in half. Two deputies with rifles stood guard on either side. She


noticed a side door directly across from the door to the judge's


chambers. It too was guarded.




She was called forward to the witness-box. Every eye in the room was


on her. Her head held high, her expression fearful, she half expected


applause. She was, after all, about to give the performance of her


life.




Judge Rafferty was so eager to hear her testimony he interrupted the


closing arguments so that she could take the stand. As she walked past


him to take her seat behind the railing, she looked him over closely


and came to the conclusion that it would take very little effort on her


part to get him in the palm of her hand. Rafferty was a heavyset,


middle-aged man with eyeglasses so thick his owlish eyes appeared to be


three times the normal size.




She also noticed he was taken with her. He smiled, he gawked, and she


couldn't have been happier.




She v. as being sworn in by the clerk when the defense attorney leapt


to his feet and demanded the judge's attention.




"Your Honor, this is highly irregular, " he protested. "Couldn't you


wait until the prosecutor and I have finished up and the jury has left


the courtroom to deliberate? My client is being tried on the charge of


attempted murder. The prosecutor is trying to prove that my client


willfully and with malice in mind tried to kill the Maple Hills


sheriff.




This case shouldn't be muddled up with a witness testifying about an


altogether different matter." The judge peered at the upstart over the


top of his glasses. "I'm fully aware of what this case is all about.




Do you think I've been sitting up here twiddling my thumbs and


daydreaming about fishing, Mr. Proctor? Is that what you think I've


been doing? " "No, Your Honor, I don'tţ" The judge wouldn't let him


continue. "What you're saying, Proctor, is that you don't think that


what the witness has to say is relevant, but I say it is. If your


client is who I think he is, then the jury needs to know it because he


would have been fleeing and he would have tried to kill the sheriff and


he would have tried it with what you call malice in mind."




"But, Your Honorţ" "Mr. Proctor, you need to understand. No one tells


me what to do in my own courtroom, and that includes fancy-pants


lawyers like you.




I know you're young and inexperienced and that you think you know just


about everything there is to know, but I make the rules here. Now sit


down and be quiet until I finish with my witness. You understand me?




" "Yes, Your Honor."




"Then why aren't you sitting? " The crowd burst into laughter when


Proctor tripped in his hurry to take his seat.




The judge wasn't amused. He slammed his gavel on the desk and demanded


silence. "I'll have order in my court. If I hear another sound out of


any of you, I'll clear you out.




"Like I said before, I make the rules here, not you. Sit." He


bellowed the command, but by the time he swung around to Rebecca, he


had mellowed considerably.




"I sure would like to cut to the chase and ask you plain out, but I'm


not going to do that. First, I want you to tell the jury who you are


and what happened to you." Her moment had finally arrived. Gripping


her hands together on the railing so the jury could see them, she took


a shuddering breath and began. She told them why she had been in the


bank and what she had seen.




Tears came easily, and her voice had a halting quality she was quite


proud of, and by the time her story ended, she was sure there wasn't a


dry eye in the courtroom.




The judge was as shaken as the jury by her gut-wrenching recollection


of the murders. He sat hunched over his desk, leaning toward her as


though he thought his nearness would somehow comfort her.




"All right, then, " he said. "I know how hard it was for you to go


through it again, and I appreciate it. Now, I want you to look at the


man shackled to the table over on your right and tell me if he was one


of the men in the bank." Rebecca stared at Bell for several seconds


before shaking her head.




"No, " she cried out. "He wasn't there." The judge's face betrayed


his disappointment. His frustration was palpable, but he wasn't ready


to give up. "Take your time and look him over real good before you


make up your mind." She did as he instructed. "I'm so sorry, Your


Honor. I wish he were one of the Blackwater gang, but he isn't. I


swear to you he wasn't there." Bell's attorney was grinning from ear


to ear, and that offended the judge almost as much as her devastating


testimony.




"Don't even think about getting to your feet again, Proctor. You keep


your seat glued to your chair until I'm finished. I've got a couple of


nagging points I want to clear up before I let this young lady leave


the stand." Rebecca bowed her head and pretended she was desperately


trying to compose herself. She knew the judge was watching her


closely, and when she looked up at him again, she felt a burst of


gloating satisfaction over Rafferty's compassionate gaze.




"I'm going to make this quick, " he promised. "I just have a couple of


questions. Are you up to answering them now, or would you like a


recess? " "I'd like to finish now, please." He immediately asked his


first question. "I ordered three women brought here, and I'm curious


to know where the other two are. Do you have any information about


their whereabouts? " "No, I don't. When Marshal Cooper told me Grace


and Jessica were also being brought here I felt terrible, just


terrible. Their lives have been uprooted because of me. If I had told


the truth from the beginning, none of this would be happening to


them.




They've become dear friends. I expected them to be here when I


arrived, and I was looking forward to seeing them and telling them how


sorry I am. I'm sure they were just delayed. Grace wasn't feeling


well when I left her. She might have had a relapse."




"Let's move on to the next question. You said you got on the train


with Marshal Cooper and that he left your compartment and didn't come


back.




Why did he leave? " "I had a pounding headache and my medicine was in


my suitcase. Because Marshal Cooper was such a gentleman, he insisted


on going to the baggage compartment to fetch it for me. If I hadn't


complained . . . if I had suffered in silence . . . he would still be


alive. It's my fault he's dead, all . . . my . . . fault." She


buried her face in her hands and began to sob. Rafferty looked at the


jury and noticed their united sympathy for the poor woman.




He realized he had better hurry up then before a rebellion broke out.




"We're almost done, " he announced. "Tell me what happened when you


heard the gunshots. Do you recollect how many you heard? " She wiped


her face with the handkerchief as she nodded. "I'm pretty sure I heard


two shots fired. I was too frightened to find out what was


happening.




The train made an unexpected stop, and that's when I heard that poor


Marshal Cooper had been killed."




"And then what did you do? " "I was afraid to get back on the train.




I didn't know what to do, " she cried out. "I hid in the brush and