Dovey Coe (11 page)

“I will, Mama,” I promised, and lay my head on her shoulder. She petted my hair a few times and give me a kiss on the cheek.

“Go on and get Amos,” Mama said, rising. “I reckon we ought to go on now.”

Amos's door was halfway closed. I nudged it with my foot, and it swung open to reveal Amos sitting with his back to me on his bed, writing furiously on a white sheet of paper. He must have sensed me in the room, because he turned around the second I took a step inside. He quickly folded up the piece of paper into a little square.

“This ain't no time to be writing letters, son,” I told him. Amos shrugged his shoulders like he didn't have the least idea of what I was talking about. I followed him down to the truck, wondering what he was up to. Amos got in the way back with Huck, both of them looking scared.

The courthouse steps was already crowded with folks come to see the trial by the time we got there. Daddy's cousin Ray had driven Caroline over from Boone, and she run to greet us as soon as she seen the truck.

“How could they ever think you done such a thing as murder Parnell Caraway?” she cried into my ear, giving me a big hug.

Mr. Harding walked over then and shook Daddy's hand. He introduced himself to Caroline, but didn't give her a second glance after that. He was the first man I'd known who seemed to have more interest in me than in my sister.

Mr. Harding put his arm around my shoulder as we turned to go inside. “Are you ready, Miss Dovey?”

I told him I was, and all of us walked into the courthouse, except for Huck, of course. Amos tied him to a tree outside and gave him a bone to gnaw on. Usually Amos wouldn't bother tying Huck up, seeing as Huck's right afraid of strangers
and won't mess with folks any. He'll run away from anyone he don't know, lessen of course they're on our property. Then Huck will go straight up to them and sniff them out to make sure they ain't up to any mischief.

But on that day, Amos wasn't taking any chances. I don't doubt he was thinking about what happened the last time Tom and Huck got away from him.

T
he prosecuting attorney, which is what they called the other side's lawyer, was a man by the name of Mr. Tobias Jarrell. I thought him to be a comical-looking sort, as he had no chin to speak of and his eyes was kind of buggy, like a frog's. But I had to admit that he was a smooth one. He could string words together and make them shine like lights around a Christmas tree.

“What we have here is an open-and-shut case, Your Honor,” is how Mr. Jarrell started his argument against me on the morning my trial began. He said “Your Honor,” but he was looking straight out at the folks lining the courtroom. You could tell he'd be real comfortable on the stage of a big-time
theater, the way he paced back and forth as he spoke and took long, dramatic pauses. “As assistant district attorney of Watauga County, it is my job to present the facts and only the facts here in this honorable establishment. I am pleased to say that in this case, the facts speak for themselves.”

“Then I suggest you let them begin speaking,” Judge Lovett M. Young said. You could tell that he weren't the least bit impressed with Mr. Jarrell's theatrical talents. Because I was of such a young age, my fate would be decided by the judge alone, and I took comfort that the judge seemed to be a sensible sort.

“Very well, Your Honor.” Mr. Jarrell made a little bow toward the judge's bench. “The facts that I will present to you here today are simple. A young woman enraged. A young woman with a knife. An upstanding, decent young man. Bitter words, bitter feelings. The young man cut down in his prime. The young woman, guilty of this heinous crime.”

“Them Coes is trash,” Paris Caraway said in a low, mean voice from across the aisle from where I was sitting.

“You best watch yourself, Paris Caraway,” I said loud and clear as day to her. Mr. Harding, who was sitting in the chair to my right, took
hold of my wrist and give me a stern look. “Miss Dovey,” he said in a low, meaningful-sounding tone, “I must ask you not to respond to any comments made in this courtroom, no matter how much they might upset you.”

I nodded like I understood, but I still saw red every time I looked over to where Paris Caraway sat perched like a queen in her seat.

It was hard for me to look anywhere in that courtroom, except straight ahead. All the rows of benches was filled with folks who'd come to see the show, and I could feel their eyes upon me from the very minute I walked into the room, like I was some circus animal who'd escaped from the big tent.

Mama, Daddy, Caroline, and Amos was sitting in the bench directly behind the defense table, where me and Mr. Harding was seated. I couldn't bring myself to look at Caroline, her face was so full of misery and bad feelings, and I didn't want to look at Mama and Daddy, afraid that the sight of their faces might make me start crying.

I glanced at Amos from time to time, trying to figure out what he'd written on that sheet of paper. It filled me with nervousness to think about it. Every time I looked back at Amos, my insides got all jittery, and I had to remind myself to pay attention to the trial.

The first person Mr. Jarrell called up to the stand was Parnell Caraway's mama, Mrs. Lucy Caraway. I thought calling on Mrs. Lucy Caraway to be a witness weren't even fair, as she would of course have nothing but good things to say about her own son, and nothing but bad about me and my folks.

Mrs. Caraway carried a white handkerchief in her hand, and after she sat down and got sworn in by Deputy Coble, she dabbed it at her eyes every two seconds like she might never stop crying.

Mr. Jarrell come up to her, his face all sad and tore up, like he might start to cry, too. “Mrs. Caraway, it was you who found your deceased son's body, was it not?”

Mrs. Caraway sniffed into her handkerchief, then nodded.

“Please say your answer out loud so the court can hear you, Mrs. Caraway,” Mr. Jarrell instructed her.

“Yes, I did,” Mrs. Caraway replied in a soggy voice. “He was in the back room of my husband's store. And that wicked girl was standing right over him. Oh, she's the one who done it, all right. She killed my boy.”

Mr. Jarrell nodded. “Did she say anything to you, Mrs. Caraway?”

“Oh, no, she just stood there, mute as that
brother of hers. Didn't give a word of explanation.”

“Mrs. Caraway, I know this is hard for you.” Mr. Jarrell moved in close and patted her hand. “But I'd like you to tell Judge Young about your deceased son, Parnell. What kind of man was he?”

“Parnell could be difficult, I admit,” Mrs. Caraway said, and I almost fell over in my seat. I known a whole lot of folks who would have said the same about Parnell, but I never suspected his own mama would admit to it.

“Difficult?” Mr. Jarrell raised an eyebrow real dramatic-like. “How so?”

Mrs. Caraway sighed. “Oh, I don't know. I suspect we spoiled him some. He was such a smart, lively, cute little boy, it was hard not to. Eventually, he thought he should have the whole world placed in his lap.” Then she looked up at Judge Young. “But nothing Parnell ever did earned him the punishment of being murdered. He weren't a bad boy, just strong-willed, wanting his own way.”

Mr. Harding was nodding his head. “Smart. This is very smart,” he whispered softly to me.

“What's smart about it?” I whispered back. What could be smart about bad-mouthing your own child, I wondered.

“Parnell
was
difficult,” Mr. Harding said in a hushed voice. “The prosecution is saying it before we get a chance to. It will carry some weight with the judge.”

I slumped in my seat. Their side was getting points for pointing out that Parnell was a scoundrel. That didn't seem fair to me.

“Mrs. Caraway, tell the court about this past summer, about Parnell's actions.”

Mrs. Caraway blew her nose into her white handkerchief. “This summer, law. I don't know what was going on in that boy's mind, pursuing that Coe girl the way he did, always up there every spare minute of the day.”

“Was this Miss Dovey Coe he was pursuing?” Mr. Jarrell asked.

“Good Lord!” I cried out. Mr. Harding shushed me, and Judge Young give me a hard look. But how could they expect me to stay quiet at such a question?

“Oh, no,” Mrs. Caraway said, laughing a bit. “It was the older one, Caroline. She's a pretty girl, but that family, well, they're wild. Everybody knows that John Coe won't set foot in a house of the Lord. I suspect that's why that boy of theirs come out deaf. John Coe is a wicked man, and the Lord will punish the wicked.”
Mrs. Caraway coughed delicately into her handkerchief before continuing. “Oh, there are plenty of stories I could tell you about that family. I'll be surprised if only one of them ends up in jail.”

Mr. Harding was up on his feet at that. “Objection, Your Honor! This is slanderous!”

“Objection sustained,” Judge Lovett M. Young replied. That meant that he agreed with Mr. Harding.

Mr. Jarrell straightened his tie and cleared his throat. “Your Honor, I am merely trying to establish the circumstances of this summer, the environment that these horrible events were a consequence of. The defendant's family background, which is less than ideal, is relevant to this case.”

Mr. Harding's hand was firm upon my arm. He known immediately that I was like to jump up over the table and box Mr. Jarrell's ears. Imagine that froggy-faced man saying such a thing! I tell you, I was on fire all over.

“Your Honor,” Mr. Harding said, sounding like the whole matter was trying his patience. “Please! This is preposterous!”

Judge Young banged his gavel, which made Mrs. Caraway do a little hop in her seat. “Mr. Jarrell,
I will allow you some latitude in your arguments here, given that family background can be an indicator of how a young person will be disposed to act. But you take care, sir, to back up with concrete and specific evidence any claims you make against the characters of these people. I will not allow rumor and innuendo in my courtroom!”

Mr. Jarrell made one of his little bows. “Certainly, Your Honor,” he said, trying to sound humble. But I seen how his lips curled into a tiny smile, like he thought he'd won a victory here. He turned back to Mrs. Caraway. “Now, everyone knows, Mrs. Caraway, that you are not a woman to spread loose talk throughout the community. So, tell the court, if you will, what leads you to believe that the Coes have not provided a proper environment for their children.”

“Why, everyone knows that John Coe likes the bottle.” Mrs. Caraway had a prim expression upon her face. “I myself heard it from folks in my husband's store. I overheard someone talking to Johnny Hampton, saying that John Coe's corn liquor certainly had a bite to it.”

“Objection, Your Honor! That testimony is hearsay, not to mention a complete fiction!” Mr. Harding called out.

“Objection sustained,” Judge Young replied. He was starting to look like he could use him a rest from all the yammering going on, which I took as a good sign. I was getting tired of all these lies about my daddy myself. John Coe might not go to church, but that didn't mean he was some hillbilly with a still.

Mr. Jarrell cleared his throat again. “Mrs. Caraway, had you ever actually seen Mr. Coe take a drink?”

“I believe my son, Parnell, said he smelled liquor on John Coe's breath once when he was up to their place visiting.”

“Your Honor,” Mr. Harding said, throwing up his hands like all this was just too ridiculous to be believed.

Judge Young looked Mr. Jarrell straight in the eye. “You, sir, are to stop this line of questioning immediately. I told you I would not allow gossip and innuendo in my court, and yet that seems to be all that you're presenting here. I suggest you take a different line of attack immediately or I will cite you for contempt, sir!”

“Forgive me, Your Honor!” Mr. Jarrell said, sounding as sorry as he could be. “We'll move on to other things.”

“Very well, then,” Judge Young replied, then leaned back in his seat.

I give Mr. Harding a poke in his shoulder. “I reckon that Judge Young has taken a liking to us,” I whispered, feeling the first bit of hope I'd felt all morning. “He seems to be on our side through and through.”

“He's just doing his job, Miss Dovey,” Mr. Harding whispered back. “We still have a long road ahead of us. Let us not lose sight of that.”

Mr. Jarrell had turned back to Mrs. Caraway and surveyed her a bit, as though he was trying to figure out if it were worth his while to go on with her. Finally, he just shrugged his shoulders, looked to Mr. Harding, and said, “I'll turn this witness over to you, Counselor.”

Mr. Harding stood up and hemmed and hawed a bit. I likened his actions to a batter swinging around his bat and kicking the dirt before going to the plate to hit a home run. Weren't no doubt in my mind that this trial was going our way. I leaned back in my seat, satisfied, hardly able to wait for Mr. Harding to grill old Mrs. Lucy Caraway over the coals about all them lies she'd been telling.

Mr. Harding made an odd croaking sound, and his face turned a bright red. Finally, rubbing
his hand through his hair, he managed to get out, “The defense has no questions for this witness at this time, Your Honor.”

And then he sat right back down.

I
thought my head was going to blow off the top of my neck, I was so mad. “What is wrong with you, son?” I had to ask. “You act like this was your first trial, you're so flustered!”

Mr. Harding looked down at his papers, underlining words here and there with his fountain pen. His face was still blushing a furious red, but he acted like he was calm and collected. “It is my first trial, Miss Dovey. But that has nothing to do with my performance. I simply saw no reason to ask any more questions. Mrs. Caraway raised enough doubts by herself.”