faced the jury.

“It’s a ten-minute walk from the landing to the Creekside Inn. Based upon the evidence presented here today, Reverend Harrison must have been killed sometime between nine o’clock and eleven forty-five, which is when the Callahan boy discovered the body.”

He turned to face Carstairs. “Your testimony and that of other witnesses indicates that Burkett did, indeed, leave the riverboat. However, it strikes me that you decided to return to the
Miracle
in order to deal further with the reverend.” He paused, turned toward the jury, and smiled.

Zach knew what was coming. Apparently, Jess did too because he whispered a curse beneath his breath.

“Isn’t it possible, even dare I say probable, that Zach Burkett did the same thing?”

The spectators began to rumble. Jess leaned toward Zach and said, “You were at Marston Shipping?”

“I was out walking first—in the forest. Nobody saw me.”

The prosecutor declared, “Zach Burkett wasn’t content to beat Reverend Harrison half to death. He decided to finish the job by returning to the riverboat and delivering a fatal bullet to the preacher’s head!”

Jess raised his voice slightly so that Zach could hear him over the crowd’s exclamations. “You’ll have to tell them what you were doing at the shipping offices. The documents in the files will prove you were there.”

“But not when.” Zach shook his head. “I won’t do it, Jess. It’d ruin the plan without giving us anything. You’ll need to see to getting the gunpowder together.”

The prosecutor fed the crowd’s suspicions with his pregnant pauses and significant glances. For the hell of it, Zach gave him one of his most fearsome glares. He rather enjoyed the way the lawyer paled.

Still on the witness stand, Stephen Carstairs raised his voice to answer the question. “I did not see that happen, sir! Anyone in town could have boarded that boat and committed murder.”

“Only Zach Burkett had motive.”

Judge Mills chimed in. “More motive than we knew about too, if they argued about this morning-glory business.”

Someone in the back of the courtroom cried, “Guilty! He’s guilty!”

“Hang the bastard,” came a shout.

Joshua Marston sat back in his chair, arms crossed. Beside him, his brother, E. J., looked smug.

“Hang him!” voices in the crowd chimed together.

“This might get sticky,” Zach observed as the jury began speaking among themselves. “You have a gun on you, Jess?”

Judge Mills nodded at the Marstons, and as the jury foreman stood and waited for silence, Jess Tanner spat a curse and muttered, “I didn’t think I’d need it in a courtroom. Hell, Zach, this isn’t looking good.”

“They’ll hang me from a rafter if I give them half a chance.” Glancing toward the windows, he saw Morality out of the corner of his eye, and he felt a catch in his heart.
Ah, angel, I’m sorry it’s turned out this way.

She clutched the railing in front of her in a white- knuckled grip. Her wide-eyed stare darted from judge to jury. To Zach. Their gazes held, hers with a color of panic, his softening, silently telling her good-bye. One way or another, this was the end of the trail for him and Morality Brown Burkett.

Morality drew a shaky breath. Her knees quaked with fear.
Please, Lord, don’t let them kill him
.

“I have a brand-new rope!” a man seated behind her called.

Except for the softness in his eyes as he looked at her, Zach’s face appeared sculpted from stone.
She loved him. Oh, dear Lord, she loved him. She didn’t want to lose him. She couldn’t lose him
.

Zach was innocent.

Morality knew it as a certainty in her soul. Zach Burkett was many things—liar, sharper, rogue. He had killed.

But he was not a killer.

Not a murderer, not like this. Morality looked at Zach and knew that under the right circumstances, her husband possessed the ability to take a life. He had done so in defense of his mother. He could have done so in defense of his wife. But he would have acted during the moment of threat—not hours later. Morality could envision him killing her uncle in the heat of the moment, the heat of his anger. But not in cold-blooded revenge. Zach Burkett was not a cold-blooded man.
Oh, Zach, forgive me for doubting you
.

“Judge Mills,” the jury foreman called. “We don’t see a need to deliberate none. Like the man said, no one else in town had a reason to kill the preacher. We figure he’s as guilty as sin and we’re ready to say so.”

“Get a rope!”

“Hang him high!”

“Guilty! He’s as guilty as sin.”

“No!” Morality surged to her feet and shouted. “No! This trial is not over! I have something to say!” She stepped on toes and tripped on skirts as she hurriedly exited the row. “Mr. Carstairs, please, may I have your seat? I wish to testify.”

Judge Mills scowled and frowned down at her. “I don’t know, Miss Morality. You’re Burkett’s wife. Your testifying would be highly irregular.”

“This entire trial is highly irregular,” she snapped back. “I am also the deceased’s only family. I imagine I desire more than anyone for his murderer to be punished.”

“Let her talk,” said one of the jurors.

“She’s the Miracle Girl,” called a spectator. “I want to hear what she has to say about those morning glories.”

Morality approached the witness seat with a pounding heart and quaking knees. Her mouth was dry, her eyes wet. She tried her very hardest to pray.

But she couldn’t.