Harvest of Thorns

by Paul E. Wootten

  “I’ll allow Mr. Alcorn to continue. Quite frankly, Mr. Potter I too have some concerns about that trial.”

  With Potter’s objections silenced, Alcorn forged ahead.

  “Your Honor, I won’t argue that the case was tried and my client was found guilty, only that the evidence presented was less than substantial. Many say that the case turned against Mr. Manning when the governor made an impassioned plea that we feel unfairly swayed the jury to—”

  “Ridiculous, Your Honor! This very court heard that case and—”

  “But not this very judge, Mr. Potter. Sit down, please.” The judge’s tone left no room for dispute.

  “My client has maintained his innocence,” Alcorn said. “He states that he was nothing more than a bystander who was dragged into a dead-end case so the Missouri Highway Patrol could come out smelling like a rose. If you check the records you’ll find there were no witnesses other than the state guys and testimony from a Governor who didn’t know them personally, but vouched for their character nonetheless.”

  Earl couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’s lying, he wanted to say. Levi planned everything.

  “Your Honor, despite a lack of evidence, my client was convicted and sentenced to ten years in prison, of which he has served three years and eleven months.” Alcorn placed another document in front of the judge. “As you will read here, Mr. Manning has maintained a spotless disciplinary record during that time. It is his hope that his sentence will eventually be reduced for good behavior, allowing him to return to the farm that has been in his family for five generations. A place where his parents, grand-parents, and great-grandparents are buried.

  “My client was deeply saddened when he heard his wife was seeking to take his family farm. He was also powerless, Your Honor. Powerless to do anything to stop a miscarriage of justice. That’s when he got in touch with his friends.” Alcorn made a sweeping gesture to the men in the gallery. “These men, in turn, contacted me. It’s my hope, Your Honor that we can give back to Levi Manning a little of what the court system ripped away.”

  Alcorn returned to his table and sifted through a stack of papers. Potter stood.

  “I’ll remind the court that Levi Manning is powerless because he was convicted of attempting to burn down a house where a family was thought to be sleeping in it. The Highway Patrol was tipped off and were lying in wait for him and his accomplices.”

  Alcorn looked up from his papers. “According to court documents, the person who provided that tip was never identified. How do we even know he or she existed?”

  Earl squirmed in his seat, remembering the day vividly. He was only six years old then, but fully understood Levi’s intent as he filled the gas cans. He’d witnessed the hatred he had for Negroes. It wasn’t much different than the hatred he had for his own family. It was better for everybody that Levi Manning stayed right where he was.

  Knowing what had to be done, Earl got to his feet.

  “I seen him fill the gas cans.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Butterbeans.

  No mistaking the smell, Harvester thought as he knocked on the kitchen door. His family had eaten butterbeans when times were lean and still enjoyed them when the storehouse was full. He’d made them himself a few times, for Mrs. Temple and his roommates at the boarding house in Huntsville, always to good reviews.

  “Harvester, whatchoo doing out of the field?” Something that went wrong during birth left Thomasena Dobson with a greatly diminished capacity to think and reason like other people. It did nothing, however, to dampen her sweet disposition. Everybody watched out for her like a baby sister rather than a twenty-four-year-old mentally challenged woman. Thomasena cleaned a little and cooked a little. Sometimes she helped in the fields, but the heat was hard on her, so mostly she stayed inside.

  “Hey Thomasena, where’s your mama?”

  “Right here, Harvester,” Ruth Dobson called from inside. “C’mon in.”

  As expected, Mrs. Dobson was at the stove, stirring a large pot of butterbeans. It would be another half hour before her son Thomas and the hired hands came in for lunch. Harvester had timed his visit that way.

  “May I have a few minutes of your time, Mrs. Dobson?”

  “Pull one of them kitchen chairs over here, sweetie.” Harvester preferred to stand, so he leaned against the counter next to the stove.

  “I just wanted to talk to you before Charlene and I take off for Huntsville this Sunday. There’s—”

  “Mama, can I have a Nehi? I’m hot.” Thomasena entered the kitchen, wiping her brow with a yellowed handkerchief.

  “Did you finish making the beds?”

  “Yes ma’am. Wilber’s bed stinks.”

  “It’s because he’s a boy, sweetie. Get yourself a Nehi from the icebox and go out back for a bit. Me and Harvester gonna talk.” After the screen door slammed shut, Harvester continued.

  “Anyway, about Huntsville, I—”

  “You gonna watch out for my little girl, just like you promised, right?”

  “Yes ma’am. What I’d like to do—”

  “And make sure she writes her mama, now, y’hear?”

  “Of course. We’ll both write. But what I want to ask you is—”

  “I can’t wait until you’re both done college and come back here. My Charlene’s gonna be a teacher! God sure is looking out for us since Aldus got taken home.”

  Harvester took a deep breath. This wasn’t going as planned.

  “Charlene’s birthday is coming up in September, and I thought I would, if you don’t—”

  “I’m gonna send her some cookies; I figure a pie wouldn’t keep in the mail. You think some cookies would keep okay?”

  “Yes ma’am they’ll do fine,” Harvester bristled. “Mrs. Dobson, can you please listen just long enough for me to ask you something?”

  Ruth Dobson put down her spoon and turned to face him. She was frowning.

  “Seems I’ve given you plenty of opportunity to ask if you can marry my daughter. You the one draggin’ your feet, boy.”

  Harvester stood up straight, surprised by the sudden turn of events. The stern look on Mrs. Dobson’s face melted away as she reached out and pulled him close.

  “We all been expecting you to come see me about this; your mama, Cora, all them. I just didn’t think you’d wait until the last minute.”

  Harvester was dumbfounded. “I didn’t... I...”

  “You better come up with better words than that when you pop the question. You gonna do it on her birthday?”

  Harvester nodded.

  “Well, that’s just fine, Harvester. You a good boy. I’m happy you gonna be marrying my Charlene. Aldus be happy too; up there in Heaven he’s grinning right now.”

  As Harvester hugged her again he noticed something.

  The butterbeans were boiling over.

  ###

  The atmosphere in the courtroom was about to boil over.

  The hours Norris Alcorn had taken to craft his strategy, his claim that Levi Manning had been railroaded by the Governor and an overzealous Highway Patrol might had been undone by seven words spoken by a ten-year-old boy.

  “I seen him fill the gas cans.”

  The fireworks took a few moments to get started, as everyone in the courtroom sat in stunned silence. Though his gaze never strayed from a dumbfounded Judge Airey, Earl felt their stares boring in on him from behind. He’d spoken so quickly, there hadn’t been time to think about how he might feel after.

  He felt good.

  Leroy Potter was the first to regain his voice.

  “Judge, I call Earl Manning to the stand. It sounds like he has something he wants to share with the court.”

  Everything broke loose. Earl could barely follow it all. Norris Alcorn and Potter were arguing across the aisle at one another. Several of the men in the gallery were speaking in raised voices, calling Earl every name in the book. Mama pulled him close, attempting to shield him from the verbal onslaught. J
udge Airey banged his gavel, demanding order be restored. The bailiff moved to the center of the courtroom, separating the attorneys and motioning for the gallery to get quiet. Earl focused on the Regulator clock over the judge’s head. Five minutes passed before order was restored and Judge Airey was able to speak.

  “Mr. Potter, I’ll consider your request to call the boy to the stand. For now—”

  Alcorn was on his feet again. “Your Honor, I strenuously object. He’s a child. He cannot be counted on to provide reliable testimony about—”

  “He’ll be as reliable as some of the witnesses you plan to call.” Potter nodded derisively at the men seated behind Alcorn. They returned his gaze with fire in their eyes.

  “As I was saying,” Judge Airey said, “I’ll consider the request. Court is adjourned until one o’clock.”

  ###

  “Where’d you get off to, son?” Daddy said as he crawled from the truck. “We missed you at lunch. Mama sent you this.” Harvester gratefully accepted the wrapped ham and cheese biscuit.

  “I had some business to attend to, Daddy.” Four bites and the sandwich was gone. The visit with Ruth Dobson had left Harvester too excited to think about eating. He’d returned to the cantaloupe field and waited for his father and the hired hands to get back from lunch.

  If things went as he planned, he and Charlene would get married next year, toward the end of harvest, before Charlene started teaching. Professor Handy had sent him the schoolhouse key, and Harvester had taken Charlene there several times to look around and dream. The two-story brick building was in remarkably good shape despite a decade of neglect. Plans were for Charlene to hold classes on the first floor while Harvester and the yet-to-be-named college President worked in the two upstairs rooms.

  The direction life had taken the past year was beyond anything Harvester could have dreamed. College life – academics in general – had become as important to him as the land. Now, he would be able to live in both worlds. Granted, it wouldn’t be easy. Professor Handy had sent his fall course schedule the week before. It was rigorous, with classes starting at seven-thirty in the morning and continuing through the afternoon. In addition to his agriculture and science classes, there would be leadership, bookkeeping, and commerce courses, skills he would have to master before beginning his new position.

  Charlene’s schedule was equally rigorous. Classes in history, mathematics, science, and English were augmented by two teaching classes. During the winter semester, she would spend a month student-teaching at a Huntsville colored school. Their time together would be limited, but it would be worth it in the end.

  “Son, you take this load over to the dock. Willie can go with you and help unload it. Me and Karwin will start on the next one.” Daddy must have sensed Harvester’s mind was somewhere else. Unloading at the dock meant working in the shade, a task Lincoln Stanley usually preferred and Harvester preferred him to take.

  “I’ll do that. Thank you Daddy.”

  ###

  Earl crawled onto the chair next to Judge Airey and immediately noticed his eyes. They were different than before. Kinder.

  “Son, you’ll be asked some questions by Mr. Potter and Mr. Alcorn. If you don’t understand something, let me know and I’ll explain it.”

  “Yessir.”

  Potter approached and leaned against the rail.

  “Son, tell the court how—”

  “Judge, tell Potter to move back! He’s close enough to whisper the answers to the boy.” Potter spun to face his adversary.

  “Look, Alcorn, you worry about—”

  Bang! Earl jumped at the rap of the gavel. It was much louder up close, reminding him of the gunshot Mr. Davis fired at Grover Petty. It got the attention of the attorneys, too. Mr. Potter retreated a few paces, then began asking him questions about his age and year in school.

  If only the questions could have stayed that simple.

  “What was it like living with your Daddy?”

  Earl looked at Mama. She nodded that it was okay to answer. Looking down at his shoes, he replied, “He was mean a lot of the time.”

  “How was he mean?”

  “He hit Mama. Threw her against the wall. Cussed at her.”

  “How about you, son? Did he hurt you?”

  “He hit me sometimes, but I’m pretty strong.”

  “Where would he hit you?”

  “In the barn. In the house.”

  Potter cracked a smile. “I see. Where on your body did he hit you?”

  “He would switch me sometimes, on the back and arms. Sometimes he’d just haul off and slap me in the face.”

  “Do you remember any beatings being worse than others?”

  That one required some thought. Beatings had been a regular part of life with Levi Manning. But the worst?

  “He tied me to a tree and beat me with a belt.”

  “Do you remember why?”

  “I sat with Mary Dobson in church.”

  “That’s it? You sat with a girl? Was Mary Dobson a friend of yours?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Did you get in trouble in church? Maybe talk too much?”

  “No sir. We just sat.”

  “Did your daddy tell you not to sit with Mary Dobson?”

  “No sir. He wasn’t at church. He never went.”

  “Did you bleed when he hit you?”

  “Yessir. Mama cleaned me up.”

  “Do you have any idea why he didn’t want you sitting with Mary Dobson?”

  “Yessir. She’s colored. He hates coloreds.”

  Potter nodded slowly.

  “Earlier you said you saw your Daddy fill some gas cans, right?”

  “Yessir.”

  “What did he do with those gas cans?”

  “He put them in the truck. Later he and two other men took off in the truck.”

  “When was that, Earl? Do you remember?”

  “Yessir. It was the night that he and them men got put in jail.”

  Patting him on the hand, Potter spoke softly. “You’re doing fine, son. Just one more question.”

  “Do you want your Daddy to come back to Grebey Island?”

  Earl glanced around the courtroom. Every eye was on him. Grover Petty looked like he wanted to kill him. The other men scowled, their arms crossed.

  “I don’t want to see him again.

  “Ever.”

  ###

  After a short recess, Earl returned to the seat by the judge. Mama and Mr. Potter had both told him how good he’d done. They’d also warned him that Mr. Alcorn wouldn’t be as nice. They should have warned him twice.

  “Earl, do you understand what Judge Airey said about not lying?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Yet, you sat up here and told several lies.”

  “Objection Your Honor.”

  “Sustained. Move ahead, Mr. Alcorn.”

  “You like it better without your Daddy because you can run all over the place doing whatever you want, right?”

  Earl wasn’t sure what to say. Yes, he liked it better without Levi, but not because he could do what he wanted.

  “Answer the question. It’s not hard.”

  “I like it better without him.”

  “Because you get to run all over, right?”

  “No.”

  “Were you allowed to run off with the other children when your Daddy was around?”

  “No.”

  “But you do now?”

  “When my work is done, but I’m old—”

  “Does your mother always know where you are?”

  “Yes… some of the time.”

  “Do you go fishing with the other kids?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Did you do that when your Daddy was around?”

  “No sir. He—”

  “Could it be that your Daddy wouldn’t let you run all over the place and go fishing with a bunch of kids because he cared about you?”

  Earl glanced at Mama. She looked
sad.

  “Could it be, Earl? Could it be your Daddy wanted you to be safe?”

  “No sir.”

  Alcorn motioned to the men seated behind him.

  “Earl, do you know these men?”

  “Most of them.”

  “Which ones do you not know?”

  Earl looked at each of them, willing himself to remember who they were.

  “I guess I know all of them.”

  “How about the man sitting on the end of the first row, the one leaning forward.”

  “That’s Grover Petty.”

  “How do you know Grover Petty?”

  “He worked for my Daddy.”

  “Would you say that he knows how things were around your house when your Daddy was still home?”

  “No sir.”

  “Didn’t he used to eat breakfast at your house many mornings? And lunch too, sometimes?”

  “Yessir.”

  “And isn’t it true that he worked with your daddy six days a week?”

  “Yessir.”

  “So it would be safe to assume that he knows more about your home and family than, say Mr. Perkins over there?” Alcorn pointed at the man sitting next to Grover.

  “Mr. Perkins ain’t hardly ever been to our place.”

  “So you’re saying Grover knows what goes on at your house better than a lot of people.”

  Earl nodded, then thought of something.

  “He hit me too. Last year.”

  Alcorn stopped pacing and stared at him.

  “Really?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Would this have happened the same day that Mr. Petty’s hearing was damaged by a gun shot at close range by a Negro named...” Alcorn looked through his papers. “Harry Davis?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Did your mama call the sheriff when that happened?”

  “Yes.”

  Alcorn retrieved a file.

  “Your Honor, I have the report filed by Sheriff Belanger on the day in question. The sheriff states that the child had markings on his face consistent with being struck. He has added, and I quote, ‘While I was told the facial markings were administered by Petty, later investigation led me to conclude that the Negro Davis was likely responsible.’”