Bayou Moon - Andrews, Ilona [70]
“The county seat,” she said.
He blinked.
“We decided we didn’t want Sicktree telling us what to do, so we formed our own county. Our own judge, militia, and everything.”
William pretended to look around.
“What are you looking for?” Cerise asked.
“The one horse that all of you share.”
She snickered like a kid. William preened. She thought he was funny.
Richard was frowning.
“He’s implying this is a one-horse town,” Cerise told him.
Richard raised his eyes to the sky briefly.
“Are you appealing to your grandparents as well?” William asked.
Richard sighed. “To my dead father, actually. He sees it fit to put me through all sorts of foolishness lately.”
They dismounted before the courthouse, tied their horses to the rail, and joined the crowd filtering into the building. Dozens of scents swirled in the wind, assaulting William’s nose. His ears caught bits and pieces of broken conversations. People edged too close to him, trying to make it through the doors.
A nervous giddiness squirmed through him. Crowds were dangerous and exciting, and usually he made it a point to stay away from them.
Keep a lid on it, he told himself. He had to get through this court thing, and then he’d be home free.
“We’re a bit provincial. Nothing ever happens here,” Richard said. “A court hearing is a big event.” He smiled.
Cerise smiled back.
“Did I miss a joke?” William asked.
“We’re going into battle smiling,” Richard said.
“To show that we aren’t worried,” Cerise added. “The Mire is watching and here reputation is everything.”
William leaned to her. She smelled like mud, but he caught a mere whiff of her real scent underneath and it made him want her. “Are you worried?”
“If I didn’t have to smile, I’d be pulling my hair out with both hands,” she said softly.
“Don’t. You have pretty hair, and it will take a long time to grow back.”
Her eyes sparkled, and she bit her lip, obviously trying not to laugh.
Inside the air proved colder than on the street. A fresh pine scent floated on the draft. Several pine saplings grew from barrels set in the corners. Opaque lamps hung from the ceiling on long chains. As they made their way through the crowded aisle, the lights came on in yellow electric glory.
William looked at Cerise.
“We have a power plant,” she said. “It runs on peat.”
This had to be some sort of human joke he didn’t get.
She looked at his face and grinned. “Seriously. Peat burns really well once you dry it. We heat the house with it.”
That had to be the craziest thing he’d heard. At some point they must’ve looked around and said, “Hey, what do we have a shitload of?”
“Mud! It’s cold and wet. I know, let’s burn it!”
“Well, it ain’t good for nothing else.”
What the hell? He supposed if fish could have legs, then mud could burn. Spider or no Spider, if their cats started flying, he would be out of here like a rocket.
Cerise took a seat in the front row, behind a table. Richard stopped by the row directly behind her and offered him a seat with a short bow. “Please.”
William sat. The other side of the courtroom had an identical table. The accused’s side, he guessed. Past the two tables, a raised platform supported the judge’s desk and chair. Two small lecterns, one for the plaintiff and the other for the defendant, faced the judge. The arrangement was familiar enough. He’d gotten intimately accustomed with the way courts were laid out at his court martial.
His memory served up another courtroom, a much larger sterile chamber he’d viewed through the bars of his cage. They had locked him up like an animal at the court martial. Even his advocate took care to stand outside of his reach. William recalled being pissed off about it at the time. Looking back, it might have been for the best. He’d been bitter and so full of pain, he didn’t care whom he hurt.
He caught Cerise looking at him and pulled himself back to the present.
A gray-haired woman, wizened like a dry apricot, slipped into a chair to William’s left and smiled at him. Her small black eyes sat like two pieces of shiny coal on her wrinkled face. Barely