Harvest Moon (Jordan-Alexander Family 2)

He sincerely hoped so.

David didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the inescapable irony of his situation. He’d finally fallen in love. He had finally found the woman he’d been searching for all his life. He’d found her in the Peaceable jail, charged with the brutal murder of one of the saloon patrons. Tessa Roarke, a beautiful Irish colleen. Every man’s dream.

And every attorney’s nightmare.

The gods did have a sense of humor, for David Alexander was both man and attorney, and at the moment he felt the gods were toying with him. If he was to have Tessa for his very own, he had to fight her. And then fight for her.

To save her he had willfully damaged the trust she was beginning to feel for him. Then, because she’d hurt him, he’d flung hurtful words at her, words he couldn’t take back. But once the trial was over, the results would be worth all the pain and effort. Once Tessa and Coalie were free and safe, David knew he could make things right. He had to. He was desperately, hopelessly in love with Tessa Roarke. And he wasn’t about to lose her.

Chapter Twenty-one

“Hear ye, hear ye. The November term of the district court of the territory of Wyoming, county of Laramie, city of Peaceable, is now in session. Judge Harland Emory presiding,” the bailiff intoned. “All rise.”

The case of the Territory of Wyoming vs. Tessa Roarke on the charge of murder began in earnest.

David glanced at his pocket watch as he listened to the closing portion of Jeremy Cook’s opening statements. Thank God it was coming to an end. Jeremy had been more long-winded than usual, rattling on and on for over twenty minutes.

“And so, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the territory of Wyoming will prove that Tessa Roarke did willfully murder Arnie Mason in a fit of rage. The territory of Wyoming will prove that the defendant not only knew Arnie Mason but knew him intimately. Though she sits here pretending to be a lady, we know her for the murderess she is, a jealous, scheming girl from the Satin Slipper who killed a man for no other reason except that he refused to marry her and give her boy a name.”

David grimaced as the prosecutor finished with a dramatic flourish, his voice rising with each word like that of a fire-and-brimstone preacher. David now knew what to expect. Jeremy Cook didn’t have much of a case and knew it. He planned to convict Tessa on the basis of rumor, innuendo, and sensationalism.

David jotted down a note on a sheet of paper, folded it, and motioned for one of the clerks. He waited until the clerk had read the note and exited the courtroom before he stood up to begin his opening statement. David walked toward the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I know you’ve all listened carefully to Mr. Cook’s remarks. I’m not going to repeat them, nor will I refute them point by point. I’m simply going to tell you that Tessa Roarke did not kill Arnie Mason or anyone else.” He leaned closer as if confiding in the jurors. “I know it looks bad. Mr. Mason was killed in Miss Roarke’s room at the Satin Slipper. Everyone in town knows that, but I caution you to remember that looks can often be deceiving. Innocent people are sometimes caught in compromising situations through no fault of their own. Miss Roarke is just such a person. She’s innocent, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, and I intend to prove it. Thank you all. I know you’ll be fair and do your best.” David nodded toward the jury, then walked back to the defense table and sat down next to Tessa.

“Is that all you’re going to say,” Tessa whispered, “after everything he said about me?”

“That’s it,” David whispered back.

“But—”

David explained his strategy. “Tessa, the jury is tired of listening to that windbag rattle on. I said what was important, and I did it quickly. There’s no sense antagonizing the jury by forcing them to endure another endless monologue.”

“All right, Mr. Cook,” the judge said. “Call your first witness.”

Jeremy Cook called Deputy Harris to the stand. The deputy repeated the oath, then sat down and began to answer the prosecuting attorney’s questions.

“Deputy Harris, will you tell the court what you found when you entered Miss Roarke’s room on the night of the murder?”

“I found Arnie Mason lying on Miss Roarke’s bed. He was bleedin’ from a cut across his throat.”

“What was Miss Roarke doing?”

“She was sitting on the corner of the bed, screamin’ for help.” Deputy Harris scratched his head, thinking. “She was all bloody. There was a knife on the floor. All the girls were sayin’ she’d killed Arnie Mason.”

“What girls?”

“The whor…uh…the women who work at the Satin Slipper.”

“Did you believe them?” Jeremy Cook settled into his routine, walking around the courtroom, gesturing from the witness stand to the defendant’s table, and to Tessa.

“Course I did,” the deputy replied. “Who wouldn’t? Seeing all the blood and everything.”

“Then, in your professional opinion, Tessa Roarke stabbed Arnie Mason?”

“Not just stabbed,” Harris replied. “Cut his throat. Split his gullet just like butcherin’ a hog.” The people in the courtroom gasped in collective horror. Deputy Harris drew a line across his throat with one finger, illustrating the point.

“Is this the weapon you found in the defendant’s room?” The prosecuting attorney held up a wicked-looking knife for all to see.

“Yes, sir.”