A Rocky Mountain Christmas by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page B

questions, do you?”
    “You say we were wearing hoods, but you can’t show the hood my deputy was wearing,” Sheriff Ferrell pointed out.
    “If the man you say tried to rob you was masked, how do you know this is the same man?” Proxmire pointed to the sheriff.
    “He just said that he was.”
    “I’m going to have to take your gun and hold you in jail until this is all worked out,” Proxmire said.
    “Deputy, I’m telling you these two men tried to rob me.”
    “Why would they try to rob you, Luke? Do you carry so much money around all the time that someone would want to rob you?”
    “I am now. I’m carrying almost twenty thousand dollars from the sale of my cattle. You can check with Heckemeyer and Sons over in Greenhorn. They will verify that I’m telling the truth.”
    “Oh, I don’t doubt but that you sold some cows,” Proxmire said. “But that’s not the question. The question is, did the sheriff and his deputy stop you to ask a few questions as he says or did he and his deputy actually try to rob you?”
    “They tried to rob me.”
    “Look at it this way, Luke. Right now it’s just your word against Sheriff Ferrell’s word, and seeing as he is an officer of the law, his word carries a bit more weight. But perhaps you can convince a jury to believe you.”
    “A jury? Look here, are you actually telling me this is going to court?”
    “It is,” Proxmire said.
    Luke looked at Ferrell. “Will he be in court?”
    “I’ll be there,” Ferrell answered. “I intend to see justice done for the killing of my deputy.”
    “All right,” Luke said. “I won’t argue with you, Proxmire. If you’ll let me put this money in the bank, I’ll come quietly and I’ll stand trial.”
    “Good idea,” Proxmire said.

    Judge Amon Briggs sat back in the chair in his chambers and put his hands together, fingertip to fingertip. He was listening to Sheriff Ferrell.
    “Luke can make a lot of trouble for us if we don’t take care of this situation.”
    “What do you mean trouble for us?” Judge Briggs growled. “I didn’t attempt to hold him up.”
    “Did you, or did you not, give Gates and me the information about him going to sell his cows? And were you, or were you not, going to be in for a third of the take? And that isn’t the only deal we’ve been in. You got your share from the coach holdup two months ago, too, as I am sure you well remember.”
    Briggs held his hand out to quiet Ferrell. “All right, all right. There’s no need to say anything else. The walls have ears. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
    “You’d better take care of it,” Ferrell pressed. “Otherwise we’ll both be in trouble.”
    Pueblo—December 5
    Luke’s trial was going to be held in the local courthouse with Judge Amon Briggs presiding. He was in his chambers meeting with the prosecutor. “I want him tried for first-degree murder.”
    “Your honor, I don’t think I can make the case for first-degree murder,” Lloyd Gilmore said. “I mean, even if what the sheriff says is true, if all he and his deputy were doing was confronting him for questioning, it still wouldn’t be premeditated murder.”
    “It doesn’t have to be premeditated,” Briggs said. “He was resisting arrest, and that is a felony. Any death that occurs during the commission of a felony is automatically first-degree murder.”
    “According to Sheriff Ferrell’s own testimony, he wasn’t making an arrest, he merely wanted to question him. That’s not resisting arrest. A good lawyer could say that Luke thought he was being held up, and Tom Murchison is a good lawyer.”
    “You’re the prosecutor. It’s your job to make hard cases against good lawyers,” Judge Briggs answered.
    “All right, I’ll try. But I don’t think I’ll be able to convince the jury.”
     
     
    As Prosecutor Gilmore and Judge Briggs were discussing the case, Tom Murchison arrived at the jail to meet with Luke Shardeen.
    “You’ve got ten minutes,”