The air in the street froze. The two deputies behind the leader put their hands on their own weapons. Passers by scrambled out of the way. "Eli, no," Clara said. "They are framing you," Eli said, his eyes fixed on the deputy.
If they take you, you will never make it to the hearing. If you draw that gun, the deputy said, we will shoot you down right here. And then she hangs for sure. Eli stood on the precipice. His entire body screamed to fight.
He could draw. He was fast enough. He could kill this man. But then what? They would be outlaws.
They would be hunted for the rest of their lives. He would become the violence he feared. Eli," Clara said sharply. She stepped out from behind him. She put her hand on his chest, right over his heart.
Do not do it. I will not run. I will not give them the satisfaction. She looked at the deputy. I am innocent.
I will face the magistrate. The deputy smirked and slapped handcuffs on her wrists. Right this way, honey. The jail cell was cold and smelled of vomit. Eli sat on the bench outside the bars, refusing to leave.
He had sent a runner for Thorne. When the lawyer arrived, he looked grim. "They are moving fast. They want a preliminary hearing now. They want to discredit her before she can testify against Pike. " "Can you stop it? " Eli asked.
"I can represent her. " Thorne said. "But the judge, Judge Athetherton, is a hard man. He hates vice. " The courtroom was packed. Word had spread that a fallen woman was on trial. Men packed the gallery, chewing tobacco and whispering when Clara was led in, the shackles clinking.
A ripple of laughter went through the room. She wore her travel stained gray dress. She held her head up, but her face was burning. She felt naked. Every stare felt like a hand grabbing at her.
The prosecutor was a slick man from Denver, paid for by the syndicate. He did not ask about the brooch. He asked about her past. "Is it true, Miss Vale? " he paced in front of the witness stand. "That you worked at the Looking Glass Saloon. " "Yes," Clara said.
Her voice was a whisper. "Speak up," the judge barked. "Yes," Clara said louder. "And what were your duties there? " the prosecutor sneered. "Did they involve hospitality? " I serve drinks, Clara said.