Breaking Matthew (18 page)

“Of course, when it’s done with the right intention of serving God and serving our neighbor. But that was not Miss Graves’s intention at all. In fact, I discovered she was using it as an opportunity to swindle cans of food away from our ministry so that she could take it to a Negro harlot she’d become acquainted with.”

There were a few gasps behind me, and the spectators began murmuring amongst themselves. Judge Woods tapped his gavel to quieten them.

“How can you be sure of this?” Mr. Garrett asked.

“Why, I caught her in the act. She admitted she was taking the food to the Negro woman and her bastard child.”

That time the murmuring continued through several hard taps of the gavel. As difficult as it was to listen to Cass disparage me, this particular part didn’t bother me as much. I’d never been ashamed of helping Hannah and Samuel, and I prayed God would give me peace over it. I knew I’d do the same thing again if I had the chance, so I lifted my chin and looked Brother Cass right in the eye as he attempted to shame me. I’d show him that God’s love knew nothing of skin color, or situation, or money, or power. And I hoped that I’d get the chance to tell everyone in that courtroom the same thing.

When all was quiet again, Mr. Garret proceeded. “Brother Cass, have you had any interactions with Miss Graves since that time?”

“Only recently, when I visited her in the jail shortly after she was arrested. I was attempting to offer her spiritual guidance and a chance to repent of her sins. It was my understanding she was continuing to practice her sorcery, passing it off as healing. When I learned of the circumstances of her arrest, I concluded that it was possible one of her bloodstopping rituals had gone terribly wrong. I felt a duty to offer her the chance to turn from such darkness.”

“And how did Miss Graves respond?”

“With the same vitriol I’d experienced from her time and again. She accused
me
of having no compassion. Then she admitted to her continued practice of her
witchcraft
, or whatever she calls it. And that she continues to associate with Negroes of the worst sort. Nothing has changed, I’m afraid, despite my earnest prayers for her soul.”

Behind me, I could hear Matthew muttering under his breath. I was surprised he hadn’t had another outburst. Mr. Garrett stated he had no more questions, and Mr. Oliver took a worried glance at me before he stood and approached the witness stand. In all our conversations to prepare for trial, we’d only discussed Cass in passing, and never as a potential witness. He’d have no idea what truths Cass had twisted. All I could do was pray that God would guide Mr. Oliver’s questions.

“Besides your recent visit to the jail,” Mr. Oliver began, “when was the last time you spoke with Miss Graves?”

“Well, let’s see now.” Cass looked up at the ceiling. “It was right after the tornadoes in ’32. Miss Graves was lurking around the hospital—”

“So it’s been nearly five years?”

“That sounds about right.”

“The last time you spoke with Miss Graves was when she was a fourteen-year-old girl?”

“Objection!” Mr. Garrett called out. “The witness has answered the question.”

“Move along, Mr. Oliver,” Judge Woods said.

“How long did you speak with Miss Graves at the jail?”

“About fifteen minutes or so,” Cass answered.

“Let me understand this clearly. You’re basing your entire assessment of Miss Graves on your limited interactions with her as a child and a fifteen-minute conversation you had with her five years later?”

Brother Cass blinked as if he were surprised Mr. Oliver even had to ask. “Why, yes. But as I said, it was apparent she hadn’t changed—”

“No further questions, Your Honor.” Mr. Oliver returned to the table with an air of confidence, sitting down and propping his leg over his knee. He appeared unfazed.

Mr. Garrett stood and announced that the prosecution was resting its case. Judge Woods pulled out his pocket watch and gave it a quick study. “Very well. We’ll take an hour recess for lunch and then begin with defense testimony at one-thirty.” He slammed the gavel down, and the whole room rose simultaneously.

Mr. Oliver leaned over to me, dropping his confident demeanor. “We need to head to the conference room
now
.”

Mr. Oliver paced back and forth in front of me as I sat at the table in the conference room. Matthew stood to my right, leaning onto the table with his head bowed as Mr. Oliver peppered us with questions.

“So this healing thing,” Mr. Oliver said, looking at Matthew. “It’s real? She healed you?”

“It’s not that simple,” I said.

“I need it to be simple, Ruby,” Mr. Oliver said. “I have to try to explain it to a bunch of farmers.”

“She’s a faith healer,” Matthew said. “That keeps it pretty simple. No need to explain the particulars. People know all about faith healers.”

Mr. Oliver threw up his hands in frustration, still pacing. “Wonderful! Well, that explains everything, then.”

“Mr. Oliver,” I said. “Please, could we do our best not to focus on my gift? It’s…very personal. I’ve never shared it with anyone but Matthew and my uncle, and for it to come out like this, well, it’s more than I can bear.”

He stopped pacing and faced me. “Believe me, Ruby, I’d love to forget all of this and simply focus on the facts of the case. Unfortunately, it is becoming increasingly clear that you haven’t told me everything. I can’t defend you when I’m unprepared for witnesses.” He let out a frustrated sigh and leaned onto the table as well. “I know you’ve been holding back because of this
gift
of yours, but is there anything else, anything at all, you haven’t told me?”

I shook my head.

Matthew pounded his fist into the table, sending a shock through me.

“Come on, Ruby!” He turned fierce, terrified eyes to me. “Your life is at stake! Tell him everything!”

My eyes welled up, and my throat tightened. “My life isn’t the only one at stake!” I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer, so I covered my face with my hands, trying to hold back sobs.

“Wait a minute,” Mr. Oliver said. “What are you talking about? Ruby, you have to trust me. No matter what you tell me, it stays within these walls unless we decide otherwise. But I’m swimming with one arm behind my back here.”

“Ruby, please,” Matthew said, his voice straining. “Tell him. Maybe he can help.”

“It’s too late. He’s gone.” I dropped my hands and met Matthew’s gaze. “He’s gone.” Something subtle, but powerful all the same, shifted between us. My hands began to shake in my lap. I willed Matthew to stay silent.

“Ruby, who’s gone?” Mr. Oliver asked. “What is going—”

Matthew straightened and faced Mr. Oliver. “She didn’t kill Chester.”

“Matthew! No!”

“She’s protecting a young man, Samuel, a mulatto, who was also in the barn. The same one who saw Chester attack her the first time. Chester attacked Samuel, and he’s the one who killed Chester. Ruby tried to save Chester’s life, but…but Samuel’s the one who killed him.”

All the color drained from Mr. Oliver’s face and he dropped heavily into a chair behind him.

“You promised,” I said. “You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”

Matthew bowed his head and closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ruby. But I just can’t stand by and watch you do this to yourself.” Then he too fell into a chair.

The three of us looked at each other as if we’d all been pummeled in a boxing match. What was there to do next? I was laid bare. I could only pray Mr. Oliver would keep his word better than Matthew had.

“All right,” Mr. Oliver said, scooting up to the table. “Who’s this…Samuel?”

Chapter Seventeen

Matthew

Ruby stewed in the chair beside me as I explained to Mr. Oliver exactly who Samuel was, about his mother, Hannah, and the relationship between the three of them. She’d huff and sigh, object and try to correct me. But in the end, I was pretty sure Mr. Oliver got the picture. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling for a few moments, tapping the ends of his fingers together over his chest.

“Having the boy testify would be tricky—”

“He can’t testify,” Ruby said. “He’s not even in town anymore. He’s gone.”

Mr. Oliver stood and resumed pacing, talking to himself as if he hadn’t heard Ruby at all. “Yes, definitely tricky. We’d have to get a continuance. The jury is unlikely to believe the word of a Negro boy. And this would most likely add fuel to the prosecution’s claims about your relationship with the Negroes.”

Ruby threw her hands up. “And what is wrong with my friendship with them? I’m not ashamed to call Hannah and Samuel my friends. She’s the kindest person I’ve ever known.”

Mr. Oliver stopped pacing and held up his palm to stop her. “The nobility of your actions is not in question here. But I’m not about to turn this into a trial on society and its treatment of Negroes. That’s a dangerous road for you. If you are determined to take the blame for this, then we need to focus on proving that you were defending yourself against an attack from a man with a history of violence toward you. That sure would be a whole lot easier if the Negroes could testify to the first attack.”

“They have names,” she muttered.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Oliver said.

“They have names. Hannah and Samuel. They are people, identified by their names, not their skin color.”

Mr. Oliver dropped his chin and looked at me. “Is she always like this?”

I nodded. “Especially when she’s right.”

Mr. Oliver grabbed his yellow pad from the table and began writing furiously. “Listen, we can deal with this. We just have to focus on convincing the jury that Chester attacked you. Matthew, you’ll testify first. I’ll have to address the healing, but let’s keep that to a minimum. You’ll acknowledge she was there, but that God healed you. Then I’ll go into Chester’s first attack. I’ll ask you to describe how you found her.”

Scraping her chair back, Ruby stood and walked to the window, keeping her back to me as she stared out. “We have to leave Samuel’s name out of this.”

“I’m not sure we can leave his name out of your account of the first attack,” Mr. Oliver said. “But I won’t ask about his involvement in the incident at the barn. Although, I wouldn’t feel I’d done my duty to you if I didn’t advise you that telling the truth in this case is your best chance to avoid prison…or worse.”

Ruby shook her head. It was all I could do not to go over to the window and start shaking some sense into her. “She ain’t gonna listen to reason.”

“I can see that,” Mr. Oliver said, turning his attention back to me. “I’d like to refute Brother Cass’s testimony, but I hesitate to impugn a respected pastor in the community. Is there anything he said you can directly contradict?”

“Definitely. The soup kitchen garbage for sure. Ruby’s no thief.”

“All right, then we’ll move on to Dr. Fisher. He’ll confirm your injuries from the first attack. I’ve also notified James that he’ll be called on to testify, but I haven’t seen him in court. We may have to fetch him.”

“I don’t know if he’ll help us,” I said. “He’s awfully torn, and he’s upset at the family right now, especially Ruby. Blames her for all the problems.”

Mr. Oliver frowned. “Wonderful.” He stood and approached Ruby at the window. “You’ll testify last. The way things are going, we may ask for a recess until tomorrow for your testimony. I want you to be fresh, and I want the jury to have a chance to forget about Cass’s testimony.”

Ruby nodded and hugged her chest. “No mention of Samuel, right?”

“Right.”

Then she turned to me. “No mention of Samuel. I mean it, Matthew. Keep him out of this.”

“All right,” I said. But I knew it was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done.

Walking up to the witness stand set my nerves on edge. I placed my hand on the Bible and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, knowing if I did, Ruby would never speak to me again. As I took my seat, I met her gaze and saw the fear there. I couldn’t hurt her, but I couldn’t lose her either.
Lord, tell me what to say.

I scanned the courtroom for a friendly face, but instead I found the face of my father near the back. He frowned as our eyes locked. What was he doing here? Had he spoken with Judge Woods? Someone on the jury? I shook the thoughts from my mind and concentrated on Mr. Oliver as he approached the witness stand. I had to get this right.

All seemed to go as planned as Mr. Oliver questioned me. I explained to the jury exactly what had happened the night I was healed, and how Ruby had never once claimed she’d done it herself. She’d always given glory to God for that, and I could say that as the honest truth. Then I explained how Mother had given Ruby permission to take the leftover jars of food for a needy family. I told them how much Ruby had been loved by the downtrodden folks that came into the church—how caring and gentle she’d been with them.

“Ruby’s always been that way. She gives more of herself than she has, and she never asks for anything in return. Anyone who knows her—really knows her—can see the light inside of her.”

The most difficult part was talking about the day I’d found her in the woods, nearly beaten to death. Remembering that scene still made my blood run hot.

“Tell us about how you found Miss Graves that day,” Mr. Oliver said. “What was her condition?”

I cleared my throat and focused on speaking clearly. Everything was riding on this. “I’d come home from college that weekend and went over to visit with her. Her mother seemed worried that she didn’t know where Ruby was, so I went looking for her. I knew she’d been taking food to Hannah and Samuel down in the woods, so I headed in that direction.”

“And who are Hannah and Samuel?”

“A colored woman and her mulatto boy that lived in a shack on the edge of Mr. Calhoun’s property at the time.”

“All right then, so you went looking for Ruby, and then what happened?”

“I didn’t know exactly where to go. I wandered around for a bit, until Samuel came out of the woods. He hollered at me that someone was hurt and to come quick.”

“How old was the he?”

“About nine or so.”

“And what was Ruby’s condition when you found her?”

“She was unconscious. Her head had a deep gash in it, and her face was all bruised up. Her leg also had a large gash, and it was bleeding pretty bad. I tried to rouse her, but she was completely out. I was afraid she was dead.”

I met Ruby’s gaze for a moment, remembering the fear that had engulfed me in those moments in the woods. Had I loved her then?

“What happened after that?” Mr. Oliver asked, snapping my thoughts back to the present.

“I carried her home. Her brother James went for Dr. Fisher, and he came out to the house and treated her. She was laid up for nearly a week. I went to see her several times before I had to go back to school.”

“Did she ever tell you who beat her so badly?”

“Not at first. She eventually told me it was Chester Calhoun.”

“Why do you think she waited so long to tell you?”

“’Cause she knew I’d be angry, and that I’d confront Chester about what he did.”

“And did you?”

I found Mr. Calhoun sitting next to his wife on the first bench in the gallery, and made eye contact. “I sure did. I went up to the Calhoun place with Ruby, and we told Mr. Calhoun what had happened. He didn’t want to believe us at first, but once Chester got there, and we started arguing about it, Chester admitted he’d been beating and raping Hannah.”

“And are you certain Mr. Calhoun heard this?”

“Oh yes. He heard him.” I looked directly at Mr. Calhoun. “Chester laid into his father for doing the same thing. Said he knew Samuel was his half-brother.”

Mr. Oliver’s eyes widened. I hadn’t told him that part, and maybe I shouldn’t have said anything at all, but I wanted the world to know what a hypocrite that man was. Whispers and muttering broke out among the spectators, and Mr. Calhoun glared at me, a red flush creeping up his neck. Mrs. Calhoun glared at him, and removed her hand from his arm.

Mr. Oliver tried to regain control of the interview. “Mr. Doyle, can you explain what happened after that?”

“Yes, sir. Chester threatened Ruby, saying that he’d finish the job next time, and so I laid him out.”

“You punched him?”

“I sure did. We brawled for a bit, until he’d had enough and drove off. But that was the day of the great tornado, and when we noticed the bad weather coming on, everyone headed for shelter.”

“Thank you, Mr. Doyle,” Mr. Oliver said. “No more questions.”

Mr. Garrett rose and approached the stand with a polite smile. “Mr. Doyle, I only have a couple of questions for you. Did you actually
see
Chester Calhoun ever lay one hand on Miss Graves?”

My stomach sank. “No.”

Mr. Garrett gave a pointed look to the jury. “And this boy, Samuel, where is he? Why hasn’t he come forward to support this story of an attack.”

I glanced at Ruby, aching to tell everyone in there the truth. “I don’t know.”

“Mr. Doyle, how did you feel about Ruby’s friendship with the Negro woman?”

“Excuse me?”

Mr. Garrett paused and narrowed his eyes. “How did you
feel
about Miss Graves visiting with the Negro woman?”

“I…I don’t know. I was worried about her.”

“And did you encourage her to give up the friendship at any time?”

“Yes, I did, but I don’t see—”

“No further questions.” Mr. Garret returned to his seat with a satisfied smirk, and I left the stand with very little hope that I’d done Ruby any amount of good.

As I took my seat behind her, she turned to me for just a moment. “Thank you,” she mouthed silently. I nodded, still wondering if I’d made the right choice. All I could do was pray that the jury would see as much of the truth as we could tell them, and that God would protect Ruby.

Dr. Fisher was called to the stand next. He ambled across the floor and offered a warm greeting to Judge Woods. “How’s that grandbaby of yours?”

Judge Woods lifted a corner of his mouth, the closest I’d ever seen to a smile. “Just fine. Just fine.”

Mr. Oliver approached the stand after Dr. Fisher had taken his oath. “How long have you known Miss Graves?”

Dr. Fisher beamed over at Ruby like a proud father. “Oh, I was there when she was born. Came into the world just a-hollering. Been her doctor ever since.”

“Did you treat Miss Graves when she was so badly injured in the fall of 1931?”

“Yes, unfortunately I did.”

“What was the extent of her injuries?”

“Well, let’s see. She had a bad concussion, a couple of broken ribs, a deep laceration on her forehead, another on her leg. I had to bandage her up pretty good.”

“Was her life in danger?”

“Oh yes. We kept a close eye on her those first few hours. She had a fever, and I wasn’t sure how much damage she might’ve had to her brain. Not to mention her blood loss.”

“But she recovered fully?”

“For the most part. She still suffers occasional headaches that I believe are a direct result of the concussion.”

Mr. Oliver walked over to the jury box and leaned against the rail, taking a tack from Mr. Garrett. “What is your relationship with Miss Graves at present?”

“She works as a midwife for me, and helps me take care of patients.”

“And what is your opinion of Miss Graves’s character?”

Again, Dr. Fisher smiled at Ruby. “Why she’s the most dedicated caregiver I’ve ever known. All my patients adore her. Many ask for her by name, especially the delivering mothers. She calms them and serves them with complete devotion. I trust her completely.”

“Thank you, Dr. Fisher. No further questions.”

Mr. Garrett rose and took position on the opposite side of the courtroom near the clerk. “Dr. Fisher, did Miss Graves ever say who attacked her in 1931?”

“No, she didn’t ever tell me who did it.”

“Did you see the attack?”

“No.”

“Have you ever seen Chester Calhoun lay a hand on Miss Graves, or anyone else for that matter?”

“No.”

“You have, however, responded to an injury inflicted
by
Miss Graves, have you not?”

Dr. Fisher paused, and his brow furrowed. Mr. Garrett walked toward him slowly, purposefully. “It’s been some time, so perhaps you’ve forgotten. Let me help you. Did you respond to a call for help at the Graves residence in the spring of 1927?”

“Why, um, yes. I…I believe so.” Realization hit Dr. Fisher, and his face went slack.

“And what was the nature of that call?”