The Glorious Prodigal (40 page)

“Objection!” Madigan shouted. “Supposition!”

Judge Markham wanted to overrule, but there were no grounds to do so. “Sustained. You must not read the mind of anyone, Mr. Cole.”

“Very well. I will not read his mind, but he
has
shot people in the past.”

“Objection!” Madigan said. “No bearing on this case!”

Dennis Cole said quickly, “I withdraw the statement.” He went on to state the record of Stuart Winslow, stressing the fact that he had at one point refused to defend himself when attacked by Hack Wilson. “In that case he kept the rules of his parole to the letter, but when his family was attacked, that was a different matter. I think Your Honor would not want any man to let his family be harmed while he stood idly by.”

The duel between Madigan and Cole went on for some time, but finally the judge said, “The court will recess for one hour, at which time I will render my verdict.”

Stuart was taken back to the small room by the bailiff. At once it was filled up with his parents and family, along with Ace and his family.

“Well, we’ve got to be prepared for the worst,” Stuart said. “The judge doesn’t have much choice.”

“Yes, he does, Daddy,” Merry insisted. “That judge has got to let you go.” Merry had sat beside her mother in the courtroom and understood little of the proceedings, but she knew well enough that her father was in danger. Now she sat on his lap and held to his hand tightly. “God’s not going to let anything happen to you. You’re too good.”

Stuart had to laugh. “I wish I agreed with you, honey. But we have to face the facts.”

“Well, the fact is that God is going to help us,” Leah said. “I know all the facts, but God’s people never go on facts, do they? If the children of Israel had faced facts at the Red Sea, they would never have gotten across.”

Richard nodded. “That’s right, son. We’re not going to give up. And no matter what that judge says, it’s not over.”

Ace, however, said, “I know the judge would like to let you go, but I don’t think he can. The governor was pretty plain.”

“Could you ever get in touch with the governor, Richard?” Diane asked.

“Yes. I talked to him on the phone. He said he didn’t want to get involved. I put the matter as well as I could, but that was all I could get out of him. I got the feeling that he’s sorry it all happened. But he’s walking a tight rope these days trying to get reelected, and I don’t think he needs another touchy issue to muddy his political ambitions. His opponents would say he’s soft on crime.”

The door opened at that time, and the bailiff said, “The judge is coming in.”

Leah put her arms around Stuart and hugged him. “It’ll be all right,” she said. “I know it will be.”

It took some time to get the court settled down, but finally Judge Markham got the quiet that he asked for. He hesitated and shot a glance at Stuart Winslow and then around the room. His position was a lonely one, and in all his years on the bench, he had never had to face such a difficult case. He
began quietly by saying, “It is a difficult thing to sit in this place. Many times I have had to give decisions that I regretted.” He went on for some time explaining how it was the judge’s responsibility to follow the law, no matter what his personal feelings. Everyone in the courtroom could see what was coming. He was leading up to a verdict against Stuart Winslow.

“And so it’s incumbent upon me to render a verdict, and I must do so. No matter what my personal feelings are—”

At that moment the door opened, and a hubbub of voices made everyone in the courtroom turn around. Judge Markham sat up straighter and exclaimed, “Governor!”

Governor Leonard Stokes strode down the aisle. He smiled, speaking to those he knew and exuding confidence. When he got to Stuart, he stopped and looked at him and smiled crookedly. “Good afternoon, Mr. Winslow. It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you again, Governor,” Stuart returned. He felt Dennis Cole’s elbow punch him, and he heard the attorney chuckle.

“Something’s happening, boy. Something’s happening!”

Planting himself before Judge Markham, Leonard Stokes said firmly, “I apologize, Your Honor, for invading your courtroom. It is unforgivable. And if such a thing had happened to me, I would have been very strict.”

Markham knew something was in the air. He was a supporter of Leonard Stokes—as Stokes was his supporter. The two had been friends for years and knew each other well. Markham said smoothly, “You’re very welcome in this courtroom anytime, Governor.”

“Actually, I come as more than a spectator. I haven’t had time to speak with the defense attorney, but I would like to ask him if he would call me as a witness.”

“Certainly, Governor! Certainly!” Dennis Cole jumped up, smiling, beaming, and waving his hand freely. “I do call Governor Leonard Stokes as a witness.”

Stokes took the witness stand, was sworn in, and then began by reviewing the case. He spoke rapidly at first as he reviewed the earlier history of his experience with Stuart Winslow. He then began to speak more slowly, and his face grew sober. “The law is about people,” he said. His voice was quiet but powerful, and everyone leaned forward to hear. “In this case justice must take off her blindfold. Stuart Winslow proved he was aware of the limits of his pardon. He allowed himself to be publicly beaten rather than resort to using his fists or any other weapon to defend himself.”

A murmur of agreement went over the courtroom, and Stokes, showman that he was, allowed the moment to go on. He turned to Stuart then and said in a firm voice, “But when this man’s wife and family and friends were attacked, he did what any
good
man would do. He sacrificed himself. He knew well that he would sit in a courtroom like this before a judge. He understood what the consequences could be, but he sacrificed himself.”

Again murmurs of affirmation and nods of agreement went around the courtroom. Stokes added, “In my judgment, we need men like Stuart Winslow out of prison serving their community, protecting their families. If the ruling goes against him,” he said, turning at this point to look directly at Judge Markham, “I will do all in my power to see that he does not ever enter a prison again.”

Judge Markham had noted a brace of reporters who had come in and knew that this story would be on the front page of the
Arkansas Gazette.
He had no doubt that the whole state would know! Even more important than that, his whole county would know what sort of a man he was. He also understood that if he ruled against Stuart, it would avail nothing, for the governor’s power would prevail. With a smooth face but with a glad note in his voice, he said, “I find myself in total agreement with the governor. And thereby I dismiss all charges against the defendant. Mr. Winslow, you are free to go.”

Cheers went up, and the governor left the witness chair and made his way to Stuart. The two shook hands, and Stokes said wryly, “I seem to have made a career of putting you in jail and getting you out. Let’s have no more of it, if you please, Mr. Winslow.”

“I’ll do my part, sir. You may depend on that.”

Stuart turned to his father, shook his hand, and said, “This is all your doing, Dad.”

“No. It’s the Lord’s doing, and I rejoice in it. Welcome home, son. Really home at last.”

****

The day following the trial was a quiet one for the Winslows. They got up and did their chores as usual. That afternoon Stuart took Raimey out rabbit hunting, and they had poor luck, but they laughed a great deal. As they were on their way home with only two undersized rabbits, Stuart said, “We didn’t do very well today, but you made two good shots.”

“I don’t care, Dad. We’ll do better next time, won’t we?”

“We sure will.”

As the two trudged on, Stuart said, “Raimey, I hope you never get off the track like I did.”

Raimey did not answer for a time, then finally he turned and gave his father a warm smile. “I won’t, Dad. I promise. Can we go run the trotline tonight?”

“Maybe tomorrow night. I’m pretty worn out now.”

The two reached home just in time for supper and ate hungrily. After supper Stuart played checkers with Raimey, allowing himself to be beaten once, but the next two games he was beaten not by accident. “You’re getting too good for me, Raimey,” he said. “We’re going to have to find another game.”

“Come on, Daddy. You promised to have a tea party with me,” Merry said.

The tea party went on until bedtime, and finally the two children were sent off. While Leah was putting them to bed,
Stuart got out his fiddle. He began to play very quietly, but the room was filled with the rich tones. He played for what seemed like a long time, then turned around to see Leah standing there watching him. She came to him and put her arms up, and he embraced her, still holding the fiddle and the bow.

“I know that song,” she said. “You played it on our wedding night.”

“It’s ‘Leah’s Song,’ ” he said. “I’ve been putting words to it for quite a few years now.”

“Let me hear them,” Leah said. She was looking up, and the love in her eyes was obvious. But she saw Stuart shake his head.

“I can’t tell you the words. Not here,” he said, releasing her and laying down his fiddle and bow.

“Why not?” she asked puzzled.

“Well, you see they’re such—well,
intimate
words that they can only be spoken in very
private
and intimate circumstances.”

Leah suddenly giggled. She turned and took his hand. “Come along with me, Stuart Winslow. I think I can find us a very private and intimate place!”

He pulled her back then and took her in his arms. “You’re the only woman in the world for me, Leah.”

“And you’re the only man for me.”

Stuart bent and kissed her and felt complete and whole for the first time, perhaps, in his life. Then he lifted his head and said, “Come along and I’ll tell you the words to ‘Leah’s Song.’”

GILBERT MORRIS spent ten years as a pastor before becoming Professor of English at Ouachita Baptist University in Arkansas and earning a Ph.D. at the University of Arkansas. During the summers of 1984 and 1985, he did postgraduate work at the University of London. A prolific writer, he has had over 25 scholarly articles and 200 poems published in various periodicals, and over the past years has had more than 70 novels published. His family includes three grown children, and he and his wife live in Alabama.