by Bush, Holly
“I heard Jed Richards say he was going to lynch the Negro, he didn’t use that word to describe Amos Black, but I refuse to repeat what he said, and hog tie the preacher and his sister.”
“And you’re certain this was Jed Richards?”
“I am.”
“When we spoke two days ago about that day, you told me about all the work you’d had done at your house over the last year. That after your husband, Reverend Monroe died, you’d let your house fall into some disrepair and last summer decided to have some work done,” Reed said. “Is that correct, ma’am?”
“Yes. That is correct. I had the roof repaired and my chimney patched in the summer. And had my shed worked on and some porch slats replaced in the fall.”
“So would it be accurate to say you had a variety of workman at your home over a four or five month period nearly a year ago,” Reed said.
Mrs. Monroe looked at him intently.
“Mrs. Monroe?” Judge Hensler prompted. “The counselor has asked you a question.”
“That would be accurate, Mr. Jackson.”
“Would you estimate that there were ten different men working at your home over that period?”
“I suppose so.”
Reed wasn’t fond of baiting frail, elderly women with their own testimony but he knew that this was the only way to plant the seed of doubt in the minds of the jurors. Perhaps the jury was all sympathetic to Jed. Perhaps not. From Reed’s perspective this town had proven to be split in its ideology and having not lived here all of his life, he had no idea if the jury swung his way or Benson’s.
John Benson’s case was fragile as well. There were no eye witnesses to the murder, although Benson had dug up one brave soul from the saloon who’d heard Jed describe Beulah’s death in detail. Ernest Bartolli was sober in the witness chair but his shaky hands, watery eyes and red nose confirmed what Reed had found out about him. Ernest was the town drunk. Reed had been told so by Ernest’s wife. It took little effort on Reed’s part to get Ernest to contradict his own testimony.
“Would you say it was possible, even remotely possible, that you have confused the person’s voice you heard in the woods that night from some fifty feet away with one of the ten or so men you had spoken to last year?”
“It was Jed Richards I heard that night,” Mrs. Monroe replied, red-faced and shaking.
“So there’s absolutely no possibility that you may have made a mistake. That the voice you heard a few weeks ago and the voice you heard nine months ago belong to the same man, without any doubt at all.” Reed held Mrs. Monroe’s stare and said, “May I remind you, ma’am, with the greatest respect that you are still under oath?”
“There are no absolutes in this world. As you well know, Mr. Jackson,” Mrs. Monroe said.
The crowd let out an audible sigh, and Judge Hensler slammed his gavel down and called for silence.
“No, Mrs. Monroe, there are not,” he said, turned his chair and took a look at each and every one of jurists. At that moment he was quite certain he had won the case. That there would be no justice in this life for Beulah Freeman. That sometimes we are forced to accept that what is best for the majority can be a tragedy for the individual. John Benson was staring at him as he rolled back to his table.
Near noon, Judge Hensler asked to hear Benson’s closing argument and then his. He rolled his chair up close to the men in the jury box. Benson had spoken well, able to keep every eye in the jury box on him as he walked back and forth in front of them. Reed could not tower over the seated men like John Benson, but he did believe he had their attention.
“There was a terrible crime committed two weeks ago on August 20th. A Negro woman, Beulah Freeman, long employed at a Fenton business was brutally dragged to her death on Hayfield Run by an unknown assailant. It is a tragedy for the family who loved her and for her extended church and work family. As the last great war proved out and the Bible has taught us, violence begets violence.”
“But this trial is not about the facts we know, as I have just stated. This trial is about the rule of law. And the rule of law states clearly that an accused person cannot be convicted of a crime as long as there is reasonable doubt that that person committed that crime. Our forefathers gave the advantage to the individual rather than the state thereby requiring the state to prove its case beyond any reasonable doubt before an individual citizen can be imprisoned.”
“Because there is doubt in this case you must do the right and lawful thing. You must follow Judge Hensler’s instructions. You must acquit Jed Richards of this crime.”
Chapter Fourteen
Judge Hensler sent the jury to a private room behind his bench after he’d explained the crime according to the law as well as what was required of the jurors when considering guilt or innocence. Much of the crowd drifted out, but John Benson and Reed stayed at their respective desks. The sheriff took Jed back to his cell. People were talking softly amongst themselves when Reed heard the gate behind him and Benson’s desks squeak open, and he turned.
“I’ve got your meal, Mr. Jackson,” Nathan whispered. “And some tea, too.”
Reed raised his brow. “No pie?”
Nathan shook his head. “Miss Belle is saving it for tonight’s supper.” He looked around at the near empty courtroom. “What’s happening?”
“Sit down,” Reed said. Nathan inched behind him and sat cautiously on the chair beside Reed. “The jury is out. I’ve said Jed Richards’s side and Mr. Benson there,” Reed said with a nod to the other lawyer watching them with much interest, “made his case that Jed Richards was guilty. Now the jury will decide what they think is right according to instructions that the judge has given them.”
“What’s going to happen?” Nathan asked.
Reed took a drink of tea and ate the cheese and bread that Belle had sent. “I don’t know.”
Nathan looked up at him solemnly. “Are they going to let this man go that they say killed my Pa?”
“It’s possible,” Reed said. “The jury has to be convinced for certain that there is enough proof to make him guilty.”
“Is there?”
“No, Nathan, I don’t believe there is.”
Nathan nodded, and his eyes filled with tears. “I better get home, suh. Miss Belle will be looking for me.”
Reed put his hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “It’s alright to be angry, but don’t let it fester and eat at you, son. I’ve carried anger for too long, and it hasn’t brought my leg back.”
Just then, the sheriff came through the door beside the judge’s bench with Jed Richards in tow. Jed saw Nathan and narrowed his eyes and then looked at Reed. The slightest smile broke on his face. Nathan inched closer to Reed’s chair as Jed came across the room.
“Go on now, Nathan,” Reed said and pulled his chair forward so Nathan could slide by. Nathan backed up and opened the gate. His eyes were locked on Jed till he turned and ran out of the courtroom.
“Who’s the nigger boy?” Jed asked.
Reed looked at Jed. “Shut up. The jury’s coming back.”
Reed waited impatiently while the jury was seated. The sheriff handed the Judge a folded slip of paper, and he read it and handed it back to the sheriff.
“Have you come to a decision, Mr. Foreman?” the judge asked.
“Yes, your honor. We find Jed Richards not guilty.”
A chorus of boos and cheers filled the courtroom, and the judge slammed his gavel until order was restored.
“You are free to go, Mr. Richards,” the judge said.
The sheriff uncuffed him, and Jed let out a rebel yell and banged open the gate. There were men swarming forward to pat his back and just as many filing out quietly. Reed grabbed Jed’s sleeve and pulled him back towards his chair. He waited till Jed looked at him.
“I’ll have a private word with you, Jed,” Reed said.
“I guess I owe, ya,” Jed said. “You made that widow woman look like an idiot and got me off.”
Reed had held
his emotions and been professional throughout the trial. He’d won the verdict, and he should be glad, but he didn’t have a vision of victory in his head, only a picture of Beulah twisted and broken in the middle of a dark road in a puddle of her own blood. He reached up and grabbed Jed’s collar and pulled him down to his eye level.
“Don’t ever come near Belle or me again. I will shoot you like the dog you are without hesitation. Do not test me, and do not encourage your friends to come near us either,” Reed growled. “Hate is too mild a word for what I think of you, but I have no doubt you’ll get your comeuppance somewhere, somehow. Now smile and pat my back like we’re brothers-in-arms. And then I don’t ever want to see your vicious hide again.”
Jed looked at him warily and patted his arm as Reed released his shirt, and Jed backed up to the gate.
John Benson walked over to Reed and shook his hand.
“Well played, Counselor. I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
“I’m sure we will,” Reed said. Frank was waiting behind the gate.
“You want me to wheel you home?”
“You can get me down the step of the courthouse, Frank. I can wheel myself home,” Reed said as he pulled his satchel on his lap. “But you’re welcome to walk with me and speak to your sister if you like.”
Frank negotiated Reed’s chair through the crowd. “I’d like to see Belle. She was good to me and even showed me how to write my name. Still don’t think no woman should be reading, but even so, I’m proud of her for doing it.”
“Belle showed you how to write your name?” Reed said and began wheeling himself down the street.
Frank nodded. “It’s good a man knows how to write his name.”
“It’s good a man knows how to read and write. Why don’t you let Belle teach you?”
Frank stuck his hands in his pockets. “Don’t need my baby sister teaching me to read.”
“I don’t need her doing all the things she does for me either, that’s what I say, anyway,” Reed said. “But more often than not, she’s got the right of it, and I’ve been too foolish and prideful to admit it.”
“She’s a stubborn one, too,” Frank said. “Once she gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her. Belle ain’t going to be too happy about Jed getting off, is she?” Frank asked.
Reed sobered as he wheeled to his fence gate. “No. She’s not. She viewed Beulah as a friend and maybe even a mother figure. And she’s well aware of how violent Jed could be from personal experience.”
“Maybe I’ll come by another time,” Frank said and kept walking down the road.
Reed went through the gate and wheeled around to the back. Laundry, strung on ropes, was flapping in the breeze and a wicker basket full of folded bed sheets sat on the ground. Belle sat on the stump of a tree with Nathan in her lap facing the woods. She hadn’t heard him come around the house.
“You go ahead and cry about your Pa, Nathan,” Belle was saying. “I’ll cry about Beulah. I miss her.”
“Why do some folks gotta be so mean?” Nathan asked.
“I don’t know,” Belle said. “Maybe somebody was hateful to them. That’s why we’ve got to do what Miss Beulah said and return love to hate.”
“That sure is hard,” Nathan replied. “But I did love my Ma and Pa something fierce.”
Nathan whimpered, and Belle hugged him and kissed his head. “And they loved you back. I’ll never be your Pa or Ma, but I love you, too.”
Nathan cried harder still, and Belle rocked back and forth. Up until that point, Reed hadn’t fully understood Belle’s commitment to this boy. She would love him just like she loved any child of theirs. She considered him part of her family. He could not imagine considering this child his son, but if there was to be peace for their lifetime together, he’d best rethink his opinion of family. And what guarantee did blood give him anyway? His birth father was a cruel stranger.
“It’s over,” Reed said finally.
Belle turned around. “Nathan told me.”
Reed wheeled forward. “I’m sorry for all the pain and suffering you two have had. But I do believe it will be best for all of us to put the ugliness behind us as much as we are able.”
Nathan sat up straight on Belle’s lap and looked into the woods. “What was that?”
Reed wheeled past Belle’s garden and stared hard into the thick undergrowth. “Get in the house, both of you. Get the gun, Belle.”
“I didn’t hear anything at all,” Belle said as she and Nathan walked to the kitchen door. Just then Millie came flying out of the woods and went straight up the big maple tree that sat close to the house. “It was just Millie, Reed. She must have got spooked.”
“Probably. But you and Nathan go in anyway. I’ll be along in a minute.” Reed got a whiff of human stench and alcohol on the breeze and wondered if Millie made a fortuitous escape.
Reed was up early the next day and left Nathan with a list of arithmetic questions on a piece of paper and Belle with instructions to get into the house if either of them heard or saw anything or anyone strange. Belle thought he was being silly. He was certain he was not.
Reed went in search of a client he’d done some work for and found Bill Jenkins at the Land Grant Office set up in the court house.
“Mr. Jenkins,” he said as he rolled into the crowded office.
The man turned and shook his hand. “I’ve got more deeds and bills of sale for you to take a look at, Mr. Jackson. I’d like to bring the paperwork by your office later today, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll be happy to review them,” Reed said. “My office is in my home, fourth house past the sidewalk as you head west. Can you bring them there?”
“Sure. I’ll be there later this afternoon. I’ve got to get home and see what the missus needs from the mercantile. She’s getting ready to do the canning.”
“Mr. Jenkins, do you still have any of those pups I heard you talking about awhile back?”
“Yes, I do,” the man said. “Two females and a male. I’ll keep one of the females, but am looking to sell the other two. The male is already well over thirty pounds and is only five months old. Are you a hunter? I can tell this one’s going to have a great nose.”
“No, I’m not but I always had a dog growing up on the plantation, and I confess I miss it. How much do you want for the male?”
Reed haggled and finally shook hands on a price with Bill Jenkins, who would be bringing the pup to Reed’s house when he brought the bill of sales. Reed pulled his satchel on his lap and began down the street to the Ames Hotel. He paid a boy to tilt his chair and pull him up on the sidewalk. He wheeled past Dr. Lowell’s office just as the doctor was leaving.
“Reed,” Jim Lowell said. “I haven’t seen much of you or your new bride. Why don’t you come into town this Saturday? It’s Founder’s Day, and there’ll be all kinds of things going on. The missus and I always have some adult refreshments while the children play games. And, of course, you don’t want to miss the town barber playing his fiddle.”
Reed eyed the doctor and smiled. “Don’t know how welcome I’d be with the trial just ending.”
Jim Lowell shrugged. “You did your job, Reed. You defended a client. There will always be those who want the Constitution to apply to only those causes they believe in. They’ll get over it.”
“I do appreciate the invite,” Reed said and paused. He stared at the doctor for a long minute. “I’ve got to thank you for giving Belle this wooden leg,” Reed said and touched his left knee where it was strapped on. “I was furious with her, but she was right. I feel a little less crippled with it there, and I can’t say why.”
“I’m glad. Belle said your right leg is getting stronger. Is she right?” he asked.
Reed nodded. “Yes, it is, and it doesn’t ache as much as it did since Belle’s been working the muscles.”
“Time and therapy can work wonders. If you’re ever interested in trying to take a step, let me know. We’ll get something built for y
ou with two hand rails. Is your upper body still strong?”
“I believe it is, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon,” Reed said.
“That’s fine, Reed,” he said and looked at his watch. “I’m headed to an appointment. Don’t forget what I told you about Saturday.”
Reed wheeled on towards the hotel and stopped in the shadow of the mercantile when he saw Henry and Mary Ellen walk out on to the sidewalk and head the other way. He waited till he could no longer see them and wheeled himself into the back of the hotel and up the ramp. The cook saw him as he wheeled in to the kitchen.
“Mr. Jackson! So good to see you. We miss you dining with us,” the rotund man said.
“And I miss your cooking. Best I’ve had since I’ve been here, but don’t tell my bride,” Reed said. “I’ve had such a hankering for those pickles you put up. Is there any chance I could get a jar? I’m happy to pay you or Henry for them.”
“No problem, Mr. Jackson,” he said. “They’re in the cellar. I’ll get you a jar straight away.”
As soon as the cook began down the long flight of steps, Reed went to a cupboard where he knew that Henry kept an odd assortment of tools and items that guests had left and not returned for. He pulled his chair in as far as it would go and pushed aside a box of nails and a pair of women’s boots, hoping Henry hadn’t decided to clean this cupboard out since Reed had moved out of the hotel. But he hadn’t and Reed pulled out a Colt six-shooter wrapped in a rag. Reed looked at the gun and heard the cook coming up the steps. He reached back for the knob to close the cupboard door.
“Do you need something, Reed?” Henry said from the doorway of the kitchen.
Reed turned hurriedly and saw Henry looking at the gun in his lap. Reed wrapped the pistol in the rag and shoved it between his hip and the side of his wheel chair.
“I thought I saw you leaving with Mary Ellen,” Reed said. He followed Henry’s line of vision, now focused on the gun wedged beside him.
“Here’s your pickles, Mr. Jackson. Oh, Mr. Ames, I thought you and Mrs. Ames had left already,” the cook said.
