“Not to an innocent person,” Peter answered, rising.
“All people are innocent until proven guilty,” Prescott shot back.
“Mike Holt served time for being at Dune Hollow,” Peter reminded the judge.
“And he was let go early because there was no proof he actually participated in violating Evie Stewart!”
“The man bragged about it to Gretta MacBain! Bragged about it! He went so far as to admit he blindfolded the woman first!”
Jake stood up so fast that his chair fell over. “Get my daughter out of here—now!” he roared.
“No!” Evie rose. “Let me say something, Judge Carter.”
The prosecutor threw up his hands, and the judge sighed, running a hand through his hair. “State your name, please, for the record.”
“Evie, don’t,” Jake said softly.
Evie met his gaze. “I have to.” She left her seat and approached the judge’s bench. “I am Evita Louise Harkner Stewart, named after my beloved grandmother, Evita Ramona Consuella de Jimenez, who was murdered in front of my father when he was only eight years old—by his father.”
Jake pushed his way past Peter and walked up to his daughter. “Evie, stop this,” Jake told her, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m okay. The judge should understand what you’ve gone through to become the good man you are now.” She faced the judge the whole time she spoke. “My father is a better man than most anyone else in this room. I can tell you myself that Mike Holt was one of the men who violated me, because I remembered his voice. When you go through what I went through, you remember things like that!”
Brian got up and rushed to her side. “Come on, Evie.”
“No, wait!” She stood rigidly facing the judge. “The only reason they couldn’t prove Mike Holt was one of them is because my father wouldn’t let me testify. He knew back then that I couldn’t handle it, and he loves me too much to put me through that. But I’m stronger now, and I’m telling you that if I could have testified, I would have told them Mike Holt was one of them, which means he would still be in prison. The night of the Cattlemen’s Ball, Mike Holt came up to me and threw it all in my face, telling me how much prettier I was without a blindfold over my face!” She wavered a little, and Brian grasped one arm while Jake took hold of the other.
“Evie, please,” Brian begged.
She ignored him. “Lloyd saw what was happening, and he ran over to get Mike Holt out of there, and Holt pulled a gun on my brother, who was unarmed! Holt shot Lloyd in cold blood, and if my father hadn’t gotten to him in time, he would have murdered Lloyd for certain, because he had his gun pointed straight at Lloyd’s head for a second shot! Your first two witnesses failed to mention that. And you want to blame my father for shooting that man? What would any father do in a situation like that?”
She broke into tears and stumbled. Brian took full hold of her. “Come on. You’ve had your say, and you need to lie down.”
“But I have to know what they decide,” she wept.
“You will know one way or another. I’ll not take no for an answer, Evie.” Brian turned with her to leave, but she stopped to hug her father. Jake embraced her.
“Go on. Do what Brian tells you, Evie. I’ll be all right.”
“What if this is the last time I get to hug you?” she sobbed.
“It won’t be. Please go, Evie. It will be easier for me if you aren’t here.”
Randy quietly wept, and a few women in the crowd could be heard sniffling.
“Yes, you should leave Mrs.…Stewart, is it?” the judge asked.
“Yes,” Brian answered. He glanced at Jake. “We’ll be at the hotel.”
Jake nodded, fighting an urge to strangle Prescott.
“I want everyone else to sit down where they belong,” the judge ordered. “What just happened is far beyond protocol for this hearing, and I’ll have no more of it.”
On his way out with Evie, Brian took Little Jake’s hand to take him with them, but the boy jerked away. “No! I wanna be with Grampa!” he insisted, breaking into tears and running over to Prescott, holding up a small fist. “You leave my grampa alone!” he ordered through gritted teeth.
Soft laughter filled the room. Little Jake started to run to Jake, but Prescott grabbed his arm. “You’d better go back and sit where you belong, son,” he ordered Little Jake.
Little Jake tugged, and Prescott squeezed tighter.
“Oh my God!” Randy whispered.
“Get your hand off my grandson!” Jake spoke the words calmly but in a low growl.