To testify, she had dressed in her Sunday best, eschewing any gewgaws and baubles; she didn't want anyone to think she was a whore. She was simply a 32 year old widow who needed to support her three children and her mother. After stating her name, Mrs. Prissy Halston, and swearing she would tell the truth, Prissy started relating the events of that night. All eyes were riveted on her except for Adam's; he had no interest in her testimony. When chastised for not having interest—not even bothering to feign interest, Adam told Hiram, "After all, I was there, remember? I know what happened." Hiram didn't care for Adam's flippant attitude and told him so.

"He stepped in the saloon—yeah, Adam Cartwright, that dark-haired man- and looked around. This big man, the one who's his brother, Eric Cartwright, yeah, him, was behind him standin' there with his hands on his hips lookin' around too. I walked up to him—that man, yeah, him, Adam Cartwright, and asked him if he wanted anything, you know, like a drink or somethin'. I figured from their look and smell that they were just cowboys stoppin' in for a drink and a good time before movin' on, but he just stared at my chest. It made me nervous but then he reached out and grabbed a cross I was wearin' on a chain. Well, I tried to back off and told him he didn't pay yet and maybe iffen he bought me a few drinks, I'd let him touch me. I laughed—you know—tryin' to keep things light 'cause he looked mean and I was a little scared, but he didn't let go and then he asked me where I got it—the cross.

"Well, I said it was none of his business but he grabbed my arm real hard, pulled me up close and asked me again where I got it. I said I'd scream if he didn't let me go but before he did, he jerked that chain right off my neck. It hurt the back of my neck real good—I had a raw line there for a bit- and I cried out and grabbed the back of my neck. Then the big one, yeah, Eric Cartwright, well, he kinda worked the other man's hand off my arm and apologized for 'im and asked me real nice where I got the cross—said he'd pay me two silver dollars for it and pulled 'em outta his pocket and gave me two and then handed me one more. The other man—yeah, Adam Cartwright—he was just looking around the room and then he looked at me like he was gonna kill me—and all for a gold cross. Anyway, he said 'Where's the cowboy who gave it to you? The one with the Indian hatband?' I told him that the cowboy was over at the poker table in the corner—pointed to him. I said that cowboy gave it to me. I said that I'd brought him and the others playin' poker a round of drinks. Well, the cowboy—the one with the beaded Indian hatband—he told me his name was Hank and he pulled the chain and cross outta his pocket and dropped it down the bodice of my dress. He said if I let him fish it out, it's mine. So I agreed—but that's all. I'm not a whore—I don't do those and I don't sell myself, but it looked like gold and it was pretty anyway. So after he felt around for a while—you know, just grabbing me here and there and laughin' along with all the others, he pulled it outta my dress and gave it to me. I didn't know it'd been taken off a dead woman or I never woulda taken it. Honest.

"So Adam Cartwright just walked over to Hank, tapped him on the shoulder and when Hank turned around, that man there—yeah, Adam Cartwright—he held the cross out. 'You took this off my wife after you killed her and now I'm gonna kill you.' Hank, well, he turned white and started to get up, goin' for his gun, but Adam Cartwright just pulled out his gun and shot Hank smack in the middle of his face. Blood went everywhere. I mean everywhere and I started screamin' and the other men ran, topplin' chairs all over and then that man there—Adam Cartwright-he pushed the dead man outta the chair and sat down it in and laid his gun on the table top. He just sat there, leanin' over, his elbows on the table holding that cross in his hands and lookin' at it. That other man, Hoss Cartwright, kept askin' him to leave, tried pullin' on his arm but he wouldn't. Then the sheriff came and arrested him for murder after some people and me told what happened. I ain't never seen such a thing and hope I never do again. I still see it every time I close my eyes—Hank's eyes' goin' wide and then the shot and the bloody hole where his nose had been."

The courtroom stayed hushed—no one spoke even after the witness stepped down. Prissy glanced at Adam as she walked to the back doors and they locked eyes. Then Prissy Halston ducked her head and left the courtroom. She was confused about what she felt; on the one hand, Hank was just an ordinary cowboy who was slaughtered in front of her but then well, if Hank assaulted and killed Adam Cartwright's wife and then robbed her of a cross-a cross of all things, well, maybe he should get off. Prissy was glad she wasn't on the jury, not that she ever would be—that was the purview of men—but it would be a hard decision to make. It would be a shame to see a handsome man like Adam Cartwright who loved his wife and avenged her murder, hang for such a thing. But she had sworn to tell the truth and so she did. She could live with that.

Mai Wong had been brought to Carson City to testify as well. The girl was terrified at having to speak in front of a group of round-eyes and the whole time of her testimony, she was asked to speak up. "Please, Miss Mai," the judge would kindly say, "you need to speak up so that everyone can hear you"

The 13 year old "niece" of Hop Sing (their relationship was tenuous as it seemed that almost everyone in Chinatown claimed a sanguinary link to each other for opportunistic purposes) had been working as a lady's maid and doing the laundry and housework for Adam and his wife. When the cowboy whose name was revealed as Hank Crowell, had ridden up to the house while she and "Missy" sat on the front porch shelling beans and talking, it was near the close of a lovely day; the Mister would soon be home.

"Man ride up and ask to water horse. Missy say yes, but he leave after. Man, he smile, say, 'Yes, ma'am. Anything you say,' and take horse to water trough but keep lookin' at Missy Cartwright and grinning. Missy tell me go in the house—get Mistah Adam's gun from desk and bring out for her. I do as Missy say—give her the gun—she hide it in her skirts-and then she tell me go inside and leave out back door. She tell me to hide far from house. I go in house and watch out window for little. Man come back to the porch, ask for food. Missy, her hand with gun close to her, tell him no food—leave now.

"Man, he laugh. Say she pretty piece—that what he say and he grab for her but Missy pull out gun—point at him and say to leave. Missy say she shot him if he no leave. She back up to door. He laugh and grab Missy's arm and pull gun from her and pull her to him. One hand he rip open dress."

Adam shifted in his chair. He didn't want to hear this part of the story-it haunted his sleep as it was and he had only head once before—from Mai Wong's lips as she sat sobbing on the porch steps that evening.

Mai Wong began to softly cry again, the tears coursing down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. The prosecutor told her to continue.

"Man, he start to kiss Missy and him keep laughing—she fight man and he laugh even more and then he…he lap her and throw her on the dirt. Then…I don't watch. I…I act like coward…I run out back door and keep running. I hide like Missy told.

"I shame my ancestors by hiding. I hear them in the air telling me go back. I wait only small time and then I go back in house, take rifle from rack but not know how to use. I look out and man gone so I open door and Missy lay on ground—her clothes torn—her skirts up. I know she dead—she have red marks on neck—so small neck—tiny-and Missy's eyes stare at me but not see. My fault she dead." Mai Wong sobbed in the wooden chair on the dais. She stopped herself and sat up straighter. "I pull her to porch. She have bones like bird—so light—but I not able to take her in the house.

"Mistahs Adam, Hoss and Joe, they come riding up. Mistah Adam, he…he not seem to understand what happened. He pick up Missy and take her to porch and sit with her on lap—he not seem to understand—keep talking to her like she only be playing child's game-but Mistah Hoss, he ask me who did it and I tell him it cowboy with band on hat—beaded like Indians do. Then Mistah Adam, he ask where her chain, where her cross? I shrug—I not know.

"Mistah Adam take Missus in house and put her on bed, tell me to wash her, change her clothes and fix hair. Then he tell Joe to go for Mistah Ben and to take Missus into town. He leave. Mistah Hoss, he follow—he ask Mistah Adam where he think he go but he not answer. Mistah Hoss, he say that Mistah Adam not go alone. They leave and I do as Mistah Adam say."

Mai Wong, wiping the tears from her cheeks, looked apologetically at Adam sitting at the long table. He smiled gently at her and she nodded in acknowledgement. She walked back to her seat next to her mother who put a comforting arm around her and the young girl began to cry again but softly and quietly. It was all too much but Mai Wong would have come and testified even without her father's permission. Missy had been good to her and the Mister had been gracious in giving her a warm room and kindness.