“Perfect,” Shawn says, making a note. “That’s exactly the kind of behavior that supports our narrative about Noah’s personal vendetta interfering with his professional duties.”
Lennon steps forward, her eyes fixed on my injured face. “We’ll document that before the arraignment,” she says. “It’ll help with the harassment claim we’re filing.”
“Arraignment?” Carson asks, looking confused. “When is that happening?”
“In about an hour,” Shawn explains. “Judge Holloway is on the bench today, which is a stroke of luck for us. She’s fair and not easily swayed by the Morrison influence.”
“What’s our play here?” Truett asks.
“Simple,” Shawn says. “We acknowledge you’ve had financial difficulties, acknowledge you’ve recently come into some money,but maintain the source was legitimate with the land sale. We argue that Noah’s evidence is circumstantial at best, tainted by personal bias at worst, and that you’re all upstanding members of the community with strong ties to the area, making you low flight risks.”
“And if they press about the cattle?” Jesse asks.
“We say nothing about that,” Lennon interjects firmly. “Not a word. That’s what the Fifth Amendment is for.”
Shawn nods in agreement. “The burden of proof is on them. Right now, all they have is conjecture and a grainy video that doesn’t clearly identify any of you. It’s not enough for a conviction.”
“What about bail?” I ask, thinking about Atlee. I need to get back to her before she hears about this from someone else.
“Given the nonviolent nature of the charges and your community ties, we should be able to secure release on bond,” Shawn assures me. “It might be substantial, but I’m guessing that won’t be a problem given the proceeds from your recent land sale.”
There’s a knowing look in his eye that tells me he’s well aware all our money didn’t come from the land sale. But he’s smart enough not to ask questions he doesn’t want the answers to.
“Any other questions before we head to court?” Shawn asks, gathering his papers.
“Just one,” I say quietly. “Has anyone contacted Atlee?”
Lennon’s expression softens slightly. “Not yet. I thought it would be better coming from you once you’re released.”
I nod, grateful for her understanding. “Thank you.”
The arraignment is a blur of legal formalities. We stand before Judge Holloway, a stern-faced woman in her sixties with sharp eyes that seem to miss nothing. Shawn presents our case exactly as he outlined, emphasizing our deep roots inthe community and the circumstantial nature of the evidence against us.
The prosecutor, a young woman I vaguely recognize as being someone’s little sister that I went to school with, argues for remand, citing the serious nature of the charges and the potential flight risk. But her arguments lack conviction, as if she knows she’s fighting a losing battle.
Noah stands at the back of the courtroom, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression darkening as the proceedings continue to go our way.
In the end, Judge Holloway sets bond at fifty thousand dollars each. It’s a lot, but we can cover it.
“The defendants will surrender their passports and check in weekly with the court until trial,” she orders, banging her gavel to signify the end of the hearing.
As we’re led out to process the bond payment, I catch sight of Noah in the hallway, his face flushed with anger. Our eyes meet briefly, and I see a promise in his.This isn’t over.
But for now, we’ve won the first round. And as I think about getting home to Atlee, explaining what’s happened, and reassuring her that everything will be okay, I find myself feeling strangely calm. There are still battles ahead, still a war to be fought against Noah and the Morrisons. But for the first time since this all began, I believe we might actually win it.
Because now we’re fighting on our terms, not theirs, and that makes all the difference in the world.
TWENTY-ONE
ATLEE
I’m waitingoutside the jail, biting my nails as I wait for Devlin to come out. The door opens, and out comes Lennon. “Hey,” I wave her over. “What’s happening in there?”
Lennon grabs my arms, steering me so that I’m leaning against my SUV. “They’re getting bonded out. The arraignment went well, and I have a feeling they won’t be indicted by the grand jury. The evidence is circumstantial at best, and tomorrow there’s going to be an article printed in the Grizzly River Gazette about Project Watershed. Once all the other ranchers know about what Noah and the Morrison family are planning on doing, no one will want to indict them. They’ll see it as the guys being bullied because they’re fighting against people who want to harm the ranchers.”
I feel better hearing her speak. Everything she’s saying makes so much sense, but I won’t be completely calm until I get Devlin in my arms.
“How long until they’re released?” I ask, my eyes darting back to the jail doors.
