“You?”
“It weren’t funny and nobody did it if I was around or, if they did, they experienced some close acquaintance with my knuckles.”
“Okay. Judge Watkins says he’ll hold a preliminary hearing at two. If the sheriff hasn’t done any better in the way of evidence by then, you’ll be home in time for your supper. In the meantime, get some rest and try not to provoke the sheriff or his men.”
“Provoke?”
“You didn’t get that shiner from being a cooperative witness, did you? I’ll see you at two. I have a passel of telephone calls to make.”
“Yes, sir. Excuse me, but—”
“There’s something else?”
“It doesn’t have a thing to do with this, but…well, I looked up this title to a piece of land and I want to find out who the descendents of the owner were.”
“What? Son, you are being fitted up for a noose and you’re worried about a piece of land?”
“It’s that bad? If I understand Sheriff Franklin’s ‘evidence’ aright, he’s got the word of someone who says they saw me with Albert and I was the last one to do that. But that ain’t true. There’s them three others I told you about.”
Bradford sat down again and studied Jesse. “Okay, listen to me. You saying there were three or a hundred and three people following Albert Lebrun doesn’t mean diddly-squat unless one of them steps up and says, ‘I was one of them.’ What do you think the chances are that will happen? Don’t you realize that if you are correct about the three men, one of them is most likely the person who killed Albert?”
“Oh.” Jesse shook his head and stared at the floor. “Mister Bradford, it seems like I might have recognized one of the voices, maybe. It wasn’t like I knew it straight off, but more like it was familiar somehow. If that’s so, it might have been a McAdoo. When I say something in court, they will step up and I’m in the clear, right?”
“Son, you better hope that voice wasn’t a McAdoo. As nearly as I can determine, you don’t have any friends on either side of the mountain.”
“What? Mister Bradford, we’re family, thick or thin.”
“Really? Well, I’ve seen the deposition the sheriff has and I am not convinced.”
Chapter Nineteen
Jesse had never been to court before, a fact which had to be counted as an oddity in as much as most of his adult relatives, given the nature of their alternative avocation and penchant for Saturday night brawls, had made their pilgrimage to the building at one time or another. Mountain life carried with it certain legal risks, you could say, chiefly difficulties with tax stamps required for selling consumable alcohol before, and now, with Prohibition, just the making of it. But somehow, Jesse had avoided all that. His lawyer, on the other hand, had all the experience either of them needed.
“Jesse, this is only a hearing, not a trial. The rules of evidence do not strictly apply. The sheriff, for reasons I cannot fathom, wants you behind bars with no possibility of bail. When the judge asks you a question, you stand up before you answer. You only answer questions if they are directed to you. Otherwise, you don’t say anything. You are mute, got it?”
“I dummy up.”
“Correct. You let me do the talking and, for heaven’s sake, don’t let the county attorney or the sheriff goad you into saying or doing something they can use against you later.”
***
Jesse was surprised at the number of people who showed up. He expected R.G. and some relatives. He imagined there’d be some Lebruns, naturally, and he hoped Serena would be there. She was, along with most of the McAdoos and Lebruns. The two camps sat on either side of the courtroom like families at a wedding and glared at each other. The balcony, ordinarily reserved for the colored community, had been usurped by Buffalo Mountain people as well.
The bailiff had made them all leave their guns outside so the threat of eminent war had been put on hold. The talking, most of it intentionally loud so as to be easily heard by everyone on the other side, soon turned into a dull roar. The clerk had to shout. “All rise,” three times before everyone hushed and stood. A little man with a bald head and almost overwhelmed by black robes popped in through a side door. The bailiff added, “The Honorable Horace C. Watkins, presiding.”
Judge Watkins took the bench, perched a pince-nez on his nose, adjusted his mustache with a forefinger, and rapped his gavel. The people sat. The clerk stood and sing-songed a charge sheet which mostly said, after the technical language was ignored, that an eyewitness had given the sheriff a signed statement attesting to the fact that Jesse Sutherlin was in the company of Albert Lebrun on that night and this same witness was prepared to offer evidence that the same Jesse Sutherlin was the last to see Albert alive. Moreover, it alleged the strong possibility he could be party to the murder of Albert Lebrun as everybody knew of the enmity between the two families and everybody knew that one of the same Jesse Sutherlin’s cousins had been brutally slain some days before and, further, that he had vowed to find the murderer of his cousin.
Bradford stood. “Objection.”
“What is the nature of your objection, Counselor?”
“Your Honor, these charges are capricious and pure hearsay.”
“Overruled. For the record, you are?”
“Nicholas Bradford, counsel for Mister Sutherlin, the accused.”
“Thank you. County Attorney Bowers, are you ready to present the County’s case?”
“Yes, Your Honor, I am. The County holds that the accused, Jesse Sutherlin, is at the least, a material witness to and the possible perpetrator of the murder by stabbing of Albert Lebrun two nights ago. It is well known he was seeking the murderer of his cousin three days previously and had promised to bring that man to justice. It appears he thinks he did. We believe, given the history of enmity between the several families on Buffalo Mountain and the reputation each has for exhibiting little respect for the law, he should be considered a flight risk and we request he be detained in prison until such time as a trial can be scheduled.”
“I see. Well, that is a big assumption. Just what do you have?”
“With the court’s permission, I would like to interview Sheriff Dalton Franklin.”
Bradford was back on his feet. “Stipulation, Your Honor.”
“Which is?”
“The sheriff be placed under oath.”
“You don’t think the sheriff will tell the truth?”
“We have concerns.”
“So ordered. You may interview the sheriff under the stipulation just agreed to.”
“Your Honor, the sheriff is hardly to be considered an unreliable—”
“As stipulated. Proceed.”
The sheriff was sworn in. He did not look happy. He glared at Jesse and then at Bradford. Several McAdoos began to hoot. That in turn caused the Lebruns to respond in kind.
“Order, order. If there is any more unruliness, I will clear this courtroom and anyone slow to respond will, themselves, find accommodations in our jail. Proceed, Mister Bowers.”
“Sheriff Franklin, you have persuasive evidence that the man sitting over there,” he pointed at Jesse, “is complicit in the murder of one Albert Lebrun, is that not so?”
“Yes, sir. That boy is up to his ass…pardon…elbows in it, for sure.”
“You consider him a flight risk?”
“You know as well as I do, them stump-jumpers is a thick as thieves. You turn that boy loose on the mountain and you’ll never see him again, no sir.”
Judge Watkins tapped his gavel. “What did you call the people?”
“Your Honor?”
“You just labeled a large number of voting constituents ‘stump-jumpers.’ Did I hear you right?”
“Well, Judge, you know how it is.”
“I do. I’ve heard enough. Mr. Bradford, do you have anything to add?”
&nb
sp; “Yes, Your Honor, Jesse Sutherlin admits to seeing Albert Lebrun the night of his murder. He met the deceased and had a conversation about an earlier murder which promised to start an internecine war on the mountain if it were not resolved speedily. They agreed to work together to do just that. Someone other than my client apparently did not want that to happen. That is, of course, only a supposition. Now, as to my client, Your Honor, he is not a flight risk. This charge is one hundred percent hearsay. We are presented with a witness statement that only places my client in the presence of the deceased. It alleges more, but proves nothing. Your Honor, my client is a steady working man. His employer trusts him with the operation of his mill. Furthermore, he is a genuine and decorated war hero. I will not go into the details, but I just got off the telephone with the War Office. This man here, received the Distinguished Service Cross for bravery and gallantry in the face of the enemy. He was promoted to Brevet Second Lieutenant, a battlefield commission, no mean achievement in itself. Well, Your Honor, we should be holding a parade for him, not tarring his name with this slanderous set of accusations.”
“Your oratory is well known, Counselor. Thank you. Sheriff, what have you for me?”
“Well, Your Honor, we have a written and, by gum, signed statement that this man was the last to see the dead…the deceased alive. We have every reason to believe he’s the one what done Albert in and he needs to be in the lockup.”
“That’s it? That’s your case?”
“Well, yes, sir.”
“Have a seat.” The judge asked Jesse to stand. “Mister Sutherlin, you have anything to add?”
“No, sir. Except to say I most definitely was not the last to see Albert alive.”
“You concede that you were with Albert Lebrun two nights ago but are suggesting there were others?”
“Yes, sir. After we ended our conversation and I slipped away, three men come out of the woods like they were maybe following Albert, and they took off after him.”
“And he left your presence in one piece, you could say, and in the company of, or nearly so, of three other men?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Hmmm. Another thing, you have a black eye, Mister Sutherlin. I am reliably informed you did not have it when you were arrested. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir, that is correct. No, sir, I didn’t.”
“Were you introduced to the sheriff’s set of encyclopedias?”
The sheriff leaped to his feet. “Now, just a minute here, Judge. This man was resisting arrest. He was a clear threat to the safety of my officers and this line of questioning’s got nothing to do with the case.”
“Sit down, Dalton. I asked the accused a question. Mister Sutherlin, the encyclopedia?”
Jesse only smiled and shrugged.
Judge Watkins sat back and stroked his mustache for a moment. “As near as I can see, Sheriff, you have nothing. Mister Sutherlin, you are free to go.” The judge banged his gavel and stood to leave.
The sheriff jumped to his feet and shook his fist in the general direction of the bench. “There’s an election coming, Judge. You might want to think twice about how you disrespect police work in your court.”
Judge Watkins, turned toward Sheriff Franklin, a thin smile on his face. “Dalton, I could say the same to you. This court’s adjourned.”
Chapter Twenty
Jesse made his way through the crowd of friends and relatives. He caught Serena’s eye. She risked a smile in spite of the press of Lebruns around her. He nodded. He’d find a way to talk to her later. McAdoos in name or connected by marriage pounded him on the back while dozens of angry Lebrun eyes followed him out the door.
“Well, that’s settled, then,” Big Tom declared. “I didn’t think you’d get her done, Jesse. I swear, I thought you talking all peaceable like, we wouldn’t get us Solomon’s shooter in a year, much less four days.”
“What? Wait, Grandpa, you think I killed Albert Lebrun?”
“Well, sure you did, didn’t you? Hell, it don’t matter a flea’s rear end if it was you or Abel. It’s done and there’s an end to it.”
“I didn’t and he didn’t and Albert didn’t kill Solomon. Grandpa, this isn’t an end. Jumping Jehoshaphat, this is a beginning.”
As if on cue, John Henry Lebrun shoved his way through the crowd and stood in front of Jesse.
“You think you got away with murder, but you ain’t, Jesse Sutherlin. You think you killed Albert and evened the score? Well, you didn’t and I reckon there’s a price to pay and you’ll be the one to pay it. You and your family need to watch out.”
“John Henry, whatever you heard, it ain’t true. I did not stab your cousin. We met and together were aiming to work out who shot Solomon. He was fixing to join me working at the mill, for Lord’s sake.”
“Albert? Working at the sawmill? Don’t make me laugh. Albert were a mountain man through and through. We cut timber, we make likker, we don’t work for no flatlander.”
“You’re wrong about that, too. Solomon McAdoo is dead and who killed him is still a mystery. Albert Lebrun is dead and whoever stabbed him is a mystery, too, and I ain’t got the foggiest notion who did either of them things, but it’s clear as day I’m wasting my time talking to you all.”
John Henry turned to the crowd. “You all listen to me, you McAdoos. I ain’t looking to start no feud, but I ain’t letting this killing go either. So, here’s what I aim to do.” He spun back to Jesse. “You and me, Jesse Sutherlin, three days from now over at the Spring House. Just the two of us. You stabbed Albert, so we will have it out with knives. Whoever wins, well that settles it once and for all.”
Lebrun pushed his way out and walked away.
Big Tom scratched his head and looked Jesse in the eye. “Now what in hell was that all about?”
“What that was all about was there ain’t no end to this. Albert Lebrun didn’t kill Solomon. I didn’t kill Albert, so instead of one murder to figure out to stop you all from starting a shooting war, now I got two. Top that off with John Henry Lebrun aiming to carve me up. You have any suggestions for me about what I have to do next?”
“You ain’t going to that Spring House alone, Jesse. We will be there and if they try anything funny, we’ll fix them good.”
“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. Will somebody help me out here?”
Twenty pairs of blank McAdoo eyes stared at him. Jesse turned on his heel and strode away.
“Now where in the dickens are you off to?”
“Grandpa, I’m off to see if there is one not-crazy person left in the county, that’s where.”
***
Serena found him sitting on a fallen tree trunk down the hill from the now infamous Spring House.
“Why’d you tell me you didn’t see Albert when you did?”
“I’m sorry about that, Serena.”
“It’s because I’m a Lebrun?”
“What? No. I gave my word to Albert, that’s all. When you asked me, I didn’t know he was dead.”
“Would you have told me, if you had?”
“I hope so. I ain’t too good with maybe questions, Serena.”
“So, what will you do? Will you fight John Henry? Over on my side of the mountain, he’s reckoned as the best knife-fighter anywhere. He’ll kill you, Jesse.”
“I ain’t decided. What do you think I should do?”
“You’re asking me? You trust the judgment of a woman?”
“Now don’t you go getting all suffragette on me. ’Course I do. You might be the only set of brains in working order on this here mountain.”
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you. All right then, I will give you my advice, but I’m betting you won’t take it. You need to go away, Jesse. Pack up your ‘Old Kit Bag’ and smile or no smile, head north, south, east, or west, it don’t matter which.
Just go. This is a fight you can’t win. The two clans have been itching for an excuse to start shooting. Solomon, Albert, alive or dead, sooner or later, something was going to set them off and that’s a fact. The only end I see to all this is a passel of dead folk. Newspapers crowing about backwoods justice and ignorant mountain folk and right there in the middle of it is Jesse Sutherlin. And guess what? The deadest of them all is going to be you. Pack a bag and get out.”
“I should just turn tail and run?”
“Don’t even start that. You’re better’n that, Jesse.”
“You’re right. I got nothing to prove in that department. Okay, I will go on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That you go with me.”
“Me? Whatever put that notion in your head? I can’t leave. Well, I could, but not now, and not with you.”
“Why not now? Why not with me?”
Serena leaned toward Jesse and looked in his eyes. “I ain’t ready for that kind of commitment, Jess.”
“Not ready to commit to leaving or not ready to admitting that we have moved some this last week and it makes sense to keep moving?”
“Stop.”
“Well. That’s my condition. I ain’t running alone and that’s the hard truth. I’ll only run if you run with me. Since it appears you ain’t up for that, I guess I’ll have to stay and work this problem out on my own.”
“Jesse, you’re impossible. How you ever convinced those people to make you an officer, I’ll never understand. Do they give extra points for pigheadedness?”
“No, more like for stupid.”
Serena gazed at him for another minute and sighed. “You’re awful. What’s a brevet?”
“A what?”
“Lawyer Bradford said in court you were a Brevet Lieutenant. I heard of First and Second Lieutenants. Never heard of Brevet. What’s that?”
“Oh. Well, it means temporary, sort of. It means that when the war ended, unless someone said otherwise, I would be set back to my real rank, which by then was Corporal. Only it didn’t happen. It could have, but it didn’t.”
Copper Kettle Page 9
