Page 101 of Magnolia Summer

“Yes, he will.”

Everyone turned to see who had spoken. The man was well-dressed in a dark frock suit and black tie, and he made his way from the door to Truett’s father.

“John.” He clasped Father’s hand and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m here to help.”

Celia pressed herself against the bars of Truett’s cell. “Oh, Truett.”

He raised his eyes to hers. His legs felt heavy and wooden as he held her hand through the bars.

Suggs walked in the door. “What’s going on here?”

“That is what I would like to know.” It was the stranger who turned and faced the sheriff. His eyes blazed. “Are you Sheriff Suggs?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

“I’m Judge William Richardson, and you are under arrest.”

Sheriff Suggs’s jaw hardened and a muscle twitched in his cheek.

“I’m taking you back to Huntsville,” he continued, “to face a grand jury investigation into your alleged illegal activities, including the lynching of several men. And if the boy doesn’t survive you shooting him, I’ll have you convicted of the murder of Griffith Beverly.”

Suggs seemed to have cleared his face of all expression. He stared straight ahead, his lips pursed.

Judge Richardson glared at Sheriff Suggs and pointed at Truett, “I demand you release this man, as he obviously is not the hooded horseman.”

Suggs reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Judge Richardson took it from him. Then he tossed it across the room at Celia. She caught the key and inserted it into the lock. The door swung open. Truett rushed outside to find Griff.

* * *

Celia stood frozenas Truett ran out of the jail.

“You.” Judge Richardson turned to Grady. “Come with me. I want you to take me to Isaac and Sam Hartley so they can identify the rest of the sheriff’s men.” Judge Richardson looked out the window. “Though I believe my deputies have them all rounded up right outside.”

Truett was free, but would he be able to save Griff? His last brother.

She stood in the doorway and watched as Judge Richardson, with six or seven deputies, took Sheriff Suggs away, his hands cuffed behind his back. The sheriff’s face was red as a beet, and he spewed curses at everyone in sight. When the sheriff slowed his step, one of the Huntsville lawmen shoved his shoulder.

Celia and Truett’s parents hurried out with one mind, no doubt—to find out if Griff was still alive and if there was anything they could do to help Truett tend him.

Poor Griff.He must have stolen Truett’s black cape and hood, which they’d left in the cave, and gone after Suggs. Mrs. Beverly’s face was white, almost ashen, and she gripped her husband’s arm.

Her chest hollowed out at the thought that Griff might die. And her stomach wrenched at the pain Truett and his family would feel if he did.

* * *

Truett leanedover Griff’s shoulder as he worked to get the small round bullet out of the bloody flesh that just wanted to close in over it. Finally, he pulled it out and held it up, examining it to make sure it was intact. Convinced no fragments were left behind, Truett dropped the metal slug in the slop bowl and reached for the needle he needed to sew up his brother’s wound.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and upper lip and the pain in his side from his own bullet wound became more difficult to ignore. His blood loss made his legs weak and trembly, and his hands were beginning to shake. But he had to get this wound sewn up.

Someone touched his arm. When he glanced up, Celia offered him a glass of water. While he drank, she dabbed the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief—which was a good thing. He didn’t want his sweat dripping into Griff’s wound.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he rasped after gulping the entire glass of water.

“Someone has to look out for you.” She took the glass as he went back to stitching. Thankfully, Griff was still asleep from the laudanum he’d given him.

“Not feeling faint, are you? Just stay back and don’t look at what I’m doing.”

“I’m fine.”