The Architecture of the Arkansas Ozarks - Donald Harington [118]
“Objection!” cried Jim Tom Duckworth, leaping to his feet. “The prosecutor is asking the witness a leadin question.”
“Overruled,” decreed the judge. “Prosecution’s jist tryin to fine out what ole Coon—Mr. Ingledew—actually done to them varmints afore he throwed ’em out. Witness must respond.”
Isaac nodded.
Did Isaac Ingledew do other to the adversaries, combatants or victims, than merely bash in their heads? Isaac nodded. Did Isaac perhaps break their arms? Isaac nodded. Furthermore, did Isaac possibly stomp on their toes? Isaac nodded. Furthermore, did Isaac, by any chance, punch, sock, slug or whop the abdomens or regions of the midriffs in such a way as to deflate the lungs and conceivably cause internal injury? Isaac nodded. Was the motive of this sequence of bashing, stomping, breaking, and whopping to deprive the adversaries, combatants or victims of life, or merely to disable them?
“Objection!” said Jim Tom Duckworth. “The prosecutor is askin two separate questions.”
“Sustained,” said the judge. “Prosecution will ask one question at a time.”
Was it to deprive them of life? Isaac shook his head. Was it to merely disable them? Isaac nodded.
Your witness, the prosecutor said to Jim Tom, and Jim Tom stood before Isaac and asked, “Did ye expect them fellers to git up and lead normal lifes after all what you’d done to ’em?” Isaac shook his head. “Wal, did ye expect ’em to git up by and by or at least be carried off to bed to get well, or part well, and then maybe lead jist sorta normal lifes, maybe walkin on crutches, or carryin a cane, for the rest of their lifes?” Isaac nodded. “How long did ye expect ’em to live, thataway? Aw heck, I fergot I aint suppose to ask questions that caint be answered yes or no. Wal, did ye expect ’em to live to be a hundred?” Isaac shook his head. “Eighty?” Isaac shook his head. “Fifty, at least?” Isaac nodded. Jim Tom turned to the judge. “Yore Honor, as everbody knows, fifty is jist one half of a hundred, so I have done proved my point, namely and likewise, that my clients removed only half of the life of them fellers and this ole gent took the other half.” Jim Tom turned to the jury. “Fine gents of the jury,” he addressed them. “Half is half, as you can plainly see. You kin either both half-punish my clients and Isaac Ingledew, or else only punish half of my clients, and as there is eight of them, you’ll have to decide which four. The defense rests.”
The jury deliberated for three weeks and a day. They returned a verdict that the lynch law was unconstitutional and was therefore invalid. The judge instructed them that such a decision was not for them to make, or in any case was not their charge. Their charge was to determine whether the defendants were innocent, guilty, or half-guilty, and, if the latter, whether all eight of them were guilty or half-guilty, or whether four of them were guilty and four innocent, and if so, which four. The jury retired once more. They were never seen again. Some folks claimed that three of them had been seen fishing on the Buffalo River, and another one was thought to be living alone in an isolated cabin on Mount Sherman, but this was only hearsay and not admissible. The judge declared a mistrial and everybody went home.
It was peaceful everywhere after that. Willis Ingledew came home from the St. Louis World’s Fair and resumed managing his general store. To anyone who would listen, Willis could loquaciously boast for hours on end of the wonders he had seen at the fair: the buildings themselves, great palaces of white marble, any one of which was larger than all the buildings of Stay More put together. No one believed this. Willis insisted that there were a thousand white marble statues of people and animals ten times life-size. The Stay Morons shook their heads and looked at Willis out of the corners of their eyes. Willis claimed that on one day of the fair, there were over