Chapter Thirteen
The following day at precisely two o’clock, Case stood in the polished marble hallway outside the judge’s chambers, the scent of lemon furniture polish hanging in the air.
He leaned against the cool wall while Sydney perched on the edge of an oak bench alone, her crimson lips pressed together, eyes fixed on the intricate pattern of the floor tiles as if they contained the secrets of the universe.
The two young men, Bobby Gibbs and Brent Tillman, sat stiffly on a long bench beside Mr. Altman in his immaculate charcoal suit.
Sweat beaded on their foreheads, and Tillman’s right leg bounced incessantly.
Case noted the way Gibbs kept swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a buoy in rough waters.
The heavy mahogany door creaked open and a stern-faced woman with steel-rimmed glasses and salt-and-pepper hair stepped out.
“Agent Anderson, Ms. Wright, Mr. Altman and the two defendants can come in now,” she announced in a clipped tone.
She swung the door wider, revealing the antechamber with its leather-bound books lining the walls, then guided them through another door into the inner sanctum.
Behind an imposing cherry wood desk sat Judge Crawford, his silver hair contrasting sharply with his black robe, deep lines etched around his mouth from years of rendering verdicts. Case met the judge’s piercing gaze and nodded respectfully.
“Your honor.”
“Agent Anderson, good to see you,” the judge replied, his voice like gravel. “Please everyone have a seat.”
Once everyone had settled into the stiff, wooden chairs, the hush of the room pressed in on them.
The polished benches offered no comfort.
The judge, his hands mottled with liver spots, shuffled through a stack of papers, the rustle of parchment echoing off the paneled walls.
When he finally looked up, his steely gaze seemed to bore into Gibbs and Tillman, as though it could strip away every secret they held.
“Which is which here?” he asked, each syllable measured and heavy.
Mr. Altman rose, shoulders tense. “Your honor, this is Robert Gibbs and this is Brent Tillman.”
The judge’s lips tightened. “Now, you two are accused of horse theft, correct?”
A single breath passed between them. “Yes, sir,” they said in near-identical whispers.
“Care to explain why?”
Bobby swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing once. His lawyer inclined his head, giving the silent go-ahead.
“My girlfriend owned the horse,” Bobby began, voice rough. “Her stepmother turned it over without telling Rachel—”
“Get to the point, Mr. Gibbs.”
Bobby blinked, shifted his weight. “Yes, sir, uh, your honor. I knew how much Rachel loved that horse. When she said she’d do anything to get her back, I… well, I took it upon myself.”
“So, you stole the horse on her behalf?”
“Yes, your honor. I know it was wrong.”
“Yet you did it anyway.”
A quick flash of regret crossed Bobby’s face. “I did. I’m sorry— ”
“You sure as hell should be, son. You were informed of the punishment for horse theft in Montana?”
Bobby nodded. “Yes, your honor. Agent Anderson told me when he arrested me.”
The judge turned his attention to Tillman. “And what’s your role in this, Mr. Tillman?”
Tillman’s jaw clenched. “I helped Bobby.”
“How?”
“I backed the trailer right up to the fence while he rounded up the horse.”
“Did Mr. Gibbs threaten you to make you go along with this?”
Case sat up straighter.
“He said he’d fire me if I didn’t help.”
“Is that true, Mr. Gibbs?”
Bobby’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, your honor.”
The judge steepled his fingers and studied Bobby’s face as he moved on to Tillman. “Have you ever been in trouble before, Mr. Tillman?”
“No, your honor.”
“You must have known what you were doing was wrong.”
“I did.”
“Then why did you do it?”
Tillman hesitated, gaze dropping to the floor. “Bobby’s a good guy. We were friends in high school and I knew he wouldn’t really fire me.”
“Son, you’re an accomplice in stealing this horse.”
“I know, your honor. I feel terrible about it.”
“Do you know the penalty for horse theft? I know Agent Anderson explained it to Mr. Gibbs, but what about you?”
“Agent Anderson told me too.”
The judge glanced down at his notes. “It says here you’re both twenty years old. Correct?”
They nodded in unison. The judge eyed Case. “Agent Anderson, what’s your recommendation?”
Case cleared his throat. “Your honor, they’ve shown genuine remorse. They’re frightened, frankly, I believe probation and a community-service sentence, would teach them their lesson, but I wouldn’t suggest the full four hundred sixteen hours.”
The judge’s expression remained impassive. “I’m well aware of the time, Agent.”
Case pressed his lips together. “Yes, sir. I know you are.”
“Ms. Wright,” the judge said, shifting his gaze to Sydney, “this was your horse that was stolen?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Would you like to argue for a custodial sentence?”
She inhaled, glanced back at Case, then squared her shoulders. “No, sir, I do not.”
Case raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“You don’t?” the judge echoed.
“No, your honor.”
“You know you didn’t have to attend if you agreed with the outcome. No matter what it is.”
“I do, your honor.”
“Then why are you here?”
Her lips curved in a quiet smile. “I wanted to look at the young men who took my horse. If I’d seen arrogance or indifference, I would have asked for jailtime.”
Case covered a grin with his hand. Even the judge’s stern features softened, as if he fought the urge to smile.
“All right, Ms. Wright. You’re dismissed.”
“Thank you, your honor,” she said, gathering her purse. She paused beside Case and winked before slipping out. Case shook his head, still grinning as he returned his attention to the judge.
****
Sydney eased herself into the driver’s seat of her SUV.
As she backed out of the courthouse lot, the late-afternoon sun slanted gold across the dashboard.
She had felt a surge of certainty when she told the judge she wouldn’t press for jail time.
The two young men before the judge had heads bowed, eyes brimming with genuine remorse, and Sydney knew they’d carry today’s lesson with them for years.
Prison would have broken them; she could almost see them shrinking under the weight of those cold gray walls.
The road unfurled before her in a ribbon of asphalt, bordered by tall pines whose needles whispered in the breeze.
Each mile brought her closer to home, and to the anxious hope that Caysen might call or text.
Only minutes had passed since she left his side in the courtroom, yet she was quite sure she surprised him by not requesting jail time for those two.
Sunlight danced along the hood of the SUV, and Sydney let herself smile at the memory of Caysen’s surprise when she spoke up for mercy.
If those boys had swaggered in there with arrogance, she would have hunted down every regulation to ensure they did time.
But their shame had been real, and their fear of being in lockup had shown her they understood the gravity of their mistake. She was proud of her decision.
She planned to saddle Satin as soon as she changed her clothes. Riding always soothed her, wind in her hair, hoofbeats drumming through her bones.
Pulling into her gravel driveway, Sydney killed the engine and let the silence settle around her.
She climbed out, boots crunching on frozen snow, and stepped onto the wide wooden porch.
Inside, she hurried to her room, shrugged out of her charcoal dress slacks and crisp blouse, and traded them for worn blue jeans and a soft gray T-shirt.
She reached for her cowboy hat, when the low rumble of an engine stopped her mid-reach.
Peering through the window in the back door, she saw Caysen’s pickup idling beside the porch. His broad shoulders filled the driver’s seat in silhouette, and as he climbed out, she caught a glimpse of his strong jawline. Her pulse fluttered.
She opened the door, and he paused on the top step, eyes searching her face.
“What happened?” she asked, voice steady but her heart hammering.
He folded his arms across his chest, leaning casually against the post. “They got probation and four hundred hours of community service.”
A warm relief unfurled in her chest. “I’m glad.”
He studied her for a moment. “What made you change your mind?”
She smiled. “Rachel.”
Caysen’s eyebrows rose. “Rachel? How did that come about?”
“Come inside.” She stepped aside.
“Were you headed somewhere?”
“Just for a ride.”.
“Can it wait?”
“Of course.” Sydney led him into the living room, sunlight splintering through the windows in warm beams. “Rachel came by to see the horse. ”
Sydney sank onto the sofa, and he took the cushion beside her. He lifted a hand and gently tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.
“I know how she feels about that horse.”
“She and that horse have a bond,” Sydney said, voice soft. “Watching them together broke my heart. The way Satin nuzzled her shoulder, like she understood every unspoken word.”
Caysen nodded, with understanding. “Horses are as loyal as dogs when it comes to the right person.”
“I told Rachel she can visit anytime.” She hesitated, biting her lip.
Sydney’s throat tightened. “Rachel told me her stepmother hit the horse with a leather strap. To be honest, I’d love to give the horse back to Rachel, but I don’t want it anywhere near her stepmother and I’m sure Rachel doesn’t either. ”
Caysen’s jaw clenched, a muscle twitching beneath his tanned skin. “Damn. I didn’t care for her the minute I met her. I’d love to arrest her.” His eyes darkened like storm clouds gathering.
“It’s too bad you can’t. She’d deserve it.” Sydney tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I agree.” He nodded.
Sydney hesitated, then met his gaze directly. “Why haven’t you called me?” The question hung in the air between them.