Under Sidney’s cross-examination, and coaching, he poured out the story of Bonneyville’s wrongs at the hands of the reactionary landowners, and the atrocious behavior of the Hickock goon-gang. Finally, after extracting the last drop of class-hatred venom out of him, Sidney turned him over to me.
“How many men were inside the jail when the three defendants came claiming sanctuary?” I asked.
He couldn’t rightly say, maybe four or five.
“Closer twenty-five, according to the Rangers. How many of them were prisoners in the jail?”
“Well, none. The prisoners was all turned out that mornin.’ They was just common drunks, disorderly conduct cases, that kinda thing. We turned them out so’s we could make some repairs.”
“You turned them out because you expected to have to defend the jail; because you knew in advance that these three would be along claiming sanctuary, and that Colonel Hickock’s ranch hands would be right on their heels, didn’t you?” I demanded.
It took a good five minutes before Sidney stopped shouting long enough for Judge Nelson to sustain the objection.
“You knew these young men all their lives, I take it. What did you know about their financial circumstances, for instance?”
“Well, they’ve been ground down an’ kept poor by the big ranchers an’ the money-guys. …”
“Then weren’t you surprised to see them driving such an expensive aircar?”
“I don’t know as it’s such an expensive—” he shut his mouth suddenly.
“You know where they got the money to buy that car?” I pressed.
Kettle-Belly Sam didn’t answer.
“From the man who paid them to murder Ambassador Silas Cumshaw?” I kept pressing. “Do you know how much they were paid for that job? Do you know where the money came from? Do you know who the go-between was, and how much he got, and how much he kept for himself? Was it the same source that paid for the recent attempt on President Hutchinson’s life?”
“I refuse to answer!” the witness declared, trying to shove his chest out about half as far as his midriff. “On the grounds that it might incriminate or degrade me!”
“You can’t degrade a Bonney!” a voice from the balcony put in.
“So then,” I replied to the voice, “what he means is, incriminate.” I turned to the witness. “That will be all. Excused.”
As Bonney left the stand and was led out the side door, Goodham addressed the bench.
“Now, Your Honor,” he said, “I believe that the prosecution has succeeded in definitely establishing that these three defendants actually did fire the shot which, on , deprived Silas Cumshaw of his life. We will now undertake to prove. …”
Followed a long succession of witnesses, each testifying to some public or private act of philanthropy, some noble trait of character. It was the sort of thing which the defense lawyer in the Whately case had been so willing to stipulate. Sidney, of course, tried to make it all out to be part of a sinister conspiracy to establish a Solar League fifth column on New Texas. Finally, the prosecution rested its case.
I entertained Gail and her father at the Embassy, that evening. The street outside was crowded with New Texans, all of them on our side, shouting slogans like, “Death to the Bonneys!” and “Vengeance for Cumshaw!” and “Annexation Now!” Some of it was entirely spontaneous, too. The Hickocks, father and daughter, were given a tremendous ovation, when they finally left, and followed to their hotel by cheering crowds. I saw one big banner, lettered: Don’t Let New Texas Go to the Dogs and bearing a crude picture of a z’Srauff. I seemed to recall having seen a couple of our Marines making that banner the evening before in the Embassy patio, but. …
X
The next morning, the third of the trial, opened with the defense witnesses, character-witnesses for the three killers and witnesses to the political iniquities of Silas Cumshaw.
Neither Goodham nor I bothered to cross-examine the former. I couldn’t see how any lawyer as shrewd as Sidney had shown himself to be would even dream of getting such an array of thugs, cutthroats, sluts and slatterns into court as character witnesses for anybody.
The latter, on the other hand, we went after unmercifully, revealing, under their enmity for Cumshaw, a small, hard core of bigoted xenophobia and selfish fear. Goodham did a beautiful job on that; he seemed able, at a glance, to divine exactly what each witness’s motivation was, and able to make him or her betray that motivation in its least admirable terms. Finally the defense rested, about a quarter-hour before noon.
I rose and addressed the court:
“Your Honor, while both the prosecution and the defense have done an admirable job in bringing out the essential facts of how my predecessor met his death, there are many features about this case which are far from clear to me. They will be even less clear to my government, which is composed of men who have never set foot on this planet. For this reason, I wish to call, or recall, certain witnesses to clarify these points.”
Sidney, who had begun shouting objections as soon as I had gotten to my feet, finally managed to get himself recognized by the court.
“This Solar League Ambassador, Your Honor, is simply trying to use the courts of the Planet of New Texas as a sounding-board for his imperialistic government’s propaganda. …”
“You may reassure yourself, Mr. Sidney,” Judge Nelson said. “This court will not allow itself to be improperly used, or improperly swayed, by the Ambassador of the Solar League. This court is interested only in determining the facts regarding the case before it. You may call your witnesses, Mr. Ambassador.” He glanced at his watch. “Court will now recess for an hour and a half; can you have them here by 1330?”
I assured him I could after glancing across the room at Ranger Captain Nelson and catching his nod.
My first witness, that afternoon was Thrombley.
