The full picture of what Matthew had sacrificed struck me so hard, I had to take a step back. “I’m…I’m sorry.”
“Well, I understand how important you are to him. He’s always said you were like a little sister to him. And when he said he wanted to use our savings to pay your bond, I’ll be honest: it took me by surprise. But I supported him, because I know he cares for you. I mean, a house can wait. You are much more important…to both of us.”
She came over to me and pulled me into a hug. I was afraid I was going to vomit all down the back of her fancy dress. “I had no idea,” I managed to squeak.
She pulled away from me and looked on me with pity in her eyes. “I’m sure he didn’t want to burden you. That’s Matthew, isn’t it? Always thinking of others before himself.”
I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I wanted her to leave so I could gather my thoughts. But she kept on talking as if we were friends.
“The sad thing is, his father’s being so terrible about the whole thing. I’m sure he told you about it.” I stared at her, not knowing how to begin to answer. “No? Well, let me tell you, it’s tearing their family apart. Mr. Doyle has completely disowned Matthew, cut him off from everything, and his poor mother has been sick about it.”
“He hasn’t said anything.” I gripped my stomach as it knotted again, and felt a bead of sweat trickling down my back.
“Oh, listen to me, going on about Matthew and me, when you have your own terrible circumstances to face. Please forgive me. I shouldn’t burden you with all this. Matthew would be so disappointed if he knew I’d let on about his troubles. You won’t say anything, will you?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine what I might say anyhow. She reached around and hugged my neck once more. “Oh, I pray all this will be over soon and we can all go back to our normal lives.” She pulled away and turned for the door, stopping as she gripped the handle. “I really do hope everything works out for you, Ruby, and that you get the justice you deserve.”
“Th-thank you.”
She walked out of the restroom, leaving me to wonder how I’d been so wrong about everything. Why hadn’t Matthew told me he was engaged? How could he give up his future in Nashville? I covered my face with my hands, guilt weighing so heavy on my shoulders. I could never pay him back in a hundred years. I should never have accepted his help. Deep down, I’d known this all along. But once again, I’d let my heart run away with fantasies.
Leaning over the sink, I grasped the edges as it swam in front of my eyes. As the nausea gradually abated, I forced myself to accept reality. I was most likely going to prison. Matthew would move on with his life with Vanessa. And if Cass got his way, and told everyone about my gift, I’d probably lose that too.
Lord, help me remember Your words…I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things…
I lifted my head and looked my reflection in the eyes. “Ruby Graves, you are a child of the King of Kings, and the Lord of Lords. Nothing else matters. Everything is in His hands.”
I did my best not to look at Matthew as I took my seat in the crowded courtroom. The spectators were settling in, and both Mr. Garrett and Mr. Oliver had returned to their tables. I took my seat next to Mr. Oliver, catching his worried glance.
He leaned toward me and whispered. “Cass is testifying. What is he going to say that I need to know about?”
I shrugged. What did it matter at this point? “Probably that I’m a witch who stole food from the soup kitchen.”
His eyes widened. “Is…any of that true?”
“I can explain everything.”
“We don’t have time now. We’ll have to do the best we can.”
“All rise!” We both stood as Judge Woods entered and took his place, calling court back to order.
Judge Woods eyed both lawyers over the rim of his glasses. “I have determined that the witness may testify, but only to events of which he has personal knowledge. Be mindful, Mr. Garrett, of wandering into speculation.”
I stole a quick glance at Matthew, Mother, and Asa. This was going to be painful for all of us, and they each met my gaze with apprehension. I turned back around just as Cass passed between the two tables. Even after stepping up to the witness stand, he was still a good inch or two shorter than the clerk. He placed his hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth. I was certain I heard a huff from behind me, but I couldn’t tell who it was.
“Please state your name for the record,” Mr. Garrett began.
“Irwin Cass.”
“And what is your position?”
“I’m the pastor at Cullman Church of God.”
“Thank you, pastor. Now can you explain to all of us in your own words, how you came to know Miss Graves?”
Cass cleared his throat and looked over at me as if I were a misbehaving child, and he was reluctantly informing my parents of my misdeeds. “I first met Miss Graves at the home of Patrick and Francine Doyle, when their youngest son Matthew was ill with tuberculosis. She was working for the Doyles at the time, cleaning and such. I spoke with her briefly about her conversations with young Mr. Doyle. Cautioned her about encouraging false hope. He was extremely ill at the time, and I was counseling the poor boy over his soul. Miss Graves sought to undermine my teachings, and we had a rather unpleasant conversation about it.”
“What was your impression of Miss Graves’s temperament?”
“I’ve always found her to be hot-tempered, quick to lash out with her tongue.”
“Was she ever dishonest?”
Cass frowned. “Unfortunately, yes. Several times, in fact. After much prayer by many saints in our church and community, and after a time of repentance on his part, young Mr. Doyle was finally healed of his affliction. While the rest of us praised God for this miracle, Miss Graves attempted to claim that she’d been the instrument of his healing.”
The courtroom became so quiet, I could hear the folks behind me breathing. My own heart raced loudly in my ears, and heat surged up my neck. I could feel every eye on me. My secret was about to be proclaimed to everyone in that room.
“You mean to say,” Mr. Garrett said, “that Miss Graves believed she’d healed Matthew Doyle?”
“Yes. She as much as admitted she’d attempted some kind sorcery to heal him. Bloodstopping I believe some folks call it. She believes herself to be a bloodstopper.”
“Objection!” Mr. Oliver stood and pointed a finger at Cass. “Your Honor, this is entirely speculation on Mr. Cass’s part.”
“I respectfully disagree,” Mr. Garrett said. “Brother Cass is testifying to his personal interactions with the defendant. He is not speculating. He is repeating his conversations.”
“I’ll allow it,” Judge Woods said.
Mr. Oliver sat down and wrote a note on his yellow pad. Is any of that true? He slid the yellow pad in front of me as Mr. Garrett went back to questioning Cass.
“Was there ever any other time when Miss Graves was dishonest with you?”
“Yes. Some time after Matthew was on the mend, Miss Graves was able to convince the Doyle family to allow her to join them in serving in the soup line organized by our church to feed the poor. She came and worked at the church nearly every Saturday for several months.”
I slid my response in front of Mr. Oliver. He’s not completely lying. Just twisting the truth. He’s very good at that.
“Wasn’t that a good thing?” Mr. Garrett continued. “Doesn’t the church want volunteers to help in the soup line?”
“Of course, when it’s done with the right intention of serving God and serving our neighbor. But that was not Miss Graves’s intention at all. In fact, I discovered she was using it as an opportunity to swindle cans of food away from our ministry so that she could take it to a Negro harlot she’d become acquainted with.”
There were a few gasps behind me, and the spectators began murmuring amongst themselves. Judge Wood
s tapped his gavel to quieten them.
“How can you be sure of this?” Mr. Garrett asked.
“Why, I caught her in the act. She admitted she was taking the food to the Negro woman and her bastard child.”
That time the murmuring continued through several hard taps of the gavel. As difficult as it was to listen to Cass disparage me, this particular part didn’t bother me as much. I’d never been ashamed of helping Hannah and Samuel, and I prayed God would give me peace over it. I knew I’d do the same thing again if I had the chance, so I lifted my chin and looked Brother Cass right in the eye as he attempted to shame me. I’d show him that God’s love knew nothing of skin color, or situation, or money, or power. And I hoped that I’d get the chance to tell everyone in that courtroom the same thing.
When all was quiet again, Mr. Garret proceeded. “Brother Cass, have you had any interactions with Miss Graves since that time?”
“Only recently, when I visited her in the jail shortly after she was arrested. I was attempting to offer her spiritual guidance and a chance to repent of her sins. It was my understanding she was continuing to practice her sorcery, passing it off as healing. When I learned of the circumstances of her arrest, I concluded that it was possible one of her bloodstopping rituals had gone terribly wrong. I felt a duty to offer her the chance to turn from such darkness.”
“And how did Miss Graves respond?”
“With the same vitriol I’d experienced from her time and again. She accused me of having no compassion. Then she admitted to her continued practice of her witchcraft, or whatever she calls it. And that she continues to associate with Negroes of the worst sort. Nothing has changed, I’m afraid, despite my earnest prayers for her soul.”
Behind me, I could hear Matthew muttering under his breath. I was surprised he hadn’t had another outburst. Mr. Garrett stated he had no more questions, and Mr. Oliver took a worried glance at me before he stood and approached the witness stand. In all our conversations to prepare for trial, we’d only discussed Cass in passing, and never as a potential witness. He’d have no idea what truths Cass had twisted. All I could do was pray that God would guide Mr. Oliver’s questions.
“Besides your recent visit to the jail,” Mr. Oliver began, “when was the last time you spoke with Miss Graves?”
“Well, let’s see now.” Cass looked up at the ceiling. “It was right after the tornadoes in ’32. Miss Graves was lurking around the hospital—”
“So it’s been nearly five years?”
“That sounds about right.”
“The last time you spoke with Miss Graves was when she was a fourteen-year-old girl?”
“Objection!” Mr. Garrett called out. “The witness has answered the question.”
“Move along, Mr. Oliver,” Judge Woods said.
“How long did you speak with Miss Graves at the jail?”
“About fifteen minutes or so,” Cass answered.
“Let me understand this clearly. You’re basing your entire assessment of Miss Graves on your limited interactions with her as a child and a fifteen-minute conversation you had with her five years later?”
Brother Cass blinked as if he were surprised Mr. Oliver even had to ask. “Why, yes. But as I said, it was apparent she hadn’t changed—”
“No further questions, Your Honor.” Mr. Oliver returned to the table with an air of confidence, sitting down and propping his leg over his knee. He appeared unfazed.
Mr. Garrett stood and announced that the prosecution was resting its case. Judge Woods pulled out his pocket watch and gave it a quick study. “Very well. We’ll take an hour recess for lunch and then begin with defense testimony at one-thirty.” He slammed the gavel down, and the whole room rose simultaneously.
Mr. Oliver leaned over to me, dropping his confident demeanor. “We need to head to the conference room now.”
Mr. Oliver paced back and forth in front of me as I sat at the table in the conference room. Matthew stood to my right, leaning onto the table with his head bowed as Mr. Oliver peppered us with questions.
“So this healing thing,” Mr. Oliver said, looking at Matthew. “It’s real? She healed you?”
“It’s not that simple,” I said.
“I need it to be simple, Ruby,” Mr. Oliver said. “I have to try to explain it to a bunch of farmers.”
“She’s a faith healer,” Matthew said. “That keeps it pretty simple. No need to explain the particulars. People know all about faith healers.”
Mr. Oliver threw up his hands in frustration, still pacing. “Wonderful! Well, that explains everything, then.”
“Mr. Oliver,” I said. “Please, could we do our best not to focus on my gift? It’s…very personal. I’ve never shared it with anyone but Matthew and my uncle, and for it to come out like this, well, it’s more than I can bear.”
He stopped pacing and faced me. “Believe me, Ruby, I’d love to forget all of this and simply focus on the facts of the case. Unfortunately, it is becoming increasingly clear that you haven’t told me everything. I can’t defend you when I’m unprepared for witnesses.” He let out a frustrated sigh and leaned onto the table as well. “I know you’ve been holding back because of this gift of yours, but is there anything else, anything at all, you haven’t told me?”
I shook my head.
Matthew pounded his fist into the table, sending a shock through me.
“Come on, Ruby!” He turned fierce, terrified eyes to me. “Your life is at stake! Tell him everything!”
My eyes welled up, and my throat tightened. “My life isn’t the only one at stake!” I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer, so I covered my face with my hands, trying to hold back sobs.
“Wait a minute,” Mr. Oliver said. “What are you talking about? Ruby, you have to trust me. No matter what you tell me, it stays within these walls unless we decide otherwise. But I’m swimming with one arm behind my back here.”
“Ruby, please,” Matthew said, his voice straining. “Tell him. Maybe he can help.”
“It’s too late. He’s gone.” I dropped my hands and met Matthew’s gaze. “He’s gone.” Something subtle, but powerful all the same, shifted between us. My hands began to shake in my lap. I willed Matthew to stay silent.
“Ruby, who’s gone?” Mr. Oliver asked. “What is going—”
Matthew straightened and faced Mr. Oliver. “She didn’t kill Chester.”
“Matthew! No!”
“She’s protecting a young man, Samuel, a mulatto, who was also in the barn. The same one who saw Chester attack her the first time. Chester attacked Samuel, and he’s the one who killed Chester. Ruby tried to save Chester’s life, but…but Samuel’s the one who killed him.”
All the color drained from Mr. Oliver’s face and he dropped heavily into a chair behind him.
“You promised,” I said. “You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”
Matthew bowed his head and closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ruby. But I just can’t stand by and watch you do this to yourself.” Then he too fell into a chair.
The three of us looked at each other as if we’d all been pummeled in a boxing match. What was there to do next? I was laid bare. I could only pray Mr. Oliver would keep his word better than Matthew had.
“All right,” Mr. Oliver said, scooting up to the table. “Who’s this…Samuel?”
Chapter Seventeen
Matthew
Ruby stewed in the chair beside me as I explained to Mr. Oliver exactly who Samuel was, about his mother, Hannah, and the relationship between the three of them. She’d huff and sigh, object and try to correct me. But in the end, I was pretty sure Mr. Oliver got the picture. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling for a few moments, tapping the ends of his fingers together over his chest.
“Having the boy testify would be tricky—”
“He can’t testify,” Ruby said. “He’s not even in town anymore. He’s gone.”
Mr. Oliver stood and resumed pacing, tal
king to himself as if he hadn’t heard Ruby at all. “Yes, definitely tricky. We’d have to get a continuance. The jury is unlikely to believe the word of a Negro boy. And this would most likely add fuel to the prosecution’s claims about your relationship with the Negroes.”
Ruby threw her hands up. “And what is wrong with my friendship with them? I’m not ashamed to call Hannah and Samuel my friends. She’s the kindest person I’ve ever known.”
Mr. Oliver stopped pacing and held up his palm to stop her. “The nobility of your actions is not in question here. But I’m not about to turn this into a trial on society and its treatment of Negroes. That’s a dangerous road for you. If you are determined to take the blame for this, then we need to focus on proving that you were defending yourself against an attack from a man with a history of violence toward you. That sure would be a whole lot easier if the Negroes could testify to the first attack.”
“They have names,” she muttered.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Oliver said.
“They have names. Hannah and Samuel. They are people, identified by their names, not their skin color.”
Mr. Oliver dropped his chin and looked at me. “Is she always like this?”
I nodded. “Especially when she’s right.”
Mr. Oliver grabbed his yellow pad from the table and began writing furiously. “Listen, we can deal with this. We just have to focus on convincing the jury that Chester attacked you. Matthew, you’ll testify first. I’ll have to address the healing, but let’s keep that to a minimum. You’ll acknowledge she was there, but that God healed you. Then I’ll go into Chester’s first attack. I’ll ask you to describe how you found her.”
Scraping her chair back, Ruby stood and walked to the window, keeping her back to me as she stared out. “We have to leave Samuel’s name out of this.”
“I’m not sure we can leave his name out of your account of the first attack,” Mr. Oliver said. “But I won’t ask about his involvement in the incident at the barn. Although, I wouldn’t feel I’d done my duty to you if I didn’t advise you that telling the truth in this case is your best chance to avoid prison…or worse.”
Breaking Matthew Page 20
