That Night at the Palace (30 page)

“You ruined my life,” Sarah said, staring at Richard as the two men came around in front of the car toward her.

“Now, how did I do that? We just had a little fun, that’s all.”

“My husband is a good man. He didn’t deserve what you’ve done,” Sarah proclaimed with tears streaming down her face.

Laughing, Richard said, “Sarah, I’ve never met your husband. What did I do to him?”

“I’m going to have a baby. Your baby,” she said angrily, no longer trying to hold back the tears.

Richard held up both hands. “Hold on, now. You can’t blame that on me. We know what you do for money; besides, how do you know that it’s not your husband’s?”

“I’m not a prostitute,” she said furiously. “I lived behind that house. I never even went inside.”

Richard and Peterson both laughed.

“Inside or out back,” Richard said, “you’re a whore, and ain’t no whore gonna blame me ‘cause she’s pregnant.”

“It’s yours,” she said firmly, indicating that there was no debate on the subject. “You held a gun to my head and you ruined my life. Irwin will divorce me. I’ll be out on the street with a baby, and it’s all your fault.”

Peterson laughed. “Come on, Sarah, this was bound to happen. Girls like you shouldn’t get married.”

“Why don’t you calm down,” Richard offered. “Hop in the car, and we’ll go for a ride. I hear there’s a new roadhouse down by Crockett.”

“No. I’m never going anywhere with you.”

Richard opened his suit coat and revealed a handgun tucked in his belt.

Jesse froze. The expression on Sarah’s face said everything.

“Not this time. You’re not going to force me or anyone else to do that again,” she said as she pulled the revolver from her purse.

“Rick, she’s got a gun,” Peterson yelled.

Sarah wasted no time. Richard couldn’t even respond.

Cliff was still sitting on the tailgate with Cherokee when he heard a sound from up the street.

“Was that a gunshot?”

Cherokee looked up the direction that Cliff was looking, “Get in the truck,” he ordered as he quickly lowered his weight onto his peg and crutch.

Cherokee was too late. Cliff leaped off the tailgate and was running up Main Street before the old Indian had gotten the words out of his mouth.

Richard fell, stunned from the shot as a second bullet ricocheted off the car door.

Peterson leaped at Sarah and grabbed at the gun. She fell to the ground with Peterson on top of her. He punched her violently in the face and her head hit the ground with a thud as a third shot hit the brick wall just above Jesse’s head. Peterson stood and began kicking at Sarah’s hand. The gun went flying into the brick wall of the Palace. Angrily, Peterson continued to kick Sarah over and over as she lay there crouched on her side crying.

Jesse sat stunned and terrified, not knowing what to do as the man continued to kick her.

Richard sat up with blood streaming from his side.

“Pete,” Richard called out.

Peterson looked at his brother, suddenly realizing that Richard had been hit and ran to his side.

“Good god. Get in the car.”

Peterson helped his brother get to his feet. Jesse watched motionless as Peterson helped Richard get into the back seat of the car only a few feet in front of him.

Once Richard was in the car Peterson got in the driver seat and slammed the door shut. As his brother started the car Richard looked out the back window directly at Jesse.

Peterson slammed the car into reverse just as Richard yelled, “There’s a kid.”

As the car backed up Peterson turned his head to look up the side alley next to the police station just as Cliff came running around the corner. Peterson slammed on the brake. The car slid to a stop with the headlights shining on Jesse.

Jesse stood stunned in the headlights as Cliff came to his side. Suddenly, Cherokee pulled his Ford to a stop at the end of the alley where Jesse and Cliff were standing.

Peterson looked at the two boys and then at the headlights shining on him from Cherokee’s truck and hit the accelerator and flew backward out of the alley.

As the car was backing out of the alley Richard looked at Cherokee; the old man came hobbling with surprising speed toward the boys.

The kids stood motionless as they watched the car back away. Jesse then looked back at Sarah. She was sitting up with the gun in her hand. She slowly put the gun to her head.

“No!” Jesse screamed as he dove toward her.

She had not seen the two boys prior and was startled and turned her head in their direction. At the same moment that Jesse landed on her, the bullet exploded from the gun and into her neck and then deep into her chest.

Jesse landed next to Sarah as her body fell limp against him, blood pouring from her neck. Cliff, followed by Cherokee, came around the corner and saw Jesse holding the woman as blood flowed from her neck. Cliff came and squatted next to Sarah and Jesse as the old man stood back, leaning on his crutch.

Sarah coughed as she looked at the two boys. “You boys shouldn’t be here.”

“I’ll go for help,” Cliff said as he started to stand.

Sarah grabbed his arm, “No.”

She coughed again, and blood came out of her mouth. “I’m gonna die. I need to die.”

Jesse looked at Cherokee who shook his head. The old warrior had seen bullet wounds before. Some could be saved, but some couldn’t. Cherokee had seen enough to know the difference, and this one couldn’t be saved.

“Hold on, Mrs. Stoker,” Jesse said tenderly. “You’ll be okay.”

Sarah looked at Jesse and then up at Cherokee and smiled and said weakly, “You can’t fix this, boys. I’m not an old Ford.”

Sarah coughed some more, and Jesse held her more tightly against him.

“Boys,” she began, “take care of Jewel for me. Irwin loves her, but she needs the two of you. Promise me that you’ll take care of her.”

The boys, with tears in their eyes, nodded as Jesse said, “We will.”

Sarah coughed again, and more blood came out of her mouth.

“Did you boys hear all that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jesse answered hesitantly.

“You know about the baby?”

Jesse nodded.

Sarah coughed some more.

“Don’t let Jewel find out. Please, don’t let her know what happened tonight. She’s innocent. Don’t let anybody know. Take my body to the woods. Don’t let ‘em find me like this. Don’t tell anybody about those men. Don’t let the Crawford girls know their daddy was here. It will bring so much pain. Nothin’ good can come from that. Those are good girls, and they don’t deserve to be hurt that way, and neither does their mama. Please, please, don’t let that happen. Boys, take care of my Jewel. She didn’t deserve a mama like me. She didn’t deserve any of this,” Sarah pleaded as she looked directly into Jesse’s eyes.

As he held her tightly Jesse felt life leave her body.

Both boys silently sobbed as the woman fell lifeless in the dark alley. No one spoke for several minutes, and then finally Jesse let her lay on the ground. The only sound was from the carnival at the end of the street.

Eventually Cherokee broke the silence. “There’s gonna be a lot of questions about what happened tonight. You boys shouldn’t be involved. I’ll go get Chief Hightower. I’ll tell ‘im that I heard gunshots and came down here and saw a car pull off and her layin’ here shot. You two shouldn’t be involved.”

“No,” Jesse said resolutely. “If you do that Jewel’ll know her mom killed herself. Besides, they’re likely to think you did somethin’.”

“That’s right, Cherokee,” Cliff added. “They hung Bucky for doing less. A colored man and a dead white woman - they’ll lynch ya for sure.”

Jesse looked at Cliff. “Did anyone else hear the shots?”

“I don’t think so. The carnival was makin’ too much noise. We only come ‘cause we knew you were down here.”

“Then here’s what we do,” Jesse began. “Cherokee, you need to get out of here right away before someone sees your truck. Cliff, you and me will hide Mrs. Stoker behind those trashcans. Then we’ll go home. We’ll meet back here in an hour. We’ll put her in the delivery truck and haul her someplace.”

“I can’t let you boys do that,” Cherokee argued.

“Jewel’s our friend and we promised her mama to take care of her. This is where it starts,” Jesse proclaimed. “She was right, too. If this gets out, we’ll have to tell what we saw. Everybody will find out about Mr. Crawford and that other man, but they won’t get in any trouble ‘cause she did all the shootin’. But Gemma and Jettie and Jewel will all get hurt. And for what? Mrs. Stoker was right. They don’t deserve what will happen. But if we hide her like she asked, well, everybody will eventually forget about it.”

“Jesse’s right, Cherokee,” Cliff added. “We can’t let nobody know about this.”

“Boys, there’s laws. You can’t just get rid of a person like she’s trash. Somebody’s gonna come lookin’ for her.”

“I know. We’ll have to put her where nobody’s goin’ to find her. And she ain’t trash, Cherokee. She’s Jewel’s mama.” Jesse finished.

#

NEW BIRMINGHAM, TEXAS

1:00 a.m., Sunday August 9, 1936

The boys rumbled down the little dirt road past the shantytown in the old Model-T stake-bed. Jesse was driving. The truck was noisy and sure to wake some people, but they had to take that chance.

The two boys met up at Washington’s and got the truck. They had to push it out to the road to avoid waking Mr. Washington, which was quite a job. The slope up to the highway was a lot steeper than either boy had ever imagined, and more than once they lost control and let the truck roll back into the lot behind the feed store. Finally when they got it to the highway and started it, they realized that it was way too noisy to drive down the alley without waking someone, most likely Chief Hightower, who would be sleeping right next to where Sarah was laying.

They finally decided to leave the truck parked by the highway and walk down the alley and carry Sarah back. Cliff had brought along an old tarp, so they wrapped her up. Then the two tried to lift her. Neither boy expected that she would be so heavy. The boys were already worn out from pushing the truck up to the highway. They finally decided that it would be easier to push the truck down the alley, put Sarah in and then push it back to the highway.

Once they were finally in the truck, neither boy spoke. They both knew where they were going and what they had to do.

Jesse drove slowly into New Birmingham. Without headlights it was difficult to see, but he could make out the main road and the mine and smelter at the end of the street.

The old Ford coughed as they passed the Southern Hotel.

Inside the hotel Shakes woke with a start. In all the time he had lived there the only sound he had heard at night was the occasional hoot owl. Suddenly it sounded as if an army was passing through. He leaped to his feet from his little bed and crept to the door. Out front he saw an old Ford stake-bed slowly pass by. The truck came to a stop at the old mineshaft.

Shakes crept through the darkness along the main street in order to watch. Two boys got out of the truck. They couldn’t have been more than ten or twelve years old. Shakes finally got close enough to recognize them. They were the two boys who visited his little paradise a few weeks before. He clearly got a look at the one who had tried to come into the hotel.

Shakes watched as the boys lifted something off the back of the truck. It was heavy. Much too heavy for two boys of that size to carry, but they struggled and managed to get it to the edge of the shaft. Though he wasn’t sure, Shakes thought that it looked like a body. They then tied a rope around it and looped the rope around the axel of the truck and began lowering it into the shaft. It was all they could do to lower it without losing control. Both boys were on the ground with their feet jammed against the rear tire of the truck as they let the rope slowly slide through their hands. Finally they came to the end of the rope. The boys held tight for a moment as they whispered back and forth. Finally they let go of the rope. A moment later Shakes heard a loud splash.

The boys then got into the truck and drove out of town.

Chapter 12

NECHES RIVER BRIDGE

8:40 a.m., Thursday December 4, 1941

N
athaniel Elbridge Cockwright was on his way to having the day of his life. Up to this point the case hadn’t been going as well as he’d planned.
The fingerprints had been solid, and there was no question that they belonged to Rose, and there was equally no question that Rose had opportunity, motive, and ability. All things considered, it should be a simple case to prosecute. The kid did it; it was just a matter of convincing the jury to convict.

Wilhelm Dinkler III, however, was not making it all that easy. Dinkler had managed to claim that Rose’s prints could be months old, and pointed out that Jesse had been seen in the car any number of times and even managed to produce a witness, well, actually, seven witnesses, who claimed to have seen the defendant behind the wheel of that particular car more than once. It took some smooth talking for
Nathaniel
to sway the jury. The bottom line, as Nathanial so eloquently pointed out, was that all the witnesses were residents of Elza, and it had become well known that the residents of Elza were almost completely and, quite frankly, inexplicably united in support of the young killer. As a matter of fact, and
Nathaniel
used this in his argument, at that very moment there hung a banner across Main Street reading “Free Jesse.” One couldn’t blame them too much. The kid had grown up in the town, and those people were understandably hesitant to believe that one of their own would do such a thing, another argument that
Nathaniel
had used. Still, the punk had murdered one of their own. It’s hard to believe that the entire town would behave so foolishly. How would these cow-herders feel if the kid somehow got acquitted and went out and did it again?

Fortunately these turnip-growers had someone like
Nathaniel
to protect them from their own poor judgment. That, of course, is why governments and laws exists. The simple and uneducated elect those who are wiser and better equipped to make decisions that the masses are not capable of making on their own.

Fortunately for the people of Elza, the course of the trial was about to change. Everything had been planned.
Nathaniel
had orchestrated the entire trial to lead up to this day. He’d managed to get just what he wanted on the jury. With the exception of two, all the jurors were low-income farmers, or in the case of three, wives of farmers. The two exceptions were no less helpful to the prosecution. One of them was a railroad worker who spent most of his days fending off hobos, and the other was a parts manager at the Ford dealership in Jacksonville. None, not a single juror, was anywhere remotely as privileged as the defendant. All it was going to take was for those twelve hard-working citizens to get one good look at the place where this son of a rich oil man left his “best friend,” the son of a poor dirt-farmer, to die, and the case would be over. Dinkler could do what he wanted; he wouldn’t be able to get that image out of those people’s minds.

Nathaniel
had arranged for three dozen copies of the crime scene photos to be printed and ready so that each juror, and of course Judge Buckner, could stand on that bridge and look down and see just how brutally this innocent kid had been killed. There was not a jury in Texas that would vote to acquit after that.

Nathaniel
stood with a broad smile next to the bridge with Primrose, who had in his hands the photographs. Dinkler, his client, and the three witnesses, as well as the judge, two bailiffs, and the twelve jurors, walked toward them along the tracks. Cockwright couldn’t help but smile; he was about to hit a grand slam, and there was nothing this Houston lawyer could do about it.

As they approached, Judge Buckner stepped up on the tracks between the two iron supports of the bridge and addressed the group, “Once again, you are to behave just as if we were still in the courtroom. Jury, until we adjourn to the vehicles, you are not to speak to one another, and any questions to the attorneys or witnesses are to be directed first to me. Witnesses, you are all still under oath. Does anyone have any questions?”

Cockwright rolled his eyes. Of course, those dimwitted hoe-pullers had questions. Only five of them had better than a fifth-grade education.

Judicial integrity was, of course, imperative, but
Nathaniel
couldn’t understand why Buckner was so insistent that there be no outsiders present - not even the press. This case was the biggest story in Texas, and this little excursion was going to introduce the most important testimony in the case. Not allowing the press was going to cheat the people of the state the right to see judicial process played out at its finest.

Nevertheless, despite
Nathaniel
’s protests, the Judge’s word was final, and he had decided that the press had to remain all the way down the tracks at the road crossing, which meant that not a single photograph of
Nathaniel
making his case right above where the bloody killing took place was going to make the morning papers. Once more,
Nathaniel
Elbridge Cockwright was going to be cheated out of a guaranteed vote-winning opportunity.

“Since there are no questions,” Buckner continued, “Mr. Cockwright, you may call your first witness.”

Nathaniel
had thought long and hard about how proceed. He could make a long impassioned speech and then call the witness. Or he could start by passing out the photographs and then let the witness speak. Finally he decided to play this with caution. He’d begin by letting the witness tell his story, followed by letting the half-wit police chief tell his story. Then he’d pass out the photographs and ask for the judge to allow the jurors to view the scene for themselves. The way
Nathaniel
saw it, the more he built up the scene, the greater the impact.

“I’d like to call Mr. Hunker Lowery, your Honor.”

That name in itself said everything one needed to know about the collective intelligence of the resident of Cherokee County Texas. Who, other than another back-woods pea-farmer, would name his kid, Hunker?
Nathaniel
didn’t at first believe that Hunker was a real name until he’d had Coleman check the county records. Sure enough, it was right there. Along with his equally dimwitted brother, Toad, who quite coincidentally, looked like a toad.

“Mr. Lowery, will you step up here onto the bridge?”

Lowery walked up to Buckner.

“Mr. Lowery, I will remind you that you are still under oath.”

“Yes, sir, your honor, sir,” Hunker replied. Chief Hightower had spent more than an hour that morning telling the two brothers how to behave in court. That was all the more difficult since, although court was taking place, they were not physically in a courtroom. The concept of being in court while not being in court completely dumbfounded the Lowery brothers. Hunker especially couldn’t understand why he had to get dressed up just to go down to the bridge. He also didn’t understand why he couldn’t bring his rifle.

“Mr. Lowery,”
Nathaniel
, began, “you were the first to spot the deceased?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please tell the jury what happened.”

Hunker swallowed hard. He wasn’t accustomed to speaking to large groups of people.

“Well, me and Toad, we’d been huntin’.”

“Toad? Would be your brother?”
Nathaniel
interrupted for clarification.

“Well, yeah. He’s right over there,” Hunker explained pointing at his brother. “You met him last week, don’t you remember?”

“Yes, Mr. Lowery, I remember your brother. I just wanted to clarify for the jury. Please continue.”

Hunker paused, not having a clue what the word “clarify” meant. He froze for a moment as he looked at the faces of the jurors, all of whom seemed to know what the C.A. had just said. He finally looked at Chief Jefferson Hightower, who was standing next to Toad. Jefferson smiled slightly and nodded his head.

“Well,” Hunker continued hesitantly as he glanced back at the C.A., expecting to be interrupted. “Me and Toad was walkin’ across this bridge when I saw the tail of this big gator. I didn’t waste no time ‘cause gators move real quick, and if ya don’t shoot quick ya ain’t gonna get no second chance. They’ll duck under.”

“Where exactly were you and your brother standing when you spotted the alligator?”
Nathaniel
asked.

Hunker pointed to the other end of the bridge. “We was right over there.”

“And where was the alligator?”

“The gator was right down there,” Hunker said as he turned and pointed to the riverbed just below where he was standing.

“Please tell us what happened next.”

Hunker didn’t answer. He just looked down the slope.

“Mr. Lowery, please continue your story,” Nathaniel repeated.

Hunker just stared down the slope, now showing some shock on his face.

“Good lord, that’s Jewel Stoker,” he said as he suddenly leaped off the bridge and down the slope.

“Mr. Lowery, you are under oath,” Nathaniel said, almost yelling as Hunker disappeared from sight.

On the opposite side of the tracks Chief Hightower suddenly realized what was happening and ran across. When he got to the side of the bridge he looked down and said, “Dear God,” as he looked at Jewel Stoker’s mangled body impaled upon a small stump left broken from when they pulled Cliff’s body from the same spot.

“Your honor,” Nathaniel said in dismay as the judge also ran to look over the side of the bridge.

“Dear Lord,” Buckner said when he saw the girl’s body lying on her back with a piece of tree stump protruding out of her chest.

“Your honor, please,” Nathaniel pleaded,

Buckner furiously whipped his head toward the C.A. “Nathaniel, shut up!” He then looked at one of the bailiffs. “Jimmy, get the jury out of here right now!”

As the bailiff began herding the jury away, Jesse, followed by his attorney, and Toad Lowery rushed across the tracks and looked down from the bridge. Hunker was next to the body.

“It’s Jewel Stoker alright,” Hunker yelled up. “She’s been here a while, Jefferson. The critters have been eatin’ all over her. Ain’t no gator tracks, though. That one I shot must be the only one around here.”

“Get back up here, Hunker,” the Chief ordered. “Be careful not to step in any tracks.”

Jefferson then turned to the Judge. “Your honor, I need to ask you to get your people out of here.”

“Understood Chief,” Buckner began just as Nathaniel got to the side of the bridge.

“Your, honor, you can’t send the jury off, I need to set the scene, and I have pictures.”

“Damn it, Nathaniel, you open your mouth again and I’m pullin’ you off this case and sendin’ it up to Anderson County.”

The judge looked at Dinkler and Jesse, who were standing next to him.

“Mr. Dinkler, I need you to get your client back to the courthouse, right now,” Buckner ordered.

Then the judge looked at Jesse who was standing stunned as he looked down at the riverside.

“Are you okay, son?” Buckner asked tenderly.

Jesse just stood there without saying a word. Dinkler grabbed his arm and pulled, but Jesse didn’t budge.

“Please, Jesse.” We need to go,” Dinkler said.

Finally Jesse looked at him and the two walked away.

“Go with them, Cockwright,” Buckner ordered to Nathaniel, who was still staring off the bridge.

Nathaniel looked at Jefferson with eyes wide. “You’re going to get crime scene photographs of this aren’t you?”

“Go!” Buckner ordered, and Nathaniel headed away with a bit of delight.

As they were walking away, the Chief looked over at Toad, who was staring off the bridge. “Toad, you’re a deputy again. Go into town and find Corporal McKinney. Also find Shorty and Hobe and tell them that they’re deputies, too.”

“Does this mean that we get paid again?”

“Yes, Toad,” Jefferson answered somewhat impatiently. “You and your brother will get paid. Now go get the Corporal.”

Toad headed down the tracks and looked over at his brother who was coming up the slope. “Hunker, we’re deputies again.”

“Hunker,” Jefferson said, looking at the two, “go down the tracks a bit and make sure nobody comes down here.”

Hunker nodded and scuffled off with his brother.

The judge watched with disgust as the C.A., now joined by his deputy, walked somewhat joyfully to their car, then he turned to the Chief. “That kid didn’t do this, did he, Chief?” He said evenly.

“No, sir, he didn’t.”

“He didn’t kill that kid we’re tryin’ him for either, did he?”

Jefferson looked at the judge somewhat uncomfortably but also with a bit of new respect. “No, sir, he didn’t. We know who did it. We don’t know where he is, and we don’t have enough evidence, but we know who he is.”

“I’m going to put this case on hold, so you can have some more time. The C.A.’s almost dancin’ ‘cause he’s got another murder to prosecute. The papers will be all over this. Most likely they’re goin’ to be pointin’ all their fingers at that boy.”

Buckner looked back down the hill, “You’ve got to get this guy, Chief. This is a mean one. When you and that Ranger get finished here, I want you two to come see me. I don’t care if it’s after midnight, just come out to my house and wake me up. You got that?”

“Yes, sir, Judge.”

Jefferson watched as the judge continued to look down at Jewel.

“Good God, Chief. I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Jefferson looked down the slope. “That’s what I said when we found Cliff.”

#

RUSK, TEXAS

9:15 p.m., Thursday December 4, 1941

It had been a long afternoon and evening for Chief Hightower and Corporal McKinney. It was almost noon before Toad had managed to find the Corporal and get him back to the river. They then spent the next three hours searching the riverbed and railroad tracks for evidence. After that the chief and corporal spent the rest of the day driving all over East Texas trying to find Richard Crawford. They were on the way home for the evening when Jefferson suddenly remembered that the judge had all but ordered him to give him a report.