Дэвид Балдаччи - Wish You Well

Lou stood beside him. “Will you promise me one thing, Cotton? Will you promise you won’t ever leave us?”

After a few moments Cotton cupped the girl’s chin and said in a halting voice that in no way lost its strength, “I will stay for as long as all of you will have me.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Outside the courthouse, Fords, Chevys, and Chryslers were slant-parked next to wagons pulled by mules and horses. A dusting of snow had given pretty white toppers to just about everything, yet no one was paying any attention to that. They had all hurried into the courthouse to see a much grander show.

The courtroom had never held so many souls. The seats on the main floor were filled. Folks even stood in the back and were sandwiched five deep on the second-floor balcony. There were town men in suits and ties, women in church dresses and boxy hats with veils and fake flowers or dangling fruit. Next to them were farmers in clean overalls and felt hats held in hand, their chew stashed in their pockets. Their women were beside them, Chop dresses to the ankles and wire glasses over worn, creased faces. They looked around the room excitedly as though they were about to see a queen or movie star stroll in.

Children were wedged here and there among the adults like mortar between brick. To get a better look, one boy climbed up on the railing around the balcony and clung to a support column. A man hauled him down and sternly told him that this was a court of law and dignity was required here, not tomfoolery. The ashamed boy trudged off. And then the man climbed up on the railing for a better look-see himself.

Cotton, Lou, and Oz were heading up the steps of the courthouse when a boy in an overcoat, slacks, and shiny black shoes ran up to them.

“My pa says you’re doing wrong by the whole town on account of one woman. He said we got to have the gas folks here, any way we can.” The little fellow looked at Cotton as though the lawyer had spit on the boy’s mother and then laughed about it.

“Is that right?” said Cotton. “Well, I respect your daddy’s opinion, though I don’t agree with it. Now, you tell him if he wants to discuss it with me in person later, I’d be right glad to do so.” Cotton glanced around and saw someone who he was sure was the child’s father, for the boy favored the man and he had been staring at them, but quickly looked away. Cotton glanced at all the cars and wagons and then said to the boy, “You and your daddy better get yourselves inside and get a seat. Looks to be a right popular spot today.”

When they entered the courtroom, Cotton was still amazed at the numbers in attendance. Yet, the hard work of farming was over for now, and people had time on their hands. And for the townsfolk it was an accessible show promising fireworks at a fair price. It seemed they were determined to miss not one legal trick, not one semantical headlock. For many this probably would be the most exciting time of their lives. And wasn’t that a sad thing, Cotton thought.

Yet, he knew the stakes here were high. A place dying once more only perhaps to be revitalized by a deep-pocketed company. And all he had to lay against that was an old woman lying in a bed, her senses seemingly struck from her. And there were also two anxious children counting on him; and lying in another bed a woman who maybe he could lose his heart to if only she would awaken. Lord, how was he ever going to survive this?

“Find a seat,” Cotton told the children. “And keep quiet.”

Lou gave him a peck on the cheek. “Good luck.” She crossed her fingers for him. A farmer they knew made room for them in one of the rows of seats.

Cotton went up the aisle, nodding at people he recognized in the crowd. Smack in the front row were Miller and Wheeler.

Goode was at the counsel table, seeming as happy as a hungry man at a church supper as he looked around at a crowd that seemed famished to witness this contest.

“You ready to have a go at this?” said Goode.

“As ready as you are,” Cotton replied gamely.

Goode chuckled. “With all due respect, I doubt that.”

Fred the bailiff appeared and said his official words, and they all rose, and the Court of the Honorable Henry J. Atkins was now in session.

“Send in the jury,” the judge said to Fred.

The jury filed in. Cotton looked at them one by one, and almost fell to the floor when he saw George Davis as one of the chosen.

He thundered, “Judge, George Davis wasn’t one of the jurors we voir dired. He has a vested interest in the outcome of this case.”

Atkins leaned forward. “Now, Cotton, you know we have a hard enough time getting jurors to serve. I had to drop Leroy Jenkins because he got kicked by his mule. Now, I know he’s not the most popular person around, but George Davis has as much right to serve as any other man. Look here, George, can you keep a fair and open mind about this case?”

Davis had his churchgoing clothes on and looked quietly respectable. “Yes, sir,” he said politely and looked around. “Why, y’all knowed Louisa’s place right next to mine. Get along good.” He smiled a black-toothed smile, which he seemed to have difficulty with, as though it were something he’d never before attempted.

“I’m sure Mr. Davis will make a fine juror, your Honor,” said Goode. “No objection here.”

Cotton looked at Atkins, and the curious expression on the judge’s face made Cotton think twice about what was really going on here.

Lou sat in her seat, silently fuming at this. It was wrong. And she wanted to stand up and say it was, yet for once in her life she was too intimidated. This was a court of law, after all.

“He’s lying!” The voice thundered, and every head in the place turned to its source.

Lou looked next to her to find Oz standing on his seat, taller now than all in the courtroom. His eyes were on fire, his finger pointed straight at George Davis. “He’s lying,” Oz roared again in a voice so deep Lou did not even recognize it as her brother’s. “He hates Louisa. It’s wrong for him to be here.”

Cotton had been struck dumb like all the others. He glanced around the room. Judge Atkins stared at the little boy, none too pleased. Goode was about ready to spring to his feet. And Davis’s look was so fierce that Cotton was very grateful that no gun was handy for the man. Cotton raced to Oz and swooped up the boy.

“Apparently, the propensity for public outbursts runs in the Cardinal family,” Atkins boomed. “Now, we can’t have that, Cotton.”

“I know, Judge. I know.”

“It’s wrong. That man is a liar!” yelled Oz.

Lou was scared. She said, “Oz, please, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, Lou,” said Oz. “That man is hateful. He starves his family. He’s wicked!”

“Cotton, take that child out,” roared the judge. “Right now.”

Cotton carried out Oz, with Lou trailing in their wake.

They sat on the cold courthouse steps. Oz wasn’t crying. He just sat there and smacked his small fists against his slender thighs. Lou felt tears trickle down her cheeks as she watched him. Cotton put an arm around Oz’s shoulders.

“It’s not right, Cotton,” said Oz. “It’s just not right.” The boy kept punching his legs.

“I know, son. I know. But it’ll be okay. Why, having George Davis on that jury might be a good thing for us.”

Oz stopped hitting himself. “How can that be?”

“Well, it’s one of the mysteries of the law, Oz, but you’ll just have to trust me on it. Now I suspect y’all still want to watch the trial.” They both said that they would very dearly want to do that.

Cotton glanced around and saw Deputy Howard Walker standing by the door. “Howard, it’s a little cold for these children to be waiting out here. If I guarantee no more outbursts, can you find a way to get them back in, ’cause I got to get going. You understand.”