Page 115 of Charlotte's Reckoning
His gaze shifted to her purple dress draped over the footboard. He must have laid it there because she remembered it being tossed on the floor.
“I can’t wear a Miss Charlotte gown to court!” she protested.
“Why not? Aren’t you the Miss Charlotte claiming ownership of the Red Eye Saloon?”
“Yes, but… This is serious business.” She flung out her hand to the low-cut satin gown. “Besides, it’s missing a button.”
“Lucky for you, there’s a needle and thread in the kitchen drawer.”
She crossed her arms and huffed a little laugh. “He thinks I can sew.”
“You grew up on a farm in Virginia. Can’t you?”
She wrinkled her nose, forgetting how clever he was. “Yes, I can.”
He flashed a grin at her admission. “You could wear your cloak, but it’s going to be hot; the cicadas are already buzzing.”
“Lovely. I’ll be a sweaty madam in a faded cloak.”
“There’s no time to get your other things. I’m sorry. But you’ll look beautiful in anything. Now, I really must go.”
She wasn’t fishing for a compliment but now cast her line for reassurance. “You’ll be there when I arrive, won’t you?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be right behind you the entire time. And win or lose, afterward, you’re stuck with me.” He gave her this promise with a wink, then he was gone.
She leaned back against the pillows, not to sleep. It was far too late for that. Instead, she did what she often did—stared at the ceiling. Worry gnawed at her, and the desperate hope for something, just once, to go her way.
“I’d love to be stuck like glue to you forever, Seth Walker,” Charlotte sighed.
Luck had always eluded her, but perhaps her time had come.
Chapter 29
A Fool for a Client
Sheriff for such a short time, and on the trail of fugitives more often than not, Seth had never been to the Laramie courthouse before. The imposing red brick building provided a stark contrast to the predominantly wooden houses, shops, and tents that were still prevalent in the growing town. The courtroom’s interior featured high ceilings, gleaming wood floors, and tall windows, which cast shafts of dusty sunlight. Benches lined the room for spectators, today filled with curious townsfolk whispering among themselves while waiting for the proceedings to begin.
From the front row, Seth watched Quentin Sneed stride in. A smirk played on his lips as he passed and took his seat at a table up front—alone. Seth glanced back at the doors, expecting to see his counsel, but seconds ticked by, and he saw no one. Having plotted to eliminate his competition, Sneed was so confident of victory that he planned to represent himself.
Clearly, he had never heard the adage,he who represents himself has a fool for a client.
Seth eagerly awaited the moment Sneed’s confidence crumbled under the weight of his surprises.
Right on time, the rear doors opened, revealing surprise number one. Sneed paled and shifted uncomfortably as one of his hired guns limped in on his uninjured leg, supported by two of Seth’s deputies.
Once he was settled on an empty bench so he could stretch out his bandaged leg, surprise number two walked in.
In a stunning purple gown, Charlotte commanded attention as she seemed to glide down the center aisle next to her attorney. Although a vision of beauty and grace, the determined set of her jaw spoke volumes about her inner strength. She pointedly ignored Sneed, treating him as if he were nothing more than a speck of dust as she took her seat. Seth knew she was shaking inside, but her composure didn’t waver, filling him with pride.
He glanced at Sneed’s reaction—deathly pale, beads of sweat clinging to his forehead, a look of panic etched on his face. His chair scraped the flooras he jumped up and strode toward the door. Expecting he’d pull something, Seth signaled to his deputies, who cut off his escape.
“All rise for Judge Simpson,” the bailiff announced as an older man in a dusty coat, gray stubble on his jaw, entered carrying a stack of papers and a wooden gavel.
Seth had heard he was unconventional, but his rumpled appearance surprised him, as if he’d rolled out of bed and straight into court. He had a hunch that things were about to get interesting.
“Let’s begin. I have a busy day ahead,” he said, settling into his seat at the tall bench up front. The court officer then asked everyone to stand and raise their right hands, swearing them all in.
“Mr. Bennett, you’re up first,” the judge prompted once everyone was seated.
