Sudden--At Bay (A Sudden Western #2) (4 page)

Kilpatrick looked towards the sheriff.

‘
What charges are you bringing,
Harry?’

Parris faced the crowd, inflating
his chest and stating pompously, ‘Assault with a deadly weapon,
obstructin’ an officer in the course o’ his duty —-namely, me —-an’
firin’ a pistol inside the town limits. Also incitin’ a riot,
deliberate woundin’, an’ a couple o’ other misdemeanors we ain’t
aimin’ to bother yu with.’

There was nervous laughter from the
watching audience, and Green noted that most of them were watching
Sim Cotton’s face. Cotton deigned to smile slowly, and the laughter
became more general. When Cotton’s smile faded, the laughter
stopped.

‘
Order!’ Kilpatrick banged on the
table with a wooden gavel. He then asked ‘Were there any witnesses
to this?’

‘
About twenty people seen it,
Martin. I can call ’em if yu wish…?’ He asked this question facing
Sim Cotton. Green saw Cotton shake his head imperceptibly, and was
not surprised to hear the old man mumble

‘
That won’t be necessary, Harry.
Court will accept your word.’ He pondered for a moment. ‘Have you
any means, Green?’

‘
Money, yu mean? I had about
fifty-eight dollars when I was thrown in yore calaboose. I ain’t
got it now,’ Green told him. Kilpatrick looked inquiringly at
Parris, and the sheriff nodded.

‘
When we disarmed the prisoners,
we took all their belongin’s off them,’ he told the old man. ‘Green
here had the money he sez, an’ not much else. No letters, no
identification. Two guns, be was wearin’. They look like they been
well cared for,’ he added darkly. Kilpatrick’s eyes met those of
the puncher, and for a brief moment, Green saw the spark of
malignancy behind them.

‘
You are accused on four counts,
Green, all of them serious charges. You’re a stranger, without
means of identification, and precious little money. A drifter, a
saddle tramp. We don’t need that kind in Cottontown. Four charges
—-you heard what the sheriff said. How do you plead: guilty or not
guilty?’

‘
Yu mean it makes a difference?’
was Green’s sardonic response. He raised his eyebrows and looked
surprised, and his byplay was greeted by a slight snicker from
somewhere in the audience. Sim Cotton turned and glared at the
onlookers.

‘
Your humor is about as
well-judged as your actions,’ rapped the old man at the table.
‘Have you anything further to say?’

‘
I got plenty to say!’ snapped the
cowboy. ‘To begin with, I just managed to stop yore sheriff an’
that young sidewinder over yonder —–’ he gestured contemptuously
towards Buck Cotton, who sat glowering on one of the benches
alongside the saloon wall ‘—-from tryin’ to salivate an unarmed
man. What did yu expect me to do -sit an’ watch while they blew his
light out?’

‘
The sheriff was apprehending a
criminal, Green. Your statement does not alter the charges against
you. Did you assault the sheriff?’

‘
If you mean did I stop him from
killin’ the kid, yes—’

‘
And did you fire your gun?’
droned Kilpatrick inexorably.

‘
Shore I did. I was —–’

‘
Did you then rearm a disarmed
prisoner?’

Green shrugged. ‘For an impartial
judge, yu shore seem to know a hell of a lot about what happened,’
he said. ‘Yu ain’t heard any fac’s but yu got yore mind made up for
yu already. Get on with it, yu ol’ fraud.’

A mottled flush rose in
Kilpatrick’s face, staining his wattled neck. He banged on the
table.

‘
Be silent!’ he screeched. ‘You
are in contempt of court!’

‘
Yo’re right, on’y I ain’t shore
the word contempt is strong enough,’ came the reply from the
unperturbed Green. Once again, as he spoke, he caught a signal
passing from Sim Cotton to the judge. Kilpatrick leaned back in his
seat, mopping his face with a filthy red handkerchief.

‘
Court finds the charges proven.
You are guilty on all counts, Green. Fined fifty-eight dollars and
to be taken beyond the city limits, and there turned loose. I don’t
think this town wants to even feed scum like you,’ he hissed
venomously.

The ruthless effrontery of the old
man’s actions, and this farce of a trial, a travesty of every
judicial procedure, took away Green’s breath. Then he spoke.‘Well,
if that’s yore idea of law, this town’d be better off with a horned
toad for a Judge.’

A movement caught Green’s eye, and
he turned to see Sim Cotton lumbering towards him.

‘
Yo’re pretty cocky, son,’ was the
soft-spoken remark which opened the exchange. ‘Don’t push yore luck
too far. This town won’t stand for it.’

‘
This town’d stand for bein’
boiled down for tallow if yu said the word, wouldn’t it, Cotton?’
Green’s eyes locked with the older man’s, and it was Cotton’s
slatey gaze which dropped first.

‘
I’m bein’ as fair with yu as any
man Cotton told him. ‘Yo’re gettin’ off light. But don’t make the
mistake o’ comin’ back to Cottontown —-ever.’ There was no emphasis
in the words, but the threat was plain and lay between the two men
like a knife. Sim Cotton turned abruptly, dismissing Green from his
reckoning. Norris, the tall deputy who had been guarding Green
earlier, gestured at the seat Green had formerly occupied,
emphasizing the unspoken command with the simultaneous movement of
the shotgun.

Green shrugged and sat down. One
movement in resistance and he could be shot down like a dog without
a hand being lifted by these men watching. His lip curled; he
surveyed the inhabitants of Cottontown with contempt. They,
however, were quite unconscious of his vitriolic gaze. Their
attention now was completely focused upon the sturdy back of Billy
Hornby, who had been hustled to his feet and was standing, as his
fellow prisoner had stood, before the table.

‘
Your name?’ Kilpatrick began his
questioning.

‘
Yu know my name, Kilpatrick,’
Billy said, shortly. ‘An’ yu know my occupation an’ where I live
an’ yu know I ain’t a drifter an’ yu know I ain’t
broke.’

‘
Not yet yu ain’t,’ muttered
someone behind Green, and the words struck a chill in him. These
people were like the ancient Romans he had read about somewhere,
waiting avidly for some
one to be torn to
pieces by wild animals
—-
and enjoying the waiting.

‘
Answer the questions, yu!’ Harry
Parris bustled forward, gun in hand. ‘An’ don’t give His Honor no
lip, if yu know what’s good for yu!’

‘
Sit down, Harry!’

Sim Cotton’s deep voice crackled
like a whiplash, and Parris, starting as though he had been stung,
took a step backwards, tangling his own feet, and stumbling on to
the knees of his deputy. Laughter sprang to the throats of the
watchers, and again died stillborn when it was seen that the
Cottons were not laughing. Green kept his eyes fixed now on Art
Cotton, for he had noticed that the man was completely ignoring the
proceedings in the crowded room. Art Cotton sat, his long, white
hands dangling limply between his legs, his expressionless eyes
fixed unseeingly upon the blank wall in front of him, looking
neither right nor left.

‘
That one’s a renegade or my
name’s Shaugnessy,’ Green told himself. Meanwhile, the judge had
listened to Billy’s self-identification and now asked Parris to
state the charges against the boy.

‘
There’s plenty o’ charges,
Judge,’ Parris said, pompously, ‘but the main one’ll do to tie to
—-attempted murder!’

A whisper of conversation grew among the spectators,
those who had not yet heard the story of the fight in the saloon
hearing it now from others who had either witnessed it or been told
about it. The old man banged once more upon the table until silence
fell

‘
That’s better,’ he nodded. ‘Now,
Hornby. You plead guilty or not guilty?’

‘
Not guilty!’ Billy’s voice was
clear, his head held proud and high.

‘
I see. Do you wish to be tried by
jury?’

Billy shrugged. ‘Why not? Give
these animals their fun.’

‘
That will do,’ snapped
Kilpatrick, like a schoolteacher. ‘You will receive a fair trial in
this court.’

‘
Yu won’t mind if I don’t hold my
breath waitin’?’

Kilpatrick’s face mottled again.
‘You are in contempt’ he screeched. ‘I will not permit this kind of
insult to the dignity of the court!’

Sim Cotton nodded, and again raised his voice
slightly.

‘
Yu, boy. Don’t let yore tongue
run away with yu.’

‘
Why?’ snapped Billy, defiantly.
‘What difference does it make?’

‘
Yu might have to pay a big fine,’
Cotton pointed out, his voice still level. ‘An’ since yu ain’t got
any money, mebbe the court would have to confiscate anythin’ yu own
—-like yore ranch, mebbe.’ Billy’s face fell, and the anger receded
from his expression to be replaced by frustration and shame.
Cotton’s well-aimed verbal barb had now robbed him of even the
defense of bitter jibes. He could not afford to jeopardize all he
owned for the sake of a brief gratification.

‘
Well, boy, speak!’ rattled
Kilpatrick. ‘Do you want trial by jury?’

Billy nodded wordlessly, and Kilpatrick, after a
brief glance at Sim Cotton for confirmation, inclined his head
towards Sheriff Parris.

‘
Empanel a jury, Sheriff,’ he told
the lawman.

‘
I already got that done, Judge,’
interposed Parris, holding up a hand and waving it airily towards a
group of men bunched together at the side of the room alongside
Buck Cotton. ‘I figgered that Hornby’d ask for jury trial, so I
picked some o’ the boys out
in advance, to
save time.’ He turned towards the group, and told them ‘Yu boys
take up yore seats an’ line ’em up alongside the Judge, there. Make
it lively, now.’

Green watched Billy Hornby’s face
become even more bitter as he
saw the jury
of his ‘peers’ chosen by the cunning Parris. Drunks, bar-scourings,
and minor hangers-on of the Cotton clan —-what hope had he from
such as these? Billy Hornby shook his head. There was nothing he
could do. There were several men he failed to recognize,
tough-looking fellows whose presence he did not fully comprehend
until he saw the leering countenance of Buck Cotton; no doubt the
youngest of the Cotton brood had recruited these men himself to
make doubly sure of the verdict.

‘
Sheriff, outline the
circumstances of the case for the jury,’ the judge bid Parris.
Nothing loth, Parris strutted into the space in front of the two
Cotton brothers.

‘
This one—–’ he jerked his thumb
at Billy,‘ —-rode into town this mornin’ about ten. He stood
outside the saloon an’ yelled that he was comin’ in to kill young
Buck Cotton, there. Didn’t say why. Buck remained in the saloon.
Refused to brawl in the streets. Sent a man to get me. I was in my
office, an’ got over to the Oasis just as fast as I could. Got
there in time to see that one—-’ he jerked his head again towards
Billy, ‘—-threatenin’ Buck Cotton with a pistol. Buck warn’t even
armed…’

‘
That’s a lie!’ burst out Billy.
‘He was heeled.’

‘
Have you a witness to this fact?’
interposed Kilpatrick.

‘
Shore I have! Green there seen
it, didn’t you, Jim?’

Green nodded. ‘Cotton was wearin’ a
gun,’ he said flatly.

Kilpatrick regarded him sourly, then turned to face
Buck Cotton.

‘
Bucky, were you
armed?’

Young Cotton uncoiled his length lazily, and got to
his feet, an arrogant smirk on his face.

‘
Nope, I wasn’t, Uncle Martin. I
mean Judge.’

There was a murmur of amusement,
quickly stilled by Kilpatrick’s gavel. The old man turned in his
chair to face the jury.

‘
The jury will take due note that
the accusation of the prisoner is substantiated only by a convicted
criminal, a proven troublemaker, while it is denied by the brother
of our leading family.’

He smiled at Sim Cotton, who nodded
portentously.

‘
The jury will know whom to
believe, I am sure,’ he added. The twelve men nodded, almost in
unison.

‘
Carry on, Harry,’ the judge told
the sheriff.

Parris again resumed his actorish stance.

‘
When Buck, there, didn’t choose
to brawl with this young feller, he got real mad. Had blood in his
eye for shore. Claimed he was goin’ to shoot Buck down where he
stood—-an’ he still hadn’t give no reason for his quarrel. That was
when I stepped in an’ got the drop on him.’

He looked around proudly, as if expecting
applause.

‘
Do you deny any of this, Hornby?’
Kilpatrick’s face was wooden.

‘
The fac’s are in there
someplace,’ retorted Billy. ‘But yu’d have to be smarter than yu
look to find ’em.’

‘
Be assured we shall,’ was the icy
jibe. ‘Continue, Sheriff.’

‘
At this point,’ continued Parris,
‘just as I’m about to march Hornby off to the hoosegow, this other
jasper, Green, puts in his oar. He takes two shots at me, one o’
which goes wild, an’ the other hittin’ me in the arm.’ He rolled
back his shirt sleeve to reveal the grimy, bloodstained bandage on
his forearm. ‘A lucky shot I reckon, but it knocked me off my
balance an’ made me drop my gun. Whereupon this feller Green pulls
Hornby aside, an’ is all set to run for it when Chris Helm, who’s
in town an’ has heard the shootin’, arrives at the door behind the
two prisoners. He sees what’s up in a flash, an’ buffaloes the both
o’ them. We drug ’em over to the jail, an’ that was
that.’