A rider was drawing closer, through the light fog rising from the forested hills around Stockton. The ladies had initially considered the pursuer as merely another gallivant taking some exercise, but the man on the horse was taking no leisurely route, rather a direct line toward their carriage.

“Have no fear,” said the coachman. “I am a tolerable shot at a hundred feet.”

Sarah Althea Sharon gasped and covered her mouth. Her companion, a young friend of Mammy Pleasant who required the instruction necessary to permit her entry into society, began fanning herself frantically, even though the weather was cool and the breeze sufficient to calm her flushed cheeks.

“We ought not to have taken the open carriage,” Sarah said, scolding herself more than anyone else. Taking the air was easier in an open carriage, of course, but the truth was that Sarah had developed a taste for ostentation. Today she was wearing a red velvet coat trimmed with black fur at the wrists, a white cloak, and a merry green bonnet adorned with a red ribbon tied about a small clutch of mistletoe. The favorable display of her good fortune had not yet gained her acceptance in society, but she could feel the resistance weakening, and the passing of Senator Sharon had prompted the reflection in some quarters that perhaps bygones ought to be bygones, particularly where Sarah was likely to be far more entertaining in spending the Senator’s money than any of his heirs.

“Steady now,” the coachman said, reining in the horses. The coachman took out his rifle and leveled it at the rider, who was now nearing the outer range of the coachman’s abilities. The coachman squinted and fancied that he had the advantage.

Sarah’s companion squealed and hid her face in her hands. Sarah kept her eyes upon the rider, for there was something familiar about him.

“Announce yourself, or I shoot!” the coachman roared.

“It’s Terry!” Sarah suddenly recognized her lawyer. “Don’t shoot!”

“Sarah?” David Terry’s voice called out.

“Yes, yes!” Sarah cried. “Put down your rifle! He is a friend!”

The coachman complied, with a twinge of regret, for he quite missed shooting people.

Terry grew near on a black horse lightly foamed from the exertion. He rode within ten feet of the carriage and then swung from the saddle in an easy arc. Sarah’s heart fluttered, for she was devoted to those romance novels that women all read nowadays in which dashing young men are forever leaping off stallions to sweep up nubile maidens. But Terry’s face was set and grim.

“Is there something wrong, sir?” Sarah asked.

“I have unwelcome news, of a personal nature,” said Terry. “I went to your home, but a servant told me you had set out upon a carriage ride. I regret that I am forced to tell you this news under these circumstances, but I daresay that the newsboys shall be calling it out in the streets by the time you arrive back in Stockton.”

“Good heavens, what has happened?”

Terry looked away for several moments to collect himself, for he was plainly in a fearsome temper.

“The partisan judges upon the Ninth Circuit — those awful Judges Deady and Sawyer — have granted the application by Sharon’s heirs to declare your marriage to Senator Sharon a nullity.”

“What?” Sarah said. “We proved our case before Judge Sullivan! How can this be?”

“Judge Sullivan is a judge of the State of California,” said Terry, “and before he died Sharon has lodged an appeal from Judge Sullivan’s decision to the California Supreme Court, which it will decide by-and-by. But this decision comes from the federal courts.”

“Why are the federal courts meddling in my marriage?”

“Because the marriage contract was signed by two people from different states.”

“Senator Sharon lived here, in San Francisco!”

“The contract identifies him as a citizen of Nevada, where he was a United States Senator, and you as a citizen of California.”

“How is the contract proof of citizenship but not marriage?”

“They called the marriage contract a forgery. It is an outrage, but Deady and Sawyer — no doubt bribed by Sharon’s heirs — asserted that the contract was written by a half-educated woman, and not a man of experience.”

“He wrote me letters, as his Dear Wife!”

“Rejected as mere tracings. They credited Ah Ki’s testimony that the letters were not actually written by Senator Sharon.”

“But the entire trial showed that Sharon was of the lowest character imaginable, even before he took advantage of me!”

“It is the considered opinion of the United States Circuit Court for the Ninth Circuit,” Terry said bitterly, “that a man can be immoral but truthful, but moral degradation in a woman means she is unworthy of belief.”

“But — ” Sarah began and could not finish.

“You shall not be required to pay back what you have spent,” Terry said heavily, “but in the next few days, you shall have to return Sharon’s monies and properties to his heirs.”

“Can we not appeal?” Sarah cried. “Why can Sharon appeal, when he receives an unfavorable ruling, but I cannot?”

“We can certainly appeal,” Terry said. “But the appeal from the Ninth Circuit lies to the United States Supreme Court, the very court upon which Justice Field sits. I expect he has already poisoned the minds of his colleagues against us.”

Tears now welled in Sarah’s eyes, and her companion began to weep as well. The coachman drew his cap down low upon his forehead, for it was indecent to witness the distress of a lady.

“Then my situation is hopeless,” Sarah said.

“I regret that I am to blame for your misfortunes,” said Terry. “Field has been my enemy for thirty years, and he is stealing your fortune to punish me.”

“No!” Sarah cried. “Not at all!”

She rose from her bench in the carriage, threw open the door, jumped down upon the path, and embraced Terry. She reached up and held his face in her hands.

“It was my misfortune, in a life of misfortune, to meet Senator Sharon when I did,” she said, “and his evil intentions shaped my future. The malevolent Fates decreed that Sharon would be a crony of Field’s — why, Field stayed in Sharon’s hotels at no cost! Who knows how many judges Sharon has bought and sold? This is all an evil scheme in which we are both the victims!”

Terry nodded slowly.

“But you shall stay by my side, won’t you?” Sarah implored. “You shall not abandon me in my hour of need?”

“Of course not,” Terry whispered. “It was my honor to defend you against the indecent attacks leveled against you in Judge Sullivan’s courtroom, and I shall defend you all the way to the Supreme Court if must.”

“Oh, I was the merriest widow! But now I am free as a bird! Free to do whatever I wish! We are both widowed, dear David, both free!”

“That is so.” Terry bowed his head for a moment, for the memory of his dear departed wife was still fresh.

“What shall we do, with the freedom we have?” Sarah now gazed intently into Terry’s eyes, and he did not mistake her meaning.

“My darling,” Terry stammered, “I am thirty years your senior.”

“I do not care for age! I care only that you are the only man who rose to defend me, in this heartless world!” Sarah brushed a lock of Terry’s hair from his forehead, and he trembled.

“If you will have me,” he said, “it shall be the greatest happiness of my life.”

“And mine!” Sarah cried. “Swear that you shall love me the rest of our lives, and that you shall take me, for richer or poorer!”

“I swear, my dear, I swear!” Terry clasped Sarah close, and their hearts were joined.

“And swear also to me, darling,” Sarah set her hands upon Terry’s broad shoulders and stared directly into his eyes, “that you shall not rest until you have avenged this slight upon my honor!”

Terry went down on one knee and held Sarah’s hands in his.

“I swear to you, upon my very soul,” he said, “that with every fiber of my being I will fight, and revenge every wrong committed against you, by Judge Deady” —  here he kissed Sarah’s hand — “by Judge Sawyer” — he kissed it again —  “and by that d____ Justice Field!”

“Then you must rise, fair knight,” Sarah said, as she tossed her curls, “and begin your noble quest!”

Terry rose, swept Sarah off her feet, and lifted her to his horse. He saluted the coachman and Sarah’s companion, both witnessing the scene with their mouths gaping, and galloped off.

Sarah Althea Terry, née Hill, formerly Sharon, had dressed entirely in black, upon advice of her counsel, but had not abjured every refinement. Her dress was made of the most luxuriantly black silk, with black velvet striping down the blouse, and a black leather belt clasped tightly about her waist. Owing to the heat, her shawl was finely thin black silk, and her bonnet light, with a modest spray of peacock green feathers. She loosened the garment at her wrists, for it was stifling hot, and cooled herself with a black paper fan.

“How long must I remain in mourning?” she complained. “The Senator has been dead for almost three years. And is this not some insult to you, as my true husband?”

“I shall abide any insult to serve your interests, my dear,” said Terry. He was seated across from her, for Sarah and Terry had availed themselves of the corner seats facing one another in a Southern Pacific railcar on the way into San Francisco, and Terry had arrayed his legal papers across his seat and lap. “You must appear both as a widow in mourning, and a serious woman of business.”

“Oh, I am nothing but serious!” Sarah jibed. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, knowing that such a gesture was bound to arouse Terry’s interest. Her hair, originally strawberry blond, had become redder with the passage of time. “And I am perfectly willing to dress in court however you please. But I would rather be more comfortable when I travel.”

“Someone might see you,” Terry said. “The vultures of the press are ever circling. The notice of the hearing has been posted in the newspaper, so we certainly can expect reporters at the hearing, even likely at the depot.”

“Perhaps we are being watched right now!” Sarah exclaimed in mock horror.

“I would not be surprised.”

Sarah craned her neck and looked across the rows of passengers but caught something she did not expect. She startled for a moment, quickly observed that her husband was engrossed in his legal papers, and resolved to make amusement from suspicion.

“Dear husband,” she said. “Are you confident of victory?”

“I am confident that we are in the right,” Terry said. “The federal decree annulling your marriage to Senator Sharon died when he did, and it would be absurd to say that his heirs have more time to revive that decree than I would have had to appeal it. But we cannot trust that these judges will reach the correct decision. I shall be arguing before a crony of Field’s and a crony of Sharon’s.”

“And yet you keep fighting for me.”

“I fight for right, and I fight for you.”

“These cronies that you mentioned,” Sarah said, looking over Terry’s shoulder. “Who are they exactly?”

“Judge Sabin is from Nevada, so he owes his seat to Senator Sharon. That vote is lost.”

“No.” Sarah squinted. “Not him. The other?”

“Judge Sawyer? He joined the opinion that nullified your marriage to Senator Sharon.”

“Then it is time that I set him straight.” Sarah pursed her lips, rose from her seat, and strode up the aisle in the center of the railcar.

“My dear, what — ?” Terry began to follow his wife but had laid out so many of his legal papers around his seat that it took several moments before he was able to set them aside, then rise and follow Sarah, whom he was astonished to behold standing over an older gentleman seated upon the bench and reading a newspaper, with thinning grey hair and a short grey beard.

“Look who we have here!” Sarah cried. “The hanging judge himself!”

“I beg your pardon,” the man said, “but who are you?”

“I am the one you who called a whore, a liar, and a fraud!” Sarah exclaimed, and every head in the railcar turned in her direction. By this time, Terry had reached his wife. He looked down at the man with the newspaper.

“Judge Sawyer!” Terry nearly shouted and began to laugh. “Well, this is a felicitous meeting!”

“I am sorry, madam, but I am not certain that I know who you are,” Sawyer said.

“And yet you have ruined my life!” Sarah exclaimed. “Well, let me give you a dose of your own medicine. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury!” Here Sarah threw out one arm theatrically and began to pace up and down the aisle of the train. “This man here is the defendant in our little proceeding! What crimes has he committed? Why, I shall tell you.

“I was a poor girl from a poor family, seeking to make my way in the cruel, indifferent world. I arrived in San Francisco with nothing but my wits to sustain me. I had no friends, no relations, no business partners. But I did have one thing — from watching every last cent since I was a little girl, I knew how money could be made, and how I could turn risk into reward. Do you know how to do that, young lady?”

Here Sarah addressed her remarks at a small girl with wide eyes and a pink dress, who whispered, “No,” under her breath, for she was too frightened to speak.

“You must learn, my dear!” Sarah cried. “For it is the only way you will ever have power over a man. There is the other way, of course, but it fades. But this gold is everlasting!”

“Could someone summon the conductor?” Sawyer pleaded. “This woman is mad!”

“Over time, through careful attention and investment, I was able to take care of myself. And there I was one morning, at the Bank of California, when I was approached by Senator William Sharon of Nevada. He said he heard that I had a keen eye for business and wished to avail himself of some of my investment advice.”

At the mention of Sharon’s name, some of the other passengers on the train began to nod in recognition at the vigor of a forgotten scandal from the newspapers, and mutter amongst themselves.

“Our business relationship soon acquired a romantic aspect,” Sarah went on. “Dear old ‘Sen.’ was an old fool, but a fool for love, which is the best fool there is.”

Here, Sarah patted the shoulder of an elderly gentleman, who beamed at the attention. Sarah bestowed a benevolent smile upon him and continued her pacing.

“We married, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, but not in a church! As good business people, we signed a contract to formalize our relation. And I was his dear wife.”

At this point Terry coughed and caught Sarah’s attention. Sarah knew her husband, and even better could read any man, and observed instantly that she ought not dwell too extensively upon the contract itself, as it had been lost in a fire at their home in Oakland. But Sarah had seen many lawyers get carried away by the majesty of their own orations and found that she rather liked it.

“But Senator Sharon’s friends — and this man’s friends!” Sarah pointed angrily at Sawyer, who was shrinking in his seat on the train, the other passengers upon his bench edging away from him. “Why, they told him to cast me aside, to reject me, and worst of all, to violate the sacred terms of the contract that he signed!

“We went to court — the both of us — and do you know what happened, ladies and gentlemen of the jury?” Sarah was overjoyed to see several nods. “Judge Sullivan in San Francisco found that I was his lawful wedded wife! But Sharon’s cronies in federal court — like this man here — ruled that I must have been lying! And for what reason? I hesitate to tell you, but you must know the terrible truth!”

Sarah paused for a moment, and tears welled in her eyes. She ceased her pacing and clasped the tops of two benches upon either side of the aisle.

“It is now the law for the entire Western coast of this great and proud nation that even if a man engages in all sorts of lascivious conduct with all kinds of women, that is no reason to doubt his honesty. But if a woman engages in a single act of immorality, that means she cannot be believed.”

Sarah looked into the eyes of the little girl in pink and fancied that she had set a fire in her soul.

“Please, please stop,” sputtered Sawyer.

Sarah turned very slowly to meet Sawyer’s gaze.

“Have you not said enough, sir?”

Now she addressed the entire railcar. “Has he not done enough, ladies and gentlemen of the jury? He is guilty and must be punished!”

“We could take him down to the bay and drown him!” Terry muttered.

“Dear God!” Sawyer exclaimed. “This is outrageous! Won’t any of you come to my assistance?” Few in the railcar seemed moved by Sawyer’s pleas, but one gentleman in the rear took it upon himself to be the custodian of peace and good order and went to find the conductor.

“But we would have to stop the train and inconvenience the jury,” Sarah purred. “I would not reward their service in such a manner. And the good Judge Sawyer is scheduled to soon hear the petition from Sharon’s greedy heirs to enforce the decision against me! Why, I would not deprive him of an opportunity to finally set things right! Ought I give him a wooling, then, dear husband?”

Sarah’s eyes gleamed. Every lawyerly impulse strained at Terry to deny his wife’s request, but she was particularly irresistible at her most impetuous.

“You ought to give him what he deserves,” he said airily.

Sarah cackled and seized Sawyer’s hair in her fist.

“That is for calling me a whore!” she cried and wrested Sawyer’s head to the left. “That is for calling me a liar!” She wrenched Sawyer’s head to the right.

“Stop! Please! Someone help me!” Sawyer pleaded.

Sarah’s response to this entreaty was to jerk Sawyer’s head to the left again, then back to the right.

“Ladies and gentleman!” Terry clapped his hands and appealed to his fellow passengers. “Here we have a judge who refused to aid a helpless woman, poor and desperate, and instead called her a liar and a whore. Now he calls upon you to show the charity and chivalry that he denied her!”

“I command you to stop!” A voice rang out from one end of the railcar, and Terry turned to behold a conductor in all the finery of the Southern Pacific advancing up the aisle.

“But I am not doing anything.” Terry held up his palms.

The conductor was now close enough to observe the entire tableau: Judge Sawyer, writhing upon the bench, gasping, red-faced, hands clutched against Sarah’s hands, while Sarah still held his head firmly in her grasp, as a Judith seeking to behead Holofernes.

“I want to treat you like a lady,” the conductor said, “but if you do not release that gentleman, I shall wire for the sheriff to escort you from this train immediately.”

“The sheriff shall not arrive immediately,” Sarah replied.

“Perhaps not,” said the conductor, “but you now have a car full of witnesses who will say that you defied a lawful order to leave this man alone and return to your seat.”

Sarah looked at the conductor, then her husband, then back down at Sawyer, who imploringly rolled his eyes upward. She assessed the countenances of the crowd.

“I suppose I have had my fun,” she said. She released Sawyer from her grip, and he bent over and panted heavily. “Let this be a lesson to you, Judge! Dear husband, won’t you escort me back to my seat?”

“Of course, my dear.” Terry bowed slightly and held out his elbow. Sarah brushed past the conductor and linked arms with her husband but then let out a gasp of mock surprise, reached into one of her pockets, pulled out a small purse, unclasped it, and removed a small coin, which she handed to the conductor.

“Here you are, good sir,” she said. “I hope I have not been a bother!”

With that, nose high in the air, Sarah and her husband marched down the aisle.