“You sent for me, Your Honor?” Houser asked, standing in front of Judge Marshal Craig.
The judge, who was a tall, lean man with a full head of white hair, shook his head and made a clucking sound.
“Brad, Brad, Brad. I am so disappointed in you,” the judge said.
“Disappointed in me? Why, what are you talking about, Your Honor? I don’t understand.”
“This is the affidavit that you gave to George Gilmore, is it not?” Judge Craig said, pushing a form across the desk.
“Oh,” Houser said quietly.
“You did sign this, didn’t you?”
Houser sighed. “I . . . I’m not sure.”
“Mr. Houser.” Judge Craig had dropped the first name. “It is a simple question. Did you sign this affidavit that you presented to another lawyer, knowing even as you signed it, that it was a lie, or didn’t you? And I remind you, Mr. Houser, that in the time I have been a judge, I have seen your signature a hundred times or more. So I ask you again. Did you sign this affidavit?”
“What . . . what is going to happen?” Houser asked quietly; the question, and the expression in his voice, admitting the guilt.
Judge Craig pulled the document back across his desk and looked at it for a moment as he shook his head.
“You are a lawyer, Mr. Houser, and you have been a very good one. To be honest with you, I was grooming you to take my place someday. But after this”—he took in the paper on his desk with a casual wave of his hand—“after this, that is no longer possible. Surely you’re aware that for committing such an act as falsifying an affidavit, you could go to prison for up to five years,” he said.
“What? Your Honor, surely you aren’t going to send me to prison!”
“I don’t want to. And it was caught so quickly there was no real damage done as a result of the false filing. Why did you do such a thing, Mr. Houser?”
“I thought I was looking out for my client.”
“You thought wrong. Don’t you see that, by what you have done, you have put your client in even greater jeopardy?”
“Yes, I suppose that is so. But, Your Honor, is there any way I can avoid prison?”
“Yes, there is a way. If you’ll sign a confession and repudiate this affidavit, I’ll drop the charges.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Houser said. “And I promise you, I’ll never do it again.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll never do it again,” Judge Craig said. “At least, not as a lawyer in Texas.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I intend to have you disbarred.”
“No, Judge Craig, please! Do you have any idea how embarrassing that would be? Why, I would be so humiliated that I could never face anyone in this town again.”
“You should have considered that before you knowingly lied.”
Houser lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
“What . . . what will I do? All I know is the law.”
“I’m sorry,” Judge Craig said. “But there is nothing I can do. You are an intelligent and well-educated man, Brad. I’m sure that you’ll be able to find something to do. It just won’t be the practice of law.”
“Yes,” Houser said, nodding. “Yes, I’ll not let this get me down. But whatever I do, I can’t do it here. I hope you understand, Your Honor, I’m going to have to leave Sulphur Springs. I’m probably going to have to leave Texas. I . . . I just can’t stay here.”
“Oh, I fully understand. I’m sorry, Brad, but I’m sure you realize that you brought this on yourself. I wish you good luck, wherever you go.”
* * *
The next afternoon a few of Houser’s friends came to the depot with him, to see him off. Robert Dempster, the banker, was there. So was Sheriff Peach. Rosemary Woods, who ran the Saddle and Stirrup Saloon, was there as well. Rosemary had always entertained the notion that someday she and Houser would be married.
That was not a notion Houser shared.
“I don’t understand why you are leaving,” Dempster said. “Since the bank was robbed, we need a lawyer now, more than ever before.”
“It was Judge Craig who suggested that I leave,” Houser said.
“Why?”
“I . . . I did something wrong. I signed a false document.”
“Hell, you mean you lied about somethin’?” Sheriff Peach said. “Who the hell ain’t told a tall tale now ’n then? I don’t know why that would make you think you have to leave town.”
“You don’t understand, Sheriff. I am a lawyer, an officer of the court. Falsifying an official document is the same thing as committing perjury. Why, if Judge Craig didn’t have such a good heart, I could have wound up in prison.”
“But you ain’t goin’ to prison, are you?” Sheriff Peach asked. “I mean, if you was, wouldn’t the judge have said somethin’ to me?”
“I’m not going to prison, but it’s something almost as bad. I’ve been disbarred.”
“What does that mean?” Rosemary asked.
“It means I can’t practice law anymore.” He turned his attention to the banker. “So, Bob, even if I were to stay, I would no longer be able to represent you.”
“That’s all right, honey. I’m sure Mr. Prescott would hire you, and you could run the Saddle and Stirrup Saloon with me,” Rosemary offered.
“No, I couldn’t. I appreciate the offer, I really do. But you folks have no idea how humiliating a disbarment really is. There is no way I could stay in Sulphur Springs, or even in Texas, and hold my head up.”
The sound of a whistle signaled the approaching
