“I won’t be able to get anyone else to testify? Why not?”
“Like I said, the name of the man that got killed was Billy Ray Quentin. He is—that is, he was—Pogue Quentin’s son, and I don’t reckon there are many people in town who would be willing to go up against Pogue Quentin.”
“I have met Pogue Quentin,” Murchison said. “And I find it hard to believe that someone like Pogue Quentin would actually have that many friends down in Santa Clara.”
Lenny choked back a chuckle. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Mr. Murchison. It’s not because they are his friends that they won’t testify,” he said. “It’s because they are afraid of him.”
Murchison nodded. “Yes, I must say, that sounds more like the Pogue Quentin I met. He struck me then as someone who would attempt to get his way by intimidation.”
“Intimidation—does that mean scarin’ people?” Lenny asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, he doesn’t scare me. I will testify.”
“Are you the only one?”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you can get Mary Lou Culpepper to testify, but I don’t know whether the jury will pay much attention to her.”
“Why is that?”
“Because, like me, she works in the saloon.”
“Exactly what kind of work does she do in the saloon? Is she a—”
“She’s a whore, if that’s what you are asking,” Lenny said, answering the question before Murchison had completed asking it. “But she’s a good, honest woman.”
Murchison shook his head. “It doesn’t really make that much difference how good and honest a woman she is,” he said. “I’m afraid you are right. The very fact that she is a whore will, more than likely, cause the jury to give little weight to her testimony. We are going to have to find someone else.”
Lenny shook his head. “There isn’t anyone else.”
Murchison stroked his chin, then, with a sigh, leaned back in his seat. “I should have stuck with my first premise. I’ve been around long enough to know that, no matter what you might think, there really is no such thing as a clear-cut case.”
Santa Clara
Deputy Wilson looked up from his desk as the four men and one woman came through the front door of the jail.
“Here, what’s goin’ on here?” he asked. “You can’t come bargin’ in like this! What do you think you are doin’?”
“Pearlie!” Cal shouted, seeing his friend in the cell at the back of the jail.
“Cal, Smoke, Sally, I knew you would come!” Pearlie said.
“You can thank Lenny here, he’s the one that told us,” Cal said.
“I do thank you, Lenny. I haven’t known you long, but you are a true friend.”
“I told you, you can’t be in here,” Wilson said. “They’s only certain times you can visit a prisoner, and this here ain’t one of those times.”
“You are wrong, Deputy,” Murchison said. “As this young man’s lawyer, I can visit him anytime I want in order to establish his defense.”
“All right, maybe you can, but who are all these people? They can’t be here,” Wilson insisted.
“You are wrong about that as well,” Murchison said. “They are all helping me construct a case for the defense.”
Wilson was clearly agitated, and obviously unsure as to what everyone’s rights were. Finally, he acquiesced, then returned to his desk and sat down. “All right,” he said. “Go ahead and have your visit. But I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
As soon as they reached the cell in the back, Sally stuck her hand through the bars and ran her fingers over the entry wound scars that were left on Pearlie’s cheek by the shot. “Oh, Pearlie,” she said. “Lenny told us you had been shot. Do the wounds hurt?” she asked.
“To tell the truth, I didn’t even feel ’em when they first hit me. But after a while, they commenced to sting-in’ a bit. Now, though, they don’t hurt none at all.”
“How did you wind up here in Santa Clara, of all places?” Smoke asked.
“Well, sir, I was comin’ back home, is what I was doin’,” Pearlie said. “I was comin’ back to my old job. That is, if you would have been willin’ to take me back.”
“Of course we would take you back,” Sally said. “We would have taken you back five minutes after you left.”
“Yes, ma’am, well, five minutes after I left, I almost turned around and come back,” Pearlie said. He was silent for a moment before speaking again. “It would have been better if I had done that. ’Cause if I had, I wouldn’t be in all this trouble now.”
“Don’t worry about it, Pearlie,” Smoke said. “We’ll get you out of here, I promise.”
“Really? I wish I could be that sure about it. Perhaps you didn’t see the scaffold they are building,” Pearlie said.
“I saw it. It’s practically in the center of town. You can’t miss it.”
“I don’t figure they would waste their time buildin’ somethin’ like that if they didn’t have no intention of usin’ it.”
“They can have all the intention of using it they want,” Smoke said. “I’m telling you right now, that scaffold is not going to be used. At least, not for your necktie party.”
Pearlie smiled. “I figured if I could just get you here in time, ever’thing would all work out,” he said.
“This is Tom Murchison,” Smoke said. “He’s going to be your lawyer.”
“Well, now, my own lawyer,” Pearlie said. “How about that? That makes me feel like a big shot.”
“When is the trial?” Murchison asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Impossible,” Murchison said. “I can’t possibly prepare a defense by tomorrow.”
“You damn well better,” Deputy Wilson said, overhearing the conversation. “Judge McCabe will be comin’ in tonight, and he don’t like waitin’ around.” Wilson laughed. “Yes, sir, we’ll have your friend tried, convicted, and hung by sundown tomorrow.”
“You had better hope he isn’t found guilty,” Smoke said.
“What do you mean I had better hope he isn’t found guilty? Hell, I want the son of a bitch to be found guilty. I like hangin’s, and I can’t think of anything I’d rather see than your friend here dancin’ from the end of a rope.”
“If it happens, you won’t see it,” Smoke said.
“The hell I won’t. I’ll be a’ standin’ right there in the front row,” Wilson said.
“You won’t be standing anywhere,” Smoke said.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because if Pearlie is found guilty, I’ll kill you.”
“What?” Wilson gasped. “Did you just threaten me?”
“That was not a threat,” Smoke said. “That was a promise.”
“Deputy, by law, we are entitled to a private visit with my client,” Murchison said. “Would you please excuse us?”
“What?”
“Go away,” Smoke said. He pointed to the desk. “Go over there and sit down and let us conduct our business.”
“Look here, I’m the law,” Wilson said. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
“Smoke, let’s don’t wait,” Cal said. “Let me kill him now.”
“I—uh—you are going to hear about this!” Wilson said, sputtering. But faced with a concerted glare from both Smoke and Cal, he returned meekly to his desk.
Not until he was out of earshot did they resume their visit with Pearlie.
“Pearlie, have you been eating all right?” Sally asked.
“Yes, ma’am!” Pearlie said. “You can’t believe how good I’ve been eating!”
“Really? The jail feeds you that well?” Sally asked, surprised by Pearlie’s response.
“Oh, no, ma’am, the jail don’t have nothin’ to do with it,” Pearlie said.
Sally winced at the grammar, but said nothing.
“No, ma’am. The reason I’m eatin’ good is because of Lenny’s ma, Mrs. York. Mrs. York, and Lenny’s friend, Mary Lou. Both of them have been bringin’ me food for near’bout ever’ meal. Good food, too. Smoke, have you met Mrs. York yet?”