She fidgeted and pleated her skirt with shaky fingers, but didn’t say a word. Once more Jesse smiled and gave her a slight nod. She took a deep breath and waited for Mr. Spencer’s next question.
“So how is it that you were hired by the Harvey House, since they only hire single women?”
“I felt the need to get away for a while, so I . . . lied.”
“Ah. You lied.” He looked over at the jury and smiled. Emily felt the need to kick the man in his shins.
“Now when you were in Guthrie, did you meet the defendant?”
“Yes.”
“Did he court you?”
“No.”
“No? Yet when you were confronted by your husband, who found you after months of worry about your safety, the defendant followed you to Galveston.”
Jesse rose half way. “Your Honor, once more I ask if there is a question here?”
“Mr. Spencer. Please phrase your questions better.”
“Yes, Your Honor. Why did Mr. Henderson follow you to Galveston if he hadn’t been courting you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ah. You don’t know. A married woman runs away from her husband, begins to see another man behind her husband’s back, and when her husband brings her back home, her lover follows her—”
Jesse jumped from his seat, knocking the chair over. “Objection, Your Honor. No evidence has been presented to indicate the defendant and Mrs. Smith were lovers.”
“Sustained.” The judge scowled at the district attorney “Don’t try those tricks in my courtroom, counsellor.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Fighting a smile, the district attorney returned to his seat. “Your witness, Mr. Cochran.”
Jesse ran his palm down his face, then stood and buttoned his jacket. “Good morning, Mrs. Smith.”
Emily nodded, her heart still pounding from the last exchange. She patted her forehead with a handkerchief. At least with Jesse questioning her, it shouldn’t be that bad.
“Mrs. Smith, since Mr. Spencer decided to probe into your marriage to Mr. Smith, let me ask you a question. Why did you feel the need to get away?”
“Because I was frightened.”
“Of what?”
She wished for the floor to open up and swallow her whole. Even though she knew this would all come out in the trial, now that the time had arrived she was terrified. “My husband,” she whispered. She wiped her palms on her skirt, aware of the gasps and mumbling in the audience. The judge smacked his gavel.
“Mrs. Smith, will you tell the court why you were afraid of your husband?”
She stared at the kind man’s face. She hadn’t realized until this very moment how difficult it was going to be to speak of Louis’s behavior. For the three years she’d put up with the beatings she always felt ashamed, as if it were her fault. As if there was something wrong with her that caused the man who married her, promised to love and care for her, to beat her into unconsciousness. Surely no other woman provoked such anger in her husband.
“Mrs. Smith?” Jesse’s voice was gentle as he prodded her.
She twisted the handkerchief in her hands. “Because he, um, he beat me.” There. It was out. Her deep, dark secret. She’d said it. Memories of the police officers grinning and treating her like she was an idiot when she had told them, had heat climbing to her face. She raised her head and looked out at the observers. Disbelief on most of the men’s faces, disgust on several women’s, and at least one woman with sympathy and pain in her eyes.
The woman smiled softly and, closing her eyes briefly, dipped her head in acknowledgement.
“In three years of marriage, how many beatings would you say you received at the hands of the deceased?”
Hunter’s breathing sped up as Jesse questioned Emily. The embarrassment on her face hit him like a fist to the gut. She had nothing to be embarrassed about. All the blame and responsibility rested on the shoulders of her dead husband. How he wanted to stride up to the witness box and pull her into his arms. Assure her that she would never again be hurt.