Intervention by Margaret P.
(With thanks to my beta, Terri Derr)
Chapter Five (Words: 1,908)
The novelty of cold beans, dry bread and lukewarm water wears thin after five days, but at least when Johnny was finally herded from his cell to the courthouse his stomach wasn't rumbling. His ribs ached; not as bad as when he was locked up though so he figured they were only bruised.
"All right, I'm going." He stumbled down the jailhouse steps, rubbing his eyes and squinting into the mid-morning sunlight. "Why are we going so early, if my case is last?"
"You ask too many questions." Pedro, the guard, prodded him with the muzzle of his rifle and forced him to shuffle in leg irons and manacles towards the courthouse.
A surprising number of prisoners were already waiting under armed guard in the thin strip of shade offered by the back wall. Montero and friends weren't there, but Johnny exchanged smiles with Manuel.
The big fella looked reasonably tidy, all things considered, but Johnny's appearance sure wasn't going to win him any favours. Sleeping on the floor hadn't improved the state of his shirt any, and unusually, he felt in need of a shave. His jaw and the flesh above his left eye were tender and puffy to touch; he was almost glad he didn't have a mirror.
In court, Johnny and Manuel stood on the opposite side of the room to Montero and his gang. Those bastards were well washed behind the ears, wearing clean clothes and holding their sombreros respectfully in front of them like butter wouldn't melt. Johnny didn't even know where his hat was and as far as he knew, Manuel didn't own one.
"This court will come to order; Juez José Martinez presiding." The town clerk read the charges: disturbing the peace, assault, damage to private property, and in Johnny's case, attempted murder.
"That ain't true. If I'd wanted to kill him, he'd be dead." Johnny tried to take a step forward, but Pedro stuck a rifle barrel across his chest and forced him back.
"Silencio!" Judge Martinez glared over pince-nez spectacles. "Call the first witness."
The town clerk referred to the document in his hand. "Ruben Padilla."
Johnny twisted around to watch the bath house owner make his way to the stand. There were lots of other faces in the room: townsfolk, vaqueros and soldiers. Most he didn't recognize and all of them were men; Mexican courts didn't allow women to attend unless they were accused of a crime. Four grim-looking big bugs in suits sat along the front row; they were almost certainly the fathers of the other accused. Señor Montero was probably the one whispering instructions to their lawyer. Johnny and Manuel didn't have a lawyer; just Pedro and Jorge, the Rurales guards, who stood like statues beside them, making it look like they were dangerous criminals.
What interested Johnny most was that Alberto was seated on the aisle three rows back. And then he spotted Emilio standing against the rear wall, half hidden by a pillar.
The bath house proprietor gave his evidence. It was a fair account.
Then his assistant was invited to speak. His version sounded more like a scene from a dime novel, but allowing for some exaggeration, it was still a reasonably accurate description of what had happened. Neither mentioned the knife though. Hadn't they seen it?
Manuel recalled the knife, although he was interrupted several times by the lawyer with snide comments about his intelligence and observation skills.
Montero and his friends claimed they were only rough-housing. There was no threat to stab Johnny or harm him in any way with a knife. All men carried knives; that didn't mean they intended to use them. It was a fist fight, pure and simple, to teach el Americano some manners. Their stories were remarkably alike.
Johnny could have spat; Montero stood up straight in the dock, looking like the model citizen. "We didn't mean Madrid any serious harm."
Yeah, right. Someone sharing Johnny's opinion barked a laugh from the back of the courtroom.
"Silence in the court." Judge Martinez scowled at the culprit and then turned back to Montero. "Madrid and the prisoner, Manuel Ruiz, say you pulled a knife and threatened to cut off Madrid's ear."
"It was a joke. He knew I wasn't going to do it, but he shot me anyway. He is a pistolero. He tried to murder me like he did el jugador Cole in Santa Fe." There were murmurs in the audience. Johnny knew some would remember Cole, and a few would remember how the gambler treated his stepson. It wouldn't help Johnny's cause if they put two and two together.
"I never murdered anyone."
"No, so it seems. I have a telegram here to that effect." Judge Martinez waved a piece of paper in the air, his top lip curling. The bastard had checked, even though the incident had happened across the border. Johnny knew it wasn't done for his benefit. Likely Martinez was hoping some money could be made by handing Johnny Madrid over to the sheriff on the other side of the Rio Grande. He was disappointed, and disappointment clearly didn't agree with him. "But you did shoot Vicente Montero."
"He tried to cut me. I was defending myself. I could have killed him, but I didn't."
"He shot my son," Señor Montero shouted, pointing at Johnny. "He's a troublemaker, and I want him punished."
"They shall all be punished, señor. Please sit down." Judge Martinez didn't look any more impressed with Señor Montero than he did with Johnny. Perhaps Pedro was mistaken about them being related. Nope. It was a nice thought, but odds were the judge was just playing to his audience.
Montero's lawyer pressed his client to sit down and then politely begged the magistrate to be heard. "The fathers of these young men have compensated Señor Padilla for the damage done to his business, and they have already taken steps to punish their sons. The young men are sorry for what they have done. They have never stood in front of you before, and they will never do so again. Alas, the doctor says Vicente Montero may pay for his folly with a limp for the rest of his life. Surely that is punishment enough. I beg you to show mercy; they were driven to their foolhardy action by the taunting of this drifter. El Americano is to blame for all of this, and he is the one who should feel the full force of Mexican justice."
Judge Martinez studied the prisoners before him and referred to some papers on his desk. Then he cleared his throat. "Vicente Montero, Luis Avila, Ramon Silva and Alonzo Hernandez, you are hereby released into the custody of your fathers for sixty days upon settlement of all damages in equal shares, and the payment of a good behaviour bond of one hundred escudos each."
Two of the fathers stood up, protesting the amount of the bond, but the lawyer urged them to sit down and be quiet. After all, they would get most of the money back if their sons toed the line.
"Gracias, Juez Martinez." He bowed to the judge while Vicente Montero and his friends struggled to look repentant. Their fathers sat stony-faced in behind.
Martinez turned his attention to the spectators in the courtroom. "There are far too many troublemakers coming across the border into this town."
"Hear, hear!" Someone called out.
"I wish to send a message to other drifters and to any local men tempted to make things worse by supporting them."
Johnny shut his eyes. This wasn't going to be pretty.
"The accused, Manuel Ruiz, is sentenced to sixty days hard labour in the Chihuahua State Prison."
State prison? Shocked, Johnny opened his eyes again and stared straight into the magistrate's.
"The accused, Juan Madrid, is sentenced to one hundred and twenty days in the same facility."
"No!"
It was Alberto who called out, but by the time Johnny looked around, his cousin was trying to sink down in his chair to avoid notice. Emilio had disappeared. Others in the court had plenty to say though. A few yelled, "Unfair", but more jeered their support. Some, like Manuel's tabernero, shook their heads and looked resigned. Johnny even saw two men exchange coins.
"Order!" Judge Martinez banged the desk with his gavel. "Order!"
Johnny bit his bottom lip hard and focused on the flag on the wall, a sandstorm whirling inside him. Manuel didn't look too upset, but maybe he didn't understand where he was going.
Johnny had passed the Chihuahua State Prison on his way to El Paso del Norte. Shackled, half-starved prisoners had been working under armed guard in the surrounding fields, but it was the stench that had turned his stomach—sickly, like nothing he'd ever smelled before.
When he approached the side road leading to the fortress, he saw smoke. Instead of rising up into the sky it squeezed out under the iron gates and slithered into crops like a gigantic snake.
A peasant woman resting against a cart at the side of the road laughed at the look on his face.
"What makes the smoke run along the ground like that?"
"Fat. Two men tried to escape last night. They went before the firing squad this morning. The guards are burning the bodies." She had cackled like a witch.
Even four months in that hell hole could be a death sentence.
The courtroom was suddenly hot and airless. Johnny's head started to swim. Maybe he staggered a little, because Pedro put out a hand to steady him.
Judge Martinez and members of the audience got up to leave.
"Wait!"
The judge hesitated and then lowered himself back into his chair. Johnny twisted around to see what was happening. Spectators were hurrying to sit down again as an army officer strode up the aisle followed by six armed soldiers.
"I need men, Juez Martinez." The officer went right up to the bench. Even though his back was to the courtroom, everyone could hear him. "By the authority invested in me by President Benito Juárez, I request you give me all the men sentenced to the state prison today so that they may serve their time in the republican army instead."
"Are you sure, capitán? I have sentenced seven such criminals today, but men like Madrid there surely cannot be trusted with weapons."
The captain didn't even glance at Johnny. "If it pleases you, Juez, let me worry about that. The army has ways to ensure obedience. I am short of men, and I have just received orders. My company must return south to defend against the French. I will take all I can get—those four as well if you are prepared to change their sentencing?"
Montero, Avila, Silva and Hernandez looked suddenly alarmed as the captain nodded in their direction.
"No—unless they wish to volunteer?" Martinez raised his eyebrows at the group, but he seemed unsurprised when they shook their heads. "I have given my ruling. If the conditions are met, they are free to go. If you are confident you can make good use of the others however, you may have them. I commute their sentences from imprisonment to military service of the same duration."
The town clerk took his pen and made the changes in the court records, and on August 24th, 1864 Johnny joined the ranks of the Mexican army.
Notes:
1. This story is the sequel to Hate. Like Hate, it has its roots in The Beginning and From Highlands to Homecoming. All of these stories are back stories for characters created by Samuel A. Peeples for the TV series Lancer. See Warburton's Edge, Series 1, Episode 17 for the comment by Johnny that particularly inspired this story.
2. El Paso del Norte is the old name for Ciudad Juarez, Mexico.
4. In Chapter 5 I say that Mexican courts don't allow women unless they are accused of a crime. I have no idea whether this was true or not at the time. I simply wanted a reason for Luisa not being there.