The Law and Miss Hardisson by Lynna Banning

Author:Lynna Banning
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Judge Phipps leaned over the rough plank desk that served as a judge’s bench and glared at Irene. “Now you look here, missy. Are you askin’ us to believe that Clayton Black is innocent?”

Irene met the judge’s snapping dark eyes. “I am.”

“And you say the proof is in those bullets you got tied up in your lacy hankies?”

Irene smiled at the old man. She had—finally!—gotten his attention. “Exactly, Your Honor. The evidence is there in cold, hard metal.”

“Hogwash! First off, you got to get this Cedarville doctor and the undertaker in here to swear those slugs are what you say they are. Otherwise, missy, a pretty lady like you might try to hoodwink a jury into believin’ just about anything you wanted ’em to!”

Fury surged through her. The judge was prejudiced against her simply because she was a woman! “Your Honor, I assure you—”

“That’s all, Lawyer Hardisson.”

Her heart sank. She’d hoped to have the charges against her client dismissed, but at bottom, she knew the judge was right. Now she’d have to convince her two witnesses to testify and have them summoned into court. Then there would no doubt be more hours wasted while Lawyer Montgomery completed his circuitous cross-examinations. The case against Clayton Black could be completed by tomorrow were it not for Judge Phipps!

In spite of herself, she respected the judge’s insistence on proper courtroom procedure. Oh, all right, she would do it his way, she decided. Anything to get her client acquitted. No doubt the minute he was free, he would head back to Texas. She knew exactly where she would go—home to wallpaper her bedroom.

“Very well, Your Honor. Please subpoena Dr. Randolph Martin and Seamus Moody, the undertaker in Cedarville.”

“Don’t give me orders, missy,” the judge growled. “I see what needs t’be done. Jase!” he barked.

The bailiff jerked awake at the sound of his name. He surged out of his chair and stood at attention, swaying on his feet. “Yessir?”

“Ride on over to Cedarville and tell Doc Martin and Seamus Moody t’be here tomorrow. Ten o’clock. Sober,” he added.

The bailiff hesitated, then shook his head. “Cain’t do that, Judge. I hear Doc Martin’s gone to Weed Junction to visit his sister, and Seamus is down with the grippe.”

“You mean he’s drunk,” Judge Phipps asserted.

“Nope. He’s sick, right enough. ’Bout puked his guts out, beggin’ yer pardon, ma’am.”

Irene’s spirits drooped even lower. Another delay. Another restless night with nothing to occupy her mind but how frustrated she felt. And lonely, a voice added.

On the surface, she maintained the cool, controlled manner that had been bred into her, but inside, when she was by herself, she came face-to-face with her real feelings. She cared more than she should about what happened to Clayton Black. And that, she acknowledged, frightened her more than her first murder trial!

She needed to keep moving, keep her mind active so she could hold her unease in check.

“Your Honor, how long will it take—”

“Couple a’ days, missy. You’d best take up your knittin’ to keep yourself amused.

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