“It made Adam Clayborne sick too. Livonia wasn’t the only woman who got regular beatings. Adam’s own mama took her share. She tried to protect her mistress, you see, and one time she got her nose broken for her interference.
“When Adam was around thirteen years old, he heard terrible shouting going on inside the house. Livonia was calling out for help. Adam went on in to see what was wrong. He didn’t like what he found. His mistress was down on the floor. Her beloved husband was kicking her. You’ll hear Adam tell you all about it, of course. He knew Adderley was drunk ’cause he reeked of whiskey, and so he put his arms around his waist and pulled him back. Adam wasn’t big for his age, so Adderley was able to shrug him off. He started in on Livonia again, and again Adam pulled him back. Adderley lost his footing then. He tumbled across the floor and went headfirst into the mantel. Adam didn’t kill him. No, he did not. Drink and meanness destroyed Walter Adderley. Why did Adam run? Because his mistress begged him to run, that’s why. She knew what would happen if her sons found out. Adam was a slave, remember, and slaves were never allowed to touch their masters. He’d be killed by those sons for doing a kindness and trying to keep their own mama alive.”
Harrison turned around and started back to the table. He suddenly stopped. His voice turned hard, angry. “If a man ever was in need of killing, Walter Adderley surely was. Any man who beats a woman ought to die. Adam didn’t kill him though. The evidence I’ve collected and will show you will prove his innocence. I’ll tell you one thing though. If I were wearing his shoes, and someone, even my father, was beating on my mama, I don’t believe I would have been honorable. I think I’d have to kill him if he raised a hand against my mama. Yes, sir, I would.”
John Morrison and two others gave quick nods.
Every one of the jurors remembered his own mother. In most instances, mamas were sacred to their sons. None of them liked Walter Adderley much now.
It was just the beginning. Harrison wanted them to hate the man, and then he would slowly turn that hatred toward the two sons.
It was still a black man up against two white men. The odds weren’t in Adam’s favor yet. Harrison was going to turn the focus. People who didn’t know any better tended to hate anyone different from them, and Harrison was assuming that while the jurors might be sympathetic to Adam, they’d hang him all the same.
Unless there was someone else they could hate more.
His next task was to get all of them to like Adam. His voice took on a story-reading tone when he said, “I’m only going to take another minute of your time. I think you ought to know a little about Adam Clayborne. Fact is, I think you have to be real curious about all of them. The Claybornes don’t like talking about themselves. They’re private, just like all of you, but I think you should hear how they all got together and formed their own family.
“After Walter Adderley died, Adam went to New York City. He slept in an alley with three other boys. Douglas and Travis and Cole were younger than Adam was, so they looked up to him to take care of them. It was quite a responsibility for a thirteen-year-old boy to take on, wasn’t it? Well, he’d saved every one of them from near death, and he figured he’d go on doing just that until he got caught and taken back down South. He was scared all right, but not because Walter Adderley had died. That was his own accident, not Adam’s doing. Adam was scared because he’d touched him when he’d put his arms around his waist. He knew they’d kill him for that insolence. Yes, sir, trying to save a mama would have been called insolent.”
Harrison paused to shake his head. “Well, now, one night they found a basket someone had thrown into the trash. Rats were climbing all over the thing, but Adam was able to get the basket away from the vermin. Little Mary Rose was inside. Like Travis and Douglas and Cole, she’d been thrown away. Lots of kids roamed the streets back then because their daddies didn’t want them around any longer. Some were gathered up, tossed on trains, and sent west. Others died of starvation. Well, now, little Mary Rose was just four months old. The boys didn’t want to take her to an orphanage because they knew what went on inside those places, and they all believed she wouldn’t last long. They wanted her to have a chance at life. And that’s when they decided to all take the name Clayborne and head west, where people have such fine morals and values. It took them a long while, but they made it to Blue Belle. Adam was the only one who could read, his mama had taught him how, and so he taught his brothers. They wanted to be educated for their sister. They wanted her to have a good life, you see. They had help too. Sweet Belle made little dresses for her and showed her how to be a little girl. Then families started settling into the area, and pretty soon Mary Rose had friends to play with. And family. She had family, just like everyone should be entitled to. The boys scrimped and saved and did without so she could have piano lessons. When she was old enough, they sent her to a boarding school in St. Louis. None of them had an easy time of it. No, sir, they didn’t. But they had neighbors helping, and whenever one of their friends was in trouble, every one of the Claybornes came running to help.
“Mary Rose knows all about how she was found. She gets mad when one of her brothers calls her Sidney. It was the first name they gave her until they found out she was a girl. She was bald, you see, and so, because the boys were so young themselves, they figured she had to be a boy.”
The jurors were smiling now. Harrison decided he’d said enough. “So now you know how they became a family. Mary Rose wasn’t the thread that held them all together though, like the brothers believe. No, Adam kept them united. He’s honorable and honest and good-hearted. If he’d killed someone, he’d be the first to admit it. Remember that, gentlemen. You’re judging an honest man. Listen to what he has to say. Thank you.”
There was a thunderous round of applause as Harrison took his seat. Even Judge Burns clapped for him.
He nodded to Harrison, took another gulp of water, and then called John Quincy Adam Clayborne to the stand.
Adam moved to the chair at the end of the judge’s table. He sat as straight as a general.
“Did you kill Walter Adderley, Adam?” the judge asked.
“No, sir, I did not.”
“Tell me what you recollect of that day.”
Adam did just that. He spoke in a low voice. The room was as quiet as an empty cathedral, and the people in the back rows barely had to strain to hear his every word.
Adam left out the fact that he’d struck Adderley in the chin. The blow hadn’t done any damage. The big man he was trying to get to leave Livonia alone didn’t even flinch when he’d hit him. Besides, Harrison had told him to keep that information to himself.
“I got one last question to ask you before you go back to your chair, Adam. How come your mama didn’t come here to live with all of you after the war was over and all the slaves were freed?”
“Mistress Livonia was almost blind back then and very dependent on my mother for every little thing. If you knew my mama, you’d understand she couldn’t have turned her back on the helpless woman. She stayed on to take care of her.”
“Livonia Adderley has two sons sitting right over there. Didn’t they help their mother?”
“No, sir, they didn’t.”
“All right. You can get on back now.”
The judge waited until Adam was sitting down at his table before he called his next witness. “Lionel Adderley, it’s your turn to talk. Sit yourself down in the chair. I’ll ask you questions as we go along, and when I’m done, Harrison will have his turn questioning you. What’s all that commotion going on at the door, Dooley,” he shouted.
“It’s Miss Blue Belle, Judge. She’s saying you told her she could come on in.”
“Let her in then,” the judge bellowed. “She can squeeze herself in next to Travis on the aisle there.”
Everyone paused to watch Blue Belle stroll down the aisle. She smiled at the judge and sat down where he directed her.
“Thank you, Judge,” she called out.
“Y
ou’re welcome, Blue Belle. You sure look pretty today in your blue dress.”
“Judge, honey, you know I always wear blue. I’m glad it pleases you.”
He nodded, then turned to Lionel. He and Harrison both noticed the disgust on the southerner’s face. Lionel was staring at Blue Belle while he sneered.
The judge’s back arched in reaction, and his lips puckered.
“Tell me what you know, Lionel. Be quick about it.”
“My brother and I found the nigger’s letters to his mother. When we read them, we knew Adam had killed our father.”
“Hold on now. I just read those same letters, and I didn’t come away with that notion.”
“The nigger admits running, doesn’t he? He grabbed hold of my poor daddy too, didn’t he? He knew the punishment for touching a white man, but he did it anyway. He should die for his murder and his insolence, and I’m here to see that he does. I’ll admit he didn’t write down that he killed my father. My brother and I went to our mother to find out exactly what happened. You’ve got the paper we wrote the facts down on as she told us the truth, and then we put a pen in her hand and she signed it. She says the nigger killed my father. That’s all the proof you need.”
“It’s damning evidence all right,” the judge agreed. “Were there any witnesses to your mother’s confession?”
“Yes, my brother Reginald was there . . . and the nigger’s mother. She didn’t count though. A southerner knows better than to trust anything a nigger says.”
Harrison could feel the hate oozing out of the man. He looked at the jury to see how they were reacting. They seemed uncomfortable, for several squirmed in their chairs, but they didn’t hate Lionel Adderley. Yet.
It was time for him to go to work.
“It’s your turn, Harrison.”
He leaned close to Adam. “Don’t believe a word I say. If I nod, you’ll know I’m lying. Tell your brothers and sister, but don’t let anyone else hear you.”
Harrison made a lot of noise scraping his chair back to distract anyone from overhearing Adam speak to the family.
He walked to the judge’s table first. “Well, now, maybe that’s damning evidence, and then again, maybe it isn’t. We’re going to have to see about that, aren’t we?”
“We surely are.”
Harrison turned to Lionel. He stared at him a long half minute. He wanted the jurors to see the look of repulsion on his face.
His voice was mild and mellow when he began his interrogation. “I like to think I’m like my father, God rest his soul. He was a good man. Are you like your father, Lionel?”
“I suppose I am. I’m his proud son.”
“Well, then, you admire him.”
“Yes. Everyone admired my daddy.”
“What happened after he died? Did things change around the plantation?”
“The war came. That’s what happened.”
“I’ll bet you think your daddy could have stopped it from happening. You think so too, don’t you, being such a proud-of-your-daddy son and all.”
“We’ll never know, will we?” Lionel sneered. “He might have stopped it. He would have made a difference in our lives though. We lost everything and Daddy never would have let that happen.”
“How old were you when your daddy died?”
“Seventeen.”
“And your younger brother? How old was he?”
“Twelve.”
“Seventeen’s old enough to fight. Did you sign up for duty, Lionel?”
“No, but only because I have a physical ailment that prevented me from serving in the Confederate Army.”
“What might that ailment be, Lionel?”
“Do I have to tell, Judge?”
“Yes, you do.”
“My feet,” he snapped. “They’re flat. I broke the arches. I can’t walk long distances.”
“Flat feet kept you out of the Confederate Army?”
“Yes.”
Harrison didn’t believe him. He knew no one else in the courtroom did either.
“Did your father ever strike you?”
“No, never.”
He was lying again. Harrison walked over to the table, picked up a Bible, and held it out for Lionel to see.
The judge hadn’t bothered with the formality of swearing everyone in. Harrison decided to correct that error now.
“When this court was called into session and Honorable John Burns walked inside, it was more than showing him the respect he’s due. It was the signal to everyone here that what was said from that moment on would be truthful. I don’t have any patience with perjury. You’re wasting the jury’s valuable time as well as the judge’s. I now ask you once again, did your father ever strike you?”
Lionel shrugged. “A slap every now and then. Nothing like . . .”
Harrison leapt on the opening. “Nothing like what he did to your mother?”
“She provoked him,” Lionel shouted. “A man’s wife should be obedient. Mother knew that. She liked to pick fights with him. She knew he had a temper.”
“Were some of the fights about you boys?”
“Maybe. I can’t say.”
“You can’t? Well, now, I’ve got a signed statement from one of your neighbors who happened inside your house one day and saw you and Reginald hiding behind your mama’s skirts while your father beat on her. She let him pound away so she could protect you.”
“I was very young.”
“You were sixteen. Almost a man. You were already bigger than your mama.”
“You make it sound worse than it was.”
Lionel turned to the judge. “My daddy’s behavior isn’t on trial here. That nigger boy is. Do your job and remind your attorney.”
“Don’t you go telling me my job,” Burns growled.
“That’s telling him, honey,” Blue Belle called out.
The judge smiled. “Harrison?” he said then. “I guess you know where you’re headed.”
Lionel was on edge. Harrison decided to let him relax a minute before he went in for the kill. He nodded to the judge before turning to the witness again.
“I agree with you, Lionel. Your daddy’s behavior isn’t on trial. Are you an honest man?”
“Every southern gentleman is an honest man.”
“Was Livonia’s confession forced? Did you coerce her into signing the paper?”
“I most certainly did not. She wanted to tell. She’d held it inside for a long time. She was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“The nigger taking care of her. My mother knew that if she told, the nigger mama would kill her.”
“Disregard that last stupid remark, jury. He’s speaking what he can’t know for certain,” the judge ordered.
“If Rose was as mean as you paint her to be, why didn’t she kill your mother a whole hell of a lot sooner and leave?”
“She didn’t have the guts, that’s why. She had opportunity. She was too stupid to know it.”
“You weren’t around your mama much after your father died, were you?”
“It was difficult to watch her losing her sight. My brother and I stayed in the main house. She and her nigger moved into a cottage on the edge of the property.”
“Did you take over for your father?”
“I tried.”
Harrison nodded. He walked over to the jury and looked at them. “Here’s the way I see it. Lionel says his mother’s confession wasn’t coerced, and he expects all of you to believe him. He’s white, after all. We should believe him over Adam, shouldn’t we? Well, now, I think maybe I ought to find out if Lionel is telling us the truth. If he lies about one thing, he’s gonna lie about another, isn’t he? That’s the way I see it. Yes, sir, I do. Lionel, what do you think of our little town?”
“I like it just fine.”
“You like the people here?”
“Yes, I do. They’re very pleasant.”
“Did you spend a lot of time this past week in town?”
“My brother and I had to stay. We wanted to go riding up in the mountains, but there weren’t any horses available to rent, and we’d come here by stagecoach.”
“Did you spend some time in Morrison’s nice general store?”
“Yes.”
“Did you spend some time in the saloon?”
“Yes.”
“So you met quite a few nice people, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Did you meet anyone you didn’t like?”
Lionel pretended to have to think about it. “No, I liked everyone just fine.”
“Even our own Blue Belle? Did you like her too?”
Lionel must have figured where he was being led. He gave the judge a quick glance, then closed his mouth.
“Answer his question, Lionel,” the judge ordered.
“Yes, I liked her just as much as I liked everyone else.”
Harrison’s voice changed then. He let his disdain and his anger sound in his tone.
“You got a strange notion about what’s nice and what isn’t. Fact is, you’re lying, aren’t you, Lionel? You hate every one of us.”
“That isn’t true.”
“And Belle?” he prodded once again.
“I like Belle fine.”
“He’s lying, Judge,” Blue Belle shouted. “He called me a filthy, nickel-dollar whore. He said it in front of Billie too.”
“She is a whore,” Lionel defended.
Harrison smiled. He turned around. “Thank you, Blue Belle,” he drawled out. “It was right nice of you to help out.
“Now, we got us another problem, Judge. It seems what we consider nice and what the southern boys consider nice are two different things. Lionel, you think maybe nice means disgusting to you boys?”
Lionel didn’t answer him. Harrison continued to press. “What about the other women in town? What about Mary Rose?”
“She’s trash. She’s living with a nigger, isn’t she?”
Harrison didn’t lose his control. He wanted to punch the son-of-a-bitch for insulting his wife, of course. He was going to destroy him instead.
“Harrison, what’s this about? Why are you questioning him about the town folk?” the judge asked.
For the Roses Page 61