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Authors: Mary Ellis
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look as though he hadn’t slept in days. He clutched his hat between his large hands, while his hair still showed the impression left by his hatband. He seemed as comfortable as a hen in a fox lair. She hoped she could go home with him after she explained to the judge that she’d tried everything within her power to save Mrs. Fisher. Did Jake and Laura wonder what had happened? Her little girl had trouble sleeping whenever her
mamm
was out on a call.
“Case number 9645287, the State of Ohio versus Abigail Graber.”
Abby’s head snapped up at the mention of her name. She felt a hand on her shoulder and heard a voice near her ear. “Stand up, Mrs. Graber.” Her legs felt as though she’d run up a mountain and back as she rose to her feet.
The judge, a portly man with florid cheeks, studied her over his half-moon glasses. Most of his head was completely bald, yet his hair remained thick beneath ear level.
“Are you Abigail Graber of Shreve, Ohio?”
“Yes,” she answered. Her words sounded more like the squeak of a rusty door hinge.
“Yes, Your Honor,” he corrected, continuing to study her.
“Yes, Your Honor, sir.”
“You are here today to enter a plea on the charges against you.” He glanced down at his papers. “Abigail Graber, you have been charged with practicing midwifery without a license, involuntary manslaughter, practicing medicine without a license, and possession and sale of a dangerous controlled substance—the last two charges being felonies. How do you plead, Mrs. Graber?”
“I’m not sure how to plead, Your Honor.”
While the judge rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, his forehead furrowed into deep creases. “Do you have legal counsel? That is, do you have the means to hire a lawyer?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I do.” She desperately wanted to look back at her
ehemann
, but she didn’t dare. The judge might interpret turning around as disrespect.
“In that case, this court will appoint legal counsel for you. Your pretrial hearing will be one month from now, and your bond is set at five hundred thousand dollars—cash or bond.” He thumped his gavel halfheartedly. “Next case, Bailiff.” He opened another folder from the stack in front of him.
Abby gasped.
Half a million dollars?
Their house, land, livestock, savings account, and everything added up wouldn’t come close to being worth that much. And she would never allow Daniel to sell their farm to raise money. Where would her family live? What would he do for a living? Their farm was his livelihood as well as their home.
She felt a gentle tug on her upper arm. The deputy had returned to her side to lead her away from the raised platform. Her time before the heartless Judge O’Neil was apparently over, and she hadn’t been allowed to explain anything.
“You will return to your cell now, but your lawyer will probably visit this afternoon,” the deputy said. “He or she will tell you how your family can raise your bail through a bondman and all that. He might even file a motion to have your bail reduced, seeing that you’re Amish.”
They had exited the courtroom through a side door and stood in the chilly outer hallway. She slanted him a wary glance. “What does my being Amish have to do with the amount of my bail?”
“I don’t think anybody could call you a flight risk. It’s hard to make a fast getaway in a horse and buggy.” His grin looked genuine.
“If you ever saw a standardbred horse get stung by a bee, you just might change your opinion,” she said with a wry smile.
The deputy’s hearty laughter echoed off the high ceilings.
Laughing felt odd to her, considering the stew of emotions churning in her belly. There wasn’t anything funny about the serious charges against her. Her hope that the nightmare would end once she explained what had happened faded the moment she looked into the judge’s bland face.
She was just another criminal to him.
He thought she had killed
mamm
was out on a call.
“Case number 9645287, the State of Ohio versus Abigail Graber.”
Abby’s head snapped up at the mention of her name. She felt a hand on her shoulder and heard a voice near her ear. “Stand up, Mrs. Graber.” Her legs felt as though she’d run up a mountain and back as she rose to her feet.
The judge, a portly man with florid cheeks, studied her over his half-moon glasses. Most of his head was completely bald, yet his hair remained thick beneath ear level.
“Are you Abigail Graber of Shreve, Ohio?”
“Yes,” she answered. Her words sounded more like the squeak of a rusty door hinge.
“Yes, Your Honor,” he corrected, continuing to study her.
“Yes, Your Honor, sir.”
“You are here today to enter a plea on the charges against you.” He glanced down at his papers. “Abigail Graber, you have been charged with practicing midwifery without a license, involuntary manslaughter, practicing medicine without a license, and possession and sale of a dangerous controlled substance—the last two charges being felonies. How do you plead, Mrs. Graber?”
“I’m not sure how to plead, Your Honor.”
While the judge rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, his forehead furrowed into deep creases. “Do you have legal counsel? That is, do you have the means to hire a lawyer?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I do.” She desperately wanted to look back at her
ehemann
, but she didn’t dare. The judge might interpret turning around as disrespect.
“In that case, this court will appoint legal counsel for you. Your pretrial hearing will be one month from now, and your bond is set at five hundred thousand dollars—cash or bond.” He thumped his gavel halfheartedly. “Next case, Bailiff.” He opened another folder from the stack in front of him.
Abby gasped.
Half a million dollars?
Their house, land, livestock, savings account, and everything added up wouldn’t come close to being worth that much. And she would never allow Daniel to sell their farm to raise money. Where would her family live? What would he do for a living? Their farm was his livelihood as well as their home.
She felt a gentle tug on her upper arm. The deputy had returned to her side to lead her away from the raised platform. Her time before the heartless Judge O’Neil was apparently over, and she hadn’t been allowed to explain anything.
“You will return to your cell now, but your lawyer will probably visit this afternoon,” the deputy said. “He or she will tell you how your family can raise your bail through a bondman and all that. He might even file a motion to have your bail reduced, seeing that you’re Amish.”
They had exited the courtroom through a side door and stood in the chilly outer hallway. She slanted him a wary glance. “What does my being Amish have to do with the amount of my bail?”
“I don’t think anybody could call you a flight risk. It’s hard to make a fast getaway in a horse and buggy.” His grin looked genuine.
“If you ever saw a standardbred horse get stung by a bee, you just might change your opinion,” she said with a wry smile.
The deputy’s hearty laughter echoed off the high ceilings.
Laughing felt odd to her, considering the stew of emotions churning in her belly. There wasn’t anything funny about the serious charges against her. Her hope that the nightmare would end once she explained what had happened faded the moment she looked into the judge’s bland face.
She was just another criminal to him.
He thought she had killed
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