land."
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
THE COURTROOM DOOR SWUNG OPEN AND COTTON strode in with concentrated purpose.
Goode, Miller, and Wheeler were already there. And along with this triumvirate, the
entire population of the mountain and town had apparently managed to lever itself into
the courtroom. A half-million dollars at stake had stirred feelings in folks that had not
been touched in many years. Even one elderly gentleman who had long claimed to be the
oldest surviving Rebel soldier of the Civil War had come to experience the final round of
this legal battle. He clumped in on an oak timber-toe with a capped stump for a right arm,
snowy beard down to his belt, and wearing the glorious butternut colors of the
Confederate soldier. Those sitting in the front row respectfully made a space for him.
It was cold and damp outside, though the mountains had grown weary of the rain and had
finally broken up the clouds and sent them on their way. In the courtroom, the
accumulation of body heat was fierce, the humidity high enough to fog the windows. And
yet every spectator's body was tense against his neighbor, seat or wall.
"I guess it's about time to bring down the curtain on this show," Goode said amiably
enough to Cotton. But what Cotton saw was a man with the satisfied look of a
professional killer about to blow the smoke off his six-shooter's barrel and then wink at
the body lying in the street.
"I think it's just getting started" was Cotton's bludgeoning response.
As soon as the judge was announced and the jury had filed in, Cotton stood. "Your
Honor, I would like to make an offer to the Commonwealth."
"Offer? What are you getting at, Cotton?" said Atkins.
"We all know why we're here. It's not about whether Louisa Mae Cardinal is competent
or not. It's about gas."
Goode lurched to his feet. "The Commonwealth has a vested interest in seeing that Miss
Cardinal's business—"
Cotton interrupted. "The only business Miss Cardinal has is deciding whether to sell her
land."
Atkins looked intrigued. "What's your offer?"
"I am prepared to concede that Miss Cardinal is mentally unfit."
Goode smiled. "Well, now we're getting somewhere."
"But in return, I want to examine whether Southern Valley is an appropriate party to
acquire her land."
Goode looked astonished. "Lord, they're one of the most substantial companies in the
state."
Cotton said, "I'm not talking about money. I'm talking about morals."
"Your Honor," Goode said indignantly.
"Approach the bench," said Atkins.
Cotton and Goode hurried forward.
Cotton said, "Judge, there is a long line of Virginia case law that clearly holds that one
who commits a wrong shall be barred from profiting from same."
"This is nonsense," said Goode.
Cotton drew close to his adversary. "If you don't agree to let me do it, Goode, I've got my
own expert who will contradict everything Dr. Ross has said. And if I lose here, I'll
appeal. All the way to the Supreme Court if need be. By the time your client gets to that
gas, rest assured, we'll all be dead."
"But I'm a lawyer for the Commonwealth. I have no authority to represent a private
company."
"A more ironic statement I have never heard," said Cotton. "But I waive any objection
and agree to be bound by the decision of this jury, even with the sorry likes of George
Davis sitting on it." Goode was looking toward Miller for a cue, so Cotton gave him a
shove. "Oh, Goode, go over there and talk to your client and stop wasting time."
With a sheepish look, Goode slipped over and had a heated discussion with Miller, who
looked over repeatedly at Cotton. He finally nodded, and Goode came back.
"No objection."
The judge nodded. "Go ahead, Cotton."
%
Lou had ridden down to the hospital in the Hudson with Eugene while Oz had stayed
behind. He had said he wanted nothing more to do with courts and the law. Bu-ford
Rose's wife had come over to look after Oz and his mother. Lou sat in the chair staring at
Louisa, waiting for her miracle to take effect. The room was cold and sterile, and it did
not seem conducive to anybody's getting well, but Lou was not counting on medicine to
make the woman better. Her hopes lay with a stack of old bricks in a grassy meadow and
a bundle of letters that might very well be the last words of her mother she would ever
have.
Lou rose and drifted to the window. She could see the movie theater from here, where
The Wizard of Oz was still enjoying a long run. However, Lou had lost her dear
Scarecrow, and the Cowardly Lion was no longer afraid. And the Tin Man? Had she
finally found her heart? Maybe she had never lost it.