“And you saw that happen?”
“I was there,” said Cut Nose again.
Jason looked from Cut Nose to Colquitt, then past them. Two men were peering stealthily through the willows.
“Look out!” yelled Jason.
Cut Nose, too, glanced around, saw the pair who listened, and with a darting birdlike swiftness flung himself flat. As he struck the ground he rolled over into some low-growing leafage, and brought up his rifle.
The slim, swarthy man lifted a pistol. But he did not aim at Cut Nose. Jason saw the blooming of a cloud of smoke, heard the flat bark of exploding powder, and Squire Colquitt swayed and collapsed beside him, falling to one knee.
Almost at once the crack of Cut Nose’s rifle replied. The tall hat flew from the head of the swarthy man, and next instant both of them turned and ran. Cut Nose jumped up, ramming home another charge as he dashed in pursuit.
“Come back!” Jason shouted after him. “They got Squire Colquitt!”
He bent over the lawyer. Still kneeling, Colquitt clutched his right arm with his left hand. Bright blood soaked the sleeve and trickled over his fingers.
“I’ll be all right,” mumbled Colquitt.
Cut Nose came rushing back again. He squatted down, dropped his gun, drew his knife from its sheath. Rapidly he slit Colquitt’s sleeve and laid bare the wound. It gushed blood.
“Want cloth,” said Cut Nose, reaching a hand toward Jason. “Give me.”
From his coat pocket Jason snatched a big clean bandanna. Cut Nose wadded it into a ball and pressed it against the wound. Then he pointed at Jason’s cravat, which Jason stripped from his neck and which Cut Nose used to tie the bandanna compress tightly to the wounded arm, stopping the stream of blood.
“Thanks, Cut Nose,” Colquitt said with gritted teeth. “Jason, run and tell the landlord to fetch a doctor.”
Jason rose and turned, but had no need to leave the Squire. The landlord appeared at a dead run from around the corner of the stables. “What were those guns ?” he called.
“Two outlaws tried to kill Squire Colquitt,” roared Jason. “Can you find a doctor?”
“Dr. Ryan is at the house now,” the landlord replied. “Here, Squire, let me help you. Mr. Morgan, can we carry him?”
“I’ll manage to walk if you give me some support,” said Colquitt, and rose shakily to his feet.
Jason aided him with an arm around his waist, while the landlord hurried ahead. Cut Nose took up his rifle and moved swiftly through the willows, in the direction taken by the pair of assassins.
Jason helped Colquitt through the tap room and back into the room where they had spent the week. Dr. Ryan came at the landlord’s summons, told Colquitt to lie down, and swiftly examined and dressed the wound.
“The upper arm’s broken,” reported the doctor. “It will mend, but he must have absolute rest.”
“I have to be in Moshawnee day after tomorrow,” groaned Colquitt, trying to rise; but the doctor put a hand on his unwounded shoulder and forced him to lie down again.
“That’s impossible, sir. You’ve lost a great deal of blood, and any violent or sudden motion may start the bleeding again. You can’t even mount a horse, much less ride.”
“A coach goes daily to Moshawnee,” insisted Colquitt.
“And its jostling and bouncing would finish you, sir,” the doctor told him.
The news of Colquitt’s mishap had spread swiftly. Several lawyers entered the room, among them Squire Abershaw and Solicitor Parks.
“Colquitt, I beg you not to worry about your case in Moshawnee,” said Abershaw, drawing up a chair beside the bed. “Let me be your deputy there, sir. Who is your client, and what is the matter to be tried ?”
“No, Abershaw,” said Colquitt, weakly but definitely. “Jason Morgan must speak for the plaintiff.”
“Sir!” Jason protested. “I’m not even admitted to the bar!”
“It’s high time you were, boy.” Colquitt was able to smile encouragement. “I venture to think you’re ready. Judge Hemphill will be in Moshawnee. Seek him out, Jason, ask to be examined for your license.”
“But can I—”
“You can, Jason. I’m sure of it.”
Parks came forward.
“There’s no trace of those scoundrels who shot at you, Colquitt,” he reported. “But they’ll be found, and punished.” “Parks,” said Colquitt, “I want Jason here to be examined for admission to the bar. Speak to Judge Hemphill. Arrange it.” “Why, of course,” promised Parks.
Colquitt turned his head on the pillow.
“Jason,” he said, “you know more about the courthouse case than any lawyer I can ask to try it for me. I must leave it in your hands. I’ve brought you to the threshold of the lawyer’s profession. Now cross that threshold, and luck attend you.” “Was Squire Colquitt injured ?” came a voice from the door, a voice that Jason knew at once. “I came to offer my sympathy, Squire, and any help I can possibly—”
“Kinstrey,” snapped Jason, “get out of this room.”
Kinstrey blinked and reddened. “What do you say to me?” he spluttered.
“Get out!” Jason walked swiftly toward him. “Out of this room, and out of my sight, before I throw you out!”
“Why—” began Kinstrey, and, as Jason made another quick stride in his direction, he backed hurriedly away.
“Egad,” said Parks to the landlord, “young Morgan looked as if he meant business just then. How would you like to wrestle with him?”
“Not me,” said the landlord honestly. “Don’t talk about wrestling with Mr. Morgan! I nearly broke three of my ribs, just looking at the way his eye fired up.”
“Come back here, Jason,” called Colquitt, and Jason turned away from the open door and returned to the bedside.
“The papers are in my bag,” said Colquitt. “Take them with you. You know what Major Westall’s evidence will be. And you know of other evidence, too. I mean what you and Betsy found, and where it’s kept.”
“I know, sir,” said Jason. “Now I’d better take time to start worrying about the case.”
“Go on home,” Colquitt bade him. “I’ll be all right here. Dr. Ryan will look after me and put me into shape so that I can travel in a few days. Meanwhile—Jason, since I must give up the case myself, I’m glad it will be in your hands.”
Jason tried to speak, but found he could not. Silently he picked up his saddlebags and the Squire’s satchel.
Cut Nose waited by the stables.
“Those white men get away,” said the Indian. “They had horses tied up, ready. Ride off, quick—maybe to Moshawnee.”
“We may find them there,” said Jason. “Is your rifle loaded?”
“Yes. Keep loaded all the time.”
“Come on, then.” He found the landlord. “What about the horses, sir?”
“Ready saddled.”
“Cut Nose, ride with me. Do you know another way to Moshawnee besides the main road ?”
“Know lots of ways,” said Cut Nose.
“We’ll take one of them. Probably that pair of woods-runners will be waiting for us on the highway.”
He mounted one horse, Cut Nose the other. The Indian pointed toward a side trail beyond the willows, which they followed.
13 Examination
Cut nose’s alternate route to moshawnee proved a rough one, through dense timber, across streams, and along narrow game trails, but Jason and the Indian were able to travel steadily and at a fair rate of speed. They paused only to water and rest the horses, and to munch some dried meat Cut Nose took out of a buckskin pouch. The sun had set and the moon was up before they rode into Moshawnee.
“Now what you say I do ?” asked Cut Nose as they approached Colquitt’s home.
“Will you stay here tonight?” asked Jason. “Something tells me we’d better keep our eyes and ears open. We might be the next to be shot at.”
“I stay with horses,” offered Cut Nose. “Sleep little bit, wake up li
ttle bit. Anybody come around house tonight—” He lifted his rifle significantly.
“Do that, then, and thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” said Cut Nose, dismounting in the yard.
They unsaddled the horses in the shed behind the house. Jason hurried to the front door.
Betsy heard his story with a grave, taut face. Her blue eyes looked wide and worried.
“How badly is Uncle Henry hurt?” she asked. “Will he die?”
“The doctor said he will be all right if he stays in bed,” replied Jason. “That’s why he’s still in Rayfield, and that’s why I’m going to try the courthouse case for him.”
“I’ll go to Rayfield to take care of him,” announced Betsy. “As soon as the stage leaves tomorrow—”
“Betsy, he wants you to stay here and be a witness,” said Jason. “Remember those bones we dug up?”
“I certainly do. They’re still locked in Uncle Henry’s desk.”
“You’ll have to tell how we dug them up, and what they prove,” Jason told her. “I’m going to put you on the stand as a witness.”
“You’re mighty confident you’ll be a lawyer by Monday morning,” observed Betsy.
“I don’t dare not be confident. I must pass my examination.” “And you will,” she predicted, and smiled. “I’ll be your witness, Jason. Then I’ll go to Rayfield.”
They parted for the night. Jason sought his room, but not to sleep. By candlelight he reviewed the documents in the case of the town of Moshawnee versus Asper Enderby. At last his eyes drooped wearily, and he blew out the candle and lay down. But still sleep did not come for hours. When he did doze at last, it was to dream uneasily of standing before a hostile judge and a smirking jury, with no notion of what to say or how to say it.
At dawn on Sunday morning he was up. Purney had fried bacon and pancakes, and Cut Nose sat at the back stoop, eating breakfast.
“I go away now,” said the Indian as Jason appeared. “Tonight, when it is dark, I come back. Stay with horses again.” “You’re a good friend, Cut Nose.”
“You good friend, too.” Cut Nose handed his dish back to Purney and moved silently away.
Jason went to seek Major Westall, and found him on the way to church. The Major’s face was flinty as he listened to the story of the attack on Colquitt.
“And you’ll take his place, lad ?” said the Major at last. “Well, you’re young, but without Colquitt you’re our best chance— our only chance. Don’t fail us.”
“I’ll try not to, sir,” was all Jason could say.
“I’ll be in court, to testify as Squire Colquitt wants me to. But maybe we’d better talk no more about it now. Let’s fool Enderby and Kinstrey if we can. Perhaps they’ll think that, without Colquitt, the case will be thrown out of court.”
That Sunday afternoon, Jason sat in the office and studied his law books once more. He wished fiercely that he could be sure of what he knew and what he did not—it would simplify his final studies. Then he made an effort to outline points of evidence he hoped to make, both by examination of Betsy and Major Westall and by cross-examination of whatever witnesses Kinstrey might present. By supper time he felt utterly weary, and was able to eat only a few bites before he went to bed and slept like a weary dog.
Again dawn came. Jason dressed in his dark suit and a broad- collared white shirt, and knotted his best cravat carefully. From Squire Colquitt’s desk drawer he took the rib and jawbone from Sun Chief’s grave and slid them into the green bag with the papers. Then he put on his hat, lifted the bag, and walked to the tavern where court would convene.
On the porch he met Solicitor Parks, who greeted him with a rather thin smile.
“So here you are,” said the solicitor, “ready to win admission to the bar.”
“I hope I’m ready. Did you speak to Judge Hemphill for me ?”
“I did. Wait out here. I’ll tell him.”
The solicitor walked back into the tavern. Moments passed, then Judge Hemphill came out, wrapped against the early morning breeze in a long dark cloak. Solicitor Parks walked close behind.
“Well, sir,” said the judge frostily. “Mr. Morgan, as I believe.” He offered his hand, squeezed Jason’s fingers briefly, then released them. “Very good, come with us.”
They walked together into the side yard. The judge sat down on a great log by the tavern woodpile, and the solicitor took a seat beside him. Judge Hemphill brought out a massive watch, opened it and gazed at it.
“Eight-thirty,” he pronounced. “An hour until court convenes. Time enough, eh, Mr. Solicitor?”
“Ample, I should think,” nodded Parks.
“Mr. Morgan,” and Judge Hemphill fixed Jason with his wise, unfathomable eyes, “I have empowered Mr. Parks to assist in your examination today.” All this was spoken as impressively as though the judge were passing sentence on a criminal. “Stand here before us. Now, to begin, what is the difference between a fee simple and a contingent fee ?”
It was one of the first things Jason had learned in Blackstone, but he had to moisten his dry lips with his tongue before he spoke.
“The term fee refers to an estate of inheritance in land,” he said. “Fee simple, of course, inheritance without limitation or restriction upon the heirs. Contingent fee is dependent for effect on something that may or may not occur.”
“An example of that,” said the judge, very swiftly.
“A man might leave property to his son, contingent upon that son’s surviving him,” ventured Jason. “If the son died first, then the property would revert to another heir.”
The judge glanced at the solicitor. Never, thought Jason, had the face of Cut Nose been more inscrutable than that of the judge.
“Another matter of difference,” said Parks. “How do you distinguish between law and equity?”
“It’s hard to say exactly—” began Jason.
“Nevertheless,” interrupted Parks, “I desire you to say exactly.”
“Well,” said Jason, hoping he did not sound nervous, “equity is, more or less, the body of law that may supplement or clarify the narrower provisions—it may even override them. Equity is a name for true justice, sir.”
Again judge and solicitor traded enigmatic glances.
“Define chose in action and chose in possession,” commanded Judge Hemphill, drawing his cloak tighter around him.
Question followed question, swiftly and tonelessly. Not once did Parks or the judge show whether they approved or disdained Jason’s answers. From general considerations they passed to specific ones. They required him to state limitations and penalties under Alabama law, offered imaginary problems for his solution, asked his authority for his various opinions and definitions. Time seemed to stand still, to freeze solidly around Jason as he stood and strove with question after question. Had the judge said an hour? Surely two hours had passed—more, far more—
Finally Judge Hemphill produced his watch again, opened it, gazed at the dial, and closed it with a loud snap.
“I take it, Mr. Morgan, you have read much in the book of the statutes of Alabama,” he observed.
“I’ve read it from cover to cover, your Honor,” replied Jason, with frank pride.
At last a smile dawned on the grim face. It was not a warm smile, or a gentle one, but it was a smile.
“You were well advised to do so,” the judge said, “but do not trust too much in what you found there. The next session of the state legislature might repeal or amend any or all of those statutes.”
“I am well aware of that, sir,” said Jason.
“Don’t forget it.” Judge Hemphill rose from the log, and Solicitor Parks with him.
“Mr. Morgan,” continued the judge weightily, “I agreed to hear you today because you came recommended by Mr. Solicitor Parks and by Squire Colquitt. In the past I have listened seriously to both of these gentlemen. I’ve finished with you, sir.”
Jason stood silent. His heart beat in his chest like a rattlin
g gourd in the hands of an Indian dancer.
“Examination for a lawyer’s license is, after all, a simple thing in this new state,” the judge growled. “A lawyer must learn forever, as long as he is in practice. Now,” and he turned toward the tavern, “it is nearly time for court to begin, and I can give you no more time.”
He started toward the porch.
“Sir!” quavered Jason. “Your Honor—you haven’t said—”
And his lips were dry again, and the whole inside of his mouth as well.
Judge Hemphill turned back slowly, and looked him up and down.
“Oh, yes,” he said at last, “as to whether you passed.”
Once more the judge looked at Parks. Neither of them so much as nodded. Then Parks took from his inside pocket a folded paper and gave it to the judge.
“Here you are.” Judge Hemphill handed the paper to Jason. “Your license to practice.”
Jason took it, spread it out, and stared. There was his name at the top, and at the bottom the signatures of Judge Hemphill and Solicitor Parks.
“You’ve already signed it,” said Jason slowly.
“We signed it before we came out here to listen to you,” the judge replied. “Of course, had you seemed less than ready, we would have taken it back inside and thrown it on the fire.”
“Thank you, sir!” cried Jason in happy relief. “Thank you, Mr. Solicitor.”
Again the judge nodded gravely, slowly.
“You answered our questions aptly, with knowledge of your books and with considerable good sense of your own,” he deigned to say. “Squire Morgan, I welcome you to the bar of the State of Alabama.”
Another brief handshake. The solicitor offered his hand next, with a friendly smile.
“And now, to court,” pronounced Judge Hemphill. Again he walked toward the tavern, Jason and Parks on either side of him.
“Squire Morgan,” said the judge as they mounted the porch, “I hope that it is unnecessary for me to remark that, whatever my words of esteem just now, you need not look to me for favor in any case you bring before me.”
It had the sound of rebuff, and Jason stiffened.
Manly Wade Wellman - Novel 1956 Page 10
