He waited, turmoil swirling in his stomach, for them to return. When the examination was done, the jury left the courtroom to deliberate and return with a verdict. He knew enough about law that the evidence against him was damning. Not even George’s brilliant oratory could save him. Jeffrey tasted fear and defeat bitter as vinegar. Betrayed once more by a woman he’d loved, trusted, and had given his heart and soul to with open arms. More than the physical fatigue was the sheer presence of Amanda’s betrayal, held now in Randolph’s fist. A red-headed angel had stolen away the cane, Jeffrey thought in weary resignation. “Oh? You did not place the cane there? Mayhap an angel swooped down from Heaven and dropped it there in your stead?” With all his strength, he forced his legs to lock and hold him upright. “I did not put it there,” Jeffrey stubbornly insisted. Merton’s home? Unless you yourself dropped it there in your haste to flee the scene!” “And pray tell, sir, how did it come to be found outside the burned ruins of Mr. Clayton, I asked if you recognize this.” Randolph repeated.
Instead, he tightened his jaw, looking straight ahead. But if he smiled, he feared he’d lose all control. He wanted to give her a reassuring smile and let her know he was fine. Seeing Amanda and her distressed expression, Jeffrey forgot all his hurt and mistrust. The dull look of resignation on his face made her feel sick. Jeffrey stared at the cane, then glanced upward at the gallery. “Do you recognize this, sir?” Randolph held up his silver eagle’s head cane.Īmanda’s heart beat faster. Randolph was skilled, brutally clear and direct. With every question flung at him, her husband stood straight and tall, though she knew the process must weary him. He stood throughout the endless questioning of witnesses, pressing his hands on the bar. George cross-examined Christopher, reminding him, and the jury, that Jeffrey served the British and that the Indians were not innocents, but had taken hundreds of scalps of white settlers. Amanda felt torn between anger and applause. Never a finer performance had she seen before. He massacred several Indians in cold blood, as was the wont of that band of Rangers.” I have heard from some of my men of Clayton’s foul temper. Merton openly said he refused to sell Clayton a slave he wanted.
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