Chapter 51
Two weeks later, Conn sat in a Leadville courtroom, wearing a new suit and facing the silver-haired judge who would determine his fate.
Conn’s parents had provided the suit. They sat in the front row of the gallery just behind him, having been summoned to the proceedings by Mary, who was also in attendance, looking attractive but serious in a gray dress.
Mary had been escorted to court by Marshal Andrews, who gave a detailed statement about everything that had happened in Fairplay.
Rudy McKay also took the stand, telling the same story.
These stories were expected, of course, because Conn had lived them.
What shocked him was Mary’s testimony.
She gave a lengthy testimony under oath, holding her chin high and her voice steady as she told the truth about everything, starting with her trip to town with Cole and ending with the recent attack by the last two members of the gang, Rafer Johnson and Toby Dunbar, whom she had killed with the help of the mountain cur.
Conn felt bad for Mary. No woman should go through what she had endured. Losing her husband and her home, along with her dreams and all that hard work, just to be attacked again by those same men.
But his pity was fleeting. What he mainly felt for Mary was admiration.
She had faced the worst and handled herself with poise and grit, which she showed again now, recounting everything with strength and clarity.
What an incredible woman.
She had done it. She had survived and put down the last of the gang. And while he wished he could have done that thing for her, he was glad they were gone.
Eleven down, none to go.
Rest in peace, brother.
Conn took the stand next and told everything just as it had happened.
The judge listened with no expression on his face and asked no further questions.
The final witness was U.S. Marshal Clayton Mayfield, who looked very pale and even thinner than normal. As usual, Mayfield was dressed impeccably with his badge on full display.
Conn wondered what the man would tell the court.
He was nothing if not a lawman, after all, and his perspective must have been much different than the perspective of all these other witnesses.
Also, he had warned Conn not to go after Toole, and then, of course, there was that business back in Arizona.
But Mayfield made no mention of the warning or Arizona. He just gave the facts, beginning with Marshal Andrews’s wire and wrapping up with how Conn had saved his life out at Mercy Ridge.
When the testimonies were finished, the judge didn’t even call for a recess. He announced that he had already made his decision.
“Mr. Sullivan,” the judge said. “I do not cotton to vigilantism, especially when it leads to shootings in public places like the Dusty Nugget Saloon.”
The judge paused, giving Conn a hard stare.
Then his face softened. “But in light of the heinous crimes committed against your family and the testimonies we have heard here today and taking into consideration the service you have done this county and state by eliminating these savage criminals and the further service you rendered to U.S. Marshal Mayfield, I hereby dismiss all charges against you.”
Conn exhaled, vastly relieved.
Behind him, a ripple of audible relief also went through the courtroom, including his mother’s voice praising God.
“You are a free man, Mr. Sullivan,” the judge said, “and I would suggest that you use that freedom to ride out of this country. Far out of this country, if you wish to please me. You might go to the Nations and become a bounty hunter for Judge Parker. I hear he needs men like you. I, on the other hand, do not.”
The court was dismissed.
Mayfield approached.
They shook hands. There was no warmth between them, only grudging, mutual respect. Each had saved the other, after all. No debt remained.
“Consider the judge’s advice,” Mayfield said. “You’d make a good bounty hunter.”
Conn said he had other plans. Which was the truth, though he didn’t really know those plans beyond keeping a couple of promises.
He supposed now, at last, he could begin to think of what he might do after that.
He had changed. He knew that. How couldn’t he be changed by such events?
But he had given those changes no real thought and wasn’t sure he ever would.
Yet they would have bearing on his life.
For now, he just wanted to get out of Leadville and see to another matter looming over him, an unpaid account of sorts, a thing he dreaded but could not delay.
“Well, whatever you do, stay on the right side of the law,” Mayfield said. “I’d rather ride with you than against you.”
“Likewise.”
They nodded and parted.
Conn turned and found his parents waiting for him.
His father shook his hand and offered a rare smile. “You did well, son. And what’s more, you did good. I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Conn said, and once more found a lump of unexpected emotion blocking his throat.
He had never thought to hear those words from his father, especially after leaving the farm and rejecting the things he’d been taught as a child.
What he said next rose straight from his soul, surprising even him. “I’m sorry, sir, for everything I did.”
It was the truth. He’d been foolish, and he knew he’d hurt his family.
He didn’t need to elaborate. They knew his history as well as he did, and they understood he was sincere and that with a man like Conn, an apology was also an unspoken promise to do better in the future.
The reverend gave another smile. “I appreciate that, Conn. All is forgiven.”
“Will you come home with us, Conn?” his mother asked hopefully.
“No,” Conn said. “Not yet, anyway. But I do promise to visit after I see to my responsibilities.”
This pleased them. They accompanied him as he left the courtroom, where he shook hands with Marshal Andrews and Rudy McKay and traded smiles with Mary.
Her eyes were very blue in the sunlight, very pretty.
No man, seeing them, could fail to notice; nor could he guess at the deep wells of strength and character that dwelled behind them.
He wished he could talk with her. He wanted to hear all about the homestead and the troubles she had faced there, how she had weathered everything and her plans for the future, but they stood among the others, and everyone was talking, so he never really had the opportunity.
The yearning remained. He felt a strong connection to his brother’s widow. He felt bound to protect and provide for her.
Of course, part of that was the promise he’d made.
And she, apparently, had remembered. “Will you still be coming back to Fairplay?” she asked quietly, while the others were laughing at McKay’s animated retelling of how the drunk had fallen off his horse and broken his arm that first night.
“Yes, ma’am,” Conn said. “I’m a man of my word. I will help you rebuild. But there’s something else I’ve got to do first.”