shall be heard."
Judge Henry Atkins, a small man with a short beard, thinning silver hair, and clear gray
eyes, came into the room from his adjacent chambers and took his seat behind the bench.
Before he got up there, he looked too small for his black robe. Once he got there, he
looked too large for the courtroom.
It was at this point that Lou and Oz crept in without anyone seeing them. Wearing barter
coats and thick socks stuffed into oversized boots, they had retraced their steps across the
poplar-log bridge and down the mountain, catching a ride on a track to Dickens. It had
been a much harder trek in cold weather, but the way Cotton had explained it to them, the
potential effect of this proceeding on all their lives was very clear. They sat slumped
down at the rear, their heads barely visible over the back of the seats in front of them.
"One week's fine with us," said Goode. "Miss Cardinal's affairs deserve to be attended to
with all due speed and respect."
Atkins picked up his gavel. "Cotton, I've been over to the hospital to see Louisa. Now,
whether she has her senses or not, it seems to me those children are going to at least need
a guardian. We might as well get it done as quick as possible."
"We can take care of ourselves."
They all looked to the back of the courtroom, where Lou was now standing. "We can take
care of ourselves," she said again. "Until Louisa gets better."
"Lou," said Cotton, "this is not the time or place."
Goode smiled at them. "Well, you two sure are adorable children. I'm Thurston Goode.
How y'all doing?"
Neither Lou nor Oz answered him.
"Young lady," said Atkins, "come up here."
Lou swallowed the lump in her throat and walked up to the bench, where Atkins peered
down at her, like Zeus to mortal.
"Young lady, are you a member of the State Bar?"
"No. I mean... no."
"Do you know that only members of the Bar may address the court except in the most
extraordinary circumstances?"
"Well, since this concerns me and my brother, I think the circumstances are
extraordinary."
Atkins looked at Cotton and smiled before looking back at Lou. "You're smart, that's easy
to see. And quick. But the law is the law, and children your age can't live by themselves."
"We have Eugene."
"He's not a blood relative."
"Well, Diamond Skinner didn't live with anybody."
Atkins looked over at Cotton. "Cotton, will you explain this to her, please."
"Lou, the judge is right, you're not old enough to live by yourself. You need an adult."
Lou's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Well, we keep running out of those." She turned
and raced down the aisle, pushed open the double doors, and was gone. Oz fled after her.
Cotton looked back up at Judge Atkins.
"One week," said the judge. He smacked his gavel and returned to his chambers, like a
wizard resting after throwing a particularly difficult spell.
Outside the courtroom, Goode and Miller waited for Cotton. Goode leaned in close to
him. "You know, Mr. Longfellow, you can make this a lot easier on everybody if you'd
just cooperate. We all know what a mental examination is going to reveal. Why put Miss
Cardinal through the humiliation of a trial?"
Cotton leaned even closer to Goode. "Mr. Goode, you could give a damn whether
Louisa's affairs are accorded the respect they deserve. You're here as a hired gun for a big
company looking to twist the law so they can take her land."
Goode just smiled. "We'll see you in court."
That night Cotton labored behind his piled-high desk. He mumbled to himself, wrote
things down and then scratched diem out, and paced like an expectant father. The door
creaked open, and Cotton stared as Lou came in with a basket of food and a pot of coffee.
"Eugene drove me down in the car to see Louisa," she explained. "I got this over at the
New York Restaurant. Figured you probably skipped supper."
Cotton looked down. Lou cleared a place on his desk, laid out the food, and poured the
coffee. Finished, she made no move to leave.
"I'm pretty busy, Lou. Thank you for the food."
Cotton went to his desk and sat down, but he moved not one piece of paper, opened not a
single book.
"I'm sorry about what I said in court," said Lou.
"It's all right. I guess if I were you, I would've done the same tiling."
"You sounded really good."
"On the contrary, I failed utterly."
"But the trial hasn't started yet."
He took off his glasses and rubbed them with his tie. 'Truth is I haven't really tried a case
in years, and even tiien I wasn't very good. I just file papers, write up deeds and wills,