The red ribbon, p.18
The Red Ribbon, page 18
“Order! Order in the court.” Judge Massie’s gavel beat a reverberating click through the room, and then he turned to Ava. “Did Mr. Allen’s behavior frighten you, Miss Burcham?”
“Not his behavior, sir. But I get nervous when there’s loose gunfire, as any smart person should, I think.”
His smile softened beneath his white moustache. “Smart, indeed.”
She went back to her seat, and after a few more testimonies, the lawyers presented their closing arguments. Though Floyd’s lawyer waxed eloquently about Floyd’s intentions to free his nephews from their bonds but not police custody, the evidence appeared too solid to deny a guilty verdict of some sort. Commonwealth attorney Foster gave an equally articulate closing argument, taking a few jabs at the court’s need to rid Carroll County of the mob violence endemic throughout its rural areas and encouraging the jury to bravely make the right and honorable verdict.
Yet, when the jury returned after a brief respite, they’d not come to a conclusion, so Judge Massie adjourned court for the day and asked all to reconvene in the morning at eight o’clock.
“You think anyone’s gonna take stock of your testimony, Ava Burcham?”
Ava looked to her right where Keen Gentry stood, lurking in his usual way. “As much as anyone else’s, I suppose.” She held his gaze, refusing to cower to his height or vulgar expression.
“They’re all just bidin’ time till you start actin’ like who you really are. What’s in your blood.” His sneer twisted beneath his dark moustache, and Ava pinched her gloved hands together to keep from adjusting her expression.
“Why do you feel like you need to speak to me at all, Keen, especially when you ain’t got nothin’ of use to say?”
He leered closer. Ava readied her fist.
“No woman humiliates me. I won’t abide it.”
“So you’re gonna try to intimidate me with your lies.”
“Naw, just makin’ sure you recognize what everybody else already knows.” His stare never left hers as he tipped his hat. “You can’t get away from your past, not when it’s part of your blood.”
Air had closed off in her throat for a response, so she merely glared at the vicious man and turned away, her gaze meeting Jeremiah’s across the crowded courtroom. Would her past always wait in the shadows of her present? Was God truly big enough to wipe away the bloodstains haunting her future? As Jeremiah marched toward her, his smile dissolving as he approached, she couldn’t fight the niggling doubt of the what-ifs plaguing hope into extinction.
Could she trust God completely?
She’d almost caught him red-handed.
Jeremiah fiddled with the ring in his pocket as the court session came to a close, his grin spreading at the idea of sliding it on Ava’s finger as a surprise for their wedding day. Thankfully, he only had a few short days to wait, because, knowing Ava, she’d question him into a confession about his odd behavior, and he wasn’t sure how long he could hold out before spilling the truth.
He hadn’t been inside a courtroom since the trial over his daddy’s death. A useless case for any real answers, since no one could prove who’d fired the shots that took his father’s life. He’d been hit by four bullets. Between two feuding families. And no one planned to share any information to frame their own.
As the court adjourned, Jeremiah found Ava in the crowd. Keen Gentry leaned close to her, and whatever he said slipped the smile right off Ava’s face. Jeremiah’s fingers fisted around the ring in his pocket and he started forward. Keen must have noticed his approach, because he slipped away from Ava and pressed through the crowd toward Jeremiah.
Keen held on to Jeremiah’s gaze, his glare accompanied with a snarl curling beneath his moustache. Jeremiah didn’t so much as flinch. Keen had meanness on his side, but Jeremiah had two inches, a quick mind, and a pretty good track record with a pistol. With an intentional bump of his shoulder against Jeremiah’s, Keen kept going, exiting the room.
Ava met him in the middle of the galley aisle, her face pale.
“What is it?”
“Nothing important.” She attempted to walk past him, but he caught her arm in a gentle hold.
“Ava?”
“Let’s go for a walk.” Her upturned face, her expression, pleaded. “What do you say?”
With a nod, he linked her arm through his and started toward the door, just as Floyd’s lawyer met them.
“Jeremiah, you got a minute?”
Jeremiah sent a look to Ava, who offered a slight nod.
“What can I do for you, sir?”
Bolen, a massive man, bent his head and rested the folder in his arms against his hip. “From the looks of things, Floyd ain’t gonna find a favorable verdict tomorrow. I’m looking for some more witnesses to offer to Judge Massie so we can show Floyd didn’t have any intention of freeing his nephews. Would you be willing to testify as a character witness, seein’ that you’ve known the Allens so long and your daddy was friends with them?”
“Yes, sir, if you think I can help.”
Bolen released a sigh. “Any honest testimony to the truth of what happened should be a help to us.”
With that, the man exited the courtroom, and Jeremiah followed with Ava’s arm linked through his. Like they belonged. He grinned. And rightly so. They made it down the steps before he spoke. “Are you plannin’ to stay in town tonight?”
She nodded, keeping her attention forward. “I booked a room at the hotel ’cause I figured I wouldn’t be leavin’ town until too late to get back to the Temples’.”
“Which hotel?”
“The Thornton.”
“Same as me.” He turned their steps in the direction of the white-painted, three-story hotel standing right beside the courthouse. “Maybe we can talk in the sitting room and out of the cold?”
Her smile quivered to life, and he moved them to the hotel, finding a small table for two situated near one of the large fireplaces in the grand place. Jeremiah would have stayed at the Elliott House, which would have been cheaper, but it had no vacancies. Likely due to all the curiosity about Floyd Allen’s trial.
Once they’d gotten settled and after a little prodding, Ava shared about the conversation with Keen. The old accusations. His dislike for her. Keen had a tendency to hold a grudge, but why did he single out Ava? Just because of the slap she’d given him at the Combs’ place? Something seemed off about it all. Keen was at least ten years older than Ava, probably more, and he’d moved into Carroll County years ago from some other place. Jeremiah’s pa had told Jeremiah he thought Keen was outrunning the law when he came across the state line. That seemed to happen a lot in these parts.
“You know he’s just trying to get inside your head and make you afraid, don’t you?”
She nodded, her gaze coming up to his. “But I can’t help feeling—wondering if he’s right, Jeremiah. What if I become like her?” Her eyes shone with waiting tears. “What if you’re stuck with me and I start goin’ crazy?”
He took her hand for every guest in the hotel to see, hoping his certainty might rub off on her thinking a little. “Here’s what I know. God made you. Body, mind, and soul. You claim to know Him, ain’t that right?”
She nodded.
“Well, that don’t take away sickness or fear, but the more we remember whose we are, the more equipped we are to handle whatever comes.” He squeezed her fingers. “Whatever comes.”
“But I don’t want you to have to live like that.”
“Ava, stop.” He held her gaze. “You are strong. Sound. Bullheaded sometimes, but I can live with that.”
She attempted to pull her hand away, her lips twitching ever so slightly.
“Remember where you’ve come from.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“No, not your mama. People stronger than her.”
Her brows crinkled into confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Besides your Granny Burcham bein’ one of the soundest minds in the world, and the fact God made you to be who you are. The woman I plan to marry.” He punctuated his words with another squeeze to her hand. “But also think about this. Your daddy hid you so you could live. Your brother jumped in front of you and took that bullet so you could live. Don’t waste the lives they gave up for you by second-guessing every minute of your own. They wanted you to live, Ava. So live with joy and freedom and …” He brushed a thumb across her cheek. “Love.”
She sniffled and offered him a semblance of a smile. “I want to live like that.”
“Then be brave enough.” He squeezed her fingers. “Let’s be brave enough together.”
Jeremiah waited by the front door of the hotel and checked his pocket watch. Seven thirty. Already, he’d noticed people filing up the steps, passing the white columns to the second floor of the courthouse, likely getting their seats as early as possible.
Out of his periphery, he caught sight of Judge Massie walking toward the doors, Webb at his side, hints of the conversation making it to Jeremiah.
“We don’t need to disarm everybody, Lew. Floyd Allen promised me he’d take whatever verdict the jury came to, and I plan to hold him to his word.” The judge stopped to adjust his tie in a mirror by the door. “Besides, trying to disarm everyone is likely to cause more trouble than help, from the crowd we’re expecting today.”
“There’s been things going on lately, Thornton. Allens, Creeds, Daniels …” Webb placed his hands on his hips, the movement revealing a holster with a .32-caliber Colt secured to Webb’s side. “Somethin’ feels off today.”
“We got to trust the law to do its work, Lew.” Judge Massie patted Webb on the shoulder and continued out the door of the hotel toward the courthouse. Webb started to follow and then caught sight of Jeremiah.
“I saw you in the courtroom yesterday and was hopin’ to get a chance to talk with you.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I don’t have time to talk about it right now.” Webb sent a look around them, taking in the room, and then leaned closer to Jeremiah, his voice quieter. “I’ve uncovered a few things about the Creed case. It seems to be linked to Solomon Dunn’s death. And maybe a few other older cases. I can’t be sure. But your concerns were right.”
Solomon Dunn? The man killed around the same time as Joe Creed? “Do you have any idea who’s involved?”
The sheriff gave the room another look. “I have a few ideas, but it’s not safe to talk about it here.”
A chill tiptoed up Jeremiah’s spine that had nothing to do with the cool air from the doorway. “Want me to meet you at the jailhouse after court?”
“Naw.” Webb shook his head. “The jail ain’t safe either. Not for this.”
The jail wasn’t safe? Did they have some prisoners housed there associated with Joe Creed’s death or dealings?
Suddenly, the sheriff stood a bit taller and tugged at the lapel of his brown suit jacket. “I’m in need of some new shoes.”
“New shoes?” What was he talking about?
Webb’s stare never left Jeremiah’s, boring deep. “That’s right. I plan to go over to Murphy’s right after court and find me a new pair. I’ll likely be there awhile, lookin’.”
The intention in his expression took root. “I was planning on lookin’ for some myself,” Jeremiah replied. “Maybe we can catch up a little more then.”
Sheriff Webb grinned and offered a curt nod. “Till then.”
Ava arrived only a few minutes later, her hair tied up in a simple bun, her smile more brilliant than the evening before. “You seem better this morning.”
She linked her arm through the one he offered. “I spent the evenin’ counting my blessings and remindin’ myself of a wise man’s words.”
He squinted down at her, trying to stave off the foreboding the conversation with Webb left behind. “You’re a very smart woman.”
“I don’t reckon we need to be in a hurry. From what I remember from my daddy’s case, the jury will still need time to deliberate this mornin’. Have you had breakfast?”
They enjoyed biscuits and gravy with a side of eggs, keeping the discussion away from the Creeds. Jeremiah didn’t want to contemplate what Webb had discovered until he absolutely had to.
When they finally arrived in the courtroom, they barely found a place to stand for the sheer number of people crammed into the galley area. At least two hundred and fifty. Maybe more. The scent of tobacco, sweat, and wool permeated the space as they wedged through the crowd to find a standing spot against the back wall, passing Sid Allen, who was in discussion with someone. He nodded as Jeremiah passed.
Their spot in the back afforded a fairly decent view of the space. Floyd Allen was in deep conversation with his two lawyers, looking professional in a black suit jacket covering his gray sweater. Judge Massie sat in his large leather chair, head bent over the desk as he went through some papers.
“He give them jurors a good talkin’ to before they was sent back to deliberate.” Elmer Williams shoved the man beside Jeremiah aside and took his place. “Told them to stay true to the law of Virginia, regardless of their feelin’s about Floyd Allen, good or bad.”
Jeremiah offered his hand to the older man. “From the sound of yesterday’s testimonies, I don’t see how they can do much else but find him guilty.”
Elmer nodded toward Ava and rubbed his chin. “I reckon so, but old Floyd ain’t gonna like it none.” He shook his head. “He’s always left this courtroom a free man.”
“I suppose if he told his nephews to take their sentences like men, he’ll have to do the same.” Ava pressed close to Jeremiah’s side. He grinned. He liked having her close. The very idea of seeing her every day—and night—of the week nearly had him moving the wedding date up to tomorrow. But he only needed to wait three more days. Only three.
“How’d your cousin’s weddin’ go?” This from Wesley Edwards, who peered around Elmer, his easy smile in full swing. “Mama said it was the talk of Sunday dinner.”
“Ellis sure did put in the money for it,” Jeremiah responded. “I ain’t never seen such a sight. It’s a shame you missed it.” He nodded toward the boy. “You must have just got out of jail?”
“Yep, sure did. Just in time for your weddin’, from what I hear?”
He wiggled his brows at Ava, and she closed her eyes in mock exasperation. “Nobody can keep secrets around here.”
“Now why would you want to keep a weddin’ a secret?” Wesley laughed. “Unless you’re embarrassed to marry Jeremiah Sutphin.”
“I ain’t embarrassed one bit.” Ava’s marble eyes took on a glint of fire. “I just don’t want a crowd oohin’ and aahin’ over everything. That’s all. Some folks don’t have to have an audience, Wesley Edwards.”
Wesley tipped his head back in a hearty laugh.
“How’d the house turn out?” This from Elmer. “I reckon you got it all finished up for your cousin?”
“Sure did. And it’s ten times better than the house before, so there’s some silver linin’ in the middle of all the trouble.”
“There you go, boy.” Elmer tipped his head toward Jeremiah. “You’re so much like your daddy with them silver linings.”
The compliment pressed through Jeremiah with the warmth of a bittersweet embrace, and his fingers reached for the ring housed safely within his pocket. Those silver-lining thoughts had done him a heap of good recently.
A knock sounded through the muffling of voices, drawing Jeremiah’s attention to the front of the room. Sheriff Lew Webb opened a door to the right, behind the judge, and in walked the jurymen, taking their seats along the front of the room, just below Judge Massie.
The cry of a baby pierced the sudden quiet, followed quickly by a woman’s shushing response. A strange hush fell over the room. Judge Massie looked over the crowd and then focused on a man at the farthest end of the jury’s row.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?”
The jury foreman stood, paper in hand. “We have, Judge.”
Lew walked over and took the paper from the foreman then handed it to Dexter Goad, the county clerk. A group of deputies sat just behind Dexter Goad’s place at the bar. A few Jeremiah recognized, but Webb had brought on some others, and of course, Casper Norris sat among them. Their posture tense, alert.
Why? Did they really believe Floyd was crazy enough to cause violence in a courthouse? Out in rural Fancy Gap was one thing. Here in the middle of town with tons of folks watching? Another.
“Will the defendant please rise?” the judge announced, his expression unreadable as he turned to Floyd.
Quiet shrouded the room. Everyone waited in poised expectation.
Floyd stood, with his lawyer joining him.
Massie nodded for Goad to continue.
“‘We, the jury, find the defendant, Floyd Allen, guilty as charged in the indictment and fix his punishment as confinement in the penitentiary of this state for one year.’”
A gasp sounded in the crowd.
“Is that your verdict, gentlemen?” Goad addressed the jury.
They answered with unanimous nods. Goad turned and placed the slip of paper in the pigeonhole of his desk.
Floyd stared at Goad, as if in some kind of trance. Had he heard the county clerk’s words?
“We’d like to request a new trial due to new evidence, Judge.” Bolen shuffled a few steps forward. “I can file affidavits to support this motion, if it’s amenable to you.”
“Very well.” Massie shifted through some papers on his desk. “When can you be ready to argue the motion?”
“I think we can have our witnesses here by tomorrow morning,” came Bolen’s reply.
“We will set it to be argued in the morning.” Massie turned as if to talk to Goad, but Bolen recalled his attention.
“Will Your Honor allow Mr. Allen bail pending this motion?”
Massie shifted his attention from Floyd to Bolen to a few other faces in the room. The silence swelled. A man coughed. A woman sniffled.
