Free The Last Buckaroo by J. R. Wright Page B

horse trade gone bad.  The man had lied about the horse ’ s
age.  Upon later examination he discovered teeth missing, a sure sign the
animal was much older, and demanded his money back.  The man refused and Yancey
was forced to other measures.  After a good shellacking and soak in the river,
the hombre finally saw it his way.  Yancey pointed the man out.
    Clampett
rose to his feet.  “ Your Honor ,
I have two jurors I ’ d like removed from the
panel for possible conflicts. ”
    At
that point the county prosecutor, Lane Wilson, a bone lean bushy haired man of
fifty, who just happened to be a distant cousin of Judge Samuels, sprang to his
feet.   “ Your
Honor ,
must we allow this man to do this every single time he comes to this court?  It ’ s
hard enough finding twelve responsible people in this county, to give of their
time, without him running rough shod over the entire group. ”
    “ I ’ m
not running rough shod over anyone, Your Honor.  Why, I can see from here these
are fine upstanding gentlemen.  It ’ s
just that over the years I ’ ve developed a
keen eye for those who may not physically be up to the task.  Now we wouldn ’ t
want to get halfway through this thing and have to start over because one of
our jurors had a heart attack, would we?  Besides that, it ’ s
in accordance with the law.  If the prosecutor had a hand in picking them, as I
suspect he did, the defense has a right to change that selection within
reason.  And I don ’ t think two is
unreasonable. ”
    Looking
guilty, Wilson found something interesting on one of his hands and scratched at
it.
    “ Pick
your eliminations, Mister Clampett, ” the judge said,
appearing put out.
    At
this point, the jurors began looking about the panel in search of two that may
appear so feeble they may croak before trial ’ s
end.  Then once the eliminations were made the remainder took a sigh of relief,
content Attorney Clampett thought them worthy of the task.
    The
judge then asked for a show of hands of those in the gallery who may want to
serve as a juror.  Eight of the hundred or so males of the room raised their
hands.
    The
judge then dug in his pocket and came out with stick matches of which he
counted out eight.  Out of sight of anyone who may be watching, he broke two of
them short and brought them back up stick first in his hand.  “ Come
forward, gentlemen. ”   Each man went to the bench and selected
a match until two came up with headless ones.  Those then took their rightful
place in the jury box.
    One
of those replacements, Katie was delighted to see, was Jake Pearson, the old
farmer from north of town.  She knew he had no love for Clyde Banyon, the way
he ’ d
carried on in the tavern the day of the funeral.
    With
that done, Judge Samuels said, “ Mister Wilson,
do you have an opening statement? ”
    Wilson
got to his feet.  “ You all know why we ’ re
here today, ” he
said as he approached the jury.  “ We ’ re
here to avenge the cold blooded murder of Clyde Banyon.  Many of you may have
known him, but for those of you who didn ’ t,
Clyde was a good man …”
    With
that the gallery erupted in laughter and the judge needed to gavel them down
again.  “ Be
careful what you ’ re doing out there!  If
I have to, I ’ ll clear the courtroom!  Do you
understand? ”   With
that many of them actually answered in the positive: “ Yes, ” “ Yep ” and “ Yo! ”
    “ I
knew Clyde well, ” Lane Wilson continued, “ Not
only through his services at the livery he owned  —  free
and clear of any debt, I might add  —  but
also from the faith we shared.  Clyde Banyon was a Godly man, folks …”
    “ Clyde
Banyon never set foot in a church the entirety of his miserable life! ” someone shouted from
the gallery.   “ I
know that for a fact!  Hell, Miss Mary Boil gave him a bible once, hoping that
may bring Godliness to his heathen ways.  Guess what?  Clyde took it to the
outhouse.