Page 61 of In Honor’s Defense

Ye shall not fear them, for the Lord your God he shall fight for you.

She heard the verse from Deuteronomy in Luke’s voice as he’d taught it to Nathaniel after one of their sparring sessions. She tried to cling to the promise, but doubts assailed her, filling her mind with the sounds of a guilty verdict being handed down and images of Nathaniel being carted off to prison.

“Cattle theft is a felony offense.” She barely heard Mr. Mullins over the rushing in her ears. “It carries a penalty of up to five years in prison.”

Damaris whimpered. Shook her head. This couldn’t be happening.

You’re supposed to be fighting for us, her soul cried. Where are you?

“I have an idea.” Mr. Mullins patted her hand again to get her attention. A light filled his eyes that buoyed her hopes just enough to keep her head above the floodwaters. “I’m friends with the man who clerks for the circuit judge. He has an office just down the hall. Let me go to him and see if we can propose some kind of plea that won’t require prison time.”

Damaris straightened. “Do you think it possible?”

Mullins shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try.” He pushed up from his chair and started pacing the office. “Judge Kilmore is tough, but this is Nathaniel’s first offense. And with his youth, I might be able to convince the judge that prison is not the right place for him. I can use his father’s recent passing as exigent circumstances.”

He suddenly stopped and banged the flat of his hand against the corner of his desk. Spinning to face Damaris, he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a watch.

“I’ve got to run if I’m going to catch him. Wait here, Miss Baxter.”

She barely managed a nod before he ran out of the office.

Time ticked by so slowly. She prayed and paced, then paced and prayed. She stared out the window, hoping for a sign of Luke returning, but he failed to materialize.

Nearly an hour passed before the creak of the outer office door finally broke the silence. Damaris turned from the window and met Mr. Mullins as he strode toward her. The beaming smile on his face set her heart pounding in expectation.

“We wired the judge,” Mr. Mullins declared, “and after some negotiating, he’s agreed to dismiss the charges when they are brought to him if you and Nathaniel agree to a few unconventional terms.”

To have the charges dismissed? She’d agree to almost anything. “Of course. What are the terms?”

“Judge Kilmore agrees that prison should be the last resort for a boy of such tender years. Thankfully, he is on the side of those who believe prison is for reformation more than punishment. And since Nathaniel’s grudge seems focused solely on Oliver Grimes and not the community at large, the judge is willing to consider removing the boy from the target of his aggression as a possible solution. I told him of your family in St. Louis, that you would be able to take him there and provide a good home for him. But that wasn’t enough for Judge Kilmore. He insisted on removing all of Nathaniel’s ties to the Madisonville community to ensure he doesn’t return. I happened to mention there was an offer on your property. That you could sell the land and remove the boy to St. Louis within a week’s time.”

Damaris took an involuntary step back. Sell the land? She’d vowed not to. It was Nathaniel’s birthright. All he had left of his father.

“I . . . I can’t sell.”

“You have to.” Mr. Mullins took hold of her shoulders and squeezed gently until she looked him in the eyes. “If you don’t, your nephew’s going to prison.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

Luke hit the outskirts of Madisonville about an hour before sunset. Weariness dragged at his bones, causing his spine to bend and his shoulders to slouch. He was a poor excuse for a cavalryman, worn to a nubbin by a single day in the saddle. But he’d made it to Huntsville and back. Almost by suppertime, too. For a fellow who’d nearly been dead a couple of weeks ago, the effort wasn’t completely pitiful.

To his left, a man in a suit was locking up the hardware store. Catching sight of Luke, he offered a wave. Luke nodded in return as Titan clopped down the street. Diagonally across the square, a handful of ladies sat on the boardinghouse porch, chattering like a flock of magpies. And down the boardwalk to his right, a couple walked arm-in-arm toward a restaurant. It made him long for Damaris’s company even more than he already did. Which was fairly significant, since he’d been thinking about her all day.

As he neared the northeast corner of the courthouse, a movement at the edge of his periphery drew his gaze back toward the boardwalk where he’d seen the couple a moment ago. A woman exited the restaurant, struggling with the weight of the door while she attempted to maneuver a basket through the opening. Her shape seemed familiar, and a distinctive braid of dark brown hair formed a crown atop her head. Damaris? What was she doing in town this late?

Tightening his knees, Luke urged Titan into a trot and reined him onto a path to intercept. Once she cleared the door, Damaris moved faster than he anticipated, jostling the basket with her hurried stride.

Not wanting to draw undue attention, he waited to call out until he was nearly abreast of her.

“Damaris?”

She visibly jumped, then almost turned her ankle as she pivoted sharply toward him.

A mule kicking him in the gut would’ve shocked him less than the sight he beheld when she faced him. Red, puffy eyes. Strands of windblown hair falling haphazardly around her ears. Clothing wadded and wrinkled. And dirty. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her dirty.

“Luke?” Her voice broke as recognition lit her eyes. She took a step toward him, and her desperation, her heartbreak, her need slammed into his chest.