The Murder Trial of the Last Lakota Warrior by Steve Linstrom

Author:Steve Linstrom
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: North Star Press of St. Cloud
Published: 2014-08-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

April 29, 1891

Judging from the strength of the sun streaming into her hotel room, the last day of the trial was going to be a warm one. Laura hurried to get dressed and into the lobby. O’Day had told her they were expecting a large crowd for the last day, so tickets were being issued, and they needed to get to the courtroom early. The lobby was buzzing with women dressed in their finest. Haddie McKenna sat alone at her table, looking as if the trial were beneath her, but Abigail Johnson and Elnora Flatt were standing near the front door waiting for her.

“Oh, Mrs. Bowman, we are so excited,” Mrs. Johnson said clap­ping her hands like a little girl. “Mrs. Flatt and I both got tickets to see the last day of the trial. Now we’ll be able to participate just like you do.”

The women were clutching their gloves and chattering like they were going to a Broadway musical, not the possible end of a man’s life. Nonetheless, Laura smiled politely, “Wonderful,” she said. “The last day of the trial should provide you a good summary.” The thought that their attendance was anything similar to hers was revolting.

“Oh, I know. Mr. Sterling always dresses so stylishly, and the Indian men have their hair braided. It’s just like going to a Wild West show, but in real life,” Mrs. Johnson said.

Laura was about to address her comments when she felt a firm hand on her elbow. “Good morning, ladies,” O’Day said with a polite bow. “There seems to be significant activity this morning.”

“Yes, Mr. O’Day,” Mrs. Johnson said with a girlish giggle. “Since they’re issuing tickets to the trial today, we can go without standing in the street and waiting in line. I was just telling Mrs. Bowman I’m so excited to experience this trial like she’s been.”

“Of course, Mrs. . . . ummm . . . Johnson, isn’t it?” O’Day said. “Mrs. Bowman’s been a great spectator.” He smiled at Laura, “We should probably go.”

“Well, Mr. O’Day, if you need any help from me, reaction to the proceedings and such, I mean, I’ll be back here this evening.” Mrs. Johnson batted her large brown eyes. Laura thought she looked like a lonely cow.

“Thank you, Mrs. Johnson. I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”

The heat of the street hit them as they exited the big double doors of the Cataract. “The nerve of that woman,” Laura said. “She’s giddy as a schoolgirl going to her first musical.”

“Are you jealous you may be losing your status as ‘the leading divorce-colonist observer’?”

“What do you mean?” she said. “These women know nothing of what’s going on in this trial and have no appreciation for the consequences.”

“Ahhh, I see,” he nodded. “In three days you’ve become a legal expert.”

“No, it’s not that,” she said. “It’s just . . .” She looked up at him, “This is more than just a spectacle. This is a man’s life.”

“That it is, Mrs. Bowman. But I suspect the spectacle will be the primary focus today.

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