Searching for Silverheels (25 page)

“You are awfully eager to get rid of me quietly,” Josie said. “Afraid a public trial will shine an embarrassing light on the public servants of Denver, are you?”

“Dagnabbit, woman, just plead guilty and pay the fine,” Russell said in a low voice. The judge looked in our direction for the first time.

“Do you have something to say on behalf of the defendant?” he asked.

Russell stood slowly. “We are her friends, your honor, from Como.”

The judge glanced back to Josie. “Well, it's good to see you have some friends with good sense. This letter from Como in your file says otherwise. What is your relationship to the defendant, sir?”

Russell shuffled his feet a little and glanced at Josie's stiff back. He cleared his throat. “She's my wife, your honor.”

Frank and I both turned and stared at Russell, our mouths hanging open. I'd never heard Russell tell a lie before. The judge's eyebrows popped up.

“These documents say
Miss
Gilbert. Is there a mistake?”

“My common-law wife, your honor. We've shared”—Russell glanced uncomfortably down at me before continuing—“shared marital relations, if you take my meaning, for fifteen years. I've asked her plenty of times to make it proper, but she won't have any part of that.”

“I see,” the judge said. I could see what he was thinking, that us country folks were about as backward and uncivilized as a pack of wolves.

“You see, your honor, Miss Gilbert is about as stubborn as a mule with a stone in its shoe, and sometimes she can't see what's best for her when it's hitting her in the face. But the other thing you've got to know about her is that she cares a good deal about doing the right thing. She cares about women getting the vote and being able to take care of themselves. She may be stubborn and wrongheaded in how she tries to
get those things, but its always about the greater good. Folks like whoever wrote that letter, they only see things in terms of their own comforts in the here and now. Josie, there, she don't care about her own comfort if she can ensure what's best for future generations.”

“Well, you make her out to be a very noble woman, but you claim to be her husband. I am going to have to see your testimony as biased.”

“It's true, sir,” I said, jumping to my feet. “Josie—Miss Gilbert has put the needs of others before her own for her whole life.”

“And who are you, miss?” the judge asked.

My cheeks warmed, but at the same time I felt my back stiffen, just like Josie's. “I'm Miss Perline Rose Barnell,” I said. “I'm one of those future generations, and Miss Gilbert is my friend.”

“And you can vouch for this lifetime of good deeds you claim she's had?”

“Yes, sir. Back in the early days of our county's history, she nursed the sick through a terrible epidemic of smallpox. When others fled, she stayed to help the sick, even though she was just a girl.”

“Hearsay,” the judge said. “Do you, yourself, Miss Barnell, have personal experience with this altruistic spirit of hers?”

“Why yes, your honor. That's what this is here today. She could stay safely at home and mind her own business. After
all, women have the vote in Colorado. But she's fighting for everyone, no matter the consequences to herself.”

“Hmm,” the judge said. He didn't seem convinced by that. I was racking my brain for another example, when Frank got to his feet beside me. The judge gave a little sigh, but nodded to him to speak.

“My name is Franklin Sanford, your honor. I live here in Denver. I met Miss Gilbert and these other folks a few weeks back, when I visited Como with my sister and her new husband.” From there, Frank went on to tell the judge of the drunken scene in the street with Robert, and of my mother and Josie coming to our aid. He embellished it a bit, giving Josie a bigger role than she'd had, but none of us contradicted him.

When he finished, the judge turned back to Josie. “I hope you see, madam, that you have some good friends and supporters here. Have you considered how they would feel if you got yourself convicted to six months in the women's workhouse?”

“Six months!” I gasped.

The judge glanced at me, then back at Josie.

“Six months is a long time in the workhouse for a woman your age,” he said. “This court will take a fifteen-minute recess for you to reconsider your plea, Miss Gilbert, now that your situation has been made clear to you. I urge you to talk to your friends and listen to their advice.”

With that the judge turned and left the courtroom, and Josie spun to face the three of us.

“I've never seen such a bunch of lying, groveling, cockamamie fools in all my life!” she shouted. “Your wife! Never, Russell McDonald! And you!” She jabbed a finger at me. “Get your head out of that silly story already! I am not your Silverheels!”

“You're welcome,” Russell said. “Now shut up and listen to sense for once in your life.” He gave her a little push to make her sit down in the chair behind her, but before he could say anything else, a policeman entered the room and called him away. We watched with a sinking heart as Russell followed the man out of the room. He might have had a chance of convincing Josie to change her plea, but I didn't see how Frank and I could.

“Please, Josie. Please plead guilty and pay the fine so you can come home with us,” I said.

“You can do more for your cause out of jail than in it,” Frank added.

“They are scared of having me in jail,” she said. “Look at all the press my sisters in Washington have gotten. They don't want all that trouble here. I've got them right where I want them. If they acquit me, they've admitted cases like mine are frivolous, and I'll take it straight to Washington. If they convict me, they will have all the mess and controversy on their hands that they've been trying to avoid.”

“And I'll have nothing,” I said. “If they convict you, you'll be in the workhouse and you won't come back to Como.”

Josie snorted. “They'll probably have a picnic in Como to celebrate being rid of me.”

Tears welled up and spilled from my eyes, and I brushed them away furiously. “No they won't! Como needs you. I need you! We'd all just die of boredom without you in town. If you only knew all the folks that put in money for your bail.”

“Pull yourself together and stop blubbering, girl,” Josie said gruffly. “You're talking nonsense.”

“It's not nonsense,” I insisted. “Can't you see that Russell loves you, and I do too! We want you back in Como.”

“Nobody loves me, girl, and that's how I want it,” she said.

She got up and walked away from me, and I could see it was no use. She wouldn't bargain—not for her freedom, not for her life, and especially not for love. It was hopeless. I'd only realized how much I cared for her just in time to lose her. The tears came faster and I could not stop them. Frank put his arm around my shoulder. I leaned my head against him and sobbed.

“Gosh, Miss Gilbert. Have a heart,” Frank said. He offered me his handkerchief and I wiped my eyes, but the tears kept flowing.

Though it hadn't been fifteen minutes, the door opened behind the bench and the judge came back in. Russell was not with him. He had a smug look on his face as he sat down at the bench. He banged his gavel once to let us know we ought to sit down and pay attention.

“Miss Gilbert,” he said, “the case against you has been resolved in absentia.”

“In absentia?” Josie repeated.

The judge gave her a condescending smile. “That means in your absence.”

“I know what it means, but I'm not absent. I'm right here, you old fool. You can't do that!”

The judge banged the gavel again. “Order in the court. The court may rule in absentia when the defendant has proved belligerent in the courtroom, or at a conference regarding sentence reduction. Your charges have been reduced to obstructing traffic and creating a public nuisance, and your husband has paid the fines. All other charges are being dropped on the condition that you accompany your husband back to Como immediately upon leaving this court and do not return to Denver for six months. Your husband—”

“He's not my husband!”

“The nature of your relationship is sufficient for this court to accept his authority over you under common law. I am releasing you into his custody. He has agreed to accompany you home to ensure that you abide by the agreement. If you return to Denver you will be sentenced to six months in the county workhouse, and your husband will face charges for aiding and abetting you in your criminal activity.”

“You can't do that,” Josie said. “He can't do that. I'm an adult and he has no authority over me!”

“The court has ruled. The case of City and County of
Denver versus Josephine Gilbert is now closed.” The judge banged his gavel one more time and strode form the room without a glance back at the defendant, who stood blustering uselessly before his bench.

A
police officer escorted us out of the courthouse. Russell was waiting on the steps with our traveling bags as well as a beat-up carpetbag that apparently belonged to Josie. She glared so murderously at him when she saw him that he took a step back from her. I was glad a policeman was on hand, just in case.

Russell had a car waiting at the curb. The police officer was to escort us to the train station and onto the first passenger train headed west, so I only had a brief moment to say good-bye to Frank. He kissed me lightly on the cheek and told me to keep his soggy handkerchief. I kissed him back and promised to write, hoping he didn't think me such a silly, weepy sap that he was glad to be rid of me.

Then we were in the automobile headed to the train station. It was the first automobile I had ever ridden in, and I would have loved it, but traveling with Josie and Russell was like traveling with a thundercloud that might burst at any moment. No one said anything. No one wanted to be the one to burst it open.

At Union Station the policeman and Russell stayed close at
either side of Josie as we navigated through the crowds to the ticket window and bought our tickets. We had to wait nearly two hours for the train. The whole time anger scorched the air around us. At last an attendant came through ringing his handbell and announcing our train was boarding. We found our compartment and closed ourselves into it, still silent as the train lurched and pulled away from the station. I started to think that if someone didn't say something soon the whole compartment might just explode into flame, like old dynamite left at an abandoned mine too long. Russell must have felt the same way and wanted to keep me safe, because he dug into his pocket for a dime and suggested I go to the dining car and get us each a bottle of Coca-Cola.

I found the dining car two cars forward from ours. I took my time getting the soda pop and making my way back to our closed compartment. When I got back, the explosion had occurred. I could hear the shouting from the aisle, and I was glad that Russell had paid the extra for a compartment. Josie would have been impossible in a regular seat, surrounded by strangers.

“I don't care!” she was screaming as I approached the closed compartment. “I still say you had no right!”

“And you have no sense!” Russell countered. “And there's no way I was going to sit by and let you get yourself thrown into jail when there was something I could do about it. So I did it. You ought to thank me!”

“Thank you? Thank you for undermining all my hard
work? Thank you for treating me like a child? Like a
possession
? What exactly am I supposed to thank you for?”

“For loving you for twenty years no matter how stubborn and selfish you can be sometimes,” Russell said. “Lord knows why I do!”

“You don't own me, Russell McDonald! And don't think a sappy speech like that will get you back in my good graces, either. It's over between us!”

“I figured it would be. I knew I ran that risk when I made my deal with the judge. But I couldn't let you go to jail, Jo. Not when there was something I could do—even if it meant losing you.”

“You had no right!” Josie said again, but she wasn't shouting now. Good thing, too, since folks on either side of our compartment were sticking their heads out into the hall to see what was going on.

“I didn't ask for your help, and I certainly didn't need it! I had the situation under control—I had them by the throat.”

“Someday, Josie, I hope you'll come to realize that
everybody
needs help at some time or other, and there ain't nothing wrong with accepting it when that time comes.”

I felt foolish standing in the hallway with three bottles of Coca-Cola and all those people staring, so I slid open the compartment door. I nearly collided with Russell coming out.

“Sorry, Pearl,” he said. He took the bottle I held out to him without looking at it. “I'll be in the dining car if you need me. Or if you just need to be somewhere else too.” With that, he
squeezed out past me and I was alone with Josie. She plopped down on the seat and glared out the window. I sat down in the seat opposite her and looked out as well. Anyone glancing in on us at that moment would have thought the flatland farms around Denver were the most interesting things in the world from the way the two of us were studying them. I was the one who eventually broke the silence.

“I think I've found the truth about Silverheels,” I said. “I think I can finally prove it.”

Josie looked at me, then back out the window. “Planning to take that victory away too, are you?”

“I just think there's more to the story. A lot more that needs telling.” She said nothing, so I continued. “Sefa was deeply hurt by Silverheels leaving, but more than that, she was hurt by the miners who gave Silverheels all the credit and none to her. She was tired and heartsick and alone, and little more than a child herself. What they did was wrong, but she was too miserable to say so.