A/N: Up next is Mark of Guilt. I've known what I wanted to do with this episode for a long time now, so be forewarned, I did adjust the original. I didn't mess with Hoss' part, though, he didn't often get a chance to show how smart he really was and this episode was a prime example so he is still one of the heroes. Please read and review.
I don't own Bonanza, etc. etc. Entertainment only, of course.
Fixed line breaks 2-20-21
"Hoss!" Annie swatted at him with a dish towel. "Get out of the way if you want supper!" Hoss scooted out of range with a mournful frown.
"Dadburnit, don't go making a mess or Hop Sing will know you've been in his kitchen."
"There won't be a mess if you get out of here. Besides, he's going to know one of us was in here while he was gone, someone had to cook."
"I just don't plan to tell him it was you. We'd shrivel up and blow away before he got through inspecting his supplies."
A snort brought both their heads around. Candy stood in the kitchen door, a grin splitting his face as he shook his head. "You do realize he'll be back any time now?"
"Hoss can't wait," Annie muttered and turned back to the pot of stew on the stove. It looked all right, but the taste wasn't quite the same as Hop Sing's. What had she forgotten to add?
"Annie, it don't have to be perfect, I'm too hungry to care right now." Hoss grabbed a plate and held it out. "Just throw me some on there." She sighed dramatically and ladled up a full plate. Hoss smiled and grabbed a fork. "Thanks, sis." He scurried out of the kitchen and plopped himself at the table. Annie glanced at Candy out of the corner of her eye.
"I suppose you're hungry, too?"
"Well, now that you mention it …" She flung the dish towel at him and he laughed. "I'm kidding, I can wait."
"Oh, so you're saying my cooking isn't any good?" The smile slipped off his face and Hoss burst out laughing.
"Candy, there's only one good way you can answer that one."
"Don't I know it." He grabbed a plate and held it out. "Please?"
After supper, they lounged around the fire, sipping coffee. Annie glanced up at the clock and frowned. He should have been home by now, even if the stage had been late. Hoss followed her gaze.
"He might have stayed the night in town. You know he don't ride too well, I can't see him starting out if he'd be getting home in the dark. We'll go into town come morning and pick him up." Her older brother drained the last of his coffee and took the cup to the kitchen. "Night." He headed for the stairs.
"Night," she called after him, Candy echoing the sentiment. She stood. "Might as well turn in, six o clock comes early." Candy stood and reached for her cup.
"I'll take these. Night, sweetheart." He grinned and made his way to the kitchen.
"Thanks." She headed for the stairs herself, a twinge of unease surfacing. If he'd stayed the night in town, why hadn't Hop Sing sent a message so they wouldn't worry?
They rode up to the stage office the next morning and Mr. Burns smiled. "Come in to meet your Pa and Joe?" Hoss drew the team to a halt.
"No, they won't be back for another month yet. We came to see about Hop Sing, he was supposed to be on yesterday's stage from Sacramento and he ain't showed up." Burns frowned.
"He came in on the ten o clock stage." Annie bit her lip and traded glances with Hoss and Candy. Her brother frowned.
"You sure about that?"
"I stood right here and talked to him. He was going down to the livery stable to get a horse and ride out to your place."
"Let's get down to the stable."
"Yeah." Candy reined Scout around and Hoss clucked to the team. They made their way down the street and stopped at the stable. Annie dismounted and followed Hoss inside.
"Hey, Tom." Mr. Jackson looked up.
"Hi, Hoss. Annie. Candy. What can I do for you?"
"We're looking for Hop Sing."
"Didn't he get to the Ponderosa?" Hoss' frown deepened.
"He was here, then?"
"Yeah, and he left at a dead gallop." Jackson leaned on the stall wall. "I figured he'd head for home like a scalded cat. I've been waiting to see what you Cartwrights were gonna do." They traded confused looks. Candy cleared his throat.
"What do you mean, Tom?" Jackson sighed and left the stall, walking past them only to turn around and park his hands on his hips.
"Emile Younger cut off Hop Sing's pigtail." Annie's mouth fell open. Candy took a step back. Hoss cocked his head and stepped forward.
"He did what?"
"He cut off Hop Sing's pigtail." Jackson looked down a second. "I tried to stop him, but Younger and Davis, his partner, were together. So, I got slapped sideways is what it amounted to. And Emile just went ahead."
"He did ride out, though?" Annie managed to ask through the lump in her throat. Oh, Hop Sing …
"Yeah, they put Hop Sing on a horse, booted the horse, and out he went. I figured he'd headed for home."
"He never showed up," Candy said quietly. Hoss shook his head.
"You know what that's got to do to him." Annie pulled her braid over her shoulder and fiddled with the end.
"Yeah. Right now, he doesn't know where he's at. Thanks, Tom." She turned to leave.
"I'll let you know if I hear anything."
"Sure," Hoss said, his footsteps crunching on straw. Annie propped her boot on the wagon wheel and stared at the dirt as her brother and Candy approached.
"Do you realize what that meant to him?"
"Yeah." Hoss sighed. "I reckon we ought to split up and go looking for him. Annie, why don't you take the lake road and I'll take the Beaver Meadow trail. Candy, you stay on the main road and see if you can find any place he pulled off. Three hours and we'll meet at the old relay station."
"Good enough." They split up and Annie rode out at a lope. He had to be somewhere, but where? Where did a man go when his life had been upended like that?
Minutes became an hour, then longer. She rode deeper into the forested hills. A flash of red-brown caught her eye and she turned Reno. A faint sound reached her ears; the closer she got, the louder it became until the muffled sobs were clear as a bell. She halted the grulla and dismounted, leaving him ground-tied as she crept up to Hop Sing where he sat against the base of a tree.
"Hop Sing?"
"Go away, Missy Annie, please." Her heart broke and she crouched beside him, her hand on his back.
"Come on, now, nothing's that bad."
"It's bad," he sobbed. "It's very bad."
"I know it's important, Hop Sing, but that's the good thing about hair, it grows back."
"It take long … long time."
"But you'll live a long, long time. By the time you get to the Pearly Gates, you'll have plenty of hair."
"Hair belong to me and Mr. Younger, he take. He not give back." She swallowed hard and looked away a moment. "Without hair … ancestors very unhappy with Hop Sing. Hop Sing cannot face elders. Lose face. Hop Sing very shamed." He continued to sob and Annie gnawed her lip and sat back on her heels.
If Joe was here, he'd go storming over to Younger's and it would turn into a fight. If any of them went, that's what would happen. But if she went … he couldn't lay a hand on her without earning the ridicule and scorn of the entire town. She might even be able to ride up and back out without him saying a word; being a woman did have some lovely advantages when it came to what a man could say or do in return, no matter what she did. Unless he wanted to lose most or all of his business, he'd have to let her take it back without complaint.
"Hop Sing, I'll make you a deal. You go on to the old relay station at Twin Forks and wait for Hoss and Candy. I'll go over to Younger's and get it back for you." Hop Sing whipped around, red eyes widening.
"Missy Annie, he worst bully in town! You no can go out there alone!"
"He can't lay a hand on me." Well, he could, but only if he was clear stupid. "I'd probably have to shoot him before Virginia City would condone anything in retaliation."
"But –"
"I'll be fine, I'm not Joe, remember?" Hop Sing choked on a laugh and wiped his face.
"Very well. I go to relay station. Maybe I should send –"
"No. If either of them show up, it'll turn into a fight. I'll be fine, I promise. Pa raised me to handle anything if I had to."
"All right." He stood and picked up his coat, then made his way back to his rented horse. Annie watched him ride out then climbed into her saddle and turned Reno's nose towards Younger's place and booted him into a gallop.
It didn't take long to reach Younger's. She slowed Reno and hopped down at the porch, looping the reins over the railing. She stalked up the porch stairs, the smell of fresh paint almost overpowering, and walked through the open door.
Younger was bent over, painting a side table. He looked up when she came in. "You come looking for a good horse? I got horses that'll make your Ponderosa stock look like crowbait." She bit back a snort. Only in his dreams. She said nothing and sauntered inside until only the table separated them. Deliberately, she glanced over at Hop Sing's pigtail hung over a painting, then let her gaze slide slowly back to Younger. He had the nerve to smirk. "You like my souvenir?"
"That's not yours," she said evenly.
"You don't say."
"Yeah. I do say." She looked him up and down. "And I'm going to take it back." She ambled over and picked it up, then tucked it carefully into her jacket pocket. "Consider this the end of any business dealings you have with the Ponderosa." She turned to go, and his hand shot out, latching onto her arm tight enough to hurt. Slowly, she turned to look at him. "Let go." He laughed.
"We haven't discussed how you're going to pay me for that little trinket."
"You stole this."
"I've got it, and you want it." His grip tightened and her heart skipped a beat.
"How about I report you to Sheriff Coffee?"
"Over a pigtail, girl?" He barked out a laugh. "What can he do about it? Now, how about you give me a little kiss and we'll call it even?"
"I'd rather eat dirt." His eyes flared.
"Now, that ain't very friendly. I said I wanted a kiss and I aim to get it." He spun her around and she raised her boot, kicking him in the groin. He doubled over with a groan and she yanked free. She made it halfway to the door before he was on her again. Her heart leaped into her throat, threatening to choke her.
Younger threw her back into the house and she crashed into the table, one hand going out to steady herself, but it wasn't enough. She hit the ground, bringing the table down with her, and rolled, clawing at her gun.
She cleared leather, but Younger was too close. He grabbed for her and she swung in a blind panic, her pistol crashing into the side of his head. He collapsed like a sack of potatoes and she backed away, breathing hard, her heart pounding a mile a minute.
She'd badly miscalculated this one; if Joe found out, he'd never let her live it down.
She looked down at her gun, and only then noticed the paint on her hand. At least it hadn't gotten on her pistol. She holstered the weapon and looked around for a rag. Younger groaned and she debated kicking him for good measure.
"Like to see you try that again," she muttered, then picked up her hat, tossed the rag at his head, and stalked out.
It was a short ride to the old relay station. Hoss frowned when she pulled up next to the wagon. "Hop Sing told us what you were up to. If you hadn't come along when you did, we was gonna come after you."
"Just what I didn't need, big brother." She reached into her jacket and pulled out Hop Sing's pigtail, her heart soaring when his face lit up.
"Oh! Missy Annie very good to Hop Sing."
"Forget it."
"Hop Sing no forget, maybe even let you in kitchen after this." Candy snorted and Hoss muffled a laugh.
"Thanks. I think." She touched his shoulder. "Go on and get in the wagon." He moved off and Candy frowned.
"What's on your hand?"
"Paint. He was painting a table and I fell against it."
"Fell, sis?"
"We had a little discussion before I left, nothing important." Hoss didn't look like he believed that was all it was, but he let it stand. For now.
"Let's get out of here." He clucked to the team and they headed out. A few miles down the road, someone hollered, yelling like they had Indians on their back trail.
"Cartwright! Wait!" Hoss stopped the team and they waited for the man to catch up. He rode closer and she recognized Davis.
"What do you want, Davis?" Hoss asked with a sigh. He skidded the animal to a halt next to the wagon.
"Somebody went and killed Emile." Her stomach dropped to her boots and her heart began to pound. Hoss said something, but she didn't hear it over the blood roaring in her ears. "Hit him in the head with a two-by-four. He's lying on the floor at our place now, dead." She felt Hoss' eyes land on her, but she couldn't even raise the spit to swallow. Davis' gaze raked over all of them, dropping to her hand. "The two-by-four was fresh painted." Hop Sing and Candy turned to stare. "Look, I don't want no trouble. I'll just go get the Sheriff, that's all." He booted his horse and took off.
"Anne … did you hit Younger with a two-by-four?" Hoss leveled her with a stare so hard it hurt.
"You think I killed him?"
"That ain't what I asked you."
"I hit him with my gun, I don't even remember seeing a two-by-four."
"Why?"
"He demanded a kiss and it turned into a fight, I used what I had to get him off me." She dropped her gaze to her saddle, the white paint on her skin dread-inducing. She clenched her hand and looked up. "Hoss … I didn't kill him."
"I believe you," Candy put his hand on her shoulder. "Hoss, you can't really think –"
"I know." Her brother took off his hat and scratched his head. "Candy, take Hop Sing back to the house, me and Annie are going back to Younger's."
"I'm coming, too." Hoss frowned at their foreman and her stomach tightened until she was afraid she'd be sick right there. This couldn't be happening, she wasn't the one who got into these messes …
"Suit yourself," he said at last. "Hop Sing, don't wait supper, we might be a while." Their cook nodded and climbed down from the wagon and collected his rented horse, then rode off towards the Ponderosa. "Let's go, you two." He turned the wagon around and they started back towards Younger's, dread pooling in her stomach with every stride Reno took.
They stopped in the yard and everything looked normal. Annie dismounted and hurried up the steps and through the open door, halting just inside when she caught sight of Younger in the floor, exactly where she'd left him.
The whole way, she'd hoped it was a mistake, but there he was. Her breath caught in her throat and she sagged against the door. Hoss and Candy pushed through the door and looked from her to the body. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and looked down at her boots.
Hoss ambled over and crouched beside Younger a moment, then straightened. "Well … he's dead, all right." Candy's hand touched her back and she found her voice.
"He was lying there when I left, but he was knocked out, that's all, I swear." Her brother's mouth thinned and he turned his attention to the board resting on a table.
"White paint in his hair, and hair all over this two-by-four, and hand prints all over this, this has got to be what killed him." Annie surged forward.
"I never touched that, I don't even remember seeing it! I got the paint on my hand from this table." She whipped around, seeking the table, and froze. How … her heart skipped a beat in a burst of panic. "This wasn't like this. It was lying on the floor and somebody's painted over it again." Her voice shook and she bit her tongue. Hoss said nothing. "There was a hand print on this table!" Her brother came over and stared down at the table.
"Well, unfortunately, little sister … it ain't there no more." Their eyes met and she swallowed hard. Oh, God, she was going to be sick … she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and staggered out the door into the cooler air. She sat down hard on the steps and fought to breathe.
Hands squeezed her shoulders and she leaned forward, her breath coming in gasps. "Hey, deep breaths, come on, sweetheart, come on, stay with me."
"We better wait for Roy, it'll look better for you if he doesn't have to chase you down." Annie raised her head.
"But I didn't kill him!"
"It ain't us you gotta convince anymore." He thumped down the stairs and headed for the well in the yard. "I'll get you some water." Candy rubbed her back and she buried her head in her hands. How could this be happening?
"We'll figure something out, I know you didn't kill him."
"It's not you I have to convince," she mumbled through her fingers, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. Hoss came back with a cup of water and she took it blindly and drank.
Hooves thundered into the yard, but she didn't look up. "There's Roy."
"What are you doing here? I figured you'd be running."
"Annie …" Roy's grandfatherly voice made her flinch. "Is it like Davis here told me? Is Younger dead?" She bit her lip and raised her head.
"Yeah, he's dead." The sheriff frowned and swung off his horse, then stalked past her into the house, Davis on his heels. Candy nudged her arm, but she couldn't bring herself to stand.
"There's Emile, like I told you. There's the two-by-four. See the hand marks on it, the white paint on Emile's hair?" Silence followed, then Roy's soft response clutched her heart in a vise.
"Yeah." Boots rang on the floor, then he was right behind her. "You was here, missy?"
"I was here." She drew in a shaky breath. "Younger cut off Hop Sing's pigtail and I came out here to get it. I figured I was the only one who could without it turning into a fight, but I was wrong. He demanded a kiss, I told him no, and …"
"So you hit him with the two-by-four?"
"I didn't touch it." Roy nodded slowly, then reached for her hand.
"What about this white paint?"
"He threw me against the table, the paint was wet."
"That's a lie!" Davis exploded. He stormed into the house, came back with the table, and set it in front of Roy. "Sheriff, there ain't no mark –"
"There was before!" She shot off the stairs and whipped around to face him. Davis stared at her like she'd gone crazy. Roy's mouth thinned.
"Anne, I'm gonna ask you straight out. Did you kill Emile Younger?"
"No."
"You were here. You had a reason to have a fight with him."
"Come on, Roy! Why would she pick a fight with Younger? He's twice her size!" Candy stepped to her side. Roy went on like no one had interrupted.
"You admit you had a fight. That two-by-four in there undoubtedly killed him." His eyes were grim. "There's a hand mark on the two-by-four and you have white paint on your hand." Roy sighed heavily. "I don't have any choice but to take you into jail."
For one irrational moment, she considered running. She might make it to Reno before Roy could draw … he wouldn't really try and stop her … Hoss and Candy sure wouldn't … but Davis would. But if she could get in the saddle … the only horse in the state that stood a chance at catching her was back in the Ponderosa's barn.
"Annie."
"Annie?"
"Come on now, missy, don't make it harder than it needs to be." He reached for her and she stepped back, bumping into Candy. Roy frowned. She turned, her throat so tight she could barely breathe, not sure exactly what she thought he could do even if she could ask, but needing … something.
Those bright blue eyes were dull, his face lined. She clutched at his sleeve and tried to speak, but nothing came out. Dear God, she couldn't do this, how did it happen anyway? She wasn't the one who got into this kind of trouble!
Behind Candy, Hoss stepped forward. Not breaking eye contact, their foreman held out a hand and he froze.
Please … I can't. She pressed her lips together to stop the quivering. Slowly, so slowly that if she'd blinked at the wrong time she would have missed it, he nodded once. Candy lowered his hand and took the pistol from her holster, and something flickered in Hoss' eyes that she tried not to dwell on. Relief flooded her veins as he handed it to Roy. The sheriff cleared his throat.
"Hoss, if you and Davis could put the body in the wagon, I'd appreciate it."
"Candy, you go with her, I'll be right on into town, get the lawyer, and telegraph Pa." Hoss squeezed her shoulder and headed inside. Davis tossed her a dirty look and turned away.
"Annie, let's go." Roy settled the table in the wagon and made his way to his horse. She followed on numb legs, Candy's hand at her back. She climbed stiffly into the saddle and looked around, gaze fixing on the open country. It took everything she had to turn Reno and follow Roy back to Virginia City in a stunned daze.
It seemed she could feel eyes on her back from the moment they arrived in town. Annie tried to tell herself she was imagining it, they couldn't know she was accused of murder, but she couldn't make herself believe it.
Davis had ridden in to get Roy and she doubted he'd been quiet about it. Even if he hadn't said who, they knew Younger was dead. As soon as they stopped in front of the jail and she got down unarmed, the gossips would swarm like flies to honey.
And then it was right there in front of her. She swallowed hard and pulled Reno up at the empty hitch rail. She could feel the stares, the weight of hundreds of eyes boring into her back. Roy dismounted and so did Candy, but she couldn't make her legs work.
How many times had one of them been locked up in there, accused of something they hadn't done? They'd always been able to prove it, but this time she was scared to death they couldn't.
Then, Candy was beside her and she choked on a breath. Roy waited just behind him, hand lingering on the butt of his pistol, hers tucked just to the left of it in his waistband. She looked around, hoping Hoss would come riding in with Davis tied up, announcing he'd proven the man a liar, but there was nothing but dust and weighted stares.
Mrs. Smith stepped out of the general store and her nose tipped up. Annie forced her spine to straighten and swung down from Reno's saddle, her head high. No one would ever call her a coward. She refused the hand Candy offered and walked into the sheriff's office on her own, the heated whispers building into a muted roar as the door closed behind them.
"I'm sorry, Annie, but I have to do my job." Keys jangled and her throat closed. Roy took her arm and guided her back to the cell. Numb, she walked inside and stopped just feet from the door. She flinched when the door slammed and the keys jangled again as he locked her in. Boots rang on the floor and then she was alone.
Almost.
"Annie? Sweetheart, come on, this isn't like you." She whipped around and clutched at the bars that separated them.
"I didn't do it, Candy, please, you have to believe me. I don't do stupid things that get me accused of mur-" Her throat closed and her stomach churned. "How could they really think I … this is what Joe does!"
"He's sure not gonna be happy you've stolen his job."
"This isn't funny!" Her head spun; Candy sobered and tipped up her chin.
"Hey, we know you didn't kill Younger and we'll find a way to prove it. I promise." Her eyes closed and she let her forehead fall against the bars, unable to give voice to her worst fear.
What if they couldn't prove it?
"I'm also the county prosecutor with a job to do." His oily voice turned her stomach. Her knuckles whitened on the coat hook. "Let me help you by accepting a plea of second-degree murder." She turned in shock.
"What?" He held up his hands.
"I don't believe the murder was premeditated, I think it happened in the heat of a fight, a woman defending herself against a much bigger man by whatever means was available."
Four hours of discussion, and this was the best he had?
"Sam, I didn't kill Younger, I swear I didn't. I went out there because I thought I was the only one who could get it back without starting a fight!"
"Look, Sam," Hoss pushed off the wall. "If you're willing to accept that, why not just argue it was self-defense in the first place?"
"Hoss!"
"Now, hear me out, sis. Ain't a woman got the right to defend herself? She hit him with her gun to make him stop trying to take liberties, now why you can't you use that?"
"I didn't kill him," she spit out.
"Hoss, if it were any other woman it might work."
"Why not Annie?" Candy spoke up.
"Because any man on that jury has known her since she was a child. They know she carries a gun and is more than capable of using it. Now, if we go in there claiming she feared for her life, they'll – rightly – question why she didn't simply shoot him."
"Because I didn't kill him, for the love of Heaven!" She clenched her hands, her heart slamming double-time against her ribs.
"A plea of second degree murder would mean a sentence of ten years in prison." Sam walked over to her, head tilted.
"Thanks," she snarled, and stomped away, but he followed.
"A conviction of first degree murder would mean death by hanging." That brought her up short, almost gasping for air.
"No!" She wheeled around, finger pointed at his face. "I'm not going to plead guilty to a murder that somebody else did."
"Do you have in mind who the somebody else might be?"
"What about Davis?" Sam nodded slightly.
"That thought occurred to the sheriff and me. Davis was with Mr. and Mrs. Whitby in the presence of their children when Younger was killed … beyond any shadow of a doubt."
"How can you know that? We don't know exactly when he was killed. How can you say Davis didn't arrive after I left and killed Younger himself, then rode back out?"
"There wasn't time." He turned to Hoss. "I hope you'll get a good attorney."
"We got Ed Geltner."
"You're going to need everything he's got … to keep Annie from the gallows." Ice flooded her veins. Hoss buried his face in his hands and Candy stared down at his boots. "Sheriff." Sam cocked his head at the door and Roy let him out. He caught her eye as he left, but she turned away. Roy sighed and took her arm.
"Come on, missy."
"Roy, I didn't kill him," she whispered. "I didn't." His lips thinned, but he said nothing as he locked her in the cell. She stumbled the few steps to the window and leaned against the wall, staring out at the darkening evening.
"Annie, we'll … we'll be back in the morning." Hoss' boots thumped on the floor, but she didn't turn around. If she did, she was afraid she'd cry. "Come on, Candy." The door closed and then she was alone.
How many times? A dozen? Two dozen? How many frame ups had they spoiled, mistaken identities proven false? How many plots of revenge ruined?
Their pa, he'd come the closest, him and Adam all those years ago. They'd had the nooses around their necks before it was proven a lie. Where was Lassiter these days, was he even still alive?
And then Sam Bryant, that pompous oaf. Adam had called his bluff, not caring he was terrifying the rest of them in the process.
Names and faces drifted across her memory until they blurred together into a gallows with a waiting noose. Annie drew in a ragged breath and clenched her hands around the window bars until her fingers ached.
Someone had to have been watching, walked in after she left Younger's, and bashed him in the head with that board, then repainted the table, stealing her only proof of innocence.
But why? And who? Who hated her enough to frame her for murder? Or had she been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Maybe they hadn't cared who took the blame, as long as it wasn't them. Her heart pounded in her chest until it hurt to breathe. The gallows loomed closer and she imagined she could already feel the rope around her neck.
"You got a visitor." She jumped and whirled around with a gasp, almost losing her balance and scraping her hand on the window sill. Candy stood behind Roy in the lantern's glow, turning his hat over in his hands.
What? She looked back to the window, realized it was pitch black outside. How long had she stood there lost in her own mind?
"This ain't normal, missy, but I'll let it slide," Roy said as he unlocked the door and ushered Candy inside. "God knows you need somebody. The other door stays open though. Call me when you're ready."
"Thanks, Roy." The sheriff left them and Candy tossed his hat on the empty bunk, then walked across the cell. "I know how it is, sitting there the first night. You can't think, then you can't stop thinking." He swallowed hard. "And … you want someone there, but you're alone, because you can't make yourself ask them to stay, even when you know they would."
"Is … is that how you felt at … at Olympus?"
"At more towns than I can count." He sat down on the bunk, avoiding his hat by some minor miracle, and leaned back against the wall. "And all I had to do was say something, and Joe would have sat there all night playing poker."
"Is that what you did in River Bend?" He bit back a grin.
"We compared escape plans, nothing too good." He looked up. "What I'm trying to say is, I've never seen you caught unawares the whole time I've known you, even that first night we met, you had a gun at my back when I thought I'd slipped past everyone in that volunteer detail." He drew in a breath. "And then tonight, you didn't hear me pounding at the door, or Roy fussing at me for waking him up, or even notice the both of us walking right up behind you.
"I know how scared I'd be with the prosecutor telling me my only chance is plead guilty to a lesser charge, and I've been there before." His eyes softened. "But you never have and you're lost, because you can't plan a way out of this."
Her throat closed and she choked, her eyes burning. She swiped at her face with her sleeve and turned away, resting her arms on the window sill, her breath coming in gasps. The bunk creaked, then he was behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. A single tear slipped down her cheek and she swiped at it before he could see.
"I'm not the one he has to worry about," she whispered. "I never have been, it was always Joe, I've never even been in jail before." Her voice broke. "I wanted to run, the only thing that stopped me was the thought of Pa's disappointment when he found out. But, without the hand print on the table … I can't prove I didn't do it and all I can see is the jury believing a lie and … and … I'm … I'm afraid," she finally admitted in a shaky voice, another tear sliding down her cheek.
Candy turned her around in his arms and pulled her against him, his hand rubbing circles on her back. "Me, too," he whispered. "Me, too."
"You're sure he was alive when you left?" Geltner paced the floor in front of the cell.
"I told you I heard him making noise, he moaned, or groaned, but I heard him. He was alive and there wasn't any white paint in his hair. That table in there was in the floor with marks on the top where I fell against it. How it got repainted, I don't know. All I know is I never touched that board and I didn't kill Younger." Annie gripped the bars on the cell until her fingers ached. Behind Geltner, Hoss bowed his head. She didn't even glance at Candy, afraid her breakdown last night would somehow be visible.
At least Roy had studiously ignored the tear stains on her face, and the wet patch on Candy's shirt when he came to let him out a few minutes after dawn.
"Ms. Cartwright, it doesn't look good, but I'm sure the prosecutor has already informed you of that."
"He did," she muttered.
"You saw no one else when you left Younger's place?"
"No."
"And no one else – so far as you know – can corroborate your story that Younger was still alive when you left?"
"He was!"
"All right, all right." Geltner sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I think I've got all I need. Hoss, if you'll come with me for a moment?"
"Sure, Ed. I'll be right back, sis." He threw a questioning look at Candy on his way out, but said nothing. Annie didn't miss the shuttered glance, or the implications. So what if he knew Candy had been in town last night? They were friends, there was nothing wrong with him giving her a shoulder to cry on when she was afraid for her life. If he felt he had to ask, Roy could tell him nothing had happened.
"Come on, son, I ain't got time to chaperone another visit right now, so out you go. Head on home and get some sleep, you two ain't gonna do her any good if you can't think straight."
"But, Roy –"
"If you behave yourself, I might be talked into letting you back in tonight. She seems to have her claws back now, so go on."
"Fine." Candy grabbed his hat and stalked out the door. Roy chuckled.
"That boy's got more loyalty than most folks nowadays. And to think I was worried about him causing trouble when he first started riding for you. Well, if you need anything else, just give a holler." The door closed and she sat down hard on the bunk, trying not to let her mind run away with her.
"Good morning, Honorable Sheriff," Hop Sing's voice drifted through the door and she raised her head. What was he doing here?
"Morning, Hop Sing, what have you got there?"
"Is a pie for Missy Annie." Oh, Hop Sing …
"Oh? Hey, that smells good. I'm afraid you'll have to leave it out here, though. The prosecutor gave me a list of the people that could see Annie and … your name wasn't on it." Poor Roy, he sounded so apologetic. He was probably hoping she'd share.
"Oh. You give to her, then?"
"Of course I will, maybe she'll give me a little piece, too." Annie bit back a tiny smile; being right about that was a small consolation right now, but it was something.
"You have nice table."
"Oh, that's evidence. This is the club that killed Emile Younger, and I'm sorry to say that Annie's hand mark's on it, too." Her heart sank. So he didn't believe her after all. Why was she surprised? It wasn't like she could prove anything. Why hadn't she let Hop Sing send Hoss or Candy? At least then she'd have someone who could back up her story.
"Must see Missy Annie!" Her head came up so fast she almost bashed it on the cell bars. What had him so excited all of a sudden?
"Now, Hop Sing, I told you I can't do that."
"Is very important!"
"I'm sorry, but I've got my orders and I'm giving you yours. Run along and take care of your business, and I'll take care of mine." Silence fell a moment.
"Can I have paper, pencil, please?" Roy sighed.
"I think the county can afford that." Silence fell again.
"Thank you, thank you, so much."
"You're welcome, whatever you done." Roy sounded confused. The front door closed and she could almost picture him shaking his head.
Well, if he wanted some of that pie, he could explain just what had happened out there.
The door opened a few minutes later, the scent of baked apples and cinnamon wafting across the room. "Hop Sing done brought you a pie, missy. And before you ask what he was after out there, the answer is, I don't know. He was mighty interested in that two-by-four, though." He stuck a plate containing a thick wedge of pie through the bars along with a fork.
"Thanks, Roy." She took a bite, the juicy apples tasting dry as sand in her mouth. Two more bites, and she set the plate aside.
"What's the matter?"
"I'm just not hungry. Go get a piece for yourself, no sense letting it go to waste." The sheriff's mustache twitched.
"Well, if you're sure …" he retreated to the door. "I'll leave that for now in case you change your mind." The door closed and she bowed her head, waiting for Hoss to come back. Surely, Geltner had a few tricks up his sleeve, or at least a halfway decent idea. All she needed was a little reasonable doubt.
"I got some good news and some bad news, little sis." Hoss swept his hat off and approached the cell. She hopped off the bunk and ran to the door.
"What is it?"
"We can prove you didn't touch that board, thanks to Hop Sing." Her heart soared, then crashed.
"And the bad news?"
"Geltner says we can't use it, that it wouldn't be admissible in court. No matter the Chinese have been using it for centuries, he says it's got no precedent here."
"Using what?"
"Apparently, everybody has got these lines on their fingers and no two people have the same lines. Hop Sing called it a chop. We thought he'd gone plumb loco, hopping around upstairs and babbling, so excited he was close to going off like one of his fireworks. He come down with your hairbrush, the silver one, and said he could prove you were innocent."
"That's why he was so interested in the two-by-four, Roy thought he was crazy."
"Candy and I tested him, and he was able to tell who made what print on the mirror so I come straight to town, but Geltner wouldn't listen. He says no one on the jury would believe it and your only chance is to plead guilty to second degree murder." Annie gripped the bars, her knees weakening.
"I'm not going to plead guilty to something I didn't do." Hoss sighed.
"I know. I told him that. And I told him I didn't blame you a whole lot." Her older brother gnawed on his lower lip. "He said it's either take ten years … or hang."
"It'll be neither one." She pushed away from the door and paced across the cell.
"Annie … I done told you he won't have nothing to do with Hop Sing's chops, or finger marks, and that's all we've got. He says if you won't plead guilty to the lesser charge, he won't even take the case." Her stomach turned over.
"We'll get another lawyer, then."
"Annie … that … that ain't gonna work either." He couldn't look at her, and her heart crashed to her boots. "I talked to Mr. Williams and Mr. Thomas both. They feel the same way about it as Geltner."
"What?" Hoss shook his head, still fixated on the floor.
"I'm sorry, Annie, real sorry." She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the bars. Okay, so the evidence was against her, but they'd known her for years! How could they really believe she was guilty? "You sure you don't want –"
"No." She raised her head. "You handle it." His head shot up, his mouth hanging open.
"Oh, you ain't serious."
"I am." He swallowed hard.
"Annie … I don't know nothing about being a lawyer."
"That doesn't make any difference," she whispered. "I'd rather have you handling it, and believing in me, than have the best lawyer in town that thinks I'm guilty." Hoss' face twisted, his throat worked, and he shook his head.
"You'd be putting your money on a lame horse."
"It's my money." She willed her voice not to shake. "And my life." Hoss swallowed hard, his eyes glistening.
"Let me go back and talk to Geltner one more time, maybe I can do something." He squeezed her hand through the bars, stuffed his hat on his head, and hurried out. She stared after him, her own eyes stinging.
She hated putting this burden on his shoulders, but there was no one else, and she trusted her brother far more than she trusted any lawyer that had already decided she was doomed. But what would it do to him if they couldn't … a lump rose in her throat. She couldn't think like that, Cartwrights never gave up, no matter the odds.
But the trial started tomorrow …
She looked up when Hoss returned. He cleared his throat and turned his hat over in his hands. "He still won't take the case, but he did agree to sit at the defense table and give me advice."
"I guess it's something."
"Yeah. I reckon so. He said the first thing to do was make sure you wore a dress into court, have everyone see you as young and delicate as possible, plant some doubt that you could be capable of hitting a man with a board." She couldn't stop the snort that escaped, and he smiled. "I know, but at least he's trying to help."
"I know. I guess I'll see you in the morning."
"We'll be in early, you got a particular dress in mind or should I just close my eyes and pick one?"
"It doesn't matter," she said softly. He nodded slowly and turned to go, then paused.
"You can tell me if it's none of my business … but …" He worked his hat in his hands. "Was Candy here last night?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"You can talk to Roy if you feel you have to."
"Oh, it's nothing like that, sis. I'm just ashamed I didn't notice you needed someone to talk to, that's all, I'm glad he was able to help." His face twisted. "Dadburnit, I'm your brother, I should know when you're hurting, but I didn't see it."
"We're all good at hiding things, Hoss." A brief shadow flickered across his face, and she knew he was remembering that last night before Adam took off, the arguments, and the hidden resentment that had finally boiled over.
"I reckon we are at that," he said hoarsely. "Just don't expect me to be able to hide it if I get you hung."
"It wouldn't be your fault."
"That's how it would feel." He turned and walked out, the door closing behind him with a faint click. Annie drew in a shaky breath and bowed her head, her hands shaking. She turned and sat down hard on the bunk.
What if she was making a mistake? What if the jury didn't believe Hop Sing? What if she had to stand there and listen to the judge sentence her to hang? Cold fear slithered up her spine and coiled in her chest.
She should call Roy, he could get Sam in here and accept the plea deal. Ten years to figure out the truth of what happened instead of mere days; they'd have a chance, then. But if she was convicted, even if they could wire the governor for a stay of execution, they wouldn't have enough time to come up with another way.
But if she did, everyone would call her a murderer, they'd all wonder if it was really true. How could she live with that?
"I get it now." She jumped. Candy and Roy stood at the cell door. A glance at the window said it wasn't full dark yet, but close. He hadn't waited as long tonight. Roy unlocked the cell, repeated his previous warning, and left them alone. "You're fine until there's no one around to see you crack." He crossed the tiny cell and sat beside her. "Roy has your dress in his office." A tiny smile tugged at her mouth and she rested her head on his shoulder. He looped his arm around her waist and she closed her eyes, listening to the soft thump of his heart under her ear until she drifted off to sleep.
"The case of the people versus Anne Cartwright." The judge banged his gavel on the bench and her heart skipped a beat. She clutched at the folds of her skirt and fought to breathe evenly.
"The prosecution is ready, Your Honor." She peeked up at the judge through her lashes.
"The record shows the defendant has entered a plea of not guilty to a charge of first degree murder." He looked up from his paper. "I understand the defense would like to change that plea." Hoss drew in a deep breath and stood.
"No, sir. Your Honor, the defense will continue the plea of not guilty."
"Who are you? And what part are you going to play in this trial?"
"Well, I'm Annie's brother and I'll be acting in her defense, if it's all right with you, sir."
"It's all right with me, and I presume it's all right with the defendant. Mr. Geltner, are you withdrawn from the case?" The lawyer stood and Hoss took his seat, reaching under the table to squeeze her hand.
"No, Your Honor, I'm acting in an advisory capacity." The judge shook his head and her heart slammed against her ribs, her palms iced over. He couldn't seriously refuse them, could he?
"All very irregular. However, Mr. Gordon, would you please begin?" She breathed a sigh of relief as Geltner retook his seat.
"I call Dr. Martin." Annie kept her head down, ignoring the doctor's testimony, then Davis'. She'd heard it all too many times already, she didn't need to hear it again, didn't want to hear it again. Then, it was Roy's turn and she flinched as he walked past her to the witness stand. Sam wasted no time.
"Sheriff Coffee, did you see the white paint on the defendant's hand?"
"I did."
"Did she offer an explanation as to how it got there?"
"She said Younger threw her against that table." A familiar gleam lit the prosecutor's eyes and he carted the table over to Roy.
"Do you recall this?"
"Yes, it's the table from Younger's place."
"Did you notice a smear on it?" Roy swallowed hard.
"No, sir, it was clean painted, like it is here." He ran his hand over the top. Sam nodded.
"Thank you, Sheriff, you may step down." He moved the table back and carefully laid the board on top. "Your Honor, the people rest." The judge glanced down at his papers and cleared his throat.
"Mr. Cartwright, you may now begin." Hoss stood slowly.
"Your Honor, I'd like to get our cook, Hop Sing, up here if I could. Come on up, Hop Sing." She looked back at Hop Sing as he approached the bench. The judge studied him a moment.
"Hop Sing, do you understand the meaning of the oath?"
"Yes, sir, Judge. Hop Sing is a very good Baptist." She bit back a tiny smile while he took the oath. He sat down and Hoss left the defense table.
"Now, Hop Sing, these little lines that all of us have on our thumbs and fingers … see them little lines?" He pointed to his thumb. Probably more from amusement than anything else, the jury looked at their fingers. "What do you call them, Hop Sing?"
"Is called finger ridge."
"Finger ridge or a thumb ridge, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Now, look here. If I was to pick up this two-by-four while the paint was still wet on it, and leave a mark there where my thumb and fingers all touched it, what would you call that?"
"It's called chop."
"Chop." Hoss looked around slowly. "Now, if you were to pick it up while it was still wet, and you left a mark on it, would it be exactly like mine?"
"No, Mr. Hoss, all chop is different." Annie could hardly breathe, she was surprised Sam hadn't objected yet, but maybe he wanted to see where they were going with this. Or maybe he was just enjoying the show. But it couldn't be long.
"All chops are different," her brother repeated with another glance around the courtroom, and Sam pushed his chair back. Her heart stopped.
"Your Honor, what's the point of all this?"
"I was about to ask the same question." She glanced sideways at Geltner and he shook his head slowly. Hoss swallowed.
"Well, Your Honor, if I can prove that everybody leaves a different mark when they touch something, what Hop Sing calls a chop, then I can prove that the mark or the chop on this two-by-four was not made by my sister. Therefore, she never touched the murder weapon."
"We can't accept this testimony. There's no proof that everybody leaves a different mark, there's no precedent."
And there it was. She bit back a sob, feeling the noose tighten around her neck. Geltner squeezed her shoulder and pushed back his chair.
"Your Honor, it's been explained to me that the Chinese have known about these marks for centuries. They've been used as signatures, identifying marks on objects such as pottery …"
"Is true," Hop Sing insisted.
"I suggest this is precedent enough."
"I object. Chinese beliefs, practices, and superstitions have no place in an American court of law." Annie smothered a gasp. The judge threw her a quick look and frowned.
"Let me remind you that a woman is on trial for her life. This court, and I trust the prosecution, will listen to any evidence that may have a bearing on the final verdict." Geltner released a breath and Sam sat down, shaking his head. The judge turned to Hoss. "Can you prove this theory, Mr. Cartwright?"
"That's what I was aiming to do, Your Honor."
"Go right ahead." She breathed a prayer of thanks and Geltner patted her hand under the table.
"Candy, bring that package up here." She turned, watching as he carefully carried the paper-wrapped glass up to the defense table, then stepped back, the smallest of hopeful grins tugging at his mouth. Hoss unwrapped the glass and held it up. "Now, then. Gentlemen, here is a clean piece of glass. It's been wiped off. There's not a mark on it. You'll notice your names up there. I want you to take your right thumb, and put your thumb mark right above each of your names." He carried it to the jury box and, one by one, made his way down the line.
She bit her lip until she tasted blood. Candy turned to retake his seat, touching her shoulder as he went by. She offered him a shaky smile that dropped all the way to her stomach when Sam left his chair and made his way to Hoss. "May I examine that, please?"
He couldn't object, the judge had said they had to listen. She clenched her hands in her lap and fought to keep from being sick all over the table.
"Yes, sir." Hoss held out the glass and the prosecutor took it. "Don't put any marks on it, or smudge any of those that are already on it." Sam handed it back.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I had no intention of interfering with this demonstration of … oriental abracadabra," he finished with a smug smile. The jury laughed and her insides flipped. If they thought it was stupid, would it make any difference at all? Hoss merely stared at him, then took the glass to the bench.
"Now, Hop Sing, we'll blindfold you." He pulled a bandanna from his pocket and tied it over their cook's eyes. "If you'd like to examine this."
"No, that's perfectly all right." Hoss shrugged, then returned to the defense table and collected the small mirror that had also been in the package. He walked over to the jury.
"I'd like one of you fellas to put your right thumb print on this." One of the men in the middle stood. Then Sam rushed over and stopped him before he could touch the mirror, a finger pressed to his mouth as he glanced at Hop Sing. Geltner drew in a shocked breath and she grabbed his arm before he could make a sound. He whipped around and she frowned, shaking her head.
If he did anything that might tip off Hop Sing about who touched the glass, they may not accept it. Hoss turned to her with a raised eyebrow. She nodded slowly and he offered the mirror. Sam pressed his thumb to the glass and Hoss carried it back to the bench, then removed the blindfold.
"Now, Hop Sing … examine that thumbprint on the mirror …" He picked up the glass. "And tell me who it belongs to." Hop Sing pulled out his magnifying glass and she held her breath. Geltner leaned in and whispered in her ear.
"This is going to make it tougher." She drew in a ragged breath.
"Haven't you ever gambled?" He looked at her sideways.
"Not when someone's life's at stake." There was dead silence in the courtroom while Hop Sing studied the thumbprints. Her heart thumped unevenly when he finally looked up at Hoss.
"Chop on mirror is not belong to jury." The jury whispered among themselves and her heart skipped a beat. She sagged in her chair. "Chop on mirror is belong to Mr. Gordon." The whispers buzzed like bees; the prosecutor blinked in shock, then darted to the judge's bench.
"I protest. This is a trick! Mr. Cartwright signaled Hop Sing in some way. My chop, my mark, wasn't even on that pane of glass." Geltner looked at her sideways and she smiled, her heart beating fast.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Gordon. You remember when you took the glass from me? I told you not to, but you did put a mark on it. Whether you know it or not, you put one on there." Hoss set the pane of glass on the bench and picked up the board. "Your Honor, gentlemen of the jury. Mr. Gordon had no more idea that he was putting an identifiable mark on that glass when he did, than the murderer of Emile Younger knew that he was putting an identifiable mark on this weapon." He turned around. "Your Honor, all I have to do is prove to you and these men here in this jury, that the mark on that weapon is not that of my sister. Annie." He picked up the mirror and came over to her, hope burning in his eyes. "Put your thumb print on there, go ahead and put both of them."
Annie tugged off her lace gloves and pressed her thumbs to the glass, one eye on Hop Sing as he studied the print on the board. His eyes widened. "Mr. Hoss." Her brother went back to the witness stand and Hop Sing whispered in his ear. He glanced at the jury with a frown.
"Are you sure?" Hop Sing whispered some more and Hoss finally looked around in confusion. "Your Honor … I don't know how to go about this … I don't know what the rules and regulations are, but I'd like to have Mr. Jackson take the stand." The room buzzed and Sam stood up.
"I object." The judge waved him over.
"Mr. Gordon, will you approach the bench?" The three of them whispered for several minutes, then Sam took his seat and the judge cleared his throat. "Mr. Jackson, will you step over here and be sworn?" The liveryman got up stiffly and walked over. Hop Sing left the stand and came to sit beside her.
"What's going on?" she whispered. He shook his head, but there was a gleam in his eye.
"I prove," he whispered back. Annie bit her lip and looked at Jackson. Did he mean what she thought he meant? How did Jackson fit in? The spark of an idea flared bright and she turned it over in her mind. Why hadn't she thought of it before?
"Mr. Jackson … you used to own that Younger-Davis property, didn't you?" He nodded and Hoss went on. "And then Younger sort of beat you out of it."
"No, I never felt that."
"As a matter of fact, you've been holding a grudge against him ever since, haven't you?"
"No, I never held any grudge."
"Mr. Jackson, the other day when you told us, Annie, and Candy, and me, that Younger had cut off Hop Sing's pigtail, didn't you know that was gonna make trouble? I mean, big and bad trouble?"
"I didn't think it would cause any real trouble." The man fidgeted in his chair and she looked at Sam. How long would he let Hoss continue?
"Didn't you go out there to make sure Younger –"
"I didn't go out there!"
"You waited until you saw Annie come out, then you went in!"
"Oh, no, I never went in."
"Oh, you didn't go in?" Hoss stuck his finger in Jackson's red face. "You found him unconscious, picked up this two-by-four, and beat him to death with it."
"No, I didn't!"
"Then you painted over Annie's hand prints on the table!"
"No! No, I didn't!"
"Hop Sing?" Her brother turned around slowly. "Will you stand and tell this court, this judge and jury, exactly what you told me a moment ago?" Hop Sing nodded and stood, pointing a finger at the liveryman.
"Chop on club same as chop of Mr. Jackson." The man paled and shook his head.
"Oh, no. No. No. No." He jumped out of his chair, grabbed the two-by-four, and smashed it on the judge's bench. Hoss and Roy leaped to restrain him and the room dissolved into a frenzy of sound. The judge glared at Jackson, then addressed Roy.
"You will hold Mr. Jackson until charges can be brought against him." The liveryman sagged. Roy pulled him from the chair and marched out of the room. "I declare this a mistrial." Annie took her first easy breath in days. "The defendant, Anne Cartwright, is released on her own recognizance, pending a new hearing. This court is adjourned." He rapped his gavel on the bench and she jumped from her chair, throwing her arms around Hop Sing.
"Thank you." She let him go and smiled at Hoss. "Thanks, brother." He threw his arms around her so tight she feared he'd crack her ribs.
"I think I lost ten years off my life, sis." He released her and then Candy caught her up with a whoop and spun her in a circle. Geltner smiled.
"Well, I'm glad we got the right man for the job." Annie smiled back, Candy's arm still around her waist.
"So am I."
"It's been a memorable homecoming, though I can't say it was an entirely easy one. What I'm especially proud of is the way everybody handled themselves, and especially you, Hop Sing. I just don't know how we can thank you."
"Is all the same, Mr. Cartwright. Is not necessary."
"Thanks, Hop Sing," her twin's voice sounded thick and choked. "You'll never know how much …" Annie rolled her eyes and carried the plates from the kitchen.
"Here you go, Hop Sing, we cooked it up special to show our appreciation." Candy set the chicken on the table, and Hoss brought the gravy and potatoes. She set the full plates in front of Hop Sing, her pa, and Joe. They all dug in, smiles sliding quickly. "What's wrong?" Ben grimaced.
"Who made the potatoes?"
"I did, Mr. Cartwright." Candy shifted his weight. "Is something wrong?" Hop Sing spit out a mouthful into his napkin.
"You punch cow, Hop Sing cook." He looked over at Candy, then to her and seemed to start at something over her shoulder. His face reddened and he jumped up, yelling in Chinese and pointing at the kitchen.
"What's the matter?" She looked from Candy to Hoss; they both shrugged. "Hop Sing, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" He grumbled again.
"I save you, and you do that to my kitchen?!" He stabbed a trembling finger at the mess on the stove and counters. "You stay out of Hop Sing kitchen!" He darted from the table, yelling a mile a minute.
Candy looked at her, eyebrows in his hairline, then they both looked at Hoss, who shrugged. Ben chuckled, then Joe joined in with his familiar cackle. She raised her eyebrows, but it only made them laugh harder. She folded her arms and sighed.
"No one's perfect."