by Roy Clinton
“Do you see the man who ran from the house in the courtroom today?”
“Indeed I do, Mr. Crudder. It was that man.” She pointed to Holloway. “It was the defendant Jasper Holloway. I’ll never forget him. He had a big silver star on his holster like a sheriff’s star but I don’t think he was ever a sheriff.”
John continued his questioning. “Is there anything else that stood out to you about the person you saw running from the house?”
“Why, yes there was. He had his gun out. I saw he was holding it in his left hand and he had a spider drawn on the back of his hand. I’m sure it was a tattoo. And I don’t abide tattoos. Anyone who would mark their skin like that would….”
John hurriedly interrupted her. “Thank you Miss Carpenter. No further questions.”
“Mr. Holcomb,” said Judge Moore, “you may question the witness.”
Holcomb stood and pranced to the witness stand. He stuck his thumbs in the pockets of his vest and gazed into the distance. “Thank you, your honor. Miss Carpenter, you said you are a teacher at the Laredo school. Is that correct?”
“No, Lennie. That is not correct. You were never that good at listening. I said I was the headmistress of the Laredo Public School. Do you remember now?”
“Yes ma’am. And in your role as headmistress of the Laredo Public School, did you often work at the school on Saturday?”
“Now Lennie, I did when I needed to. And since the term had just ended, I always had the practice of coming in on the first Saturday after classes ended to prepare for the next term. And Lennie, you know that has always been my practice.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Lennie, you remember when you were my student, you were the one who got the other boys to help you fill the schoolroom with toad frogs after school ended on that Friday before Christmas. You knew I would be there the next morning.”
Holcomb’s face blanched and his mouth opened but no sound came out. There were giggles throughout the courtroom.
“You didn’t think I knew that was you, Lennie. But I knew very well who put those frogs in the classroom. You were always causing trouble and getting other boys in trouble with you. I’m surprised you ever made a lawyer, Lennie. You never were a good student.”
The courtroom erupted into laugher. Even the judge was laughing.
“Your honor,” Lennie sighed in exasperation. “Will you please instruct the witness to answer the questions without the additional commentary?”
“Very well,” said Judge Moore. “Miss Carpenter. Please refrain from telling any more stories about Lennie and what a poor student he was. Just answer the questions.”
“Yes, your honor.”
Holcomb approached the witness stand again but this time without the pomposity he had a few minutes before.
“Miss Carpenter, are you sure you saw the defendant leaving the Hanson house?”
“Of course, I’m sure Lennie. You know my eyesight is sharp. Lennie, straighten your back and don’t slouch. You were standing so straight just a few minutes ago.”
The rattled attorney trudged on. “But how could you have seen the tattoo on the defendant’s hand from across the street. Isn’t it true that you saw the tattoo in the courtroom and just thought you saw it on the man who was running from the house?”
“No, Lennie that is not true. I saw it plainly. Just like I can plainly see the gravy stain on your white shirt. You know you should always use a napkin to cover your shirt during breakfast. Especially if you’re coming to court that day.”
There was loud laughter throughout the courtroom. The judge half-heartedly banged his gavel but he was laughing as well.
“Your honor, can you please instruct the witness to answer my questions?”
“I think she answered your question, Mr. Holcomb. You questioned her eyesight and she was pretty convincing in her answer. Do you have any more questions?”
“No, your honor.” Holcomb dropped his head and returned to his seat.
“You may step down, Miss Carpenter.”
“Thank you, your honor.”
“Call your next witness, Mr. Crudder.”
“The state would like to call Richard Hanson, Junior.”
Richie got up and walked to the witness stand. After taking his oath, he took a seat in the witness stand.
John walked up to Richie and said, “Do you mind if I call you Richie?”
“No sir, I don’t mind.”
“Richie,” John began, “please tell the court exactly what you saw on the day in question.”
“I had been at work at the dry goods store and had just gotten home. As I got to the porch, I heard Ma. It was like she was screaming but it wasn’t loud. I went inside and I saw that man with his hand across mom’s mouth.”
Richie pointed to the defendant.
“You’re doin’ fine, Richie.” John walked closer to Richie for a moment and nodded at him to affirm him. “What happened next?”
“He shouted at Ma that he wanted to know where she kept her money.”
“Did your mother keep a lot of money in the house?”
“No, sir. We didn’t have a lot of money. She made just enough to pay the rent and buy groceries. That’s why I was working at the dry goods store. I wanted to help her get ahead a bit before I went to college.”
John pressed on. He knew the next part of his testimony would be the hardest but he needed to guide Richie through it. “So Richie, you testified you heard the defendant ask where your mother kept her money. What happened next?”
Tears began to flow from Richie’s eyes as he shouted, “He shot her! That man shot her!
Richie pointed at the defendant, holding his position for several seconds.
“Now, Richie, is there any chance the man you shot your mother was someone other than the defendant?”
“No, sir. That’s him. I saw his hat with the notches all on one side. He had on his holster with the silver star and he was holding his gun with his left hand. And I saw that spider on his hand. That tattoo.”
“No more questions, your Honor.”
Immediately Holcomb approached Richie and went on the attack. “Now, Richard, isn’t it true that in the confusion you didn’t get a good look at the man that shot your mother?”
“No, sir. I saw him clearly. It was that man.”
“Now don’t be hasty, son. Couldn’t you be confused at what you saw? Isn’t it possible you didn’t see the face of the man who shot your mother? You just thought you saw the defendant?”
“No sir. That’s not true. My eyesight is good. I know what I saw. It was Mr. Holloway who shot my Ma. I saw it and you’ll not be able to make me say anything else.”
Holcomb turned and walked back to his seat. “I have no more questions for the witness.”
Judge Moore said, “You may step down, young man.”
Crudder stood and said, “The state rests, your Honor.”
“Mr. Holcomb,” said the judge, “you may call your first witness.”
Holcomb stood and faced the jury. “Your honor, I would like to call Mr. Jasper Holloway.”
Holloway got up and walked to the witness stand. The bailiff approached and asked him to raise his hand and if he would swear to tell the truth.
“Yeah, I’ll tell the truth,” Holloway replied.
“Now, Mr. Holloway, you have been reported to have been in the home of Marie Hanson on December the twentieth. Isn’t it true you were no where near Laredo on that date?”
“No, I was in Laredo and I was in her house.”
Holcomb’s mouth dropped open. He turned from the jury to face the defendant. “I don’t think you understood what I was asking. Isn’t it true….”
“Oh, I knew what you was askin’. I was there. I was in her house but it wasn’t like anyone said it was. I tried to tell Crudder there was someone else who was responsible but he wouldn’t listen to me. He just put hand cuffs and leg irons on me and hauled m
e in.”
“Your honor.” Holcomb turned to appeal to the judge. “May I have a moment to confer with my client to clear up the confusion?”
“Your client doesn’t appear to be confused,” said Judge Moore. “In fact I think the only one who’s confused is you.”
Holloway spoke up and addressed the judge. “I’m not confused, judge. And I’ve got somethin’ that needs to be said. There was someone else involved who is responsible.”
“Go ahead Mr. Holloway,” said the Judge. “Tell the court what you need to say.”
“It’s true I was in Hanson’s house. But it was her brother who told me to do it. He gave me twenty bucks to go rough her up some.”
There was a loud murmur in the courtroom as several people whispered at once. The judge rapped his gavel several times and called for order in the court.
“Please proceed Mr. Holloway. Tell us exactly what happened.”
“Alejandro,” said Holloway, “that’s her brother, told me his parents were old and he wanted to inherit everything but he needed to get his sister out of the way first. He said she kept a lot of money in the house and if I could get it, he would split it with me. But I realized all he wanted was for me to kill her for him.”
The courtroom exploded with noise as people talked loudly to each other about what they had just heard. As the judge rapped his gavel, a man stood up and walked slowly to the front of the courtroom. He pulled a gun and said, “I’m not going to let you smear my name.” He raised his gun toward the defendant.
Judge Moore pulled a six-gun from beneath his robe and shot the disrupter in the middle of his chest. With his other hand, Judge Moore rapped his gavel on the bench. “Order, order I say. Bailiff, I charge this man with contempt of court and fine him ten dollars. Go over to his body and collect the money. And if he lives, I sentence him to three days in jail.”
“He’s dead, Judge,” said the perplexed bailiff as he went through the dead man’s pockets.
“In that case, the jail sentence is suspended.” The judge rapped his gavel again. “Some of you men, drag his body out of here and go get the undertaker.”
The courtroom was silent. The only sound was from the rowels of the spurs of the men dragging the body from the room. Many of the spectators had a look of surprise or shock. But several, including the prosecutor, looked solemn, almost indifferent. John got the feeling it was not the first time Judge Snookey Moore had pulled his pistol to administer justice in his courtroom.
Soon after the shooting, the judge dismissed the jury so they could deliberate. Less than fifteen minutes later they came back with a verdict of guilty. The judge decreed that Holloway would hang on Saturday morning at noon, providing he could get a hangman by then.
✽ ✽ ✽
Wednesday morning, Richie was waiting in the dining room when Slim and John came down for breakfast. Slim sat beside him and put his hand on his shoulder.
“How are you feelin’, son?”
“I’m doing all right. I’m just glad the trial is over. I still can’t believe Ma’s brother is the one who wanted her to be killed.”
“It is sad what people will do for money,” said Slim. “That probably will not be the last time in your life you will see something evil done out of greed.”
“Pa, I know we had planned on staying until after the hanging on Saturday, but I don’t think I want to see it. I’ve seen enough killing. Would it be all right with you if we went home?”
“That would be fine with me,” said Slim.
“Me too,” said John. “We can get started as soon as we get a wagon for your furniture. Slim, I’ll go buy a wagon and a team and then we can get the furniture loaded.”
“That’s fine, John.” Slim turned to Richie. “I’m glad you don’t want to stay for the hangin’. It is enough for you to know that the killer will pay for his crimes.”
A couple of hours later, they had a wagon loaded with Richie’s furniture and his mother’s sewing machine. They tarped everything down just in case it rained before they got back to Bandera. John volunteered to drive the wagon since he wasn’t looking forward to putting his healing body back in the saddle. He put Midnight’s saddle and gear in the wagon and allowed his horse to follow the wagon without being tied.
“Pa, would it be all right if I lead us home? I’ve already been thinking about places for us to camp.”
“That’ll be fine, son. That will be just fine.
Epilogue
BANDERA, TEXAS
Back on the H&F, Richie took delight in adding his mother’s furniture to the big house where he and Slim lived.
“Richie,” Slim said, “It gives me great pleasure to have you and your mother’s furniture here. I loved your mom so much. Now when I look at the various pieces that she picked out, it is almost like a bit of her is here with us.”
“I feel the same way, Pa. Would you mind if I gave Charlotte Ma’s sewing machine? I know I’ll never use it.”
“I think that’s a fine idea. It will not get any use here. Charlotte will be able to put it to good use.”
While they were talking, John walked in.
“Good afternoon,” said John. “Y’all have any coffee on?”
“Help yourself,” said Slim. “You know there’s always a pot on over here. But I’ll bet that’s not why you’re here. You knew I’d have a fresh pot going.”
“You got me right, Slim. I knew you’d have coffee.” John smiled as he enjoyed ribbing his father-in-law. “I need to ask you a favor. I want to use your kitchen. I told Charlotte I was cookin’ supper. I want to do it over here so it will be a surprise for her. But I’m gonna need the help of both of you.”
“I’ll help,” said Richie.
“Count me in,” said Slim. “So what are we havin’?”
“When I was at Cotulla’s ranch, his cook gave me his recipe for his banana puddin’, ‘cept it called it ‘nana puddin’. It took me a while to figure out what he was talkin’ about. Anyway, I just came from town and brought back some banana’s and sugar wafers. He also taught me how me makes his fried chicken and his mashed potatoes and gravy.”
“That sounds fine with me,” said Slim. “And if you want, I think you’ve always liked my biscuits. I could make a pan of those.”
“That sounds good to me,” replied John. “Richie, you reckon you can get two chickens dressed?”
“I can do that!” Then Richie stopped and put on his best Texas drawl, and said, “Yup. I shor can. I’ll get that done directly.”
John and Slim laughed and Richie smiled his biggest smile.
For the next couple of hours the three men worked on their dinner preparations. Slim got his biscuits ready to go in the oven. Richie brought in the chicken and followed John’s instructions and made a batter using buttermilk and flour. Slim pealed the potatoes and got them on to boil. John finished the pudding and got it ready to put in the oven and then started frying the chicken.
It took several batches to get all the chicken ready. John then tackled the gravy as Slim put his biscuits in the oven while Richie went over to the house by the river to get Charlotte and the twins. When they arrived Charlotte said she could set the table if Claire and Cora would help her. They enthusiastically followed their mom around the table, putting forks and knives where they were told.
Finally, the meal was ready so Richie held a chair for Charlotte as she got seated. The twins sat on pots that were placed in their chairs so they could reach the table.
“There’s something I want to say before we start,” said Richie.
“Charlotte, I’d like for you to have my Ma’s sewing machine. I think she would have liked for you to have it.”
“Why Richie!” exclaimed Charlotte. “I am honored. Thank you for that wonderful gift. I will enjoy making dresses for me and for the girls. And you never know, gentlemen, I may be making you some shirts, too.”
Slim and John exchanged looks. They had seen the homemade shirts some men wore. They all ha
d a decidedly feminine look to them.
“Uh, honey,” said John, “you don’t need to worry about us. You spend all of your efforts making clothes for you and the girls.”
“I agree, sweetheart,” said Slim. “We’ll do just fine. You make clothes for you and the twins.”
Both men breathed a sigh of relief that they had narrowly dodged an uncomfortable conversation. With the food on the table, all took a seat and Slim looked out at his family.
“Before we eat, I think we ought to say grace.”
Charlotte nodded in response and held out her hands and grabbed the hands of her daughters who were seated beside her. John and Slim reached out and took Richie’s hands and then took the other hands of the twins. When their heads were bowed, Slim spoke.
“Lord, I just want to thank you for my family. You have blessed me with a fine daughter and two fine sons and two wonderful granddaughters. This is more than I ever deserved.” Then he paused and tears dripped from his eyes. “And you have let me love two good women. I don’t know why they had to be taken from me. But that’s not for me to question. I just thank you for letting me love them.” Charlotte, Richie, and John all teared up as they listened to Slim.
When Slim finished, Cora and Claire were both beginning to cry. “Why is everyone crying?” asked Cora.
“Is it because the chickens got dead?” asked Claire.
The adults couldn’t help but laugh. Charlotte turned to her daughters and said, “It’s all right girls. No, we’re not sad about the chickens. We are just sad about Richie’s mom and your grandmother dying. But we’re not sad any more. We’re happy because we have the two of you. Now who wants the first piece of chicken?”
“I do, I do,” said the twins in unison.
The End
Acknowledgments
First, I want to thank my wife Kathie who always has the first read of my books and makes so many helpful suggestions. Laredo as home of Richie and Marie was her idea. She lobbied hard for Marie not to die. (Most of her suggestions are gentle. And if I’m a bit slow on the uptake—as with the title for this book—she can make the suggestion a bit more forcefully so I finally get it. Thanks Kat!)