Coming Up Roses (41 page)

"Kate." He tightened his grip on her arms and bent his head to look her directly in the eye. "Listen to me."

As far as Kate was concerned, there was nothing he could say to change her mind. "Not Miranda. She's suffered enough. I won't allow her to be put through that. I'd rather hang, Zachariah. I mean it."

"The judge said I can go up on the stand with her, and that I can stop the questioning at any time." His eyes held hers, compelling, giving no quarter. "He's not a heartless man, Kate. He promised to go carefully, and I believe he will."

"I don't want her upset," she cried.

"Do you think she won't be upset if she loses her mother over this? Think, for God's sake."

She averted her face. "I don't want her hurt again."

"And you think I do?"

"No, of course not! It's just—"

His grip on her gentled, and his fingertips began a light, soothing massage that turned her muscles limp. "Please, Katie, trust me. I swear to you, if the questioning gets out of hand, I'll bring a stop to it." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Miranda may be your only chance."

"She's so little. All of this has been so hard on her."

"I know it has. Let's not add to the nightmare of it all by letting her lose you. What can a few questions hurt, Kate? If she starts to get upset, I'll get her out of there."

Kate closed her eyes. Miranda, on the stand? Just the thought made her blood run cold.

H
olding Miranda snugly on his lap, Zach encircled her with one arm. Kate and all unnecessary spectators had been escorted from the courtroom for fear their presence would influence the child's testimony, which left Zach as the little girl's only security. The responsibility of that rested heavily on his shoulders, and he shot the judge a warning glance before the questioning began.

The judge smiled slightly. "Your name is Miranda, I'm told," he began gently. "That's a very pretty name."

Miranda glanced around the courtroom and shrank against Zach's chest, plucking nervously at the lace on her pretty new dress. Robin's-egg blue, with lots of icicles on her underskirt. A firm believer that all ladies, however young, felt more self-assured attired in something they liked, Zach had turned the town upside down the day before trying to find a tiny petticoat layered with icicles. He had finally taken a plain underskirt to the dressmaker's and had eyelet lace sewn on. Lots and lots of it, so much that Miranda's eyes had shone when she saw it.

"My name's Judge McGilroy," the judge offered. "You can call me Judge or Mick or Gil." When Miranda didn't respond, he chuckled and added, "I also answer to Hey, you."

Miranda fastened accusing brown eyes on him. "I ain't gonna talk to you."

Startled, Zach leaned forward to look at his daughter. The judge arched a bushy eyebrow and smoothed his thinning gray hair. "I see. Is there a particular reason you don't plan to talk to me?"

Miranda drew her lips together in a grim little pout. "Papa Zach said I don't gots to if I don't wanna, and I don't wanna."

The judge shot Zach an inquiring look. Zach gave a bewildered shrug. Miranda had seemed tense all morning, but he had laid it to nervousness. Her refusal to talk with the judge was a new wrinkle and one that he hadn't expected.

"Don't you like me?" Judge McGilroy asked.

"Nope."

Someone in the room tittered. The judge cleared his throat behind his hand. Zach saw the twinkle in his blue eyes and relaxed slightly.

"Can you tell me why you don't like me?"

Miranda rubbed her chin on her pretty lace collar. "You nailed my ma up on the wall."

Several of the jurors burst out laughing. Zach's stomach dropped. With a feeling akin to horror, he remembered saying those exact words to Marcus last night. Miranda had obviously overheard him and, as was her way, she had taken him literally. He gave her a jostle on his knee and bent his head. "Mandy, honey, your ma didn't
really
get nailed to a wall. That's just an expression that means she was asked some very difficult questions. And the judge didn't ask them, the prosecutor did."

Miranda looked unconvinced, and she folded her little arms across her chest. The judge pretended to be writing something down, but Zach could see his shoulders shaking. A smile touched his own mouth, and once again, he relaxed. Unless he missed his guess, Miranda was about to make another conquest.

Judge McGilroy sighed, laid down his pen, and folded his hands. "Is there any other reason you don't like me?"

"You gots on a dress."

More laughter erupted. Zach propped an elbow on the arm of the chair and cupped a hand over his eyes.

"This is called a robe. All judges wear them to the courtroom." McGilroy scratched his nose and refolded his hands. "Sometimes little girls misunderstand things they overhear. I assure you that no one nailed your ma to the wall."

"Then how come do you gots a hammer?"

The judge started at that. His mouth twitched. "This is a gavel," he explained as he picked up the object in question. He rapped lightly with it. "I use it to call court to order."

"It's a hammer," Miranda insisted. "I think you're a mean man, and I ain't gonna talk to you."

"Very well." The judge smiled and rubbed his chin. "I can't say I blame you." He took a deep breath. "I can see that you are your ma's champion."

"I'm her little girl," she corrected with innocent acidity. "And if you didn't nail her on the wall, why'd you hide her?" When the judge didn't come up with an immediate answer to that, Miranda's eyes filled with tears. "I think you was afraid I'd see the nail holes, that's how come."

The judge motioned to a court attendant. "Please escort Mrs. McGovern back into the courtroom for a moment."

His chest aching with pent-up laughter, Zach settled back in his chair. An instant later, Kate was led to the bench.

The judge leaned forward. "Mrs. McGovern, there seems to be some question in your daughter's mind about my treatment of you yesterday. She has somehow gotten the idea that I nailed you to the wall."

Kate's eyes widened, and she threw a nervous glance at Zach. He grinned. Miranda scooted off his lap, ran down the steps, and launched herself into her mother's arms. While Kate spent the next couple of minutes hugging and reassuring her daughter, Zach watched Judge McGilroy's expressions as he observed mother and child. The poor man didn't stand a prayer. Zach knew the feeling.

After Kate was led away, Miranda returned to Zach's lap and turned to face the judge. "My ma says you didn't nail her up no place, so's I guess I'll talk to you for a little bit even if you do gots on a dress."

The judge smiled. "Thank you, Miranda. That's generous of you." He toyed with his pen. After a long moment, he met her gaze. "Do you know why you're here today?"

"'Cause you want to talk to me."

"Have you any idea what about?"

Miranda fidgeted for a moment. "I think you brung me here to ask me questions." Zach felt her body tense. She glanced nervously over her shoulder. "About my old pa, I think, and whether my ma hurt him on accident."

The judge followed her gaze. "No one here will hurt you, Miranda. There's no need to feel afraid."

"I know. Papa Zach won't let nobody hurt me."

Once again, the judge smiled. "I'm sure he won't." He assumed a thoughtful expression. "I understand that you suffered an accident that scarred your hand."

Miranda burrowed closer to Zach. "It weren't an accident."

The judge fixed his gaze on the angry red scar tissue that marred the child's fingers. "I see. How did it happen then?"

As if she expected Joseph to appear, Miranda threw another panicked look around the courtroom. "My old pa done it."

"Can you tell me about it?"

Zach hunched his shoulders around the child and hugged her tight. Bending his head close to hers, he whispered,

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Mandy. I'm here."

Clutching Zach's sleeve as though her life depended on it, Miranda recounted the events that led up to Joseph's death. In a clear, tremulous little voice, she clearly stated that her mother had struck her father across the back with the piece of firewood.

Judge McGilroy seemed to consider that. "If your pa was bent over you, holding your hand in the fire, Miranda, how can you be sure your ma didn't hit him on the head?" he asked gently. "Could you see where she hit him?"

"Nope."

Zach's heart nearly stopped at that. But he had told her to tell the truth, and he knew Kate wouldn't want it any other way. Zach stifled an insane urge to jump up, fetch her from the other room, and run like hell.

The judge pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sometimes we hear a story told a certain way so many times that we begin to believe it actually happened that way. Could it be that your ma told you so many times that she hit your father on the back that you became convinced you saw it yourself?"

Miranda wrinkled her nose. "My ma never 'vinced me of nothing. She don't talk about it."

"Never?"

"Nope."

The judge sighed wearily. "I can only conclude that you didn't actually see your mother hit your father. Is that right?"

"Yep." Miranda sniffed. "I couldn't see 'cause she was ahind me."

"So your ma could have hit him on the head, and you wouldn't have seen."

Miranda pressed her cheek closer to Zach's. "Nope, I wouldn't of seen. But I know she didn't."

Judge McGilroy flashed a sad smile. "I can see that you love your ma very much. I promise you that we'll all bear that in mind."

Zach's stomach knotted, and he closed his eyes on a wave of dread. Miranda squirmed and blurted, "I said my ma didn't hit him on the head, and I ain't lyin'. I couldn't see, but I know 'cause she didn't hit me."

That gave the judge pause, and he fastened his gaze on the child, his eyes sparking with rekindled interest.

"What do you mean, Miranda?"

"My head was right aside his head." She reached up and touched Zach's cheek. "Like my head's aside Papa Zach's right now. If my ma had hit my old pa on the head, she would've hit me on the head, too, and she didn't."

"I see," McGilroy said.

Miranda straightened within the circle of Zach's arm and fastened her gigantic brown eyes on the judge's face.

"People ain't s'posed to be punished for what they done on accident."

"No, they aren't," he agreed. "That's why we've had you here to talk with us today, so we can determine if your father's death was indeed an accident."

"My ma told you it was, didn't she? My ma don't lie, and neither do I." She shot an accusing look at the jurors.

"Only ornery folk'd keep her in jail for somethin' she didn't mean to do. And my ma says you ain't ornery."

The judge smiled again. "We certainly try not to be. Thank you for coming, Miranda."

Zach could see that he believed the child, and for obvious reasons. With Miranda's penchant for taking everything literally, which she had clearly demonstrated upon taking the stand, she was obviously too young as yet to be capable of formulating such a complex lie. He nearly whooped with joy and relief. Exercising all his self-control, he managed to sit there while the judge concluded his questioning with a few friendly overtures, clearly aimed at making Miranda's experience on the stand a pleasant one.

Afterward, Zach carried Miranda down from the witness box, handed her over into Marcus's care so she could be removed from the courtroom, and reclaimed his seat. Within minutes, Kate and the spectators were brought back in.

After taking a moment to compile his notes, the judge leveled a somber gaze on the jury. "It is my feeling that the testimony we've heard in this courtroom yesterday and today has been sufficient for you good gentlemen to draw a verdict. In view of the disruptions yesterday, I feel I must remind each of you that it is the primary goal of this court to arrive at a fair and just decision. Bear in mind that the vicious accusations made yesterday by Mr.

Blakely must be stricken from your minds. If there is anyone amongst you who feels he cannot do that, it is your duty to step forward now so a substitute juror can take your seat."

The judge paused, waiting. None of the jurors raised a hand. After several tense seconds, he called a recess, and the jurors filed into the jury room to begin their deliberations.