Charles brought up the rear as they all filed down the hall and passed through the door the sheriff indicated. A portly man sat behind a scarred desk. He glanced up from a stack of papers.
“Hmm. Yes.” He looked over his glasses. “Mrs. Saunders, please take a chair. I’m Judge Beamer.” He glanced at the sheriff.
“Your honor, this is Dr. Quincy, who’s been treating the boy, and this gentleman is his teacher, Charles Waverly, his, uh, translator.”
“Mrs. Saunders, I see you’ve given written testimony. Would you repeat that to me, please?”
“Yes, sir.” She told their story, beginning with her husband’s death and her brother-in-law’s arrival at the farm. When she told of the beatings, her tears prevented her from speaking for several minutes.
“Take your time.” The judge’s eyes were kind, although he tapped impatiently on the desk.
She blotted her eyes. “I can continue.” When she’d finished the story, ending with their confrontation with Ed Saunders, the judge stood.
“Jeremiah, would you mind showing me your scars, please?” When Charles signed the request, the boy complied. Judge Beamer stared intently at the back and shoulders that had been so abused.
Finally, he turned to Trent. “Dr. Quincy, could you explain these markings for me?”
“Yes, Your Honor, I can.” Trent pointed out old scars that had been on Jeremiah’s body for several years. Then fresher ones from only months before. “As you can tell from the depth of these ridges, the lacerations cut in deeply.”
The judge clamped his lips together and fury filled his eyes. “Jeremiah, would you mind leaving your shirt off while I call in the accused?” When Jeremiah didn’t answer, the judge sent a silent plea to Charles who stepped over and signed to Jeremiah.
For a moment, fear jumped into Jeremiah’s eyes. He glanced at Charles, who gave him a smile and a nod. “All right. I’ll leave it off.”
When the deputy brought Ed Saunders into the room in handcuffs, the first thing the prisoner saw was his nephew with bared back. His face blanched. “I didn’t do that!”
“Who did, then?” the judge retorted. “His mother?”
“I don’t know who did it. Maybe my brother.”
“Don’t you dare accuse Frank of something so heinous.” Mrs. Saunders lurched forward, fury in her eyes, but the judge stepped between her and her brother-in-law.
“I’ve seen enough. The prisoner is to be held over at the county jail in Atlanta until trial. And I’m the one hearing the case.”
He walked out, giving Jeremiah a nod and his mother a wink.
The deputy took Saunders back to his cell to prepare for transport to Atlanta and Jeremiah gave a whoop. “Does this mean Uncle Ed’s going to prison?”
Trent grinned. “Well, with Judge Beamer officiating I don’t think he can possibly avoid it.”
“Can we go see the farm before we go back to school?” Jeremiah sent a pleading glance to his mother.
She smiled and hugged him. “If Dr. Trent and Charles don’t mind, I’d love to.”
“Do you think the farm’s all right, Ma?”
“Of course. Mr. Thomas has been watching the place. I also asked him to find a hired hand for us.”
“You did?” Jeremiah gave his mom a look of respect.
“Well, yes. This is our property, son. We have to take care of it.”
“Are we going to live there again?”
“I thought I’d keep working for Patrick and Helen until you break for Christmas, then we’ll spend Christmas on the farm. Does that sound all right to you?”
“Yes, ma’am, it does. What about after Christmas?”
“Well, after Christmas you will need to go back to school, Jeremiah. Now that you’re going to be a man of property, you’ll need a good education. And you also need to learn to speak and sign better. Right?”
Jeremiah nodded. “Right.”
A twinge of sadness bit at Charles at Jeremiah’s expression, but he’d be all right. It wasn’t easy for the children to leave parents and home, but the alternative of no education was much worse.
They found the cabin and property much as they’d left it. The two cows and the mules were taken care of and had plenty of hay in their stalls. Chickens ran freely across the yard.
Mrs. Saunders left a few things from her suitcase and retrieved some others.
Charles glanced at Jeremiah, who stood beside the fireplace, looking at a photograph on the mantelpiece. Mrs. Saunders stepped over, placed an arm around her son and they gazed at the picture of her husband and his father.
A pensiveness hung in the air as they drove away from the farm, but by the time they boarded the train and settled into their seats, cheerfulness had returned, as Jeremiah and his mother talked about the farm, and they rode back to Magnolia Junction with an almost holiday air.