Just like to point out that I know very little about the US justice system (except what I see in Law and Order) and even less about justice in the 19th century, so I've based this trial on Dorothy's trial for murdering her husband. Any inconsistencies or quirks are of my own making and I apologise in advance!
All the usual disclaimers!
Martha Lawrence was clearly in a state. When Emma Jane went inside the Lawrence home, Martha was sitting in a chair, her face red and tear-stained and when she saw Emma Jane, she leapt to her feet like a woman possessed and ran towards her.
"I can't do this, Emma Jane," she said, "I can't, I just can't."
Emma Jane looked pointedly at Alan who was standing behind her, nervously twisting his hat in his hands. He nodded briefly and turned to leave. As the door closed behind him, Emma Jane turned to Martha, "Martha, stop this."
"I can't," the other woman replied, "I can't let an innocent man hang, whether he's an Indian or not, I just can't." She wrung her hands, "It's wrong, it's a sin!"
Emma Jane sighed, "Martha, listen to me," she took the other woman's hands in hers, "I understand how you feel, honestly I do, but this is for the best. The trial's set to start tomorrow, it'll all be over soon."
"But…but this is wrong!" Martha sobbed, "I can't live with myself if I do this, and I don't know how you can either!"
Emma Jane closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath, trying to maintain the strength she had built up over the last few days, "Believe me, Martha. It doesn't sit easy with me either. I don't take any pleasure from any of this, but I do believe this is the right thing to do."
"For you maybe," Martha pulled away from her, "You're just trying to protect yourself! You don't care about me or that poor Indian!"
"That's not true, of course I care!"
"No, you don't! Martha rounded on her, "All you care about is keeping your perfect image, keeping everyone in this town thinking how wonderful and…and moral you are!"
"How dare you…!"
"That's the real reason you don't want to tell Hank, isn't it? Wouldn't want him to think he was married to a woman who'd lain with another man!"
"Listen, I told you before. There might not even be a hanging," Emma Jane pressed, "if they can't find enough evidence against Grey Owl, and we both know there isn't any, then they can't hang him, it's as simple as that."
"Except you're expecting me to stand up and say that it was him."
"You…you could just say it was an Indian, but that you don't know which one," Emma Jane suggested, "You don't have to say it was definitely him."
Martha stared at her, "I don't know how you can be so calm. I don't know how you can be so cold." Emma Jane looked down at the floor, "Well you may be able to keep up the pretence, but I can't. When I'm asked, I'm going to tell the truth, and I'm going to say you knew!"
Emma Jane stepped forward, "Go ahead and do it," she said, "no-one in town will believe you."
"Why not?"
"You're hysterical! You've been hysterical ever since it happened," Emma Jane said spitefully, "Everyone knows that. If you say anything, people will just say it's the trauma talking. And if I deny it, who are people going to believe?"
Martha stepped back, stunned, "You…you…"
Emma Jane picked up her hat, "Just stick to what we agreed," she said, "trust me, Martha. Everything is going to work out fine." She pulled open the door to the house and darted outside, climbing quickly onto her horse and turning her back towards the town. As she rode, tears coursed down her cheeks. She didn't know when she had turned so hard, using a woman's grief against her, but somewhere along the line, the whole experience had changed her, perhaps forever.
SSSSS
The morning of the trial dawned bright and fair. The town was up and about early, so eager was everyone at the prospect of what was about to take place. The trial of a man, an Indian no less, for the rape of one of their kin. It was a moment that every man wanted to see.
Emma Jane had discovered, to her horror, that because the townsfolk had reacted so badly to the prospect of an Indian in their church, Hank had agreed to the trial being held in the saloon, meaning there was no escape for her. The circuit judge, Judge Melman, had arrived the night before, an old man in his sixties, with a bushy grey beard and a sharp tongue. The kind of judge the town were glad to welcome. He seemed to have no love for Indians, and they knew he would pass the ultimate sentence on Grey Owl.
Rumour had it that Sully was going to speak on Grey Owl's behalf, something which had aroused great ridicule amongst the townsfolk. "After all," Loren had said, "he's one himself."
Emma Jane pulled on one of her best outfits, a dress of pale lavender. She wanted to look respectable on this day of all days, if only to distance herself somewhat from what was actually taking place. Hank had stocked up on extra whiskey for the crowds that the trial was bound to draw and had told her, in no uncertain terms, to be on her best behaviour. As she made her way downstairs to the bar, she could see the crowds starting to come in. Most of them touched their hats to her, but she felt no pride in being so greeted. Instead, she felt like a traitor and as she watched Sully walk in with Grey Owl just before ten, she felt as though her heart was in her mouth.
The room went silent as they came in, Grey Owl dressed in his Cheyenne garb, his face painted, feathers in his hair, the whole getup. His eyes darted around the room, sensing the hostility coming from the men within. Emma Jane saw he couldn't have been much older than herself. A place had been cleared in the centre of the room where Judge Melman was to sit with Grey Owl and Sully facing him. The judge himself, at that moment, was stood in the kitchen taking a shot of whiskey. When he was ready, he came out into the saloon and took his seat.
"Do we have a jury?" he asked gruffly, scanning the room.
"Sure we do," Jake said, gesturing to a number of men, "All ready and willin'."
"Your Honour," Sully stood up.
The judge looked at him over his glasses, "You are?"
"Byron Sully, I speak for Grey Owl."
"I see," Judge Melman said, "do you have something to say?"
"This jury ain't going to be fair to Grey Owl," Sully said, "these men all live in this town and they all hate the Cheyenne."
"So, what would you suggest?" Judge Melman asked.
"That there be Indians on the jury too."
This caused an uproar as every man in the saloon protested.
"Can't hate no Injuns on the jury," Hank said, "Ain't right. This is our town."
"And Grey Owl's not gonna get a fair shot here!" Sully protested.
"Ya got Horace and the Reverend," Jake pointed out.
"And we also got you and Hank," Sully replied.
"S'ides," Hank added, "Ain't havin' any more Injuns in here than's necessary." He looked at Grey Owl.
"I have to agree," Judge Melman said, "the jury we have here is adequate." Sully sat down, defeated, "let's begin." He looked down at his papers, "Doctor…Michaela Quinn?" There was a slight murmur as Michaela stepped forward, "Raise your right hand," the judge ordered, "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God?"
"I do," Michaela replied, before taking her seat.
"Now, Doctor Quinn," the judge began, "You were present at the Indian reservation on the day of the attack, were you not?"
"I was."
"Why were you there?"
"Cloud Dancing had said there were some of his people were sick. He asked if I could go and help."
Judge Melman looked at her, "You often take time out of caring for your town to go and take care of sick Indians?"
"I'll help anyone who needs help," Michaela replied defiantly.
"I see. And what did you observe at the reservation?"
"That a number of the Indians were displaying flu-like symptoms."
"And what did you do?"
"I gave the appropriate medicine and took care of them as best I could."
"Did you see the accused at all that day?"
Michaela looked over at Grey Owl and Sully, "No, no I didn't."
"You didn't see him at all?" the judge asked.
"No, I didn't."
"Did you examine Mrs Lawrence, the victim?"
"Yes I did. She had bruises and inflammation," Michaela glanced briefly at Emma Jane, "I ascertained from that, and from what she told me, that she had been raped."
"Did she actually say she had been raped?"
"Yes she did."
"Did she indicate by whom?" the judge looked at her.
Michaela paused, "No, but her husband said it was the Indians." A murmur went around, "but that doesn't mean…"
"Thank you Doctor Quinn," Judge Melman interrupted and took a note, "Mr Sully?"
"Doctor Quinn," Sully began, "Do you believe Grey Owl capable of something like this?"
"That's speculation, Mr Sully," the judge interrupted, "I can't allow that question."
Sully paused, "Doctor, just because you didn't happen to see Grey Owl that day, doesn't mean that he wasn't there, does it?"
"No, no it doesn't."
"Thank you," Sully sat down.
The judge turned back to Michaela, "Doctor, one last question. Do you have any evidence to suggest that this man is not responsible?"
Emma Jane looked up and caught Michaela's gaze, knowing what the doctor wanted to say and yet couldn't.
"Just because Mrs Lawrence said it was the Indians doesn't mean that it was this Indian," Michaela began.
"Doctor Quinn, please answer the question," the judge looked at her over his glasses.
"No," she said finally, "I have no evidence."
"Thank you Doctor, you may step down."
Emma Jane watched as Michaela moved away from the stand and left the saloon. She turned her back on the bar and took a quick drink of whiskey, desperate to calm the nerves that were causing her to shake. When she turned back around, Alan Lawrence was taking the stand. He spoke of how he had found his wife on the floor, bleeding and crying and how she had told him that she had been attacked. When he had asked her if it was the Indians, she hadn't denied it.
"That's not the same as sayin' it was them though, is it?" Sully queried.
Alan looked at him hard, "If you'd bin there, you'd know that it was. It was him," he pointed at Grey Owl, "he raped my Martha and now he's goin' to get his punishment." A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.
"I think we'll take a short break," the judge said, "we're resume at two o'clock." He banged his gavel and then left his seat, leaving the spectators free to talk and speculate.
"No way is he innocent," Jake said, coming up to the bar for a drink, "He did it, don't ya think?" he gestured to Emma Jane.
"I don't know, Jake," she replied.
"You don't know?" he queried, "you bin listenin' to the same thing as me, ain't you?"
"Yes, but it's hardly conclusive evidence, is it? There's nothing to suggest it was really him." She poured him a drink.
"If it wasn't him, then who was it?" he asked her.
She had no answer. Instead, she excused herself and hurried upstairs to see to Victoria. As she watched her daughter playing happily with some building bricks, she let her mind wander back, back to before this had all happened. Back to when she had been happy, content, had nothing much to worry about except her family being safe and well. She was so lost in thought that she didn't hear Hank come up behind her until he had put his hand on her arm. She screamed and whirled around, ready to attack whoever it was.
He grabbed her arm, "Hey," he said.
"Sorry," she replied.
"Bit jumpy ain't ya?" he said.
"I'm just a little pre-occupied, that's all," she replied, "what with everything going on downstairs."
"Be over soon," he grinned, "soon have him swingin' from a rope."
"Hank," she grabbed his arm as he turned to leave, "You don't really think he did it, do you? I mean, there's no evidence against him except for the fact that no-one saw him on the reservation."
"So?"
"So, that's hardly enough to hang a man for, is it?"
"Who cares whether he did it or not?" Hank said, "One less Injun around ain't gonna bother me. S'ides, Martha's up next. Reckon she's gonna say it was him." He turned and walked out of the room and Emma Jane had no choice but to follow him back downstairs as the trial got under way once again.
Judge Melman came back in, "Mrs Martha Lawrence."
The crowds in the saloon parted as Martha made her way inside. She paused and looked at Emma Jane, but the latter merely nodded encouragingly and Martha walked over t the stand.
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God?" he asked her.
Martha paused for what seemed to Emma Jane like forever, "I do."
"Sit down," the judge ordered, "Mrs Lawrence, could you tell us in your own time what happened to you on the day in question?"
Martha swallowed hard, "I was in the yard hanging out my laundry. It was a nice day, hot, and I thought the clothes would dry quickly. Alan was in town doing some business, I don't know what." She sighed, "Anyways, I was just minding my own business when…when someone grabbed me from behind."
"Then what happened?" the judge asked.
The room was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop, "He…he dragged me to the barn and…" a blush rose on her cheeks, "he took advantage of me."
"Do you remember anything about the attack?"
Martha shook her head, "Only that it seemed to go on forever. I thought he was never going to stop. I tried to scream, but he was too strong. I couldn't stop him…" she started to cry.
"It's all right Mrs Lawrence, take your time," the judge said, "what happened after that?"
"After he'd…finished…he got up and ran off. I just lay there…didn't know what to do, what to think…Alan came home and found me there," she looked at her husband, "Lord only knows what he thought."
"Mrs Lawrence," Judge Melman said, "is the man who attacked you, in this room today?"
There was a deathly silence as Martha looked first at the judge and then over at Grey Owl, who was watching her. Her gaze shifted over to Emma Jane, who was holding her breath so tightly, she was sure she would collapse and die at any moment.
"Yes," Martha said finally, "yes I think he is."
"Can you point him out?"
"I think it was that man there," Martha pointed at Grey Owl with a shaky finger.
Emma Jane let her breath out slowly, relieved that Martha had done as they had agreed.
"Thank you Mrs Lawrence," the judge said, "Mr Sully?"
Sully stood up, "Are you absolutely positive it was this Indian?" he asked.
Martha nodded, "I think so."
"You think so? How sure are you? Don't all Indians look alike?"
Martha glanced quickly at Emma Jane and then back again, "I…I mean I suppose…"
"So, it might have been any other Indian. You're just saying you 'think' it was Grey Owl."
"It could have been him," Martha said.
"But you ain't sure."
"No, no I suppose I'm not." A murmur of disapproval went around, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Sully said, "Long as you're tellin' the truth."
"That's enough Mr Sully," the judge said, "thank you Mrs Lawrence. You may step down." Martha scuttled away from the stand, "Mr Sully are you planning on calling any witnesses?"
"Just Grey Owl, Your Honour."
"Yer gonna let him talk?" Hank asked, "Can he even speak English?"
"Yes he can, Hank," Sully shot back, "and he has a right to speak in his own defence."
"Fine," the judge said, "Calling Grey Owl to the stand."
Grey Owl stood and walked forward. He took the oath and replied in the affirmative before sitting down in the chair, his back ramrod straight.
"Do you live at the Indian reservation?"
"Yes," Grey Owl replied.
"Were you there on Monday?" the judge looked at him.
"I was not."
"Where were you?"
"I was out, hunting for food," Grey Owl replied, "I did not go near the woman's home."
"Were you with anyone?" the judge asked.
"I was alone."
"Do you know where the Lawrence ranch is?"
"I do not. I have never been there. I did not hurt the woman."
"Mrs Lawrence testified that she thought it was you who had attacked her," Judge Melman said, looking over his glasses.
"She is mistaken."
"You callin' my wife a liar?" Alan Lawrence demanded.
"Sit down, Mr Lawrence," the judge ordered, "Grey Owl, can anyone verify your whereabouts at the time Mrs Lawrence was attacked?"
"No, but I did not hurt her."
"Thank you," Judge Melman looked at Sully, "Mr Sully?"
Sully got to his feet, "What do the Cheyenne believe in?"
"We believe in peace and living in harmony with our fellow men."
"Have any Indians, that you know of, ever attacked a white person?"
"Of course. There are many in our number who fear and hate the white man, who will destroy his property. But they are Dog Soldiers. We are not all Dog Soldiers. I have never wished harm on another and I did not hurt the woman."
"Thank you Grey Owl," Sully said, sitting back down again.
"The jury can now retire," the judge said, "Grey Owl can be removed back to the cells."
"Ain't gonna take us that long," Hank said,
Judge Melman retired back to the kitchen and there was a scuffle as the men selected to be on the jury huddled in one corner of the saloon. Those who hadn't been selected swarmed towards the bar and for a few moments, Emma Jane's attention was taken up in serving the thirsty patrons. Despite what her husband had said, she was surprised when, a few moments later, Jake clapped his hands.
"We got a verdict," he announced.
The room fell silent as Judge Melman came back in and sat down. "Will the accused please stand up." Sully and Grey Owl got to their feet, "Have the jury reached a verdict?" he asked.
"We have," Jake replied.
"What is your verdict?"
Jake turned to look at Grey Owl and Emma Jane could tell by the self-satisfied look on his face exactly what it was going to be, "Guilty."
She felt her heart sink, unable to believe that this was justice and yet knowing that really, any other verdict had never been in the running.
"Very well," the judge said, "Grey Owl, you have been found guilty of the rape of Mrs Martha Lawrence. I therefore sentence you to be taken from here to a place of execution and be hung by the neck until you be dead, dead, dead."
There was a cheer from the men in the saloon.
"Got the gallows ready," Jake said, "Let's be havin' him."
The crowd surged forward and a number of people grabbed hold of Grey Owl, hauling him towards the door of the saloon, Alan Lawrence the leader. Sully darted out after them, followed by most of the other patrons, bar those who really didn't have the stomach to watch a man choke to death. Emma Jane, torn, thumped down the bottle of whiskey she was holding and rushed outside after them, in time to see Grey Owl being frogmarched down the street to where the gallows had been constructed.
Reverend Johnston pushed through the crowd and ran up the stairs of the gallows, holding his Bible, preparing to read a few words before the execution.
"Save yer breath Rev," Hank said, "Ain't gonna need it where he's goin'."
The Reverend ignored him and began to read, "Lord, forgive us for our sins…"
Jake and Alan pulled Grey Owl up the steps to the rope and tied the noose around his neck. Emma Jane stood on the porch of the saloon, her insides churning. Half of her wanted to say something, but the other half knew there would be little her one voice could do. The town had made up its mind, it had decided on the evidence, however flawed it had been and however preconceived their minds had been. She watched as Grey Owl allowed the noose to be placed around his neck, wondering why he wasn't fighting, screaming that he was innocent.
"Would you like to do the honours?" Jake said to Alan.
Alan grinned, "That I would." He moved forward to the lever and was about to throw it, when a voice screamed from the back of the crowd.
"Stop!"
Everyone turned in time to see Martha Lawrence hurtle forward, Michaela close behind her, "Stop, stop this now!"
"Martha?" Alan queried, "What the hell are you doin'?"
"You can't do this! You can't kill this man! He's innocent!" Shockwaves rippled through the crowd, "I was wrong! It wasn't him! He didn't attack me!"
"Rubbish!" Jake yelled, "We know it was him!"
"It wasn't, I tell you, it wasn't him!" Martha shouted back, "He didn't hurt me!"
"Martha, you're upset," Alan said, "But this is the way the law works around here. You get found guilty, you hang!" There was a cheer of agreement.
"No!" Martha said, "I won't let you do this! This man did not attack me! It was a white man."
"White man?" Hank asked, "Since when?"
"Since always! I was raped by a white man!" She whirled around, "and she knows it!" Martha pointed a shaky finger at Emma Jane, who was standing frozen.
Everyone turned to look at Emma Jane.
"What ya talkin' about?" Loren demanded.
"Emma Jane came to see me. I told her the truth about what happened," Martha held Emma Jane's gaze, her eyes defiant, "I told her it was a white man!"
Hank looked at his wife, "Emma Jane?"
"I…I don't know what she's talking about!" Emma Jane replied, "I spoke to her, yes, but…"
"You know the truth!" Martha yelled, "You know the truth because…" she paused, as if trying to work up the courage to say it, "You know because he raped you too!"
"That's a lie! She's upset about what happened to her, anyone would be! It's just the shock talking," Emma Jane stepped forward quickly as everyone looked at her again, "I…"
"It's not a lie!" Michaela spoke up, "It's the truth." Jake and Alan exchanged looks. Hank looked as though he'd been hit by a stagecoach. "Emma Jane told me that it was a white man…and that she was attacked too." Michaela knew she was violating confidentiality, but there was more at stake at this moment than pride.
Hank pushed through the crowd and stood in front of his wife, "This true?"
Emma Jane looked at him, her eyes wide and frightened, tears hovering beneath thelids. Behind him, she could see the other townsfolk looking at her, exchanging whispers, staring at her as if she weresome kind of heathen."Hank…"
"I said is it true!" he yelled at her. She nodded fearfully andhe set his jaw grimly, "Git in the saloon."
She didn't move.
"I said, git in!" He grabbed her arm and hauled her back inside, leaving the town, Sully and Grey Owl, stunned.
