After the two had eaten, Bonnie sat on the side of the bed, rubbing her sore shoulder. “Bonnie, turn off the light, I want to sit here in the dark and think for a while,” Willy said. The room faced out over the town square and Willy sat looking at the dark street. His eyes followed the figure of the sheriff as he left his office for the patrol car.
“If this goes bad for me, you and the baby will be okay. The ranch is paid for and your family is here to help you,” Willy said softly to Bonnie.
“I’m not so sure,” Bonnie said. “Considering the fact that your child will be raised in a town where it’s father is in prison or will be put to death. I will stay here because I’m tired of running from myself and this is where I stop. The only way we can live with our heads held high is if your memory comes back. We need it all out in the open, good or bad. If there is a cloud of mystery surrounding what happened here, we will never be free from speculation and ridicule. Our child will be tormented by other children for the things they hear grownups say, just like Thomas Taylor. I can live with the truth. Anything less will haunt us for the rest of our lives.”
Sitting in the darkness Willy began to weep. Something deep inside him surfaced and he could no longer hold back. Bonnie sat up in bed when she heard the quiet sobbing from the man who had never shown this kind of emotion. Stepping over to him, she caressed his black hair and said, “Willy, you have never cried in all the time I have known you. I believe that it is a good thing. Now come to bed. I need you to hold me. When I’m in your arms I feel safe and I need to feel safe tonight.”
Below their window Bart circled the town square, his mind going over the events of the day. The rifle had cleared him from years of suspicion. The mob guys would not implicate him in the barn fire because he could be of service to them on the outside. He had contacts now and he could take up where Judd had left off. Once Willy was in prison, he would take steps to insure Willy’s memory never returned. He could quit this sheriff business but for now he would sit tight and keep his eyes open.
C31 - Court Day 2---The Truck Driver
The sun came up with a vengeance. By eight o’clock it was hot, and people had begun to gather hoping to get a seat in the courtroom. Those that were not fortunate enough to gain entrance followed the shade from one side of the courthouse to the other as the day progressed.
Bonnie watched the people below from behind the curtain in her room. “Willy, where did all these people come from?” she asked. Catching the face of her mother standing under one of the old oak trees that adorned the four corners of the courtyard Bonnie started crying softly. Stepping up behind her, Willy put his hands around her waist. The smell of shaving cream sent a surge of excitement through her. Leaning her head back against his chest, she said, “Look at mother out there! She looks tired. Just about the time she thinks she has found the daughter she has always wanted, this blows up. I’m dragging this family through a worse time than ever before. I wonder what she thinks of her newly found daughter. I was kidding myself to think none of this would come out. I suppose that was just wishful thinking.” Tears coursed down her face. “Oh Mom, I am so sorry,” she sobbed.
“Bonnie, for all it’s worth, none of this is your fault. Your mother knows that all this was my doing. I may not know anything about our past, but you are in no way responsible for this. One thing I know is that I’m madly in love with you. I am totally responsible so don’t shoulder any of the blame for this,” Willy said.
“Willy, you must not take blame for things you don’t understand. It will be bad enough as it,” she said.
“I just want this to end, you have been through enough!” Willy said.
A knock on the door signaled it was time to go. They were the last to be escorted across the street. A few minutes later the court room was called to order and the second day started.
“Your Honor, we concluded with the rifle yesterday. I will have more to say tomorrow on the subject,” the prosecutor stated.
“The prosecution calls Mr. Fred Mayfield to the stand.” Standing up stiffly Fred made his way to the front and was sworn in.
The prosecutor began by saying, “Mr. Mayfield, can you tell this court why you are here in Huntsville?”
“I read in the paper about the body in the cemetery and was with the man what did the shooting. I came to explain how I was involved in this mess,” Mayfield stated.
“Mr. Mayfield, do you know the defendant Mr. Baker?” the prosecutor asked.
“Yes,” Fred said.
The prosecutor continued, “Will you point him out to the court?”
Fred looked at Willy sitting at the table and nodded in his direction.
“How did you know Mr. Baker?” Perkins asked.
“I used to drive trucks for his boss, off and on. Most of my contact with the mob was through Willy,” Mayfield said.
“How do you mean that?” asked the prosecutor.
“When I couldn’t find honest work and needed money, I would drive a load or two for his boss,” stated Mayfield.
“Will you tell the court who his boss was?” asked the prosecutor.
“A fellow by the name of Walter McDonald. He paid better than regular trucking jobs, but unless I was desperate, I usually didn’t take jobs from him,” Fred said.
“What was in the trucks he had you drive?” the prosecutor continued questioning.
“I tried not to notice but mostly stolen goods, liquor and the like,” Mayfield replied.
“You knew you were breaking the law by driving those trucks, didn’t you?” asked the prosecutor.
“Yes,” Mayfield stated.
The prosecutor resumed, “How did you know the defendant Mr. Baker?”
“He was like a bookie or something for McDonald. Willy is an easy guy to like. I didn’t mind driving as long as I answered to Mr. Baker,” Fred stated.
“The night of the hijacking, where were you?” asked the prosecutor.
“I was asleep in a small shack beside the barn where the trucks were parked,” Mayfield stated.
The prosecutor then asked Fred Mayfield to tell his side of the story, “Tell this court what happened then.”
“Sometime after midnight we were woke by the sound of the truck engines starting. Hawkins jumped up and grabbed the door. It had been locked from the outside and he was unable to get out. He started shooting at the lock trying to blast it off the door. Suddenly bullets started hitting the shack and we got down. Then suddenly the door started swinging open. The first truck had made the road and was disappearing around the curve when we came out of the shed,” Mayfield stated.
“What happened then?” asked the prosecutor.
Mayfield continued, “The second truck was passing in front of the shack and Hawkins was shooting like a wild man. He ran out of shells about the time the truck made the dirt road. Running back in the shack he grabbed a rifle and got off one last shot at the second truck as it disappeared around the curve.”
“Did you do any shooting?” the prosecutor asked.
“I don’t carry a gun. I was hired to drive trucks. I ain’t paid to shoot people. I just drive trucks. I didn’t know anyone was shot until I read the newspaper in Shreveport and put two and two together,” Mayfield insisted.
“Why did you leave when the trucks were stolen?” the prosecutor questioned.
“If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here now. I decided to give myself up and so here I am,” Mayfield said.
“No further questions, Your Honor,” the prosecutor stated and sat down.
Looking up from the tablet on which he was taking notes, George said, “I have no questions at this time, Your Honor. I would reserve the right to recall this witness at a later time if need be.”
“Permission granted. Mr. Mayfield, you may step down. Mr. Prosecutor, call your next witness.”
C32 - Court Day 3---Winners and Losers
Alarge crowd stood around the courthouse hoping to get a seat in the small courtroom. It was nine a.m. when the w
itnesses were escorted from the rooming houses around town. Judy especially enjoyed the attention being in the company of Fred Mayfield. She had spent hours this morning working to look her best. She must remember to thank the judge for the vacation from the diner. All this notoriety was helping her self-esteem. Her new boyfriend was a celebrity. Since she had been taking care of Fred, he had gained much needed weight, was clean shaven, and his clothes didn’t clash. Judy had found a diamond in the rough and with her assistance Fred looked distinguished.
The sun was bright overhead when a shiny new Buick maneuvered its way around the congested square. Mike Walker signaled the car and guided the driver into the parking spot he had been detailed to guard. A well-dressed woman stepped from the car and up on the sidewalk.
“I have been waiting for you; this parking place was getting hard to hold,” Mike said.
A flash of white teeth greeted him and the two made their way across the lawn. The crowd stood watching and wondering who this veiled well-dressed woman was. Surely, she was from Chicago and had connections to the Bakers. The court room was seated, and the day began anew. The defense attorney called his first witness to the stand.
“The defense calls Willow Smith,” George Ford said. The lanky woman stood and made her way along the back aisle of the courtroom. Gasps were heard from all over the courtroom as she stood. None had recognized her when she had entered…now the sister-in-law of Judd Smith would have her day in court. Willow stepped into the aisle, pausing just long enough to give everyone in the room time to get a good look. Down front the judge quickly put his glasses on and gave her a big smile. The women in the courtroom now recognized her and whispers were heard around the courtroom. Today this once homely girl would make a statement in Huntsville about starting over. The burdensome family life she had lived was over. The money in the banks had been invested wisely and she could have most anything she wanted in life. There was nothing cheap about the way she looked. The dress was stylish but modest and her sultry frame made it look all the better. A complete make-over in Houston and a new wardrobe had done wonders for her disposition. The white caps on her teeth added a new dimension to her smile. She had not stopped smiling since she had left the dentist chair. No one had ever noticed her figure hidden under the flour sack dresses but today she had an audience. This was the day she had longed for. She had given up her youth to a drunken husband. Today she would regain as much dignity and respect as she could. Willow had driven to Houston two weeks before with the money she had found in the grain crib. With the help of a Houston banker and his smartly dressed wife, Willow’s life had taken a new direction. A couple of weeks of intense pain and determination had paid off. She had returned with a new smile, a wardrobe designed by those who know fashion in Houston, and driving a new Four Hole Buick. Stepping down the aisle she didn’t have to strut. It was just natural to that body. Every man in the house gave her a smile and cordial nod if they could catch her eye.
Doc Mueller knew what was coming and rose to greet her. He had been sitting down front next to the aisle and he stood at her approach. This was Willow’s day and he intended to make it one she would always remember. Stopping in front of Doc, she reached out her hand to greet her longtime friend. Taking her hand, he promptly leaned over and kissed the extended hand to the hoots and whistles of the courtroom.
Behind Doc the gavel sounded loud and clear through the courtroom bringing the court back in control. “Doc Mueller, I hold you in contempt of court and charge you with supplying the bait on our next fishing trip!” The ring of the gavel brought the court back in control and the judge said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we have had our lighter moment, now let’s get back to the task at hand.”
“Mrs. Smith, will you tell the court your relationship to individuals connected to this trial,” George Ford asked.
“My stepson was murdered at the cemetery. My brother-in-law, Judd Smith, is implicated in the shooting of Mr. Baker and the later attempt on the Baker’s lives,” Willow stated.
“Mrs. Smith, it has been well established that your husband’s brother, Judd Smith, attempted to kill the Bakers. Do you believe that he was capable of such a deed?” George continued his questioning.
“Judd was a different and strange man. When I heard of his involvement I was not surprised,” she said.
“Do you believe that he should receive all the blame he has coming?” asked George.
“Yes,” she replied.
Stepping to the side of the witness box, George looked at the jury and asked, “Do you think he might be getting blame for somethings he did not do? Such as the killing of Texas Ranger Jake Walker?” George asked.
“Yes, I do,” Willow said.
Complete silence came over the courtroom. In the front row of the courtroom, Boxcar could only dream he was standing in front of this crowd of reporters and citizens, rather than this pimple faced kid of a lawyer. Life was so unfair. At this moment, a pin drop would have sounded like a railroad spike falling on this highly polished floor. In the courtroom every eye was fixed on this young lawyer, waiting in rapt anticipation for the next words to come from his mouth. Boxcar Evans had taken theater while studying law. Knowing that in just such a courtroom situation one needed such a gift of theatrics. Of which this wet-behind-the-ears kid standing before him in the cheap grey suit did not possess. ‘Oh, such injustice…such injustice!’ he thought.
Walking over to the evidence table George picked up the rifle and asked, “Do you recognize this rifle?” he asked Willow Smith.
“Yes,” was Willow's response.
“Where have you seen this before?” George asked.
“I saw it the day it was given to Judd,” she replied.
“Was there anything significant about that day to you?” asked George.
“I didn’t know it at the time, but it was the day that Mr. Baker was shot. Judd brought the rifle home with him. He was in a big hurry to sight it in. He had a shooting range back of the house where he sighted in his rifles and took target practice. I had to admire his ability with a gun,” she said.
Bart Wells stood in the back of the courtroom almost in a state of shock. Wanting to break and run he stood frozen to the spot as Willow continued.
“You know for sure Judd had just gotten this rifle?” George asked.
“Yes, the one thing Judd and I had in common was we both loved to shoot. He had taught me to shoot and I hoped to shoot this rifle. It was not one of his regular rifles. I had shot them all. This one was different. There was a leather pouch full of shells with the rifle. I started to pick it up, but he stopped me.
‘Don’t touch any of those shells,’ he cautioned me. “I asked if he had bought a new gun. His response was someone had just given it to him. I watched him put that leather pad on the stock to soften the kick and a new scope. Then he put on a pair of gloves which was unusual. After shooting a few rounds and sighting the riflescope he carefully picked up the casings and put them in his pocket. Then he let me shoot,” Willow said.
“Judd let you shoot the rifle?” George asked.
Willow responded, “Yes, first he took a couple of shells from a set I had seen him load and I fired the first one while he looked through a set of powerful binoculars.”
“Well how did you do?” George asked.
“Judd laughed a surprised laugh. ‘I taught you well! You actually hit the target. You are about six inches to the right. Try again,’ he said,” Willow said with a smile.
“What was so surprising about you hitting the target?” George asked.
“The target was so far out it was almost impossible to see unless you were looking through the scope. My second shot missed the target completely,” Willow said.
Again, George turned to the jury and said, “Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, the shells in the pouch and the shell casing found at the scene did not have Mr. Smith’s prints on them. There were two different sets of prints on most of the shells. No match has been found for them at this time
. If and when we identify the prints, we will solve the murder of Ranger Jake Walker years ago.” Turning back to the witness stand George asked, “Did Judd say who gave him the rifle?” In the back of the courtroom the sheriff wavered and looked as if he would faint as she answered.
“He said a friend had just given him the rifle. Then he told me, ‘You ask too many questions. Go feed the stock.’’’ she replied.
Turning from the witness box George surveyed the courtroom and stated, “Your Honor and members of the jury, if Judd Smith was given the rifle that day, it must have come from the real killer of Ranger Walker. I believe the killer not only hired Judd Smith to kill the Bakers but set him up to take the fall for the ranger's killing years earlier. Judd figured out the rifle was a setup and made sure his prints were not on the shells. When Judd’s plan backfired and he was killed by a freak turn of events, the real killer figured he was in the clear for the killing of the ranger,” George stated.
Across the courtroom, Lightfoot sat watching the face of the sheriff. All these years they had no suspects but finally he was looking at the culprit. He had watched Bart grow pale as Willow gave her testimony. The sheriff was guilty that was for sure. They had never found the rifle that had killed his friend Jake…until now. Had it not been for the smart young lawyer, Bart would have almost convinced everyone Judd was the killer,
Judge Stewart adjourned the session and the reporters fled the building to find telephones for the latest bomb shell. Tomorrow’s papers would make lawyer Ford look like a smart, formidable lawyer to the world.
George leaned back in his chair smiling to himself. This had gone well for him today and he felt a streak of pride rise up within himself. Swinging around in his chair to watch the people leave, his eyes came to rest on the person sitting directly behind him. His smile faded as he sat eye to eye with the girl from the department store. Turning back abruptly his pride washed away in the wake of those blue eyes.
“You really are a lawyer,” she stated.
Doing Time In Texas, Book 3 Page 16
