The Rough Rider

by Gilbert, Morris

  A mutter went around the room, and the judge politely nodded toward Gail. Instantly Carwell said, “I would like to call Private Lewis Winslow as a character witness for my client.”

  “Very well,” said Judge Cross, motioning for the bailiff to swear in the new witness.

  Again the pause—”Private Aaron Winslow—will you bring your brother forward?”

  Every eye in the room was on the two men as Aaron wheeled the chair down to the front. Judge Cross leaned forward, his deep-set eyes fixed on the young man. “You were wounded in Cuba, sir?”

  “At San Juan Hill, Your Honor.” Lewis was looking fit, his eyes clear as he smiled at the judge.

  “You were close to Colonel Roosevelt?”

  “Why, we were all as close as we could get to the colonel! He was leading us up that hill! He’s a fine commander! He came by to see me when I was in the hospital.” Lewis smiled more broadly. “I’m going to vote for him when he runs for governor of this state!”

  Cross smiled for the first time. “So am I,” he said quietly. “How were you wounded, Private?”

  “Oh, just got in the wrong place at the right time, sir!”

  “I must correct Private Winslow, Your Honor.” Seeing his opportunity, Carwell spoke clearly, and there was a gleam in his eye. “Private Winslow exposed himself to enemy fire by courageously charging across an open field to save his lieutenant and two of his fallen comrades. He carried them off the field on his back and was wounded just as he was saving the life of the third.”

  A mutter of exclaim ran around over the courtroom, and then Carwell said dramatically, “Private Winslow was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for his heroic deeds that day under Colonel Roosevelt.”

  The effect of his words was tremendous. People murmured loudly, and some stood to get a better look at Lewis. “Order in the court,” Judge Cross said, but his voice was mild. He turned to Lewis and studied him for a long moment. Then he said, “The court honors you, sir, and I must add that it is good to see one so young ready to serve with such devotion.”

  Lewis flushed. “Thank you, Your Honor—but the real heroes are still there—those who died for their country.”

  “Well said, Private.” Cross hesitated, then gave a rather bitter look at Carwell, thinking, You’ve boxed me in, haven’t you, you weasel? He turned to Lewis and asked, “You are acquainted with the defendant, Jeb Summers?”

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “Let the court hear of your relationship.”

  Lewis spoke briefly, making the most of his rather limited experience with Jeb. He’d seen the boy often enough at the mission, and focused on that, but almost at once said, “My brother, Aaron, knows the boy much better.”

  “Very well. You may take your brother back, Mr. Aaron Winslow, then approach the bench.” When Aaron had done so and been sworn in, the judge asked, “You were at the battle of San Juan Hill with your brother?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Were you wounded?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “Well, then, please tell the court what you can about this boy.”

  Aaron made an exemplary witness. He was a handsome man, and the aura of his war experience clung to him like a medal. He spoke not of himself, but of his time with Jeb. “He’s had a hard life, sir, and I wanted to make it a little easier.”

  “He’s accused of robbing a warehouse, Mr. Winslow. You can’t admire that!”

  Aaron said carefully, “I don’t admire robbery, Judge. But I’m convinced that Jeb isn’t a hardcore thief. He was hanging out with the wrong crowd and did a foolish thing, but he’s got good stuff in him.”

  Judge Cross stared at the tall man, who looked him straight in the eye. “What about your family?” he asked curiously.

  “My father is president of a Christian college in Virginia, Your Honor.”

  “You and your brother are to be commended. Thank you for your time, sir.”

  Aaron returned to his seat, and Gail squeezed his hand. “You did fine!” she whispered.

  “Do you have other witnesses, Mr. Carwell?” Judge Cross asked.

  “Just one, Your Honor.”

  “You may call him, sir.”

  “I call Robert Devaney to the stand!” said Carwell in a rather loud voice.

  Jeb turned pale and stared at the face of the attorney. Then when the outer doors opened and two armed guards entered with Devaney between them, he shot an agonizing glance at Aaron. Then he turned to listen as the judge said, “You are incarcerated, Mr. Devaney?”

  “Yep, I’m in the clink, Judge.”

  “You were convicted of robbing the Cooper Warehouse?”

  “Sure. Sentence was only five years.” Devaney stood sneering at the judge. “I can do that standing on my head!”

  “Mr. Carwell, would you explain the purpose of this witness? Let me warn you. I am not likely to be swayed by the words of a convicted felon.”

  “I think you should hear what he has to say, Your Honor. What he has to say is relevant to my client.”

  “Very well—but make it brief.”

  Carwell turned to face the felon and asked, “I will ask you, was Jeb Summers one of your gang?”

  “Him?” Devaney snorted in derision. “He’s nothin’ but a pest, that’s wot he is!”

  “Was he involved with the robbery of the Cooper Warehouse?”

  A silence fell on the room, and Carwell grew tense—though he didn’t allow it to show on his face. He’d spoken in private with Devaney, and had gotten nothing but curses at first. But when Devaney learned that Carwell had influence with the parole board, he changed his tune. However, he was a volatile individual, and on impulse would dare anything. Carwell held his breath, seeing the desire in the man to get attention. He might implicate Jeb just for the sake of seeing the boy squirm! Carwell thought.

  Then Devaney laughed loudly, saying carelessly, “He was always around, looking to get in—but he’s nothin’! Doesn’t have what it takes.” He grinned at Jeb, adding, “He wuz around that night, but the dumb cluck didn’t even know there was a robbery goin’ on. I let him tag along, but when we got there, I told him to stand on the corner and holler if he saw a cop. He didn’t know beans—and he still don’t!”

  “Thank you. Do you have any questions for this witness, Your Honor?” Carwell asked smoothly, anxious to get the young criminal out of the courtroom as quickly as possible. He saw the judge’s brow arc as he took in Devaney’s words. For one moment Carwell thought Cross meant to question Devaney—but the moment passed. “Take him back to his cell,” Cross ordered.

  When Devaney had been ushered out of the courtroom by the guards, Simon Carwell knew the moment had come. In every trial or hearing, there is that single moment when the whole process hangs on the razor’s edge. Carwell was the finest lawyer in the state because he had an innate ability for recognizing those moments. I’ve got a weak case—and nothing we can do is going to wipe out the fact that Jeb was present at the scene of the crime. It’s now or never—!

  “Your Honor, I submit that Jeb Summers is not a criminal. He made a bad choice, and if he’d kept on, he might have continued in that direction. But he’s learned his lesson. We all know that reform school doesn’t ‘reform’ as many young boys as it corrupts. Unfortunate, but true. . ..”

  Carwell made an impassioned plea for the court to be lenient with Jeb. The whole time, Aaron and Gail sat there on the edge of their seats trying to read the face of Judge Cross. Nothing showed in his chiseled features, however, and neither of them had any experience in court matters. As Carwell wound down, both of them sat there tense and praying silently.

  “ . . . and so, Your Honor, I ask you to return this boy to his home. To send him to reform school would serve no purpose. The defense rests its case, Your Honor.”

  Cross sat like a man of stone, his face stiff and unyielding. The silence that fell on the room was almost palpable. Finally he said, “I recognize that our reformatories are inst
itutions that are not what they should be—no one knows that better than I. And I am aware that this young man seems to be a cut above many of the youth I see in this court.” He hesitated for one moment, then shook his head slightly. “But I am aware that only a technicality kept Jeb Summers from being an active participant in the robbery. Punishment must be given as a deterrent to others. I therefore propose to give the minimum sentence in such cases.”

  “Your Honor, isn’t there some way this can be avoided?” Carwell pleaded.

  Judge Cross hesitated. “I have before me the record of the defendant’s stepfather. It is not a good record, and I could not release the boy into such a home with any hope. If there were a good home environment to place the boy in, I might be persuaded to permit that.”

  “Your Honor!” Every eye turned toward Gail, who had leaped to her feet and walked toward the high bench. She stopped and went to Jeb, putting her arm around him protectively. She had heard the doom in the judge’s voice, and had not been able to bear it. Turning her eyes to the judge, she said, “Let me take him, Your Honor! I have a good job, and he’s my brother!”

  “Why, Miss Summers!” Judge Cross was jolted out of his calm by the girl’s suggestion. Shaking his head sadly, he said in a voice that was not unkind, “You are a single woman, are you not?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “The boy needs a father. Part of his problem comes from not having one, I think.”

  “I can take care of him, Your Honor. Please—let me have him!”

  “If you were married, I’d agree to your offer, but it’s not possible. The law is against it.”

  Aaron had been transfixed by Gail’s sudden action—and filled with admiration. He thought suddenly of Burns and turned to give him a sharp jab in the ribs, whispering, “Burns—tell the judge you’re marrying Gail!”

  “I wish I could,” Burns shot back, “but she won’t have me!”

  Aaron was aware that Gail was still pleading with the judge. He was shocked at Burns’s statement, and turned to stare at him. “Are you serious? You’re not in love with her?”

  Pain touched Burns’s fine eyes. “Nothing I have to say about that—but she’s not in love with me.” Anger touched his voice, and he said, “It’s you she loves, you fool!”

  Aaron stared at Burns, and then he turned his eyes back to the front of the room and was aware that the judge was beginning to pronounce Jeb’s sentence. “I therefore sentence you, Jeb Summers . . .”

  “Your Honor—!” Aaron’s stentorian yell made everyone in the courtroom jump in their seats. Leaping to his feet, he cried, “Gail, I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time. Do you love me?”

  Every eye turned to Gail, who had turned from the bench and was staring with her mouth open at Aaron. This was high drama indeed! Carwell, a veteran of hundreds of court battles, felt his jaw drop—and didn’t care!

  Judge Cross practically fell over the bench as he leaned forward to see the girl’s face more plainly.

  Gail stood there, her eyes enormous. Her face was pale, but she held her head high. “Yes, I love you, Aaron Winslow,” she said quietly.

  Suddenly, a shrill yelping cry rent the air, and Lewis began beating on the sides of his wheelchair. “What a brother I’ve got! What a brother!”

  Aaron smiled then, turned to the judge, and asked, “Can you marry us, Judge? I want to be the father of that boy and the husband of Gail Summers.”

  Judge Cross stared at the tall young man, then let his eyes fall on the young woman, whose eyes were now filled with tears. “You two, I’ll speak with you in my chambers. Court dismissed!”

  Carwell bent down and snatched Jeb up in a bear hug. “We made it, Jeb! We made it!”

  Jeb struggled to free himself, and when he had broken free of the man’s embrace, he ran to meet Aaron. He threw his arms around the man and held him with all his might. Aaron put one arm around the boy, and the other he rested on the lad’s fine brown hair. Leaning down, he whispered, “How’d you like to live on a farm in Virginia, son?”

  Jeb lifted his head and his lips trembled. “That’d be great—Dad!” he said. He released Aaron and went to stand beside Lewis and Deborah. “I guess I can call you Uncle Lewis now, can’t I?”

  “You can call me anything, Jeb!” Lewis turned to his father and mother, saying, “I hope you two are ready for a rash of grandchildren! Looks like the place is going to be cluttered up with wives and kids!”

  Belle smiled and pressed Davis’s hand. “We’re ready, Lewis.”

  Aaron then was standing before Gail. She was tall and strong—everything he wanted in a woman. Putting his strong arms around her, he whispered, “Will you have me for your lawful wedded husband?”

  “I will—for ever and ever!”

  The judge waited at the door, a smile on his thin lips, and as Aaron kissed Gail, a cheer went up, even the sour-faced bailiff joining in!

  When Aaron lifted his lips from hers, he smiled at her. She was weeping openly, and he said, “We’ll cry together, Gail—but we’ll laugh, too.”

  “Yes! Come on, Aaron—we can’t keep the judge waiting! We’ve got too much to do . . . !”

  GILBERT MORRIS spent ten years as a pastor before becoming Professor of English at Ouachita Baptist University in Arkansas and earning a Ph.D. at the University of Arkansas. During the summers of 1984 and 1985, he did postgraduate work at the University of London. A prolific writer, he has had over 25 scholarly articles and 200 poems published in various periodicals, and over the past years has had more than 70 novels published. His family includes three grown children, and he and his wife live in Texas.