Apparently litigation required mourning clothes.
The bride nearly laughed.
Her father’s lawyer described the mountain man as “a violent recluse who manipulated a vulnerable young woman.”
The bride looked at the large man beside her.
He whispered:
“I do sound impressive.”
She elbowed him.
The judge called her to speak.
Her father expected her to repeat what she had believed on the wedding day.
That she had been sold.
She did.
“At the time of the ceremony, I believed my father had sold me.”
Her father’s lawyer smiled.
Then she continued.
“Because my father told me so.”
The smile disappeared.
She described the household ledger.
The threats.
The fake debts.
The twenty dollars.
The horses.
The deed.
The nightgown.
The separate room.
The lock.
The months she was free to leave.
The judge asked:
“Did your husband ever tell you that you could not leave?”
“No.”
“Did he ever condition your ownership of the property on remaining married?”
“No.”
“Did he ever demand repayment?”
“No.”
“Did he ever use physical force to prevent you from leaving?”
“No.”
“Did he ever strike you?”
“No.”
Her father’s lawyer stood.
“But did he deceive you before the marriage?”
The bride looked toward her husband.
“Yes.”
The courtroom shifted.
The mountain man’s face tightened.
The lawyer seized it.
“How?”
“He failed to ensure I understood the arrangement.”
The lawyer smiled.
“So he manipulated you.”
“No.”
The bride looked toward Reverend Stokes.
“The reverend did.”
The courtroom murmured.
Stokes stood later and admitted everything.
The mountain man had asked him to explain.
He had refused.
The judge was not amused.
Then the clerk produced the debt release.
The father’s signature.
Witnessed.
Recorded.
The lawyer argued the father did not understand what he signed.
The judge asked whether he could read.
Yes.
Had anyone threatened him?
No.
Had he accepted the money?
Yes.
The horses?
Yes.
Were the horses returned?
No.
The judge looked over his spectacles.
“Then it appears the gentleman understood enough to keep every benefit.”
A few people laughed.
The father did not.
Then came the property deed.
Clear.
Unconditional.
In the bride’s name.
The judge dismissed the challenge.
But before doing so, he asked the bride one final question.
“Do you remain in this marriage because you believe you are required to?”
The room became silent.
She looked toward the mountain man.
He did not smile.
Did not nod.
Did not plead.
He simply looked at her.
The same way he had on the first night after placing the deed beside the ivory nightgown.