“I want the keys to the truck.”
“I’ll bring the truck back tomorrow.”
“No you won’t. You give me the keys right now. You’re through, Duke. You and Alvin both.”
Duke began to curse. Forrest shoved him backward and entered the house. Alvin, slouching at the table, was in about the same shape as his brother. Ethel Crawford, as drunk as the other two, had backed up against the wall cursing with the rest. The Bigginses’ cousin, Willie, dozed on the sofa. Or maybe he was passed out.
“There’ll be no talk here. Just give me the keys, and you don’t need bother to come to work anymore.”
Duke lunged, so drunk he could hardly stand, but he was a big, powerful man, and his blow caught Forrest in the chest. It drove him backward, but he set himself and hit Duke in the face with a solid right fist. The force of the blow drove the big man backward into the table, which collapsed.
A movement caught Forrest’s eye, and he saw that Alvin Biggins had drawn a knife and was coming at him. Forrest pulled out his thirty-eight and leveled it at Alvin. “Put that knife down, Alvin.” Alvin started walking toward him. Ethel screamed and cursed, but Alvin ignored her. For-rest heard Duke scrambling to his feet, but his eyes were on Alvin. Duke struck him from the back and sent him to the floor, his big hand clamped down on Forrest’s wrist. “Gimme that gun! I’ll make you eat it!”
The two men wrestled, and Alvin and Ethel circled, yelling at Duke to kill him.
Duke was the bigger man, but Forrest was equally strong. He twisted around, and Duke fell on him, trapping the pistol between the two bodies. Duke struck out and dealt Forrest a blow to the temple. The pistol fired. It made a muffled sound, and Forrest heard Duke cry out wildly. Duke sat up, blood streaming from his chest. “You done kilt me!”
Willie stirred on the sofa. Forrest stared at Duke’s wound and knew it was serious. “We’ve got to get a doctor!” He started to get up.
He never made it up, for he had not seen Alvin pick up a chair and lift it high. It struck him on the head, and all he saw were thousands of tiny pinpoints of light.
Somehow, as soon as Sheriff Jessup came to the house, Maeva knew that something was wrong. “Have you come to arrest me for ridin’ that train?”
“No, I haven’t, Maeva. Where’s Lanie?”
“She’s in the house.”
“Are the boys there?”
“Yes, they’re here. What’s wrong?”
Pardue shook his head. “I’ll tell you all at once. Call ’em out.”
Maeva felt a cold chill. She ran to the house and opened the door. “Lanie, Cody, Davis, you all come out here!” The three came to the porch. All four of them stared at the sheriff, whose roughly handsome face was drawn into a tense expression.
“What’s wrong, Sheriff?” Lanie said in a frightened voice.
“Your daddy’s got into some trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” Maeva asked, finding it hard to catch her breath.
“He got into a fight with Duke Biggins and shot him.”
“Is he . . . is he dead?” Cody whispered.
“I’m afraid he is, boy. I had to arrest your daddy on a charge of murder. I hate to be the one to tell you this. There’ll have to be a trial, but I want you to know, all of you, that I’ll do all I can for you. And the church folks will too.”
Maeva did not hear another word. It’s my fault! God’s doing this to me because I drunk whiskey. She sat down hard on the porch steps, for her legs would not hold her up. She began to cry, and the sheriff sat down and put his big arm around her. “Well, you go ahead and cry, sweetheart, and after you get through crying we’ll talk some more about this.”
C H A P T E R 11
After Forrest repeated his side of the story, Orrin Pierce pushed his chair back from the table, stood, and looked out the jailhouse window. His eyes were bloodshot and Forrest suspected he’d been into the bourbon. “Forrest, I believe you. I really do. But with the Biggins boys stickin’ to their story, it’s gonna make it hard for us to convince the jury otherwise.”
“It’s them against me, ain’t it?” Forrest asked.
“It is.”
“And it don’t mean anything that the boys are no-’count?”
The attorney stared out the window without responding.
Forrest pulled his handkerchief out and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I need to get back to the house. When will I know about bail?”
Pierce kept looking out the window. “Forrest, this is a first-degree murder charge you got. There won’t be bail.”
“My kids need me, Orrin. You know that and so does the judge.”
“I know, Forrest, but the law’s clear on this one.” Pierce returned to the table and sat in his chair. “Forrest, I need to be honest with you.”
“I’d expect nothing else from you.”
Pierce nodded. “I don’t know if I have what you need to beat this one, my friend. I know you’re innocent, but I’m not sure I’ve got the theatrical skills needed to convince the jury.”
Forrest’s face began to flush. “Theater skills? What are you talking about, Orrin? I need an attorney, not an actor. You know that!”
Pierce smiled. “Forrest, it surprises most folks to learn that sometimes it takes more than truth to win a criminal case. Sometimes how the case is presented and how those that are testifying are questioned makes all the difference. A skilled criminal defense lawyer can raise little nuggets of doubt in the witnesses and jury alike. Then he’ll weave a story in a way that moves the jurors with the emotion of it all. All he has to do is convince them of doubt, even some doubt, in the evidence. I’ve seen the good ones work magic in the courtroom. And, my friend, barring a miracle here, we’re gonna need some tricks up our sleeves, I’ll tell you that.”
Forrest just stared at his friend. “You sayin’ you can’t do that for me?”
“You know I’ll do my best, but Forrest, if I were you I’d want a whole lot better criminal defense lawyer than me.”
“Who?”
“Well,” replied the attorney, “I know a real good one in Little Rock.”
“Bet he costs a pretty penny.”
“Yes, his charges are mighty high, but just having him would give the prosecutor’s office a fit. They would know this case was in trouble, for sure.”
Forrest wiped his forehead again. “Orrin, you know I ain’t got that much money, and if I have to pay a big, fancy attorney, I won’t be able to meet my loan payments.”
Pierce took a deep breath and then leaned forward on the table. “It boils down to this: you either lose your place and gain your freedom, or you lose your place and you lose your freedom.”
Forrest gaped in disbelief. “What are you saying?”
“Without the help of God or one real good attorney, you’re going up the river for a lifelong stay—and that’s only if they don’t execute you.
Without you, your kids won’t be able to keep up the payments. And then what? They could easily end up in an orphanage in Little Rock. If we don’t get you the best attorney there is, you’re gonna lose it all.”
Forrest’s head dropped into his hands. He thought deep and long. Finally he looked back up. “Counselor, you say I need the help of the Lord or an attorney I can’t afford, right?”
The attorney nodded.
Forrest sighed. “Well, I can afford the Lord. And I can’t afford not to trust Him with my place, my kids, and my life.”
Pierce nodded. “If that’s your choice, then I’ve only got one other recommendation.”
“What’s that?”
Pierce pushed back from the table and stood up. “While you’re talking to the Lord, I’ll head over to the prosecutor’s office and talk to him.”
“About what?”
“About some kind of deal or plea bargain. It’s the only prayer we got, Forrest. The only one.”
Lanie awoke with a start. She had been having a nightmare but could not remember what it was. She
rubbed the goose flesh on her arms as she sat up and looked out the window. She could hear the birds singing and could already feel the heat radiating in through her window. After bowing her head and saying a morning prayer, Lanie went downstairs to fix breakfast.
Silently the other children filtered into the kitchen. Maeva set the table as Davis poured a glass of milk for each of them. Cody just sat at the table. As Lanie served their plates, she could see the worry on Cody’s face. That boy’s never been afraid of a thing. But now he sure is. When everyone was served, Lanie sat down and bowed her head. “Lord, we thank Thee for this day and for this food. May it strengthen us to serve You. Keep us from fear, O Lord. Give us hope for the future. And bless our daddy today and bring him home to us soon. I pray this in the name of Jesus. Amen.”
The family ate in silence for several minutes until Davis finally put down his fork and said, “Lanie, you can pray all day for us not to be afraid, but I got to tell you that I’m scared for Daddy.”
“Me too!” exclaimed Maeva.
“I’m scared too,” added Cody. “And I’m scared for all of us, Lanie.”
Lanie slowly put down her fork and wiped her lips with a napkin as she thought about what to say. “Well, I’d be less than honest if I didn’t admit to being fearful myself. In fact, I’ve been having nightmares lately.”
“I have too,” Maeva said.
Lanie smiled at her. “Maeva, I suspect most anyone in our situation would be afraid, but we’ve just got to trust the Lord. After all, what else can we do?”
Davis nodded. “I’ll tell you what we can do. We can take care of each other, and we can never let Daddy see that we’re scared. He needs us so much.”
A knock sounded on the kitchen door. Lanie turned to see Madison Jones. “Hi, Reverend! Come on in!”
“Good morning, children.” Madison entered the kitchen, followed by his son Bascom.
“Davis, you and Cody pull up two chairs,” Lanie said. “Madison, you and Bascom have a seat. Can I get you some breakfast?”
Madison smiled as he and Bascom sat in the chairs the boys had pulled up to the table. “We done already had breakfuss, but I appreciates the offer. We just come by to say that all the folks around know that your daddy is innocent and we all been prayin’.”
Lanie nodded. “Thanks, Madison, that’s sure appreciated.”
Then Madison said, “Bascom done come to me with an idea. And I want you children to hear it.” Madison turned to his son. “Tell them what you told me, son.”
“I knows that your daddy’s work needs to go on. If ’n it don’t, you all gonna lose the business and lose your home.”
Lanie put her fork down. Her mouth began to feel dry.
“Your daddy has one good crew, but that still leaves two trucks not working. I been working with your daddy for two years now, and I think he trusts me. So this here’s my idea.” All eyes were glued on him. “What I’d like to do is take over his truck and get my brother Luke to help me.”
Lanie and Davis nodded as they thought about the idea. Bascom seemed to get more enthusiastic. “And you know my sister Fannie married Josh Simpson. He’s real good in the woods and he’s got common sense. And he’s good with trucks and driving. I was thinking he could run the other truck and I could help him find some good hands.” Bas-com paused a second to let his comments seep in. “That’s my idea.”
Lanie continued to nod as she looked down and thought about Bascom’s scheme. Everyone was staring at her. Finally she looked up, smiled at Bascom, and then looked at Madison. “Madison, I’d say your son’s idea sounds pretty good.”
Madison’s smile seemed to light up the room. “Well, I’m a might proud to hear that. I think Bascom done come up with one fine plan.” Then he became more serious. “But, Miss Lanie, you gotta realize that some folks might not like it.”
“What’s not to like?” Davis interjected.
Madison looked at him. “Well, Davis, there’s folks would take offense about letting black men take over the jobs of white men.”
“Well, rain on ’em!” Maeva exclaimed. “I don’t see nobody else standing in line to help us!”
Lanie and Davis laughed. “Maeva’s right!” Lanie declared. “I say let’s go see what Daddy says!”
“Hooray!” shouted Cody and Davis in unison. Lanie and Madison laughed together, and for the first time in days, she felt some hope.
The heat in the jail cell was oppressive. A deputy had placed a floor fan just outside Forrest’s cell, but it really only circulated the hot, muggy air, which made his mood even worse than it already was.
“Forrest!” called the sheriff. “You’ve got visitors.”
Forrest sat up to see Sister Myrtle and Brother Prince walking toward the cell, smiling, and he stood to welcome them. “Well, to what do I owe a visit from two pastors at once?”
Brother Prince began. “Morning, Forrest. Just came by to see how you’re doing.”
Myrtle nodded. “We want you to know that we’ve got our churches fasting and praying for you.”
“Of course,” Brother Prince said, “I’m expecting our prayers to be answered sooner than those of Sister Myrtle’s church.”
Forrest smiled as he saw the gleam in Brother Prince’s eyes.
Sister Myrtle said, “Ain’t no truth to that, Brother Forrest. When you expect God to do a miracle, like you be needing, then it be best to have the brothers and sisters at the Fire Baptized Pentecostal Church praying and fasting. And that’s the truth.”
“I’ll tell you what the truth is,” said Brother Prince. “It’s that we all be praying for you, Brother Forrest.”
“Amen,” said Forrest.
Myrtle asked, “You need anything?”
“Tell you what, Sister. If any of your folks want to cook up a cake or pie and bring it down here, me and the sheriff would appreciate it. The jail cooks seem to forget to do dessert from time to time. Ain’t that right, Sheriff?”
“That’s sure enough true!” called the Sheriff.
“Consider it done, Forrest!” Myrtle smiled and looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “I’ll have the sisters put a hacksaw blade in the cake to help you escape.”
Sheriff Jessup stood, smiled, and walked over to the two pastors.
“Sister Myrtle, no need to do that.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause I’m betting on your prayers to give us that miracle we’re all hoping for!”
Sister Myrtle pretended to scowl at him, “Now, Sheriff, don’t you know it’s a sin to gamble?”
“Not when I’m betting on your prayers, Sister.”
The Dew Drop Inn bustled with activity. Dr. Oscar Givens was eating at a booth with Orrin Pierce and Sheriff Jessup. Jessup leaned forward toward the men sitting across the table from him. “You hear what happened at Mamie Dorr’s today?”
“At the beauty shop?” asked Orrin.
“Yep.”
Both men shook their heads.
“Mrs. Langley was there getting her hair done and said some fairly nasty things about Forrest and his kids. Mamie threatened her with a big pair of scissors and then threw her out of the shop. Cassandra Pruitt was there and saw the whole thing.”
“I’m not sure it was wise to rile that old crow,” Orrin said.
Doc Givens laughed. “You’re probably right, Orrin, but I’d a paid a month’s wages to have seen that. Probably the first time that lady’s been put in her place in some time.”
Pardue laughed and each of the men took a bite of his dinner. The door swung open and Alvin Biggins and his cousin Willie, along with Ethel Crawford, walked in and sat at the counter.
“There’s trouble here,” Pardue mumbled. Orrin and the doctor looked over their shoulders to see the unwelcome company.
Sister Myrtle was in the back picking up an order. When she didn’t appear right away, Alvin cried out, “Hey! Anybody back there to take my order?”
Myrtle stuck her head out the kitchen door.
“Be right with you!”
Alvin scowled. “How ’bout you drop what you’re doin’ and come take our order.”
Myrtle stuck her head out again. Everyone in the café had turned their attention toward the counter. “What did you say?” Sister Myrtle asked. Pardue could see that her eyes were fiery. “You get out here and take my order! Now!”
Myrtle let the kitchen door slam behind her and slowly walked to the counter just in front of Alvin. “The Good Book tells me that patience is a virtue, Mr. Biggins. Maybe you should try to get a little. Might make you a bit more pleasant.” She smiled at him.
“Why don’t you shut up and take our order?”
The kitchen door opened again and now Charlie walked out. His apron was greasy and dirty, and he rubbed the blade of a butcher knife across his abdomen.
Alvin looked at him and back at Sister Myrtle. “What I need from you is three cheeseburgers and three Cokes. And this time, why don’t you put a bit more ice in ’em. You hear? And don’t keep me and my friends waitin’.”
As Charlie took a step toward the counter, Pardue bounded out of his booth and took a seat by Alvin.
“Alvin, I can’t believe you’re ordering cheeseburgers.”
“Why not?”
“Why, me and my friends just got the last three. So maybe you all best order your cheeseburgers somewhere else. All right?”
Alvin turned on the stool to face the sheriff and leaned forward until his nose was only inches from Pardue’s. “I got a right to eat here.”
“You’d best go find another café, Biggins.”
Snickers rippled around the café as Alvin glowered.
Ethel spoke up. “Come on, boys. Let’s go get us some good grub.
Sure won’t find it in this here rat hole!”
She and Willie stood and left. Alvin was still staring at the sheriff.
“You gonna be smart like your friends, or are you gonna give me the pleasure of dragging your no-good self to my jail?”
Alvin smiled. “Sheriff, the only no-good around here is that lyin’ murderer what’s already locked up in your jail. And pretty soon that slime ball’s gonna be rotting in the state pen—that is, if he’s not swinging from the end of the hangman’s noose.”
THE HOMEPLACE Page 13
