She wanted to disappear. She wanted to sink into the floor. She looked at Eli. He was sitting in the front row. He was not looking at the floor.
He was looking at her. His eyes were fierce, filled with a love that saw past the dirt and the shame. He nodded. A tiny, almost imperceptible motion. "Stand."
Clara took a breath. She stopped shaking. "I survived," Clara said clearly. The room went quiet. "I did what I had to do to eat.
I lived in a place where men like you, she looked at the prosecutor, came to do things they would not do in front of their wives. I saw their secrets. I saw their cruelty. She turned to the judge. I did not steal a brooch.
But I saw Haron Pike steal a life. I saw his men shoot a girl named Sarah because she found a ledger. I am not here to hide who I was. I am here to tell you who he is. The silence in the room was absolute.
Then Eli was called. He took the stand. He was awkward. His large frame too big for the chair. But when he spoke, his voice was clear.
"My wife is the bravest person I know." Eli said to the jury, "She has worked my land until her hands bled. She has faced starvation and threats. She did not steal. This warrant is a lie to protect a thief who is stealing the water from every ranch in this county."
Judge Athetherton peered over his spectacles. He looked at the prosecutor, then at Clara. The warrant for the brooch is suspicious. The judge rumbled. The evidence is thin.
However, the accusation against Mister Pike is grave. You claim there is a ledger. Yes, Clara said. Sarah found it. It lists the bribes.
It lists the rebranded cattle. Where is this ledger? The judge asked. Pike has it, Clara said. Or he destroyed it.
I cannot issue a ruling on a missing book. The judge said, "I will recess this hearing until tomorrow morning. If you can produce this ledger or a witness who has seen it, I will dismiss the charges against you and open an inquiry into Pike. If not, you will stand trial for lararseny." It was a reprieve, but a terrifying one.
They were released on bail, paid by Thorne. They stood outside the courthouse in the gathering dark. Molly never came, Thorne said, checking his pocket watch. She must have run, so we have no witness, Eli said. And no ledger.
Pike is in town, Thorne said. He stays at the kettleman's club. He has a private suite on the second floor. If the ledger exists, it is in his safe. We cannot just walk in and ask for it, Eli said.
Clara looked at the building down the street. The Cattleman's Club. It was a place of mahogany and cigar smoke, a place where rich men felt safe. No, Clara said, "We cannot ask." She looked at her hands.
But I know how to get into rooms where men think they are safe. The plan was madness. It was dangerous and ethically gray. But it was the only card they had left. They waited until midnight.
The streets were empty, save for the occasional drunk stumbling home. They went to the alley behind the club. The service entrance was locked, but Clara knew the type of lock. She used a hair pin and the small knife she carried. It took 10 seconds.
"Stay here," she whispered to Eli. "I am coming with you," he hissed. "You are too big," she said. "You walk like a rancher. I walk like a ghost.
Watch the door. If anyone comes, whistle." She slipped inside. The kitchen was dark, smelling of stale grease. She moved through the shadows, her feet silent on the floorboards.
She knew the layout of these places. The best rooms were always upstairs, facing the street. She climbed the back stairs. The hallway was dimly lit by a gas sconce. She counted the doors.
Sweet A. She pressed her ear to the wood. Silence. Pike would be asleep or out gambling. She tried the handle locked.
She picked it. She slipped inside. The room was opulent. A heavy for poster bed, a desk, a large iron safe in the corner. Pike was not in the bed.
Clara moved to the safe. It was locked. Of course, she bit her lip. She could not pick a safe. She scanned the room.
Men like Pike were arrogant. They did not think anyone would dare touch their things. She checked the desk drawers. Nothing. She checked the hollow of the false book on the shelf.
Nothing. Then she saw it. A jacket hanging on the chair. Pike's dinner jacket. She patted the pockets.
Her fingers brushed cold metal. A key on a chain. She grabbed it. She went to the safe. The key fit.
The heavy door swung open. Inside, stacked among bundles of cash, was a black leather book. She grabbed it. She opened it to a random page. Judge Halloway, $500.
Sheriff Miller, $200. "Got you," she whispered. The door to the hallway opened. Clara froze. Haron Pike stood in the doorway.
He was a large man with silver hair and a face that looked like it had been stamped from a coin. He was holding a candle. He saw the open safe. He saw Clara. "Well," Pike said, his voice smooth and terrifyingly calm.