CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The last day.

Frank Gardner rose in the morning. He was not in a gay mood, nor was he depressed, for he had reached an important decision that lifted the world from his shoulders. As he dressed he yelled to his helper. “Provo, are you getting the carriage ready? We must not be late.” He heard with satisfaction the heavy steps of Provo pounding down the stairs to follow his instructions.

When he had dressed, he went to the third floor where he met Doctor Stewart in the hallway.

“How is he, Doctor?”

Doctor Stewart cocked his head wearily, “He is not good, Frank. But I do think he will live. He’s made it this far and I think he’ll pull through now. It will take time, and there may be more wrong inside of him than we know.”

“That’s good, Doctor. Thank you. Let me be alone with him for awhile.”

“He’ll be asleep for another six or seven hours.”

“I know. I just want to be with him before I go back to the trial.”

Frank Gardner entered the room and closed the door behind him. He took the chair near the bed and looked upon his son’s peaceful face.

“Well, son,” he said aloud, “I am afraid I have protected you as long as I can. It is up to the jury, really. But if they find Morgan not guilty today — then everyone is going to think that I murdered the Porters. We cannot let that happen, Albert. Look at all we have built. Look at my position. Do you realize that I may be governor of this state someday soon?” He leaned across the bed to caress Albert’s forehead. “No, son. I cannot protect you any longer — and lose everything that we have. If they find Morgan not guilty today, then I will have to tell them the truth about you. I know you’ll agree with me.”

Doctor Stewart tapped on the door. “Frank, your man is ready. If you want to reach the courthouse by ten o’clock you better be leaving.”

“Yes. I am ready.” Frank Gardner looked again at his son. A few seconds later he rushed from the mansion and climbed into the carriage.

In the morning the jury heard the testimony of Vina Thompkins and Carl Gast. The summations followed. For both sides they were brief and obvious. There was no cheering, however. Everyone was numbed by the recent happenings and now they came to see their saga end. They seemed to regret that it was about over. The jury received its instructions and court adjourned.

Four hours later the jury returned and waited patiently as the courtroom filled to capacity. The jurors sat stone-faced in their box. They looked neither at Frank Gardner nor to John Morgan nor the audience.

At four-thirty Judge Erwin stepped from the anteroom in his stately black robe.

“All rise.”

Judge Erwin took his chair.

“Be seated.”

The audience, the jurors, the plaintiff and the defendant collapsed into their chairs in one great roar of bodies meeting wood.

“Will the defendant please rise?” John Morgan and Amos Potters stood together.

“Have you reached a verdict?”

“We have You Honor.”

“Will you tell the court what that verdict is?”

“Yes, Your Honor. We find the defendant, John Morgan, not guilty.”

Frank Gardner stood calmly. He smiled when a photographer hurried into the courtroom to take his picture.

“Mr. Gardner,” a reporter shouted above the crowd, “Do you have a statement?”

“Yes, I do have a statement,” Frank Gardner said. “I have a statement for the press. If you’ll wait a moment until the crowd is gone, I have something very important to say. What? Yes, I would like all of the reporters to be here. Yes.”

He was smiling as more pictures were taken and more reporters gathered around him. Suddenly his smile faded as over the crowd he saw John Goodell pushing and shoving his way through the crowd to get to him. He watched.

“Mr. Goodell, what are you doing here? You are supposed to be with Albert.”

“Sir. I have bad news. Albert is dead. He died an hour ago.”

“Dead? No. That can’t be. It can’t be. What about my statement? They’ll never believe me now. They’ll think I am the murderer. Oh, god...”

“He is dead, sir.”

The crowd gave way as Senator Frank Gardner left the court house. He walked across the brown lawn to where the carriage awaited. Over eight thousand people watched him drive away.

Amos Potters grabbed Morgan by the arm. “Where are you going, John? You’re a famous man today. The press is going to want to see you.”

Morgan smiled. “I’m in a hurry, Amos. Tell them I’ll talk to them tomorrow. ‘

‘They’ll want to know if you plan to charge Gardner with murder. Well, are you?”

“No way. We couldn’t prove it anyway — right?”

“I’m afraid you’re right. But I think we have proved enough, don’t you?”

Morgan grinned. “Amos, I don’t care. Gardner can go to hell, for all I care. Right now I’m going to see the only person in the world that means a damn thing to me.”

“Lorraine?”

“That’s right. If she’ll have me.”

THE END