Chapter 20

20

As Dr. Horecroft approached the seat beside the judge's bench, Maeve saw Ginny go ashen and lean against Beth, who sat on her left and wrapped an arm around her mother.

Kat had grabbed Sebastian's hand, and her knuckles were pure white. Sebastian held her hand in both of his and drew her close. All of them looked nervous, uneasy.

Those quick impressions from the two women who knew him best kept Maeve riveted on every word out of Dr. Horecroft's mouth. She glanced at Judge Nolte and thought the judge noticed the women's fear too, though she kept a straight face.

Maeve had seen Horecroft in action a few times now—during the street fight and at the jailhouse. Horecroft had refused to help bind up Rutledge's wounds, saying he wasn't "that kind of doctor." Maeve suspected the man was no kind of doctor.

Mr. Pritchard, Rutledge's lawyer, gave the court a broad overview, starting with Horecroft's side of things. "Ac cording to Dr. Horecroft here, Mrs. Rutledge was a sad case. Her husband brought her to him and the asylum because Mr. Rutledge cared for his wife and wanted her to be restored to sanity. The world is a stressful and confusing place for someone with Eugenia Rutledge's delicate sensibilities. Her husband told of how she'd begun losing control of her senses. Shouting at shadows. She was tormented by nightmares and had terrors during the daylight hours as well. She needed a place where she could rest. Where all the stresses of life could be lifted off her fragile shoulders." The lawyer paused and turned to Horecroft. "Isn't that right, Dr. Horecroft?"

"Yes. My asylum is such a place."

Maeve looked to the front of the room to see the judge studying Ginny and Kat. Maeve had never seen Ginny shouting at shadows or heard of her being plagued by terrors in the daytime. She had nightmares, but as Maeve understood it, the asylum had been the cause of the woman's nightmares.

Horecroft went on, elaborating on his and Mr. Rutledge's oh-so-kindly tale of poor Eugenia. "She was brought to me in a state of near collapse, and I offered the care and protection of the asylum, which is dedicated to giving people like her the rest they so desperately need."

Oscar had worked for the Rutledges at the time, in the stable. He'd driven Ginny to the asylum, and he'd been so furious when he realized what Mr. Rutledge was doing to his wife that he'd ended up out of a job. Oscar told Beth where her ma was, and the two of them began to plan how to free Ginny from that awful place.

Horecroft cleared his throat. "Mrs. Rutledge was not ready to leave when she ran away. The very fact that she ran is proof of that."

No, it was proof she wanted to get away , Maeve thought. And not much else .

"And here she is now, out in the wilderness. Afraid of the very ones, her husband and I, who want only the best for her. Mr. Rutledge has searched diligently for her for years. He's finally found her and wishes to take her home, back to a place where she can get well." His voice had turned calm and compassionate.

Ginny watched him with narrow eyes, as if every word disgusted her. Horecroft and his kindly tone might have convinced Maeve if she didn't already know that Ginny was perfectly capable of caring for herself. She figured the judge was properly skeptical, but what about the jury? Would they believe what Horecroft was saying?

Mr. Pritchard asked more questions, all of them similar, giving Horecroft a chance to put on his show of the good-hearted doctor. When finished, he said, "That is all, Your Honor. No more questions for the doctor." Pritchard returned to his seat.

Horecroft was about to rise from his seat when Ginny's lawyer, Mr. Curtis Etherton, jumped up and said, "Just one moment, Dr. Horecroft. I have a few questions."

Horecroft's brows arched, and his nose twitched. Maeve thought he bore an unfortunate resemblance to a mouse she'd found hiding under the kitchen cupboard. She'd dispatched it, and right now she'd've liked to do the same with the doctor. It was probably a good thing she didn't have a broom handy.

Horecroft settled back in his chair, adjusted the tidy ascot tie he wore, and folded his hands like a prayerful man who was only there to help.

"How do you, in your professional capacity, judge a woman to be sane?"

Horecroft hesitated. Something flitted across his face that was hostile, then quickly hidden. "I find your question offensive, sir. I am a man of science. I've trained for years how to properly judge a person's mental state. But to try to explain it to you ... well, I'm afraid it would be beyond your ability to understand and be a waste of this court's time."

"Nevertheless," said Etherton, "if you would at least give us some idea of what goes through your mind when judging a woman like my client either sane or insane."

Horecroft fidgeted for a few seconds, clearing his throat again. "I've made it my life's work to identify those women in need of the special care they can only get in a residential facility like Horecroft Asylum—one of the finest establishments for such care anywhere in the country. In fact, the state of Illinois has recently—"

"Yes, yes," Etherton cut him off. "I'm sure you're proud of your asylum, but how do you decide who needs that special care? I realize I don't have your years of training, but try and explain it to me anyway. Please—it's important that you do."

Maeve watched Horecroft's color rise, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red. His mouth pursed in disapproval, and his eyes flashed. The man was clearly insulted.

"I've spent countless hours talking with Mrs. Rutledge. It's clear her mind is quite addled. She refuses to even—"

Etherton stepped closer to where Horecroft sat. "It's clear how ? Did you give her any tests? Either medical tests or written tests? You claim to have spent countless hours speaking with her. So then, was your assessment based on a verbal test?"

Horecroft ignored the question. "There are steps a woman in her condition must take in order to get better. She was a very frustrating case, but I believe with a little self-reflection and a willingness to admit she is troubled and needs help, she could be improved. And yet, after living at the asylum for a while, I began to give up hope that she could be cured of her insanity."

"So you're saying that you tested her by talking to her—that's how you diagnosed her? Is that correct?"

"Well, yes, I imagine that is essentially correct."

"Essentially correct sounds as though it's not fully correct. If there is more, such as mental or physical tests, anything I'm missing, disclose them now, Doctor, while you're on the stand. Again, how do you judge whether a patient is sane or not?"

Horecroft tugged at the collar of his white shirt. He was dressed in much finer clothes than Rutledge was, but they were too tight. Maeve wondered if he'd gained weight but wasn't able to afford new clothes. He'd lost the income from Kat and Ginny, and of course Yvette. How many people were in that asylum? Were they all wealthy?

All that was happening with the financial panic back east might have cut into the asylum's finances. Wealthy folks paying top dollar to keep their embarrassing or just inconvenient relatives locked away might have decided they could handle things themselves, locked them in the attic perhaps, and left Horecroft with a reduced income.

"There are several symptoms I look for," Horecroft said, "and Mrs. Rutledge has all of them. She's overly emotional. Given to weeping and wild talking she can't seem to control. Obsessive behavior like reading improper novels. Slovenly dressed, uncleanness..." He looked at Ginny in her clean, tidy calico dress, albeit not the fashionable attire she'd worn as a well-to-do Chicago socialite. Horecroft, having found his bearings again, continued, "Those who are mad exhibit sullen behavior and a lack of cooperation, as well as inappropriate anger directed at the very people who are trying to help her, namely her husband and myself. Of course, I also rely on the testimony of loved ones. And Mr. Rutledge was clear that he thought she had lost her mind. She wasn't the calm, rational woman she'd been earlier in her life. A husband is a good judge of such things; his word is sufficient for a diagnosis to be made."

The clock on the courtroom wall ticked loudly as Mr. Etherton let Dr. Horecroft's last remark hang in the air for all to ponder. After nearly half a minute of utter silence, Etherton said, "Just to be clear, you're telling this court that Mrs. Rutledge's husband simply arrived at your door, told you his wife was insane, and handed her over to your care. You accepted her into the asylum based primarily on his claiming she was mad—that is, in exchange for a generous monthly check from him. That's the criteria you used to lock up a free, adult woman for three years?"

Once more, Horecroft's face grew crimson. "She is clearly insane ."

Mr. Etherton turned to look at Ginny, who sat quietly at the table, hands folded in her lap, composed and attentive. "It's not clear at all."

"You're not someone who's handled hundreds of such cases. I, on the other hand, have developed the skills necessary to determine a person's sanity or lack thereof. Furthermore, the state of Illinois and the government of the United States of America have given me the right to make that judgment." Horecroft huffed, straightened his tight suit coat, and fell silent.

Etherton shook his head slowly. "On the contrary, Doctor, for Mrs. Rutledge is as sane as you and me, probably more so. I've spent time with the woman in question, who's quietly sitting here now beside me, and I heard no irrational talk, witnessed no overly emotional reactions, no sign whatsoever that she's not fully able to direct her own affairs in a responsible and rational way. Your so-called diagnosis, Dr. Horecroft, was grossly incorrect. It was also immoral." Etherton turned to Judge Nolte. "No further questions at this time, Your Honor, but can I ask that the doctor be called to the stand again if I see the need for it?"

"You can, Mr. Etherton." The judge looked at the witness. "You can step down from the stand, Dr. Horecroft."

Horecroft stared at her for a moment, as if he couldn't believe he was being instructed by a woman judge, before giving his head a little shake, standing, and walking over to sit next to Rutledge. He was closest to the jury of anyone, and it drew Maeve's eyes to the twelve men, sitting there and watching the trial unfold. A couple of them looked at Horecroft with something she couldn't quite define. Almost like ... like they knew him. But how could they? Horecroft and Rutledge weren't from Cheyenne or even Wyoming Territory. No jury of folks around here would know the two men and therefore be biased for or against them.

Judge Nolte shifted her attention to Rutledge's lawyer. "Any more witnesses, Mr. Pritchard?"

"Yes, Your Honor. I'd like to call Mrs. Eugenia Rutledge to the stand."