Chapter 21
When jury selection was complete, the judge looked toward the line of defendants seated along the front row. After pinning each of the six thieves with a hard glare, he took meticulous care to open each folder and read the charges against the first defendant. “Where is your attorney, Mr. Casey?”
“I dunno.”
“Do any of you have an attorney or someone to represent you during these proceedings?” Harlan Lemke asked, registering each shake of the head as a “No attorney present” in his notes. “Very well then. I have read to the jury the charges against you. As I call your name, please stand and enter your plea. Understood?” When each of the defendants nodded, Harlan called, “Jack Casey?”
“I didn’t do nothin’,” the belligerent man stated.
“I will take that as a ‘not guilty.’ You may be seated, Mr. Casey.” After entering similar pleas from the other five men, the judge turned to Ben. “Please present your statement to the court, Sheriff Chauncy.”
“What a day,” Ben groaned when Roseanna sat a cup of warm milk before him, along with some toast.
“That should help settle your stomach,” the new wife offered after returning to the rocking chair in the corner.
Trying to keep his eyes averted when the tired mother settled the baby against her chest to nurse, Ben picked at his thumbnail. Although Roseanna had draped a blanket over herself for modesty’s sake, he couldn’t help but wonder about the woman he’d taken as a wife. “Tell me something about yourself,” he quietly suggested, mindful of the other sleeping children nearby.
“You’ve already heard all the sordid details of my life,” Roseanna softly reminded. “Perhaps you could share something about yourself.”
“Hmmm,” he said, stopping to think. “I’ve got an older brother who runs the farm where my Ma and sisters live. His name is George,” Ben said.
“Let me guess. His middle name is Washington, isn’t it?”
Ben chuckled low in his throat and nodded. “My Ma was rather stuck on naming us after popular figures that she admires. My brother and I were born first, then my three sisters.”
“My, now you’ve piqued my curiosity. What women did your mother admire?”
“The oldest of the girls goes by Ellie, which frustrates my Ma all to death. She named her Elizabeth Ross Chauncy. But my Pa had a sister named Betsy, so he refused to confuse the two by using the same nickname. The other two were named after authors Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte.”
“And they all live together nearby?” Roseanna asked as she moved Sebastian to her shoulder. The newborn issued a healthy belch, which made his mother smile.
Surprised by the affection that blossomed deep in his chest, Ben watched the girl with new eyes.
“Ben?”
Caught out in his appraisal of her, Ben flushed and dropped his eyes to the toast.
“Your family?” she coaxed.
“Ellie is off teaching school in Bears Grass. That’s about twenty miles east of here. Otherwise, they’re all still on my Pa’s homestead. What about your family?” Ben asked before thinking.
Going still, Roseanna shuddered and turned her head to look out the window at the dark street. “My oldest sister? I told you about the circumstances around her oldest daughter’s birth. But Robin is married now and lives in Taylors Falls, Minnesota. Pa chose one of his soldiers for her, and they are happy together, I guess. I haven’t written since last Christmas, and she wouldn’t know where to find me.
“Next is Lucille. She’s about two years younger than I am, and Ma sold her to a steel tycoon in Pittsburgh. She had twin boys a few months before Jacob was born, and she sounds happy with the arrangements the fellow has made for her.” Roseanna stopped and sighed. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” she tensely questioned.
“Are these people important to you?” Ben asked with genuine concern.
“Of course!”
“Then I want to know, Roseanna. It helps me understand the hurt in your eyes.”
Taking a moment to fix her dress and reposition the baby, the overwhelmed woman tried to shore up her defenses, but found she had nothing left in reserve. “I . . . I just can’t understand how . . . or why my Ma changed. I remember sitting in her lap as a little girl. She would sing sweet cradlesongs and tell us the stories of Jesus. What happened to that woman? Where did she go?”
Shifting his chair to the other side of the table, Ben resettled and tentatively reached for his wife’s hand. “I don’t know. Maybe there isn’t an answer,” he carefully offered.
“There were seven of us children when Pa went off to war – six girls and one little boy to carry on my family name. Ma had another boy after Pa got home, but it’s hard to say if little Linc is Pa’s flesh and blood. Oh, Pa named him Lincoln Ulysses Sherman, but his heart was so broke . . . he just couldn’t face what had become of his bluebelles.”
“Maybe I’m wrong, and I don’t mean no disrespect,” the shy groom stammered, “but it sounds like your sisters are making the best of things. Right?”
Roseanna shrugged and then wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. “Robin loves her husband, Rand. And I told you about Lucy. But I don’t know what happened with Miriam. We called her ‘Merry’ because she was the most cheerful child.
“When Mr. Oates came for her, Ma made me talk to Merry – tell her how it would all be over soon,” Roseanna whimpered. “I know she is safe now with the boy who took her from the Oates house and made her his wife, but I still feel responsible for all she suffered at the hands of the men who bought her.”
Ben wasn’t sure he could listen anymore. The horror in his belly had ignited a fury that made his hands shake. “Please, Rosie. You were just a child. You are not responsible for your mother’s evil schemes.”
“You are the law, Ben. You tell me. What can I do? What can I do to save my sisters from these repulsive men? Nicolet and Polly are just little girls. Ma already has Nicolet working, and I have no idea where Polly was sent. My brothers are growing up in this mire! So tell me! Tell me! What can you do? What can anyone do?!”