The Sharecropper Prodigy (26 page)

             
“Alright, Mr. Baxter. I assume everybody here has a full belly, so call your next witness.”

             
“The state calls George Winston, your honor.”

             
Mr. Winston knew he was on the prosecution’s witness list. Surprisingly, Rachel wasn’t. Baxter wasn’t stupid enough to put her up there knowing how much she liked Ben.

             
Mr. Winston took the stand and was sworn in.

             
“Mr. Winston, your family has had a prominent place in Jones County for several years now, is that correct?”

             
“We’ve been here since 1818,” Mr. Winston answer was short and to the point.

             
“You have several tenant farmers that live on your property, is that right?”

             
“Yes, that is correct.”

             
“Do you ever have trouble from any of them?”

             
“Very seldom, sir. Most of them are good, honest, hard workin’ folks.”

             
“But you did have trouble from one of them a couple of years ago. In fact, you had quite a bit of trouble, is that right?”

             
“Yes.”

             
“Something terrible was done to your daughter by one of them, something that caused everyone in the county grief for your daughter and you, including myself, Mr. Winston.”

             
“Thank you.”

             
“Mr. Winston, would you tell me the name of the tenant farmer that viciously attacked your daughter?”

             
“His name was Rube Evans.”

             
“And did Mr. Evans have a son?”

             
“I believe he had six of them, sir.”

             
“Is one of them the defendant, Ben Evans?”

             
“Yes. He’s one of them.”

             
Baxter walked over close to where Ben was seated, then turned to look at the jury. He was shaking his head the whole time.

             
“Mr. Winston. Do you believe evil can be passed down from father to son? Inherited, like you would inherit blue eyes or black hair or other features.”

             
“Objection, your honor,” Ben stood up defiantly. “Calls for speculation. The witness is not a geneticist or any other type of scientist that I am aware of.”

             
“Sustained,” Judge Hawkins said, trying to suppress a smile.

             
“Sir, I don’t believe I, or you, or most likely anybody in this courtroom is qualified to answer that question, just like Ben said,” Mr. Winston responded, despite the objection.

             
“Well, then. Do you believe children imitate things there father or mother does?”

             
“Most children imitate some things, otherwise children would have a hard time learning to walk and talk. But there are many things they don’t imitate. My father was a drinkin’ man, but I never touch it.”

             
“But some things are passed down from father to son. You do agree with that.”

             
“Of course.”

             
“So if a boy sees his father beat his mother, his siblings, as well as himself, he could someday do the same thing to his family and other people.”

             
Ben jumped up like a spring that had just uncoiled. “Objection. If the prosecution is trying to depict me as a violent person, I defy him or anyone else to find a single soul I’ve ever laid a hand on.”

             
Before the judge had a chance to respond, Baxter yelled out, “That’s why we’re here, Mr. Evans, to prove that very thing!”

             
“Order. Both of you are out of order and I’m not gonna have it,” the judge shouted.

             
Baxter reached up and adjusted his tie and did his best to compose himself. Ben sat back down and looked at his book. I had no idea how he could have been comprehending anything he was reading.

             
Baxter turned back to Mr. Winston. “Mr. Winston, the night that Ned Higgins was murdered…..”

             
“Objection, your honor…”

             
“I’ll rephrase the question, your honor,” Baxter said before the judge had time to speak.

             
“The night that Ned Higgins lost his life, Mr. Winston, you were with him and another one of your employees when you found your daughter in the company of the defendant and Mr. Manuel Cruz. Is that correct?”

             
“That’s correct, yes.”

             
“And you were very upset by this, weren’t you?”

             
“At the time, yes. I didn’t know they had a club they had formed to…..”

             
“Just a simple yes or no will suffice, Mr. Winston,” Baxter said in a way that made me want to run up to him and stick my fist in his mouth.

             
“Well, it won’t suffice for me, sir. I want the whole truth to come out,” Mr. Winston retorted.

             
Judge Hawkins intervened. “Just answer the direct questions yes or no, Mr. Winston.”

             
“We want the truth to come out don’t we judge? Isn’t that what we’re here for?” Mr. Winston asked Judge Hawkins.

             
“Of course that’s what we’re here for, Mr. Winston, but that’s the rules. You’ll have a chance for rebuttal under cross examination from the defendant, if he chooses to question you.”

             
Baxter waited until the banter was over, straightened his tie again, and continued. “So, you were upset. Especially with Mr. Evans and Mr. Cruz, is that right?”

             
“I was upset more with Mr. Cruz, because he was several years older than my daughter and a married man. I didn’t know at the time it was innocent.”

             
“How do you know it was innocent, Mr. Winston? Do you know for sure what had gone on before you arrived?”

             
Mr. Winston leaned forward in his chair as far as he could. I could see from where I was sitting his face was as red as a beet, and he was mad as hell.

             
“I know because my daughter told me, Baxter. She has never lied to me.”

             
“Ohhhh, I see. So even if she had been doin’ something she wasn’t…..”

             
Ben had had enough. “Objection, your honor. If what Mr. Baxter is doin’ is not badgering the witness, I don’t know what is.”

             
“Sustained. Mr. Baxter, the witness has answered the question satisfactorily.”

             
“Very well,” Baxter said, stiffening his body and looking up at the ceiling. “Mr. Winston. After the brutal attack on your daughter by Mr. Evans, did you evict the family and burn the house they had lived in to the ground?”

             
“I did.”

             
“May I ask why, sir?”

             
“I didn’t want anything standin’ on my property to remind me of what had happened to her.”

             
“Or remind you of the person who did it, I presume,” Baxter added.

             
“That too,” Mr. Winston responded.

             
“Is Rube Evans the only person that lived in that house you didn’t want to be reminded of?”

             
“Yes, he was the only one.”

             
Baxter looked toward the jury with a look on his face that said,
you are fools if you believe that last statement.
“I have no further questions. Your witness, Mr. Evans.”

             
Ben got up and walked to the witness stand as if he were going to put out a fire. “Mr. Winston, were you upset with your daughter or with me once you discovered the true nature of our meetin’?”

             
“No, I was not.”

             
“And did Manuel Cruz sincerely apologize to you, saying he hadn’t thought the meetings we were havin’ were inappropriate because his wife was well aware of them, but he had not considered the way you would feel?”

             
“He did, and I know he was sincere,” Mr. Winston answered, smiling.

             
“Mr. Winston. After your daughter was attacked by Rube Evans, my father, who brought her to your house?”

             
“You did. After you saved her life.”

             
“And who stayed with her at your home, night and day, helping care for her, and reading books and periodicals on psychology to help cure her of her precarious mental state?”

             
“You did, Ben. And I thanked you by runnin’ you off and burnin’ your house. I want you to know that was a terrible mistake and I apologize from the depths of my soul.”

             
“No apology is necessary, Mr. Winston. Had I been in your shoes I may have done the same thing.”

             
“Objection,” Baxter interrupted. “This is not the time or place for such a discussion, your honor.”

             
“Sustained. Let’s stick to questions and answers, Mr. Evans.”

             
Ben shook his head in agreement. “Mr. Winston, did I attend your daughters weddin’ a few weeks ago, along with my entire family?”

             
“Yes, you certainly did.”

             
“And am I welcome in your home at any time?”

             
“Anytime you wish, day or night, I am at your disposal.”

             
“No further questions, your honor.”

             
After Mr. Winston had taken his seat, Judge Hawkins told Baxter to call his next witness. I believe he was trying his best to speed things along as much as possible. He didn’t like the idea that the courtroom and the town were filled with Higgins’. The sooner they were back in Georgia the better.

             
“The state calls Will Henry.”

             
Will walked to the stand slowly, as if he were about to go before a firing squad. It was very obvious he was nervous. He was more than nervous in fact. Will was terrified. He took the stand and put his hand, that was shaking like a leaf, on the Bible. His response to the oath was barely audible.

             
Baxter let Will get seated and stalled as long as he could, trying to let him get settled. Will was running his fingers through his hair and trying desperately not to make eye contact with anybody in the room.

             
“Please state your name for the record, Mr. Henry,” Baxter said.

             
“Uh..Wil…William Henry.”

             
“No middle name? Baxter asked.

             
“N..no sir.”

             
“Okay, Mr. Henry, just try to relax. You are not the one on trial here. I just need to ask you some simple questions. And you’re gonna need to speak up, alright?”

             
“Yes sir,” Will said, louder this time.

             
“Mr. Henry, were you with George Winston and Ned Higgins the night the defendant, Ben Evans, Manuel Cruz, and Mr. Winston’s daughter Rachel Winston were found in the office of George Winston’s cotton gin?”

             
“Yes sir.”

             
“And was that the same night Ned Higgins disappeared?”

             
“Yes sir.”

             
“How well do you remember that night, Mr. Henry?”

             
“Real well, sir.”

             
“After Mr. Winston and his daughter left, what happened next?”

             
“Ned told me to go on home. My house wasn’t far away and I was gonna walk. Mr. Winston told Ned to take Mr. Crew home in his truck…”

             
“Do you mean Mr. Cruz, sir,” Baxter corrected, putting emphasis on the Z.

             
“Y..yes sir. I wasn’t exactly sure how to say his name.”

             
“That’s okay, Mr. Henry. Please continue,” Baxter said, as if he were coaxing a young child.

             
“Anyway, Ned was gonna take him home. I decided after I’d walked a little ways to stop and make sure the truck cranked and all. I watched Ned lay his shotgun in the seat. As soon as he did, Mr. Cruz grabbed ‘im and hit ‘im. It knocked Ned plum to the ground. Then the Evans boy started kickin’ ‘im in the head. I started to run back to help Ned when I heard the gunshot. I hightailed it fer home, then. I wished there would have been somethin’ I could’ve done.”

             
Will hung his head, trying to appear ashamed of himself for his failure to help his friend. I was fuming and so was Rachel. I had to put my hand on her arm to keep her from jumping up. I looked at Ben. He was as calm as could be and still had his head down taking notes and flipping through pages of one of the several books he had.

             
“Well, Mr. Henry, I’m sure you would have liked to have helped Mr. Higgins, but it was too late, anyway. You would have probably gotten yourself shot. I don’t think anyone here blames you for anything that happened that terrible night.” Baxter paused a minute to make sure the jury had ample time to digest everything that had been said.