“Ordinarily, yes, but I think our troops are pulling out right away. They may rush the trial through just to get it over with. I’d better find the lawyer!”
He banged on the door, and as they left, Pet turned. “I’m glad you’re my cousin, Thad. It makes it a lot easier!”
After they were gone, Thad thought about Pet’s remark but could not decide what she had meant by it. Their visit, however, had raised his spirits and given him a sense of freedom, for he felt that a door had opened. He looked up and gratefully whispered, “Thank you, God!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE COURT-MARTIAL OF THAD NOVAK
Two days after Duke visited Thad, the lawyer came back again just after noon, looking even more rumpled and unkempt than before. He threw himself down in the same chair, took a huge bite from his plug of tobacco, then said without preamble, “We go before the court in three days—August fifteenth.”
“So soon?” Thad exclaimed. “I thought it took a long time to get ready to try a case.”
“That’s for civilians,” Duke answered. “Military ways are different. Try ’em—then either shoot ’em or let ’em go.” He opened his eyes to stare at Thad. “We don’t have a lot of time, boy. Tell me your story one more time.”
“But—you heard it all.”
“Sometimes clients change their stories. That’s one of the things a court looks for. They’ll hear the tale two or three times at least, and if you change your account one iota, it makes them think you’re lying—which you probably will be.” He didn’t bother to go to the window, but spat on the wall. “That’s one advantage of telling the truth, Novak. You don’t have to remember what you said the last time as you do when you lie. Tell it all again.”
Thad repeated his story and, as before, it seemed that Harry Duke slept through it all; but when Novak finished, he was surprised to see approval on the lawyer’s face. “Good! Just the same as last time—almost word for word. Bygad, Novak, keep that up and you’ll even convince me you’re innocent!” Then he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “Listen to me. I’m going to tell you how to behave in court. First thing is, don’t get mad—and you’ll probably want to. When somebody lies on you, don’t let a thing show in your face. Second thing is, don’t whine. You won’t get any sympathy by tears. The men who’ll be judging you have sat in on many court-martials, and they’ll put stock in their knowledge of men. So you just sit there, hold your head up, answer any questions put to you—by me or anybody else—and leave the rest up to me. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Duke got up, his eyes probing Thad’s, and allowed an edge of concern to touch his sleepy eyes. “You a praying man, Novak?”
Thad shook his head slowly. “I don’t figure I got much right to claim anything from God, Captain. Seems like poor doin’s to ignore Him all my life, and come cryin’ like a baby when I get hurt.”
Duke stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “That’s about my own sentiments, I guess.” A thought brought a glint of humor into his eyes, and a trace of a smile curled the edges of his mouth: “May be proper for you to delegate that job to someone else—like that girl—what’s her name? Patience, isn’t it?”
“Why . . . !” Thad was startled, and his face reddened. “If anyone could do it, I reckon she’d be the one, Captain.”
Duke turned, then wheeled back, saying, “Try to sleep. Shave close and look as good as you can.” He left abruptly, and Thad went to the window to watch him walk from the jail, cross the street, and enter a saloon. As the doors swung behind the man, Thad wondered again if he’d been right to allow the eccentric lawyer to defend him, but it was too late to think of that.
Harrison Duke spent an hour in the saloon, sitting alone at a table and slowly consuming the two drinks he allowed himself. He had the facility of listening to people with part of his mind, and sending the rest of his razor-sharp mind off into a maze of possibilities. He had a photographic memory, and could repeat entire conversations months after everyone else had forgotten them. His firmest theory of law was that there was always a way to win—always. The trick was to find the single key that would pull the props out from under your adversary.
He sat there alone, and from time to time someone would mention the Novak matter. A bearded sergeant snarled loudly, “That Novak! A dirty rotten traitor! Shootin’s too good for him. I seen him myself, leadin’ the Yank cavalry right on top of us!”
Duke gauged the weight of the mutter of assent that went over the room, but said nothing. Finally he got up and left the saloon, walked around the courthouse and the jail twice, stopping once to stare up at the barred window where his client was kept. His mind sifted through a dozen plans that had surfaced. As he stood there, he saw Sky Winslow with his wife and daughter walking across the grassy plot that surrounded the jail, and something clicked. He walked rapidly toward the trio, catching them just as they were about to mount the steps of the landing.
“Mr. Winslow.” They turned, and he said, “I need a word with you.”
Sky asked, “Should we go back to my office?”
“No, let’s go over to the shade of that tree.” He led the way, and as soon as the four of them reached the shade, Duke broke the silence, saying urgently, “We’ve got to get that Union officer’s testimony.”
“You mean the one who captured Thad?” Sky asked.
“Yes. He’s the key to this thing—the only key.”
“I’ve already tried to wire his father, but the wires have been cut. I suspect Jeb Stuart and his boys did it.”
Harrison Duke was not a man of great tact, and he put the matter bluntly: “Either we get that testimony, or Novak will be shot.”
“Mr. Duke—no!” Rebekah exclaimed. “Surely there’s some other way!”
“May be—but I can’t think of it.”
“But we don’t even know which regiment that captain was in!” Sky protested.
“Yes, we do, Papa!” Pet’s face was pale, and she added, “He was with General Sherman’s command.”
Duke stared at her, thinking hard. “That’s right, the boy did mention that. Of course, Sherman has several brigades, but not all that many troops of cavalry. Wouldn’t be much of a trick to find out the unit—if somebody would go in person.”
Sky stared at him. “That would be pretty difficult. The news is that Lincoln has replaced McClellan with Pope—and it sounds like General Pope is anxious to show more drive and spirit than Little Mac. He’s headed for a big push, the generals all think, and we’re rushing our men up to the Manassas area as quick as they can be mobilized.” His face took on a determined look. “I’ll go myself!”
“The President would never let you go, dear,” Rebekah said.
“You can’t go, Winslow,” Duke agreed immediately. “I’ll need you here to testify before the court.”
“I know who can find them, Papa!” Pet cried eagerly. “Dooley Young! He’s got fast horses and he’s smart.”
Sky thought it over a moment. “That’s not a bad idea, Pet.” His mind raced as he formulated plans. “I’ll get a pass from the President for Lowell Winslow.” He shook his head, saying, “It’d take that to get a Yankee officer into Richmond these days.”
“Get it now, Papa, and I’ll take it out to Dooley. He’s at his parents’ house until the company leaves.”
“Do it quick,” Duke advised. “The trial will start on the fifteenth. I can stall the jury for maybe a couple of days—three, I’d say.” His mouth puckered and he added, “Got to point out that if they find him guilty, they won’t waste time carrying out the sentence—probably the next day.”
“Come with me, Pet!” Sky said hastily. “Rebekah, you go to Thad. I’ll be there as soon as I can get the pass from the President.”
He left immediately with Pet, and as they made their way to the Congress where the President’s office was located, Pet suggested, “Papa, why don’t you write a note to Major Lee, and I’ll stop off at the
camp and get him to give Dooley a pass—or maybe two passes. Dooley can take his cousin Les Satterfield with him. It might be better if the two of them went—just in case one got sick or hurt.”
“I’d forgotten that,” Sky muttered. He gave his daughter a hug, saying huskily, “It’ll be all right, Pet. God won’t let us down.”
They entered the building, and Winslow was admitted almost at once to see the President. Pet waited in the outer office, and was relieved when her father came out in less than ten minutes with an envelope in his hand. “Here it is, Pet. You know what to tell Dooley?”
“Find Sherman’s command, ask for Captain Winslow in the cavalry, then tell him what’s happened to Thad.”
Sky nodded, and his face clouded. “It’s asking a lot of a Yankee officer to come and testify for a Confederate soldier charged with treason.” He pondered that, then said, “I’d better put it in writing.” He led her to his own office, and she waited impatiently as he sat down and wrote for twenty minutes. Finally he got up, blew the ink dry, and put the note in an envelope. He reached into a drawer and took out a leather dispatch case, put both documents inside, and handed them to her. “I wish I could go myself!” he said in exasperation. “Well, get these to Dooley as quickly as you can. Take the buggy. Your mother and I will hire a ride home.”
“All right, Papa.” They walked outside to where his buggy was waiting, and she stopped and impulsively pulled his head down. Kissing him on the cheek, she asked, “Is it all right if I stay at the farm for a while?”
He thought he understood her desire to be alone, and nodded. “Yes. I’ll tell your mother.”
She got into the buggy, spoke to the mare, and raced down the street, soon disappearing around a corner at the end of the block. Sky took a deep breath and headed for the jail, wondering how he would keep a cheerful countenance before Thad.
****
Thad was surprised to see the full waiting room—much more crowded than the room where the court-martial was held. He had been brought out of his cell at nine o’clock by an armed guard of four privates, commanded by a lieutenant, and marched across the open space that separated the jail and the courthouse. He had a hard time when some of the observers called out insults at him, but he kept his head high and did not look at them. Inside, they passed through a large room with chairs all around the walls, and in that swift moment, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Winslow, Major Lee, and Captain Wickham in one group, and beyond them his two lieutenants, Mark Winslow and Beau Beauchamp. He caught a brief glimpse of several privates across the room, but did not have time to identify them.
He passed into a smaller room, perhaps fifteen by twenty, with a long table at one end. Seated at it were five officers, none of whom he knew. On the left was a small table, where a corporal sat with his writing materials in front of him. Across from him another table, somewhat larger, was turned to face the court. It was occupied by a fat captain. Thad understood at once that he was the officer who would try to convict him. Halfway down the room he saw Captain Duke standing beside another table with two chairs behind it. Then the lieutenant said, “Take that chair,” indicating the one beside Duke.
As Thad walked across the room, three of the four guards left; the other took up his station in front of the door, with the lieutenant on his right.
The officer in the center of the long table was a thick-set colonel with direct black eyes. He spoke in a brisk, businesslike manner: “Private Thaddeus Novak, you have been brought to this place of court-martial to be tried on the charges of desertion and treason. I am Colonel L. C. Andrews. From left to right, the members of the court are Colonel Anderson Briggs, Major Jason Stillwell, Captain Otis Clark, and Major Donald McClain.”
As the colonel went on to describe the procedures of the court, Thad studied each man. Briggs was an older man, in his late sixties. He stared across the room with obvious hostility. Major Stillwell, on the other hand, was extremely young, not over twenty-five, and he had a pink youthful face. He was examining Thad in a curious manner, but did not seem to be hostile. The captain to the judge’s left, Otis Clark, was a hard-faced man of thirty. He was staring down at the table, apparently ignoring the proceedings. Major McClain was, Thad judged, in his early fifties. He had an ugly scar on his left cheek that drew his mouth up into a leer, so that it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
“That’s the enemy, Novak,” Duke whispered to Thad, pointing to the captain seated at the small table facing the court. “Captain Aaron Abraham—a real hot lawyer.”
Thad felt fear rising up in his chest as he stared at the man. Abraham was overweight, spilling out of his uniform like a ruptured sausage, but there was none of the jolly air of a fat man about him. He had a pair of inky eyes and a mouth like a shark.
“This court will presume the accused is innocent until proven guilty,” Colonel Andrews stated. “You gentlemen both understand that?” He paused and stared at the prosecutor. “It is not up to Private Novak to prove his innocence. If you cannot prove that he is guilty, this court will set him free.”
Abraham gave a nod, smiled toothily at the court, and said in a powerful bass voice, “Yes, sir. I understand that very well.”
“Then call your first witness.”
Abraham said, “I call Major Shelby Lee.”
At the command of the court, the lieutenant beside the door left, and came back shortly with Major Lee behind him.
“Would you take that chair, Major Lee?” the judge requested. “Swear him in, Lieutenant.” After this ceremony, Colonel Andrews said, “You may examine the witness.”
Abraham did not rise from his chair, and his voice was gentle as he began. “Major Lee, I will ask you a few questions about the action that took place at Malvern Hill on the day of July first of this year.”
Lee carried the magnetism of the family, and the court listened with respect as he related the action of that day. Even Captain Clark raised his eyes as the major related the step-by-step account. He came to the charge up the hill by the Third Virginia, and Abraham interrupted gently, “Ah—Major Lee, I believe you observed the attack by the Union cavalry that took place just before the charge. Could you describe that—and if you can, give us your views of how such an attack could have caught your men off guard.”
“Objection.” Harry Duke stood to his feet and said tolerantly, “Captain Abraham is too fine a counsel to expect the court to admit such ‘opinions’ as evidence. It is my belief that Thad Novak is innocent, but if I were to state my opinion, I feel certain that Captain Abraham would object—just as I am doing now.”
“Objection sustained. Captain Abraham, you will rephrase the question.”
“I stand rebuked by my worthy opponent,” Abraham nodded, and turned again to his witness. “Major Lee, I will ask you, not for an opinion, but for a fact—did you see the defendant, Thad Novak, at the head of the Union cavalry that attacked the Third Virginia on the day of July first?”
Lee hesitated, then answered, “Yes, I did.”
“No more questions,” Abraham stated. “Your witness, sir.”
Duke stood to his feet and asked almost idly, “How far down the line were you from the point where the cavalry hit the line, Major Lee?”
“About two hundred yards.”
“And had our men started firing when you first saw the cavalry?”
“Yes.”
“Was the Confederate you saw wearing a hat?”
“Yes, he was.”
“Describe it, if you would.”
Major Lee frowned as he thought. “Well, it was a black hat with a large brim. Most of our men wear hats like that.”
Duke had been asking the questions in a manner that seemed almost boring, but now he straightened up and said in a voice that rasped across the ears of everyone in the room: “So what you are saying, Major, is that at the distance of two hundred yards, with the air filled with smoke, you recognized, without any chance of error, a man with a hat pulled down over his face, who was ridin
g at right angles to you at a dead run—is that what you are saying?”
Lee hesitated, and Duke demanded, “You are telling this court that you have no doubt at all that Thad Novak was that man. I suggest, Major Lee, that you do have some doubt. I ask you to tell this court on your honor as an officer and a gentleman that you have absolutely no doubt whatsoever that the man you saw was the defendant!”
For once in his life, Shelby Lee was caught without his air of total assurance. He flushed, and replied, “Well, I cannot say that—but . . .”
“I have no further questions for this witness,” Duke stated brusquely. “He has disqualified himself.”
Abraham half rose and said smoothly, “I concede the point. Thank you, Major Lee.” As the officer left the room, with a rather thankful look, Thad thought, Abraham said with a shark-like grin at Duke, “Thank you, Captain Duke, for your astute perception. Call Lieutenant Beauregard Beauchamp.”
Thad’s heart beat faster as Beauchamp came in. Duke whispered, “Blast it! I wish I could have gotten Abraham to argue about Lee’s testimony—but he’s too sharp for that!”
After Beauchamp was sworn in, Abraham asked him for the same testimony of the Malvern Hill battle, and when he got to the cavalry charge, the prosecutor interrupted Beauchamp. “Lieutenant, is the Confederate soldier you saw riding with the Federals in this courtroom?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Point him out—and name him, if you will.”
Beauchamp lifted his head to look across the room at Thad, then said steadily, “Thad Novak was the man I saw.”
Abraham paused, waiting for Duke to object, and when he did not, the fat lawyer raised his voice a trifle, adding, “How far away was the defendant from you?”
“Not more than fifty feet.”
“But the defendant had on a hat that was partly over his eyes—and there was some gunsmoke in the air. Can you swear that there is absolutely no possibility of an error? Could it not have been a man who looked like Thaddeus Novak?”
Beauchamp shifted in his chair, but shook his head solidly. “The man I saw was Thad Novak.”
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