“And how long were you alone in that back room with Jake?”
Gretta grinned. “Not long enough. I mean, look at the man! If I could talk a handsome, well-built specimen of man like Jake Harkner into my bed, I sure as hell would take a lot longer than five minutes with him in a back room.”
The room erupted into laughter, and a few more women walked out. Jake glanced sidelong at Randy and noticed she was smiling. She squeezed his hand. The judge pounded his gavel again. “This is not a circus!” he again reminded the crowd.
Peter quickly tried to smooth things over. “Your Honor, I only wanted to establish the fact that Miss MacBain wasn’t in that room long enough for anything of an illicit nature to take place.”
“Well, I have a feeling Mr. Jake Harkner is a man who takes his time with a woman,” Gretta repeated, “but I can name a few men in this crowd who would only need a couple of minutes.”
Even more laughter filled the room. Evie covered her face, and Lloyd just shook his head and grinned.
“Lord help us,” Brian muttered.
Katie couldn’t help smiling.
Again came the pounding gavel. Jake leaned over and said something more to Peter.
“I think we get the picture, Miss MacBain,” Peter spoke up when things quieted. “You only sought out Mr. Harkner to warn him about Mike Holt, a man who had bragged about violating a decent, Christian, young wife and mother, and bragged about intending to murder Lloyd Harkner, which establishes the fact that Mike Holt was a reprehensible rapist and murderer and a man the world is better off without! And I believe you mentioned another name to Jake that day.”
“That’s right. Mike Holt had a friend with him named Brad Buckley. When I told Jake, he said as how this Buckley fellow was as bad as Mike Holt and that he, too, might be out to get him and Lloyd.”
“Just a minute!” Prescott rose. “This is completely out of order! Mr. Brad Buckley happens to be one of my character witnesses! Jake Harkner must have gotten wind of it and thinks he can malign my own witness before I get a chance to call him!”
“Cattlemen call it cutting a man off at the pass,” Jake said wryly.
A few people laughed, and the judge again had to pound his gavel to quiet the crowd. He sighed, telling Gretta to step down. Gretta rose, then hesitated. She looked straight at the judge. “Judge Carter, I want to add that when I told Jake about Mike Holt, the first words out of his mouth were to ask me if that man had hurt me—me, the kind of woman most people don’t care about! He was worried about how Holt had treated me. That’s the kind of man Jake is. He actually cared I might have been hurt. And I’m telling you right now that nobody knows men better than I do, and that man over there is a good and honest and caring man. He might be a bit brash and waste no words when it comes to his opinions, but he’s a good father and a good husband, and apparently a good grandfather. Just look at that beautiful family sitting behind him. Does that look like a family that belongs to a cold-blooded killer?”
“He is a cold-blooded killer!” Prescott protested. “He proved it at that ball when he held Mike Holt to the floor and put a gun against his forehead and pulled the trigger! Then he stood up and told the crowd that if they wanted to know Jake Harkner the outlaw, they’d just met him! The man killed his own father, for God’s sake!”
The crowd broke into bedlam, and Jake squeezed Randy’s hand so hard it hurt. She could feel him wanting to charge right into the prosecutor. Peter reached over and pressed on Jake’s forearm. “He’s doing this on purpose,” he reminded Jake. “You’ll get your turn, I promise.”
Randy fought tears, and Jeff scribbled wildly in his notebook.
Harley Wicks just sat quietly grinning.
“Did your father beat you near to death almost every day of your life as a young boy?” Gretta yelled at Prescott.
The judge pounded his gavel fiercely for a good thirty seconds until the crowd finally quieted again. “One more outburst like this one, and I will clear this room!” he announced. He turned to Gretta. “Miss MacBain, you will please step down.” He turned his attention to Prescott. “And you, Mr. Prescott, will refrain from referring to things that happened thirty to fifty years ago and refrain from spouting your own opinions about Jake Harkner! You are the prosecutor, not a witness! Am I understood?”
His face much redder now, Prescott nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I don’t give one whit about Jake Harkner’s past. I only care about the here and now. What happened at that shooting and why it happened! Now—do you have any other witnesses? If you do, they had better have more to offer than gossip and personal opinions and jokes.”