Under the Desert Sky (33 page)

“Did you point a gun at Mr. De Wet?”

“I certainly did. As I said, I didn't know who he was. Why should I have turned the child over to them?”

“Thank you. No further questions.”

Again Frazier stood, but did not approach the witness.

“Mr. Evans, did Mr. De Wet tell you that Mrs. Sloan had sent him for her son?”

“So what? Any stranger could have said that.”

“What was Will's reaction to Mr. De Wet's appearance at your door?”

“I don't know, I didn't pay any attention to his reaction. I was more concerned with my obligation to keep him safe.”

“Thank you. You may stand down.”

“I have no more witnesses, Your Honor,” the prosecutor said.

Phoebe was the first witness whom Frazier called, and unlike in his cross of the witnesses for the prosecution, he approached her.

“Did you leave Will in Hannah's keeping?”

“I did.”

“Have you ever left her with Hannah before?”

“Yes, Hannah and her sister, Adeline, are very responsible young ladies who think the world of Will, and he thinks the world of them. I felt no apprehension at all in leaving him with them.”

“Did you ask Mr. De Wet and Mr. Van Koopmans to go to the Evanses' house to pick up Will?”

“Yes.”

“So as far as you're concerned, there was no kidnapping involved.”

“Will is my child; they were picking him up for me. And I hasten to add, Will wasn't there by my authority in the first place. Frank Sloan had no business taking my son there.”

“Your witness, Counselor.”

The prosecutor stood. “Mrs. Sloan, is it true that you are living with two men: Christian De Wet and this black man, who I understand goes by the name July?”

“No, that isn't true.”

“May I remind you that you are under oath? I ask you again, are you living with two men?”

“No, I live with three. Mr. De Wet, July, and Trinidad Arriola.”

“Four men, Mama! I live with you, too!”

Those on the left side of the gallery laughed, as did Judge Johnstone. The prosecutor, realizing that the question may have backfired, stepped away.

Frazier's next witness was Hannah Bucknell. “Hannah, when Mr. Sloan came for Will, what did he say?”

“He said he was taking Will.”

“What did you say?”

“I asked if Miss Phoebe sent him. He didn't answer me. He just came in and grabbed Will.”

“And did Will agree to go with him?”

“No, sir, Will cried and told me not to let his uncle Frank take him. I asked him again if Miss Phoebe had sent him, and he told me it was none of my business. When I tried to take Will back, Mr. Sloan pushed me down. Will yelled at me to go get his mama and ask her to come get him, so that's what I did.”

“Thank you, Hannah.”

“I have no questions of this child,” the prosecutor said.

Christian was the next witness and he said that, yes, he and July had gone to retrieve Will for Will's mother. And, yes, July had grabbed Evans's hand, but only after Evans had pointed his pistol and threatened to shoot Christian.

“As far as I'm concerned, July . . . that is, Mr. Van Koopmans, saved my life.”

“Are you sure he intended to shoot you?”

“I know that his gun was loaded.”

Frazier walked back over to the defense table, picked up an envelope, then brought it to the bench, where he dumped out six bullets. “Your Honor, I submit these bullets as defense exhibit one.”

The prosecutor did not cross-examine Christian.

Defense's last witness was Will.

“Will, when Mr. De Wet and July came to Mr. Evans's house, what did you think?”

“I was happy. I yelled at Wet to take me home.”

“And did you see Mr. Evans point a gun at Mr. De Wet?”

“It scared me. I thought he was going to shoot Wet.”

“Your witness.”

“No questions.”

“Your Honor, I have no more witnesses to call but I would like to—”

“Put that black giant on the stand! Make him tell how he broke my fingers!” Evans shouted.

Again Judge Johnstone pounded his gavel. “This is the second time my court has been interrupted, and I will not have it happen again!”

The judge looked back toward Frazier. “Please continue, Counselor.”

“I would like to call Mr. Frank Sloan back to the stand.”

“The court reminds the witness that he has been previously sworn in,” the judge said as Frank took his seat.

“You testified that you went to pick up Will because you knew there was a fire at Phoebe Sloan's place.”

“That's right.”

“How did you know there was fire?”

“I saw the fire.”

“You saw the fire? Or you started the fire?”

“I don't know what anyone has told you, but I didn't start that fire!” Frank yelled.

Frazier returned to the defense table, then removed something from a second envelope—the object Christian had found in the brush near the canal.

“Mr. Sloan, do you recognize this?”

“Yes, that's my brother's knife.”

“Your brother's knife, you say?”

“Yes. As you can see, it has his initials.” Frank told Frazier to turn the knife over. “JES.”

“Isn't it true, Mr. Sloan, that you've been carrying this knife since his death? And I remind you that you're under oath.”

“Yes, I've been carrying it. But I lost it, and I thank whoever found it.” He reached for the knife, but Frazier pulled it back.

“Suppose I told you that this knife was found near the uninvolved part of the alfalfa field that was burned? And suppose I told you that evidence shows use of an accelerant to start the fire? The location of this knife, and the way the fire was started, might suggest that whoever was carrying this knife started the fire, don't you agree?”

“Objection, Your Honor. Calls for a conclusion,” Flannigan said.

“Sustained.”

“Mr. Sloan, do you have any idea how your brother's knife, the knife that you admit you've been carrying, might've turned up near the point where the fire originated?”

“I suggest you ask that Mexican who works for Phoebe. I lost this knife months ago. I thought I'd misplaced it and that it would show up. But now that I think about it, I'm sure Trinidad or Cornello stole it. If you want to know how the knife got there, ask one of them.”

“No further questions, Your Honor,” Frazier said. “Defense rests.”

“Your Honor, I—”

“You may stand down, Mr. Sloan,” the judge interrupted.

Judge Johnstone looked out over the courtroom. “I've heard the witnesses, and I see no need to retire before I pronounce the verdicts.

“For the charge of assault and battery, I find that the action of the defendant, Julius Van Koopmans, also known as July, was entirely justified, as he had reasonable cause to believe that Chauncey Evans had every intention of shooting Christian De Wet. Therefore to the charge of assault and battery, I find the defendant innocent.

“As to the charge of kidnapping, it is obvious that the only person guilty of kidnapping is Frank Sloan, who took the boy without consent of the boy's mother. As Sloan was not charged, I cannot find against him. However, as to the kidnapping charge against the defendant, I find him to be innocent, and I hereby release him from custody. Court is adjourned.”

Those sitting on the left side of the court hurried forward to congratulate a smiling July. Will seemed happiest of all, and he tackled July's leg before July picked him up and set him on his shoulders.

“Mama! Look how tall I am!” Will said excitedly.

Christian stood in the back of the courtroom, watching. He was approached by Frank and W. F. Sloan.

“Well, I suppose you're pleased with the outcome,” W.F. said.

“Yes, sir, I am. July was an innocent man, and I'm glad the judge saw it that way.”

“Is Phoebe going to pursue arson charges against my son?”

“Arson?” Frank said in surprise. “Pop, what are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about the fact that you set fire to Phoebe's farm. A fire that, during this drought, could have gotten out of hand and destroyed thousands of acres.”

“That's not true, Pop! They are lying!”

“Mr. De Wet, where did you find that knife?”

“Not thirty feet from the fire line.”

“I explained that. I lost that knife more than a month ago.”

“You're lying, Frank,” W.F. said. “I saw that knife in your hands just a few days ago. And so did several other witnesses.”

“I . . . I . . .” Frank mumbled, unable to go any further.

“I guess breaking all her eggs just wasn't enough for you,” Christian said to Frank.

“Eggs? What eggs? I haven't heard about this,” W.F. said.

“It was back in September when Trinidad and Cornello were celebrating at the fiesta. Phoebe was at a meeting for the water project, and when she got home, all her eggs were smashed.”

“How do you know it was Frank?”

“Frank knew about it the next day. He told Phoebe that one of her men had told him, but that was impossible. One of her men was in jail, and the other was at the fiesta.”

W.F. glared at Frank.

“Pop, I did all of this for her own good. You know she can't make a living there for herself and Will. I thought if I forced her off the farm, she would come to her senses. I even offered to put her up in . . .” Frank, seeing the expression on his father's face, stopped in midsentence. “I was looking out for Will. He is your grandson; I just wanted what was best for him.”

“How is Will?” W.F. asked Christian.

“He's happy to be back with his mother. Will is a fine young man.”

“I'm afraid I haven't seen much of him, but if Phoebe will let me, I intend to remedy that.”

“I obviously don't speak for Phoebe, but I feel like she'd be most amenable to that. I know she grieves for your son.”

“And so do I. Frank says she was responsible for Edwin's death, but the more I think about it, I don't know how she could've been. As I see it, if Edwin was out among the ostriches, it had to be an accident.” Then W.F. smiled. “You can't force one of those ornery birds to do anything.”

“I have to agree,” Christian said.

“Do you think she can make a good living raising those damn things?”

“She made more than a thousand dollars on just this last plucking, and according to Prinsen you can pluck every eight months. Yes, I'd say two thousand dollars a year is a pretty good living, but it'll take her a while to get back there. She only has two adult birds left after the fire, and that's where the prized plumes come from.”

“I'd like to make her an offer,” W.F. said, “and you seem to have some sway with her.”

“I wouldn't say that. Phoebe is a very capable businesswoman who doesn't need me to tell her what to do.”

“Well, perhaps you will be my arbitrator. If Prinsen will sell them to me, do you think she'll accept ten pairs of adult birds?”

Christian smiled. “That sounds like a very reasonable offer.”

“There's one more thing Frank has done that I need to untangle.” W.F. withdrew a folded piece of paper. “This was a lie, too. It says that I established a trust for Will that he'll access when he's eighteen. That's not true. My will gives the boy Edwin's half of my estate, and I have to say, with some humility, it's much more than the twenty-five thousand dollars Frank was willing to give him.”

“Pop, why would you give half of all your money to that boy? We don't even know for sure that Edwin was the father. I mean, you've seen how eager she's been to give herself to a perfect stranger. She—”

“Frank Sloan, if you say one more word about Phoebe, I am going to knock your teeth out, right here in front of your father.”

“Then it would be you in jail instead of that black cretin,” Frank replied.

“I would testify that you just tripped and fell,” W.F. said.

“What? Pop, I'm your son!”

“Unfortunately, that is true.”

“But I—”

“Shut up, Frank. Just shut up. I've heard about all that I care to hear from you.” W.F. turned to Christian. “About this agreement. The second part is inexcusable.” W.F. handed the paper to Christian. “I suspect it has a lot to do with you.”

Christian read the document. “This explains a few things.”

“To be honest, my respect for Phoebe has grown tremendously. I think I've misjudged her all along.”

•  •  •

Christian sat in the back of the courtroom watching as everyone congregated around July.

He couldn't take his eyes off Phoebe. She was so animated and effervescent, did he dare hope that she had refused to sign Frank's paper because of him? He had told W.F. that she was a capable businesswoman who didn't need him, and that was true. For a moment, he was concerned that, with the new birds, she didn't really need him.

But then he smiled. There was one thing all the money in the world couldn't satisfy for his Phoebe.

•  •  •

Phoebe noticed that Christian wasn't among the celebrants. She looked around and found him sitting at the back of the courtroom, a huge grin across his face.

She walked back to join him. “You look like the Cheshire cat.” She took a seat beside him. “Why didn't you tell me you found Edwin's knife?”

“I planned to, but then we got so excited when Wapi came home, I forgot.”

“I'm glad he was one of the survivors.” She lowered her eyes and they began to cloud. “I guess I was too prideful. I thought my money troubles were over and I thought you would be working for the water project, but now I know both of those things are not to be.”

“Maybe I could take Cornello's place. You know he's never coming back.”