Chapter 6
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The following morning, Andrew was in court with his lawyer, escorted there by Deputy Hardy. They didn't have very far to travel, as the jailhouse was situated just fifty feet behind the courthouse. The Denver courthouse was a three-story structure, a single courtroom on each of the first two floors, with lawyers' and judges' offices occupying the third. As a criminal case, Andrew's trial was being held in the courtroom on the first floor.
"Have you changed your mind about having your parents testify?" Moreland asked before the start of the judicial proceeding. "Nothing like motherly love to persuade a jury. I could wire them today."
Inwardly, Andrew cringed. Motherly love. "No. No. My parents won't always be around to help out. What if they were already deceased? Besides, we have the truth on our side."
"All right then. Remember to stand when you enter your plea."
Andrew nodded his understanding.
The judge banged his gavel, and the courtroom, which was about one-third full with curious onlookers and a reporter from the Denver Post, grew quiet. "People versus Randolph Cummings, alias Wyatt Newsome, alias Percival Le Bow, alias Frederick Buchanan, charged with multiple counts of fraud. How does the defendant plead?" asked Judge Keene from the bench. He was an older man, hair faded to silver, a bald spot noticeable when he turned his head.
Andrew stood. "Not guilty, your honor." He sat back down.
"Your honor, we'd like to request bail be set," said Moreland. "My client is a doctor who needs to return to his patients in Colorado Springs."
"A doctor?" the judge repeated, clearly surprised. "Should the prosecution add another count of fraud to those already listed?"
"No, your honor. The prosecution is simply charging the wrong man."
"Is that so?" Keene peered at Andrew over his glasses a long moment, then turned to address the prosecutor. "George? You got a problem with bail?"
"Yes, your honor," George Bigalow replied. The man was in his early fifties, with a slight paunch. Like Ned Moreland, he sported a mustache. "Setting aside this absurd claim that the defendant is a doctor, Colorado Springs is a three-hour ride by train. He could slip away into the night and we'd all be right back where we started, justice denied."
"Agreed. Bail is denied. You ready to proceed tomorrow, George?"
"Actually, your honor, I'd like to request a delay until Monday. The accused has amassed numerous victims, and I need time to gather affidavits and allow others to travel to Denver for testimony in person."
"What about you, Ned? Monday all right with you?"
"Yes, your honor."
"All right, then. Be back here Monday at ten a.m." The judge banged his gavel. "Court is in recess."
"Sorry, Doc," Moreland said as he and Andrew vacated the defendant's table and Hardy approached. "Afraid you'll just have to sit tight with Hardy."
Andrew nodded. "Thank you for trying."
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That afternoon Andrew again found himself being escorted into the small visiting room. The Reverend was back, along with a fresh face.
"Dorothy. You didn't have to come all this way."
"Well, of course, I did, Andrew. Folks are worried about you. And I can't write the whole story until I find out what happened to you the day you disappeared. Mind if I ask you some questions?"
"Uh, no, I understand people must be curious." He gestured that she should take one of the chairs while he took the other. The Reverend remained standing. "I was in the clinic, getting ready to take Mr. Bailey home, when two men entered. Bounty hunters. They had a Wanted poster of this man who looks like me. They held me at gunpoint and forced me to get on the train with them, warning me not to alert anyone. Unfortunately, when we arrived at the station, Horace was preoccupied at the telegraph, so he didn't see me." He paused while she was writing it down. "Reverend, I was hoping you or Dorothy could explain something for me."
"If we can," the Reverend agreed.
"If I look so much like a wanted criminal, why didn't Matthew or anyone say anything when I first arrived? Surely people in town had seen the poster and noticed the resemblance."
The Reverend and Dorothy exchanged a glance. What Andrew didn't know was that folks in town had done far more than see the poster – they'd seen the con man himself, as they had fallen victim to his fraudulent scheme. Only fast thinking by Sully, and fast action by the Reverend, had prevented the townsfolk of Colorado Springs from losing their savings.
"Well, what were folks supposed to say? You look like a criminal? That's not very polite or welcoming," said the pastor.
"I guess I see your point."
"Is the trial startin' tomorrow?" asked Dorothy.
"No, it's been delayed until Monday. The prosecutor wanted more time to gather witnesses and affidavits." Andrew looked up at the Reverend again. "I hope you brought me more than one suit."
"I'm sorry, Andrew, I didn't realize you'd be held that long. Before I leave, I'll ask the deputy to return your suitcase so I can bring you a fresh suit for your trial."
"Besides another suit, is there anything else you need?" asked Dorothy.
"Yes, I'd appreciate something to read. A medical journal, if one's arrived, or even a medical text. Just something to relieve the boredom and keep my mind occupied. I'm afraid the paper only lasts so long."
"Of course. They feedin' you all right?"
"I can't complain. Well, except for the coffee," Andrew joked.
"I don't think we can do anything about that," said Reverend Johnson.
"Not unless you bring Grace with you tomorrow," replied Andrew, which prompted them all to smile.
"Andrew, I hate to bring it up, but did your lawyer say what would happen if you're found guilty? What the sentence might be? I want to put it in my article."
"Uh, no, we haven't talked about that. Perhaps he doesn't wish to worry me. But it would certainly be the end of my medical career." Andrew paused. "Ironic, isn't it? I come out west to start my career, and it may just be the end of it as well."
"Andrew, you mustn't talk that way," said the pastor. "Matthew said you have a good lawyer. He'll get you out of this."
"I hope so."
"We all do," Dorothy consoled.
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On the fourth day of Andrew's ordeal, the Reverend was back for his third visit in as many days, again bringing fresh clothes – and another fresh face.
A most welcome face.
"Colleen."
"Andrew!" Colleen rushed to him as if to give him a hug, then stopped just short of doing so. "How are you?"
"All right. Better, now that you're here," he replied, giving her an appreciative smile. He hadn't realized until this moment how much he had missed her. She had become such a daily presence in his life, the one person he could talk to about anything – even medicine. Seeing her again generated a warm feeling inside of him. Then the Reverend cleared his throat, reminding Andrew of his presence. "Oh, yes, Reverend, it's good to see you again as well."
"Colleen's been asking me each day about you, how you're doing. After our talk yesterday, I thought it might brighten up both of your spirits if I brought her here to see you in person. It seems I was right." The remark made both Colleen and Andrew self-conscious. "Well, I'll let the two of you catch up. I'm sure you have… things to discuss."
He left the room, leaving the door open for propriety.
"Oh, uh, please, Colleen, have a seat," said Andrew as he sat down himself. "It was kind of your parents to let you come all this way just to see me."
"Ma wasn't sure about it at first, but I said I wouldn't be by myself, I'd have the Reverend with me, and Sully agreed it might help cheer you up to see a familiar face."
Andrew smiled again. "He was right about that. How's Mr. Bailey doing?"
"I checked on him yesterday. He's fine. No lingering symptoms."
"I'm glad to hear it. And how are things with the doctor… what's his name again?"
"Dr. Cassidy." Colleen sighed. "He's much different than you. He thinks women should be nurses, not doctors. And all he lets me do is clean the instruments and straighten the shelves. I can't help with any patients. I feel much more helpful being here with you… helping you forget your troubles."
"I appreciate the sentiment. Unfortunately, my troubles are rather difficult to forget when there are bars on every window." Andrew couldn't help but glance up at the room's sole window.
"And you're stuck here 'til Monday?"
"The prosecutor asked for a short delay, and the court's in recess on Sundays," Andrew explained. "Did Dorothy tell you of my request for reading materials?"
"Yes, she did. I brought a textbook on the brain and one of Ma's journals that she was finished with. I tried to read some of the journal on the way here."
Andrew's face brightened. "Would you care to discuss what you read? Like we would if we were at the clinic?"
"Sure."
They spent the rest of the time discussing the article Colleen had read, with Andrew explaining the terms and concepts she didn't understand.
A knock on the door startled them. "Sorry to interrupt, but the deputy says our time is almost up," said Reverend Johnson.
Colleen stood, as did Andrew.
"Thank you for visiting, Colleen, and for the reading materials. At least now I'll have something interesting to do until Monday."
"I could come keep you company again if you'd like."
"No, no, Colleen, it's too much to ask of you to make this long journey just for me. You should be with your family. And Reverend, I'm sure the constant travel has been wearying for you with these day-long trips. You should get back to serving the people of Colorado Springs."
"I don't mind, really," replied the pastor. "And you're a member of the community now, Andrew."
"That's kind of you to say, Reverend. But really, I'll be fine. No safer place. Literally."
"Well, if you insist… good day. Colleen?"
"Oh," she said distractedly. "Bye, Andrew," she said reluctantly, wishing she could stay longer or come back again.
"Good day, Colleen."
Despite putting up a brave front, Andrew was sorry that he wouldn't be seeing anyone from town again until Monday. But he knew it was the right thing to do, the unselfish thing to do. Michaela needed Colleen's help at home, and the townsfolk needed their pastor, far more than Andrew needed any handholding.
Hardy escorted Andrew back to his cell, where the journal and textbook were now sitting on the cot, having passed inspection. His suitcase was also on the cot, presumably stuffed with a fresh suit for use on Monday. His other two suits he'd need to alternate wear of until then, as he didn't think the deputy would offer him laundry service to go along with the meal service. This wasn't a hotel.
"So, is she your girl?" asked Hardy as he locked the cell door.
"What?" Andrew was startled by the question. "Uh, no. Colleen and I… we're just friends."
"Friends, huh?" Hardy looked skeptical but didn't push it.
Left alone once again, Andrew picked up the journal and began to read.
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