Harvest Moon (Jordan-Alexander Family 2)

“You’ve got to get up.” His dark eyes were full of concern. “Your hearing starts at ten.”

Tessa took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. “David?”

“In the flesh.” He managed a crooked smile. “Don’t worry, everything will be all right.”

She pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Are you sure?” Her gaze darted over his face. “What if they don’t believe us?”

“They will,” David promised. “I’ll make them.”

She stood up. Her knees buckled.

David reached out a hand to steady her. “I’ll bring your bathwater and a cup of tea.”

“What should I wear?” Her voice held a note of panic.

David opened the armoire, quickly evaluating her choice of dresses. “Wear the dark blue.” The dark silk dress with high white collar and white cuffs made her look like a schoolteacher or a preacher’s wife. It was the perfect choice. If she wore that, the judge and jury would be hard-pressed to see any resemblance to a saloon girl.

“I may need help getting dressed,” Tessa said.

“Call me if you do,” David offered. “I’ve become quite adept at wrangling with ladies’ unmentionables lately,” he teased, hoping to coax a smile out of her.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

* * *

When they stepped outside the office an hour later, David was glad he’d had the forethought to rent a buggy for the brief jaunt to the courthouse. He hadn’t wanted to parade Tessa through the streets of Peaceable once again. And the buggy offered her some protection from the curious spectators who lined the streets. David handed Tessa up into the vehicle, settled himself beside her, then flicked the reins, urging the horse into the traffic headed toward the courthouse.

The courthouse yard was more crowded than the streets. It overflowed with people dressed in their Sunday best. David maneuvered the buggy near the hitching rail. He climbed out, then reached up to help Tessa. The morning sunlight glinted off her brilliant red hair as David lifted her down. The crowd issued a collective gasp at the sight of her. Newspapermen surged forward, yelling questions at David and Tessa while photographers situated along the edge of the courthouse yard hid beneath their camera drapes taking pictures. Tessa moved closer to David. He placed a protective arm around her shoulders, cursing himself for not providing a hat and veil to go with the blue dress.

“Extra, extra!” A newsboy hawking papers ran up to David. “Trial begins for woman held in brutal barroom slaying!”

David snatched a copy of the morning edition of the Peaceable Chronicle, tossed the boy a coin, and rapidly scanned the headlines.

“Miss Roarke, can you tell our readers why you killed Mr. Mason?” A reporter blocked Tessa’s path.

“She didn’t kill Mr. Mason,” David said. “Get out of the way.” He glared at the newspaperman. “Please.”

“His body was found in her room. Is it true she slit his throat?” He pulled out his notebook.

“No! Now, get out of the way.” David stepped in front of Tessa, shielding her from the reporter with his body. He took her hand, pulling her behind him as he cleared a path through the crowd.

Another reporter entered the fray. “How do you feel about Mr. Alexander representing you, Miss Roarke? It’s rumored in Washington that he molested a young lady from a prominent family. What do you have to say?”

“Leave me alone,” Tessa ordered. She heard a rip as someone stepped on the hem of her skirt. “David!” She let go of David’s hand long enough to shove the reporter. “Get off my dress, you clumsy oaf!” She snatched her skirt out of the way.

David stopped.

“Is it true you and Miss Roarke have been openly cohabiting? Are you intimately acquainted?” The first reporter stood in their path, refusing to give ground.

David grabbed the newspaperman by his shirtfront, practically lifting him off his feet. “Did I hear you correctly?”

“You did.” The man appeared undaunted. “I got the information from a…” He glanced at his notebook. “A…Mrs. Jeffers at the local mercantile.”

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“I’ll just bet you did,” David muttered through clenched teeth. “And how much is your newspaper paying for such information?”