Jesse fetched a spoon and napkin, and while she ate, Tori told her story. Again, Jesse held his laughter in check, and from the corner of his eye watched Mrs. Bonner’s lips twitch as she controlled hers. When Tori chuckled at the end of her tale, everyone joined in.
Jesse took the empty bowl and, leaning over, gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Now I think you better get some sleep. The sheriff is expecting us at the jailhouse early.”
Mrs. Bonner patted her leg. “Good night, dear. And good luc
k tomorrow.”
They left the bedroom as Tori eased under the covers.
Mrs. Bonner buttoned her coat and reached for the door as Tori yelled for Jesse. “You better see what she wants.” She squeezed Jesse’s arm. “Good night, now.”
Jesse went back to the bedroom. Tori leaned on one elbow, clutching the blanket to her chin.
“What, honey?” Jesse sat alongside her.
“You are you going with me tomorrow, aren’t you?” Her eyes were wide and her voice shook.
He frowned. “Of course.” Her wide-eyed look, combined with the swollen blackening eye and scratches, wrenched his heart.
The bed dipped as he lay next to her and pulled her into his arms. “I’m here, Tori. And I always will be. Now go to sleep, honey.” He ran his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp until she relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.
After Jesse and Tori arrived at the jailhouse, they were informed to go to the new Church Fellowship Hall.
Jesse stood among the somber group of women who gathered with their menfolk, Tori pressed to his side.
The weather matched the demeanor of the group. Clouds filled the Oklahoma sky, blocking out any sun, and dropping the early April temperature to downright cold.
Circuit Judge Blaine, visiting from Oklahoma City, agreed to hear the case of the City of Guthrie vs. The Ladies League for Decency and The Female Employees of The Bottomless Bucket.
A sorry group of beaten and bruised women, some, the upstanding citizens of Guthrie society, and some, the saloon girls, filed into the church hall. Mrs. Boswell had a black eye, with her arm in a sling. Jane Wilton, the Pastor’s wife, ambled in, a bandage on her head, her lip swollen, and scratches across her neck. The mayor’s wife, Mrs. Sarah Clement, sat upright, appearing undamaged, until she moved, and winced with pain.
The saloon girls didn’t fare any better. They also sported black eyes, bandages, and scratches.
Judge Blaine sat at the head table, Sheriff Grady on one side and a very irritated Caleb Johnson on the other. The bar owner kept glancing at his pocket watch, brow furrowed.
The husbands of the criminals sat next to their wives, attempting to comfort them. As the lawyer for the group, Jesse sat up front, with Tori clinging to his arm, dabbing her eyes once in a while with a white lace handkerchief.
Judge Blaine banged the gavel and announced court in session.
He glowered at the women in front of him. “In all my years as a lawyer and judge, I have never, ever witnessed the likes of this melee.” He leaned forward and pointed his gavel at the crowd. “To think refined ladies, who are mothers, wives, and upstanding members of this community, could involve themselves in a barroom brawl, causing injuries and extensive damage, is unbelievable.”
The women all shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny and a few broken sobs filled the silence.
“Mr. Johnson has agreed not to file charges. Provided he is reimbursed for damages.” The judge continued to scowl at the group.
“However, more than Mr. Johnson’s damages are involved here.” He studied a piece of paper and adjusted his spectacles. “The Ladies League for Decency paraded down the main street of Guthrie without a legal permit. The Ladies League for Decency entered a place of business not permitted to ladies, and refused to leave when requested to do so.”
Jesse put his arm around his wife and gave her a squeeze. Freckles stood out on her pale face, and she chewed on her lower lip. He handed her his clean handkerchief to replace the sopping one she clutched.
The Judge continued. “The Ladies League for Decency proceeded to,”—he stopped to stare over his spectacles at his audience—“Chase the female residents and employees of The Bottomless Bucket up the stairs to the floor where their business is conducted!” Jane moaned and collapsed in the Pastor’s lap in a dead faint. The judge frowned and shouted, “Throw some water on that woman.” Mumbling and shifting from the audience caused the judge to slam the gavel so hard Jesse expected to see splinters fly into the air.
“Fines will be imposed by the City and added to the saloon damages. A list of charges will be tallied by the court clerk and made available to the gentlemen. I don’t care how you divide it, as long as all damages and fines are paid within thirty days.”
He removed his spectacles and rubbed them with a handkerchief. “You ladies are ordered by this Court to return to your homes and seek occupation there. If you find taking care of your homes, children, and husbands is not enough to keep you busy, I suggest you form a sewing circle or knitting club, but,” —he stood as he put his spectacles back on—“There will be no more Ladies League for Decency in this town!”
He turned to the group of prostitutes huddled together across from the Decency League. “This Court orders you to work out your portion of the damages with Mr. Johnson.” He shot a glare at a young whore who giggled. “In whatever manner he chooses. If unwelcomed guests show up at your place of business, you will send someone to summon the Sheriff, and not deal with it yourselves.”
Red-faced and shooting fire from his eyes, he raised his gavel, slammed it down, and shouted, “Court is adjourned.”