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Chapter Twenty-Two
As Hank was sworn in my gaze moved from his broad shoulders to the high cheekbones and then to the cropped blond locks. Dressed in a well-tailored dark suit, white shirt, and gray and black striped neckwear--without a beard or moustache and with roughly a foot and a half of hair left on the floor of the jail--Hank looked far different from the man whose arms I had lain in that night while Cole Walker was dying. He seemed almost a stranger...someone vaguely familiar and yet not known to me at all. "Mr. Lawson, would you tell the Court where you were during the night of February l5 and the early morning hours of February l6th?" "Rode out to some property I own--'bout two miles north from here." "Were you alone?" "Caitlyn went with me." His eyes found mine across the distance. "Why did you decide to make a trip out there?" "Zach was finishin' up school--and I wanted a better home for my boy than the Gold Nugget. Nobody'd lived in the cabin out there since Rubydied, but I figured me an' him could fix it up a little. Leastways enough for us to bunk in 'til after Cait an' me got married." There was a rustling of surprise in the room from people who had not heard the rumors of our engagement, but Erik ignored it. "Then you and Miss McShane had a wedding planned?" "Had it in my mind for maybe June--but whatever date she wanted, I woulda showed up," he answered lightly. "So you asked the woman who was your fiancee--who you were planning to make your wife within the next few months--to come with you to look at your property. Is that correct?" "Thought I'd let her see what she thought about the land I already owned 'fore we started lookin' for another piece of property to build a house on. Never figured on it rainin' that hard. I wanted to be sure an' get her home by dark." "Why was that so important to you, Mr. Lawson?" Erik asked quietly. "Didn't want people talkin' about her--thinkin' somethin' had happened between us," he responded levelly, glaring out into the crowded sanctuary. "When nothin' did." "I'm going to ask this question before Mr. Leslie does. Given that there are 'working girls' at the Gold Nugget, how is it that you were so concerned about Miss McShane's reputation?" "My girls are one thing--Caitlyn's another." Hank shrugged. "It ain't the same." "Could you try to explain that a little more clearly?" "Caitlyn's the kinda woman you wanna stand in front of the preacher with--put a ring on her finger and give her yer name. Kind you take for life, not just an hour or two." "Mr. Lawson, did you suggest to Miss McShane that she keep quiet about the fact that the two of you were alone together?" "Yeah." He nodded. "Why would you suggest to her that she remain silent when you knew that her word could absolve you of all guilt in this murder? When she was able to offer you a rock-solid alibi?" "Didn't wanna hurt her." Hank looked at me again, the deep richness of his voice raising goosebumps on my arms. "Didn't want her to have to be sittin' in this chair answerin' questions like he just asked her. Caitlyn's a good, decent woman. A lady who ain't done nothin' to deserve that kinda disrespect. An' I figured they were gonna come up with the one who done it--figure out I wasn't to blame--and she'd 've ruined her name for no reason." "Did you tell Miss McShane where you were going when you went into hiding?" "Knew they'd come 'around askin' her questions about me sooner or later--so I wouldn't tell her. Wouldn't 've wanted to put her in a place where she had to decide whether or not to lie." "Mr. Lawson, do you normally carry a knife?" "Usually got one in my boot." "For what purpose?" "Same reasons most men out here carry a knife." Hank turned his head toward the Jury. "Use it for cuttin' up meat when I'm out huntin'-- takin' pelts--prizin' open a crate of whiskey. Can't think of many days when I don't use a knife for doin' some kinda work--and when I got no choice, I use it for protection." "Were you carrying a knife on the day that the bank was robbed?" "Couldn't reach it. Not with Doyle Walker watchin' ever' move I made." "And if you could have gotten to it, Mr. Lawson, what would you have done?" "Blade ain't no match for a bullet." He shrugged. "But a man ain't much of a man who don't try to keep a woman from bein' hurt the way he meant to hurt Caitlyn." "Mr. Lawson...were you aware when you shielded Miss McShane with your own body that you were likely to be killed? That you might be trading your life for hers?" "Watched Zach's Ma raped by a liquored-up Ute--with her bleedin' from where he'd gut-shot her. Watched her die real slow and hard." Hank paled noticeably. "Knowin' what Walker meant to do, only way I was gonna let him take Cait outta there was if he killed me first." "Mr. Lawson, did you, in fact, murder Cole Walker?" "Nah." "Did you ever have thoughts of gaining some kind of revenge against the Walkers?" "Hadn't been for me gettin' shot, Caitlyn an' me mighta never gotten 'round to admittin' we had feelin's for each other. Way I look at it, in a kinda backhanded way, they did me a favor." "Mr. Leslie--your witness." Erik sat back down. "Mr. Lawson, would you agree that you are a man with a quick temper?" The rotund lawyer pulled himself up to his full height. "Reckon that's fair." Hank nodded. "And would you agree that you have done things in the past in the heat of the moment that you might not have done if you'd taken more time to think them through?" "I got regrets--same as most men." "Most men haven't set fire to an immigrant camp. Most men haven't been part of a lynch mob. Most men haven't held a gun on a woman to make sure that no one else would have her if he couldn't. But you've done all of those things and more, haven't you, Mr. Lawson?" "You puttin' me on trial for all o' that, too?" "Sir, isn't it true that you would have liked to have seen the Walkers dead?" Leslie leaned in closer to Hank. "Can't say I was sorry they were likely gonna hang--majority of the folks around here felt the same way. Don't mean I killed 'em." "Mr. Lawson, you just said that 'a man ain't much of man' if he didn't try to intervene when a woman was about to be hurt," Leslie reminded him. "Does that sense of 'chivalry' of yours include rationalizing the killing of someone for that reason?" "I caught a man in the middle of rapin' my sisters or my mother or Caitlyn, I'd probably kill him. Do the same thing if it was Michaela or Dorothy or any other woman or kid in this room--doubt I'd stop to think about whether I had a right to or not," Hank admitted softly. "You ever see it happen, you'd feel the same way. Ain't somethin' I can explain if you don't know. Hadn't been full of bullet holes and tied to a tree, I woulda killed that Ute with my bare hands." "What if you knew that a particular man was only thinking of having his way with one of those women?" "Thinkin' and doin' are two different things." Hank grinned. "I reckon most of us woulda never lived long enough to grow whiskers if just thinkin' 'bout holdin' a pretty girl was a hangin' offense." A ripple of laughter swept the room, which Judge Baker patiently waited out. Watching him closely, I thought that I saw a ghost of a smile at the corner of his own lips. "Mr. Lawson, isn't it true that you were part of a mob who tried to lynch a man named Johnny Reed before he could go to trial?" Agitated by Hank's composure, the prosecuting attorney ran his hand through his thinning, pomaded hair. "Soon as he got out of prison Reed raped a girl who was still a kid--an' murdered an old man. We don't cotton much to either one of them things around here. 'Specially when the one done it is laughin' 'bout how sweet it was, takin' that little girl." "Is that a yes, Mr. Lawson?" "Folks in the saloon got worked up one night... Girl's brother was there, drinkin' more'n he needed." Hank laced his fingers together in his lap. "I cut his liquor off--told him to go on home--but he said as how if it was my baby sister I'd feel different. An' I guess he was right. Whole place emptied out, goin' over to the jail. Me, I went over to where the gallows was standin' and made sure the knot was tied right. It was gonna happen, wanted to make sure it broke his neck quick and clean, 'stead of stranglin' him to death. But things cooled down. Reed was hung legal, after a trial. With me actin' as deputy for Matthew Cooper, back when he was Sheriff. Probably got papers somewhere sayin' so, you wanna read 'em. Or Matthew's sittin' right there. Ask him." "So what you are saying, sir, is that you did, indeed, feel strongly enough about a rape that had already occurred--not one in progress--to join in with a lynch mob?" Leslie queried. "Don't know how to answer you any plainer," the barkeep said levelly. "Maybe you oughta be writin' down notes, if it's hard for you to keep up?" "Your Honor..." The attorney turned to the Judge, a scarlet flush creeping up from his neck to his jaw at the insult. "Proceed," Judge Baker instructed. "Mr. Lawson, on February l5th, after you left the school, did you see anyone other than Miss McShane?" Melvin Leslie visibly struggled to control his anger. "I passed Miz AnnaMarie Sheehan on my way to Caitlyn's--didn't see nobody else after that--'cept for Cait--'til I got back in around three." "So there's no one who can vouch for your whereabouts except for Miss McShane, who has admitted to this Court that she's in love with you?" "Nobody's questioned her word up 'til now." Despite his seemingly relaxed demeanor, I noticed that Hank's fingers tightened on the arm of the chair. "And nobody's sayin' they saw me somewheres else." "Mr. Lawson, what was your physical condition on the night of February l5?" "I was about a month away from bein' back to normal--gettin' over bein' shot." "Were you capable of riding your horse?" "Had to ride a horse--or handle a wagon--if I was gonna get somewhere. Nobody I know of was willin' to tote me around piggyback..." Hank's grin was belligerent. "Were you capable of carrying in wood and building a fire?" "Long as I didn't pick up too much at one time." "You could ride a horse and handle logs, but you're saying that you weren't capable of applying that same strength and agility to use a knife on Cole Walker?" "Wrestlin' a few sticks o' kindlin' and a coupla logs inside the house ain't exactly the same as fightin' two men. Mosta the time logs ain't too hard to reason with." "If you are not guilty of this crime, Mr. Lawson, then why did you run away?" the prosecutor demanded. "Why go into hiding?" "I'd been runnin' I'd be in California by now," Hank replied matter-of-factly. "All I did was lay low--waitin' to come back home 'til after whoever killed Walker got arrested." "When you were caught your hair was tinted brown. What possible reason would you have for attempting to disguise your appearance, if you weren't on the run?" "Shaved my beard and cut my hair off since then, too, but I reckon nobody in this room's havin' much trouble figurin' out who I am." "Did you or did you not disguise yourself in an attempt to avoid arrest, Mr. Lawson?" Leslie bellowed in frustration. "Once Daniel got his mind set I was the one done it, I didn't stand a chance of gettin' my life back 'less I found out what really happened that night. An' it ain't easy to move around, lookin' for answers, when yer face is plastered on Wanted posters from here to St. Louis." "Is that a YES, Mr. Lawson?" he tried again. "Jail ain't my idea of a good time--'specially bein' put there when you ain't done nothin' wrong." Hank shrugged. "No further questions." The lawyer motioned that he could return to his seat. "The defense calls Daniel Simon." Erik waited beside the table until Matthew, who was acting as an officer of the Court, had reminded the sheriff that he was still under oath, and he took the witness stand. "Sheriff Simon, it was raining quite heavily on the night in question, was it not?" "Believe I said that earlier." He nodded. "In that case, did you find muddy footprints tracked from the rear entrance of the jail to the front?" "Some." "Can you tell me the size of those footprints?" "Looked to be about the same size as mine." "Did you measure them? Or trace an outline of one on a piece of paper?" "No." "So you have no way to determine if the shoe size was the same as that worn by Mr. Lawson?" "No." Daniel looked uncomfortable. "Do you know for certain if all of the prints were the same size?" "Not for sure." "When you examined them more closely, Sheriff Simon--after it was light outside and before they were disturbed--did it appear that they all were made by the same pair of boots or shoes?" "They seemed the same to me." "And how did you determine that? By the weight distribution patterns? Or marks left by a special heel? "I just--looked at them." "I see." Erik took several paces across the room, then turned back to Daniel. "Were there tracks outside the back door? Ones that matched the prints inside?" "There were signs that two men and two horses had been there--but Doyle was gone, so there had to 've been two." "So when Doyle left it is your opinion that he was capable of walking?" "He'd be a hard man for one person to carry." "Could you tell in which direction they went?" "Soon as they were out on the street, there were too many prints to tell if any coulda matched. Especially by daybreak--with more people comin' and goin', stirrin' up the mud." "Did you notice anything distinctive about the marks left by the horses that were left behind the jail while the murderer was inside? Anything unusual about their shoes?" "It rained again in the middle of the night--rain'd washed most of the prints away by mornin'." "Sheriff, is it true that a horse was reported as having gone missing from a farm on the road to Manitou on the night of February 15th?" "It showed up again a few days later. Probably jumped the fence." "Was it prone to jumping the fence?" "Horses do." He shrugged. "I can't rightly say if it was a habit with that one." "But you did examine that particular horse after it returned? To see if you could find any traces of dried blood on it anywhere?" "With the way it had been rainin', I figured it was no use." "Then your answer is no, Mr. Simon?" "The owners said it come home. Seein' as I had no reason to think it was connected to the Walkers, I didn't bother goin' out there." "But you must have asked around town to see if anybody had noticed a strange horse near the jail on the night in question?" Erik raised his brows questioningly. "That time o' night, most of the men in town who're still awake are so drunk they don't know one horse from the next, includin' their own." "Mr. Simon, your earlier testimony was that there was blood all over the cell, is that correct?" "That's right." "Would it have been possible for the man who cut Cole Walker's throat to have avoided getting blood on his clothes?" "I don't see how he could have. Shoulda been soaked in it." "I would ask you to take a look at this shirt that two witnesses have identified as the one worn by the defendant on that night, Mr. Simon." Erik handed Daniel the garment that both Michaela and Lacy had identified. "Examine it carefully, and tell me if there appears to be any bloodstains on the fabric." "I can't find any," he admitted, after checking the shirt over inch-by-inch. "Coulda been wearin' a long coat." "Do you recall the color of Mr. Lawson's long coat, Mr. Simon?" A faint smile flitted along Erik's lips. "Kinda white." Daniel looked embarrassed as he remembered the shade. "This is Hank's duster." Erik went to the table and brought back a long, wheat-colored coat, turning it slowly from the back to the front so that the sheriff and the jury could see the fabric. "Do you see any blood on it?" "Guess not." "Every other coat that Mr. Lawson owns is piled there next to the table--would you like to look for blood on any or all of those, Mr. Simon?" "Reckon that would be a waste of time. Won't be any--or you wouldn't be offering," Daniel accused. "Re-directing your attention to the election in which you became sheriff, sir...Isn't it true that you narrowly beat Hank Lawson in the polls?" "I won--don't matter by how many votes." "Mr. Simon, isn't it true that Mr. Lawson had never spent time in jail until after you won that election?" "Maybe he should have." "Answer the question, please." "Not that I know of." "Mr. Simon, would it be fair to say that you have a personal dislike of Mr. Lawson?" "I don't appreciate some of his ways." "Knowing that you had every intention of putting out a warrant for his arrest, isn't it true that Mr. Lawson had reason to believe that he could not get fair treatment from you--based on his past experience?" "I can't speak to what Hank believed or didn't believe. I only know he ran when he heard there was a warrant out on him--and resisted arrest when we brought him in." "Mr. Simon, it was your earlier testimony that you believed that the man who came up behind you --and struck you--on February 15th was Hank Lawson, am I correct?" "It was Hank. I saw him outta the corner of my eye." "Your Honor, I would ask the Court's indulgence." Walking over to one of the lamps that lit the room, Erik blew it out. "Mr. Simon, I'm going to continue to extinguish the lamps until you tell me that this room is lit with approximately the same amount of light as the jail was on the night in question. Do you understand?" "Yes." Daniel looked baffled. Erik blew out all of the lamps except the one on the Judge's table before the sheriff nodded. "That's it." "Your Honor, if you would permit the witness to sit behind the table that you've been using?" Judge Baker moved to the right of the Jury, watching intently as Erik spoke to Preston, who hesitated before reluctantly getting up, and then motioned to Hank. As all three men walked to the rear of the church behind the table where Daniel now sat the room was so quiet that it seemed as if I could almost hear my own heartbeat. "Mr. Simon, would you again describe the man who attacked you from behind?" Erik requested. "He was tall, blond and smelled like smoke," Daniel repeated warily. "Did you get a good look at his face?" "It happened too quick--his hat was casting a shadow." "Precisely how did he come up behind you? From what direction?" "Near as I could tell he sneaked up directly from behind. I never heard a peep or saw a thing 'til the light from the lantern hanging on the sidewalk caught him through the window and made a shadow. That's when I started to glance over my left shoulder--saw him draw back to hit me..." "Mr. Simon, please position yourself in the same way that you were sitting on that night when the murder occurred," Erik instructed. "Once you're satisfied that the position is accurate, I wish for you to remain seated that way--without moving--until I tell you otherwise." Lifting the lid off of a hatbox, he produced three identical black hats made in the style that Hank usually favored. Erik and Hank put theirs on, and beneath the defense lawyer's steely blue gaze Preston grudgingly followed their lead. "Now, Mr. Simon, we're going to walk up behind you, one by one, in exactly the same way that you have described the approach of the person who killed Cole Walker on the night of February 15." "Your Honor, I object!" Melvin Leslie spluttered, jumping to his feet. "On what grounds, Counselor?" Judge Baker looked at the moon-faced lawyer in annoyance. "Sit down, Mel, and shut up," someone growled. There was a small nervous burst of laughter from the crowd as the prosecuting attorney realized they would not be denied this moment of melodrama, and he sank back down into his chair. Crossing his arms across his chest, he shook his head at the Judge's inquiring look. "Withdrawn." The true reason for Hank's haircut and shave suddenly becoming obvious, I felt sick with fear. There was no possible way for Erik to know ahead of time if this gamble would work. But the roulette wheel had been set in motion, the die cast, and all bets were in. It was a game of chance where the stakes might well be Hank's life. "Look straight ahead, Sheriff Simon," Erik ordered tersely. As every person in the sanctuary leaned forward in rapt anticipation the lawyer came up silently behind Daniel, raised his arm as if to strike him a blow to the head, then stepped into the shadows and directly back. Hank duplicated the same pattern of movement, followed by Preston. After removing his hat, Erik went around to the front of the table to face Daniel. "Mr. Simon, would you now tell the Jury the order in which Mr. Lodge, Mr. Lawson and I came up behind you?" "I'd be guessin'," Daniel admitted. "Then can you identify for the Court which one of us was Hank?" "I think he was last." "But you can't say that for certain?" "No." "Sir, was it your testimony that this is the same lighting in which you saw your attacker?" "Pretty close." "Given that we've replicated the conditions under which you saw the man who struck you that night...did each of us also approach you in approximately the same manner that your attacker did? In such a way that you caught only a glimpse of each person out of the corner of your eye?" "Seemed about right." "Are you now saying that under those same conditions, you are unable to positively identify Mr. Lawson?" "You're all too close to the same size." "Mr. Simon, there is no way of estimating how many men in the Colorado Territory--and beyond--are roughly Hank's height and coloring. We know that in this room there are at least five: you, Mr. Lodge, Hank Lawson, Zach Lawson, and me. If I asked all of the men here today to stand, I would probably find at least two or three more who would fit the same general description. I have narrowed that number down--made it easier for you. All that I am asking is that you prove to the Court that you can make a positive identification of the defendant out of this small group of three men under the same conditions that you 'identified' him that night. Are you able to do that?" "No." "Then is it not possible that you could have been mistaken about the identify of the man who came up behind you on the night in question?" "I... I thought it was Hank." "Sir, there is absolutely no room for doubt when a man's life hangs in the balance!" Erik's voice thundered in admonishment. "Up until now you have been certain that the man who came into the jail, hit you, and then went on to murder Cole Walker was Hank Lawson. You were sure enough of that 'fact' to have a warrant issued for his arrest--have him listed as being wanted dead or alive--cause him physical injury that was severe enough to require a doctor's care when you brought him in--and to deprive him of two months of his freedom. You have cost this man a great deal of his income--publicly accused him of murder--wrecked havoc on his life and the lives of his son and fiancée--and brought him here today to put on trial for murder. Is it STILL your contention that the man who you saw that night was Hank Lawson?" "I don't know." "Mr. Simon, I will ask you one more time." Erik put his palms on the table and scowled at Daniel. "Are you willing to swear on the Bible, in this Court of Law, that it was definitely Hank Lawson who struck you in the back of the head on the night of February 15? That it was Hank Lawson who then went on to murder Cole Walker?" "No." "Your witness." He turned to Melvin Leslie. "I have no further questions." "The defense rests." Erik met his brother's gaze, the two of them exchanging a look of relief. |
