on.” Johnson liked the sound of his voice.
“Ah, it’s my opinion that Mr. Rose—and his brother—came to our bank thinking we were being robbed. They’re Rangers, you know. They were trying to disguise themselves so the robbers wouldn’t realize what was going on.”
The courtroom erupted with questions, assertions and shouts. Portland yelled his agreement. Barnabas giggled loudly. Carlow glanced their way; the big man glared back and the teenager giggled again.
Judge Cline pounded on the table for silence. Not sure of what to do, he pointed toward the district attorney and told him to continue, if he wanted to.
“Ah…yes, Your Honor,” Johnson said and faced the teller who was blowing his nose again. “I don’t think I heard you correctly, Mr. Branson. Will you state that again?”
“Ah, I said I thought Tanneman, ah, Mr. Rose, came to the bank thinking we were being robbed. It was all a big mistake in…ah, knowing what was going on. Between the Rangers and all.” He blew his nose and looked at his feet.
Carlow jumped to his feet and blurted, “Rose, how much did you pay him?”
Johnson spun around, half angry and half relieved that someone else was getting involved.
“That’s enough, Ranger. This is a courtroom,” Judge Cline ordered, but without much conviction.
“Then make it one,” Carlow snarled. “This man is under oath—and he’s lying.”
“We don’t know that, Ranger,” Judge Cline responded, wishing he hadn’t.
Without waiting to be asked, Tanneman reinforced the teller’s dramatic statement with a few questions.
Stunned but unable to adjust, Johnson then called the bank’s vice president William Debo to the stand. The stocky man in a three-piece suit glanced at Tanneman as he approached the witness chair.
“Be steppin’ aside, Johnson, me be handlin’ this.” Kileen put a hand on Carlow’s shoulder and moved toward the bank officer, pushing Johnson away.
“What is this? Your Honor, I object,” Tanneman said loudly.
Carlow looked at him. “I bet you do, Rose. I just bet you do.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Your Honor,” Kileen said, rather quietly, “but this teller fella an’ this bank officer boy has to know they be headin’ for trouble by not tellin’ the truth. I’ll be doin’ the askin’ for now.”
Tanneman stood and pounded his fist on the table. “This is not right, Your Honor.”
Judge Cline looked at Tanneman, then back at the huge Irishman, took a deep breath and said, “If the district attorney agrees, I see no problem with the change.”
Kileen marched to where the vice president sat, not even waiting for Johnson’s timid agreement. All color was vacating the bank officer’s face. He looked at Tanneman, frowned and tried not to look at the advancing Irishman.
“Look at me, boy,” Kileen charged. “Ye be close to makin’ a big mistake—with your life.” He glanced at Tanneman, who was fuming. “An’ all for a few pieces o’ gold.”
“This is ridiculous, Judge,” Tanneman yelled. “He’s trying to badger the witness.”
From the back, Portland yelled, “Yeah, tell him to stop.” Barnabas looked at both brothers and giggled.
Nodding his head, Kileen said, “Aye, that I be.” He turned back to the terrified vice president. “But only to be savin’ ye, lad, from an awful mistake.” He folded his massive arms. “Yah see, if ye stay with this made-up story, he will go free. Two things will happen then. One, he will kill ye before ye can change your minds an’ talk. Two, we will be comin’ after ye for helpin’ one o’ the worst kind o’ bandits to get away. The judge has a word for it. Perjury ‘tis the word.” His big shoulders rose and fell.
Standing as he pounded his fist on the table, Tanneman blurted, “This is not justice, Your Honor. This is a lynching.”
The judge looked at Kileen, who nodded, glanced at Tanneman and said, “Oh, an’ by the sweetness o’ the day, ye should be
“Ah, it’s my opinion that Mr. Rose—and his brother—came to our bank thinking we were being robbed. They’re Rangers, you know. They were trying to disguise themselves so the robbers wouldn’t realize what was going on.”
The courtroom erupted with questions, assertions and shouts. Portland yelled his agreement. Barnabas giggled loudly. Carlow glanced their way; the big man glared back and the teenager giggled again.
Judge Cline pounded on the table for silence. Not sure of what to do, he pointed toward the district attorney and told him to continue, if he wanted to.
“Ah…yes, Your Honor,” Johnson said and faced the teller who was blowing his nose again. “I don’t think I heard you correctly, Mr. Branson. Will you state that again?”
“Ah, I said I thought Tanneman, ah, Mr. Rose, came to the bank thinking we were being robbed. It was all a big mistake in…ah, knowing what was going on. Between the Rangers and all.” He blew his nose and looked at his feet.
Carlow jumped to his feet and blurted, “Rose, how much did you pay him?”
Johnson spun around, half angry and half relieved that someone else was getting involved.
“That’s enough, Ranger. This is a courtroom,” Judge Cline ordered, but without much conviction.
“Then make it one,” Carlow snarled. “This man is under oath—and he’s lying.”
“We don’t know that, Ranger,” Judge Cline responded, wishing he hadn’t.
Without waiting to be asked, Tanneman reinforced the teller’s dramatic statement with a few questions.
Stunned but unable to adjust, Johnson then called the bank’s vice president William Debo to the stand. The stocky man in a three-piece suit glanced at Tanneman as he approached the witness chair.
“Be steppin’ aside, Johnson, me be handlin’ this.” Kileen put a hand on Carlow’s shoulder and moved toward the bank officer, pushing Johnson away.
“What is this? Your Honor, I object,” Tanneman said loudly.
Carlow looked at him. “I bet you do, Rose. I just bet you do.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Your Honor,” Kileen said, rather quietly, “but this teller fella an’ this bank officer boy has to know they be headin’ for trouble by not tellin’ the truth. I’ll be doin’ the askin’ for now.”
Tanneman stood and pounded his fist on the table. “This is not right, Your Honor.”
Judge Cline looked at Tanneman, then back at the huge Irishman, took a deep breath and said, “If the district attorney agrees, I see no problem with the change.”
Kileen marched to where the vice president sat, not even waiting for Johnson’s timid agreement. All color was vacating the bank officer’s face. He looked at Tanneman, frowned and tried not to look at the advancing Irishman.
“Look at me, boy,” Kileen charged. “Ye be close to makin’ a big mistake—with your life.” He glanced at Tanneman, who was fuming. “An’ all for a few pieces o’ gold.”
“This is ridiculous, Judge,” Tanneman yelled. “He’s trying to badger the witness.”
From the back, Portland yelled, “Yeah, tell him to stop.” Barnabas looked at both brothers and giggled.
Nodding his head, Kileen said, “Aye, that I be.” He turned back to the terrified vice president. “But only to be savin’ ye, lad, from an awful mistake.” He folded his massive arms. “Yah see, if ye stay with this made-up story, he will go free. Two things will happen then. One, he will kill ye before ye can change your minds an’ talk. Two, we will be comin’ after ye for helpin’ one o’ the worst kind o’ bandits to get away. The judge has a word for it. Perjury ‘tis the word.” His big shoulders rose and fell.
Standing as he pounded his fist on the table, Tanneman blurted, “This is not justice, Your Honor. This is a lynching.”
The judge looked at Kileen, who nodded, glanced at Tanneman and said, “Oh, an’ by the sweetness o’ the day, ye should be
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