Harvest Moon (Jordan-Alexander Family 2)

“That doesn’t concern you, Mr. Alexander.”

David tightened his hold on the man’s shirt, yanking him closer. “The hell it doesn’t.” He lifted his clenched fist, intending to ram a few teeth down the reporter’s throat.

“David, no!” Tessa placed her hand on his arm. “It doesn’t matter what they say.”

“It matters.” David lowered his fist, but he didn’t release the man’s shirt.

“No, it doesn’t. He’s going to write what he wants about us, anyway,” Tessa reasoned. “If you hit him, you’ll just give him more to write.”

“Listen to her, Mr. Alexander.” Sheriff Bradley hurried toward David and Tessa, pushing his way through the throng of people. He tipped his hat to Tessa. “Let the man go, Mr. Alexander.”

“Yes, do, Mr. Alexander. Unless you want to be sued,” the reporter said, a smirk on his weaselly face.

“Sue me,” David told him. “It’ll be worth it.”

“You hush up,” Sheriff Bradley warned the reporter, “unless you want to spend the night in my jail.” He turned to the crowd. “Show’s over. You folks step back and give Mr. Alexander and his client room.”

No one moved.

“Do it,” the sheriff directed, “or I’ll haul the whole lot of you off to jail.”

The citizens of Peaceable and the out-of-towners moved back, clearing the way to the door of the courthouse.

“David,” Tessa pleaded, “let go of him.”

David released the reporter. “If you utter a word,” he warned, his voice strained with fury, “I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

The newspaperman finally recognized the danger, the barely leashed rage. He tipped his hat at Tessa.

David surged forward.

Tessa intervened once again. “No.” She tugged on his arm.

He turned to look at her and saw the steely glint in her blue eyes.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned softly. “He just wants to sell more papers.”

David took a deep breath, forcing his body to relax, trying to regain control. He took Tessa by the elbow and followed the sheriff.

At the doorway of the courthouse, Sheriff Bradley clapped David on the back. “Well,” he said, “good luck.” He spared an encouraging look for Tessa. “You’ve run the gauntlet. Everything else is routine. The worst of it should be over.”

* * *

The worst of it hadn’t even begun. David discovered that fact as soon as he ushered Tessa into the courtroom. What should have been a simple preliminary hearing turned into a circus with townspeople and reporters clambering for ringside seats. It seemed everyone in Wyoming had come to see a woman stand trial for murder.

Judge Emory sat on the bench.

David groaned. The somber judge was known for his harsh sentences, especially in cases involving women. Rumor in the legal community had it that the judge believed women should be seen, not heard. And to make matters worse, Judge Emory had no liking for David Alexander. He knew of the Washington scandal, and he had an adolescent daughter at home.

Sitting beside Tessa at the defense table, David hazarded a glance at the county attorney, Jeremy Cook. Jeremy gave him a smug, self-satisfied smile that warned David to be wary; the territory’s case against Tessa Roarke was strong.

The hearing began promptly at ten. The bailiff announced Tessa’s case. The crowded courtroom buzzed with excitement.

David listened in growing frustration as Jeremy Cook presented the territory’s evidence, establishing the fact that a murder had been committed on the night Arnie Mason died. Since the victim was found in Tessa Roarke’s room at the Satin Slipper, he said, it was reasonable and probable that Miss Roarke had committed the crime. It was the opinion of Jeremy Cook and the territory of Wyoming that Miss Roarke should be held over for grand jury indictment.

Judge Emory stared at David. “What’s the plea?”

David stood up and faced the judge. “My client pleads not guilty, Your Honor.”