By 1859, the United States was rushing headlong into its golden future. Oregon was admitted to the Union as the thirty-third state. In June, the Comstock silver lode was discovered in Nevada and the great silver rush began. In July, Amherst beat Williams in the first intercollegiate baseball game, 73–32, and daring balloonists set a distance record that would stand till the end of the century, flying 809 miles from St. Louis, Missouri, to Henderson, New York. In early August, the first passenger elevator was patented by Otis Tuft and weeks later America’s first oil well was drilled near Titusville, Pennsylvania, marking the beginning of the oil rush.
But the foundation of it all had been built on shaky ground. One issue, slavery, divided the country like no other. Morality and economy had become intertwined, and unraveling them without grievous consequences seemed an impossibility. The issue had been put off, patched and covered over in an assortment of complex decisions that served mostly to delay what had become inevitable. In the 1857 Dred Scott case, the Supreme Court had ruled that slaves, former slaves and their descendants could not become citizens and that Congress did not have the right to prohibit the expansion of slavery to the territories. In response the antislavery movement grew rapidly as abolitionists in the north began funding radicals like John Brown, who advocated an armed uprising.
In June 1858, in accepting the Republican nomination for the Senate from Illinois, Abraham Lincoln had burst onto the national political scene proclaiming, “A house divided against itself cannot stand. I believe this government cannot endure, permanently half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union to be dissolved—I do not expect the house to fall—but I do expect it will cease to be divided. It will become all one thing or all the other. Either the opponents of slavery will arrest the further spread of it, and place it where the public mind shall rest in the belief that it is in the course of ultimate extinction; or its advocates will push it forward, till it shall become alike lawful in all the States, old as well as new—North as well as South.”
Americans were beginning to accept the reality that the young nation could not move forward until the question was finally and unequivocally resolved. While some in the Republican Party demanded the end of slavery, there were as many differing opinions as there were candidates about how this might be achieved; these positions ranged from outlawing it immediately, by force if necessary, to prohibiting its expansion into new states and territories and allowing it to eventually die out. Lincoln had tried skillfully to keep his personal beliefs out of his political pronouncements, hoping that there might be some way found to lawfully end this inhuman practice. In August and September 1859 he still was considered a dark horse candidate for the Republican nomination the following year. New York senator William H. Seward was the favorite, but Ohio governor Salmon Chase, Pennsylvania senator Simon Cameron and former Missouri congressman Edward Bates also had their supporters. For Lincoln, the best strategy was to allow the other candidates to remain the focus, letting them publicly debate the pressing problems, knowing that in this divided country any firm stand would alienate a substantial share of the voters. Meanwhile, Lincoln burnished his image as a man of the people, as a brilliant lawyer defending not simply his clients, but the virtues of the law itself.
In Springfield, Illinois, the first week of September, the problems of the world and the nation were set aside as one thing captured their attention: the trial of Peachy Quinn Harrison for the murder of Greek Crafton.
The wooden sidewalks of the city had been pounded through the early morning as a steady line of people made their way to the courthouse. An early rainstorm that had left puddles in the mud streets had passed, and the humidity had already risen to an uncomfortable level. Hitt was in his seat, his pens a-ready when Judge Rice pronounced the court into session close to 9:00 a.m. The session began with a discussion about whether the named witnesses on both sides should be allowed to remain in the courtroom during testimony. This Motion for Sequestration, in which potential witnesses are prevented from hearing testimony that might influence their own accounts, stretches back to the Old Testament, when two elders who had been spurned by the beautiful Susanna claimed they had seen her involved in an adulterous affair in her husband’s garden. She was about to be convicted when Daniel interceded, asking the judges to “Separate them far from each other and I will examine them.” He asked each of them under which type of tree they had seen the act of intimacy. “A mastic tree,” said the first elder. “An evergreen oak,” said the second—and so they were convicted of bearing false witness. From that time forward it was accepted that potential witnesses could be kept out until they testified. But in this instance it was agreed by both sides that one man, the Reverend Cartwright, would be permitted to remain, while the other witnesses were asked to leave.
The prosecution called its first witness, Dr. John L. Million, a graduate of McDowell Medical College who had been practicing in Pleasant Plains since 1851. Although just thirty-two years old, he had already established himself as an astute businessman and had purchased several tracts on Sixth Street, acquisitions that eventually would make him wealthy. He was a small, bearded man, with spectacles, but nattily appointed to the inclusion of a stickpin in his lapel. He seemed a bit flashy to Hitt, a bit too well put-together, and he expected the doctor’s answers would be professional and perhaps overly dramatic. Hitt liked to try to guess how witnesses would respond, and Million looked like a man who enjoyed attention. John Palmer conducted his examination, standing in his place behind his desk: “Where do you reside, Doctor?” he asked, and the trial had officially begun.
“At Pleasant Plains in this county.”
“Did you know the parties here, the defendant Quinn Harrison and Greek Crafton in his lifetime?”
“Yes, sir.”
Hitt glanced at Lincoln, who sat with his hands clasped in front of him on his table, leaning forward. His expression was set solid, his eyes locked on the witness.
“Where did they reside?”
“In the vicinity of Pleasant Plains. Mr. Crafton probably a couple of miles. The other probably three-quarters of a mile.” Mr. Palmer had been looking at a sheet of paper held in his hands. He put it down and got to the crux of it. “Is it true...is it...that Greek Crafton is dead?”
The doctor grimaced, then nodded.
“What do you know of the cause of his death?”
This was a question Dr. Million obviously had been well prepared to answer. The objective was to describe the crime in its bloody detail, to disgust the jury with the fury and brutality of the attack. “He died from a wound inflicted in his side, I believe between the eleventh and twelfth ribs on the left side.” Dr. Million poked that place on his own body with his left hand. “That wound penetrated into the cavity of the abdomen. We could not ascertain positively what organs were injured, but we supposed from the course the knife took that the spleen and the stomach were penetrated.”
“When were you called to see him?”
“Well, sir,” Million said, drawing out the word well, “I saw him, I suppose, a minute or two after this accident or affray occurred. He was out in front of the drugstore where the difficulty took place. This drugstore was in Pleasant Plains and belonged at the time, I believe, to Short and Hart. When I first saw him, he was in rather a staggering condition, when I caught him. He called to me. I ran up to him and he reclined on me in a rather failing position. I don’t recollect which side. He was then taken to my house by myself and one or two other gentlemen in Pleasant Plains. I suppose it is something like a hundred yards from the drugstore, probably not quite so far.”
Well prepared indeed, Hitt thought.
Palmer took him through his paces. “Was an examination made of his condition?”
Million squared his shoulders in preparation for delivering his testimony. “His intestines,” he said, sighing at the memory, “a portion of them were protruding, and I returned them to their place and dressed the wound, taking two or three stitches and applied some plaster over it.” Several people in the gallery gasped at Million’s report, but Hitt refused to show any response. In fact, far worse had regularly been heard in courtrooms. The rapid spread of the railroads across the country had resulted in grisly accidents which had given rise to numerous lawsuits. So many, in fact, that in the 1852 Haring v. New York and Erie Rr. Co., the frustrated judge had decided, “A man who rushed headlong against a locomotive engine, without using the ordinary means of discovering his danger, cannot be said to exercise ordinary care.”
After sufficient pause Palmer continued, “Did you make an examination of his person at that time?”
“No further than the wound, and I think the seventh and eighth rib. It looked like a knife had struck against a rib a very slight wound. I should suppose these wounds had been made by a sharp pointed knife.”
Lincoln sat passively. The description of the weapon as a “sharp pointed knife” was surely meant to impact the jurors. The meaning was clear: this was a weapon meant for attacking, sharp and pointed, rather than for protection. But Lincoln did not object, did not say a word. As his fellow attorney, Hiram W. Beckwith pointed out, he “relied on his well-trained memory that recorded and indexed every passing detail.”
Palmer persisted through the details, asking about the direction of the cut. “It was being between two ribs, it was difficult to say, only from symptoms which way the course was,” said Million. “We imagined that the knife took a horizontal direction. It would be horizontal if he was standing erect...”
Hitt chanced a quick glance at the jury, most of them sitting expressionless but focused.
Dr. Million continued, “About an hour and a half after the injury he vomited a large quantity of blood and that could not, I suppose, have got into the stomach without the stomach had been cut. It might have cut the duodenum.”
Du-o-de-num was a term Hitt did not know. Obviously a part of the body. He spelled it phonetically, hoping it might be found in the edition of Noah Webster’s dictionary he carried with him for just such a purpose.
“When was that?” Palmer asked.
“Saturday morning the sixteenth of July of the present year, 1859. In Sangamon County.”
“You stated it was soon after the blow. Why did you come to that conclusion?”
“I saw Greek Crafton that morning. I think...on the street. From the app...” Someone in the gallery began coughing and Hitt lost the remainder of that word. As he had been taught, the professional does not make assumptions. In a courtroom every word has a consequence. He was certain the word was appearance but did not mark it down. “...of the wound was inflicted between seven and eight o’clock, not noticing the time particularly, and he died sir, about eight o’clock Monday night. I think the death was caused by the wound.”
“Do you know anything about the circumstances of the infliction of the wound?”
“I do not of my own knowledge.”
“Are you a practicing physician?”
“Yes, sir.”
Palmer dismissed the witness, and Judge Rice cautioned him to speak with no one about his testimony and be prepared to return tomorrow.
It was not at all surprising that neither Lincoln nor Logan saw fit to object a single time during the doctor’s lurid testimony. It was easy for jurors to imagine the doctor stuffing Crafton’s intestines back into his body, and the victim vomiting blood. It was a violent scene, there was no disguising that. But that did not impact Lincoln’s defense. Besides, the accepted custom of the day was to let each side have its say; any objections would generally be made to substance rather than form.
Having established that Crafton had been knifed to death, Palmer then called Silas Livergood, an eyewitness to the crime. Livergood was a friend of Greek and John Crafton and had come to the store that morning with John. Livergood was a simple-looking farm boy, with a brush of wheat-colored hair that he habitually swept out of his eyes. But that was something of an illusion; Livergood also came from a comfortable home and had been educated. He had grown up with all of the fellows and knew them well. Had the fight gone differently, had Harrison been the victim, Livergood himself might have been in the dock, charged as an accessory to the crime. He raised his right hand and swore the oath. He was a resident of Pleasant Plains, he testified, and he knew all of the participants in the event and that, “I saw them both on the sixteenth at Pleasant Plains... The cutting affair took place on that day...”
Palmer led him through his eyewitness account. “Well, when I first saw them at the drugstore, they were together. Greek Crafton had hold of Harrison around the arm. He was back of Harrison. Harrison had hold of the counter.” Asked what was said during the melee, Livergood responded, “I didn’t hear Mr. Crafton say anything. Mr. Harrison allowed that he didn’t want to fight or wouldn’t fight him, I can’t tell exactly. He said he wouldn’t fight or said he didn’t want to fight him. I can’t give his language.”
Hitt noticed Lincoln briefly glance at Logan, and they exchanged small smiles.
Crafton did not reply, Livergood continued, then described their positions. “Well, Crafton had hold of him at the time they were at the counter and I think Mr. Short had hold of him when Harrison made that remark.”
With a piece of white chalk Palmer drew a “rude diagram” of the store on the floor in front of his witness, then handed him a long wooden cane and asked him to point out to the jury where this took place. Several jurors in the second row stood to better see the diagram. Logan stood; Lincoln did not but rather leaned forward. “This is the north end and this is the south,” Livergood said as he poked the floor. “Here is the entrance on the north side and now there is where they were standing. There was a counter on the east side of that.”
For clarity, again as he had been taught, Hitt added that the counter was “(running north and south).”
Livergood pointed to the spot near the counter where Harrison and Crafton were fighting. “Harrison was holding onto the counter. Crafton had him around the arms.”
“What was Short doing?” Palmer asked, building his crime scene.
“He was not doing much of anything. He had hold of them, trying to part them. Both of them, I think.”
“Did you see the hands of either party?”
“I saw the hands of Harrison. I am not certain but of Crafton. Directly after that John Crafton interfered and took hold of Short.”
From his seat behind the defense table, Stephen Logan suddenly interrupted and demanded of the witness, “State if anything was said.” Hitt was a bit surprised at this, as it was not something he had seen in the Chicago courtrooms. The decorum of the courtroom had long been settled, and lawyers were not to speak out of turn. But Judge Rice said nothing in response. Hitt supposed it was a carryover from the rough-hewn circuit courts where the rules were of necessity relaxed to get to the core of the issue. No one objected to this intrusion.
The witness turned to face Logan and replied, “John Crafton made some remark that I cannot give.” Meaning, Hitt assumed, that he did not remember the exact words. Using the cane, Livergood indicated that John Crafton “was about this part of the store.” Once again, Hitt further described the location “back” to convey the complete response. “As soon as Mr. Short took hold he interfered and he made the remark that ‘Greek could’ or ‘should whip him’ or something to that effect. Then they retreated to the back part of the store. Here was another counter. They all went together to the back part of the store.”
“Where were you standing?”
“About there, in the front part of the store. Harrison was nearest me as they were retreating... They retreated in front of this back counter,” Livergood continued, pointing. “There were some boxes standing there and they retreated to the boxes and there Crafton got into a leaning position and the cutting was done there.”
This testimony clearly was the crux of the matter. Lincoln had propped his elbows on the table, and his palms formed a church in front of him as he listened intently. “I don’t know what placed them there,” Livergood continued. “I saw Harrison at the time. He was in the same position in which he was when he started, with his back to them. He had not changed his position. Harrison did the cutting. I saw it. Crafton was in a leaning position. He was leaning over the boxes half down.” Livergood leaned over to demonstrate.
Hitt was not a lawyer, but he realized the danger of this testimony to Harrison. By Livergood’s account, Peachy was in no obvious distress; he was pushed around but neither his life nor even his safety was threatened. Yet still, he had responded with deadly force.
Palmer had what he was going after, but continued, “What was the cause?”
Livergood shrugged. “I suppose retreating was the cause.”
“Was the retreat voluntary or forced?”
“Forced, I suppose.”
“Who applied it?”
“I suppose Mr. Short and John Crafton.”
Palmer’s voice seem to rise, his pace got a little quicker. “How were the blows struck?”
“Harrison was standing on the east of Crafton and he struck him right in the side. Crafton was inclined in this way.” He turned to his side and glanced at the jury to ensure they understood. “Harrison stood right in front. I saw two blows struck with a knife.”
Palmer hesitated to allow that information to sink in. Two blows. Not one. Not an accident. Two blows. And then he asked his important question. “What was Crafton doing when he was struck?”
Livergood answered in a voice tinged with anger and accusation, “He was not doing anything. He was in that inclined position. I saw the knife. It was a white-handled knife.”
Logan interrupted once again, asking, “Have you detailed the facts fully up to this time?” And again, there was no complaint about it. Hitt wondered about the purpose of the question. Was Logan laying a foundation on which the defense would be built?
If it was intended to trap Livergood, it failed. “I don’t know as I have,” he said. “I don’t believe I have. I don’t know what I have omitted. If I have omitted anything, I don’t know it.” A perfectly ambiguous answer.
Palmer resumed. “Had anybody hold of Harrison when he struck the blow?”
“Yes, sir. Greek Crafton had hold of him by his left arm.”
“Assuming that I was Harrison, how did he have hold of him?”
Livergood left the witness stand. Palmer turned around to directly face the jury. Livergood took a position behind him and swept his left around his body, pinning Palmer’s left arm. “Crafton had hold of him something like that, with his arm around his arm.”
Still looking directly at the jury, Palmer asked, “With which hand did he strike?”
“With his right hand. It was loose at the time.”
“How long had that hand been loose?”
“Just then.”
“Had you observed it before that?”
“Yes.”
“Was anything in it?”
“No, sir. There was nothing in that hand.”
“In what position was Crafton when the knife was drawn?”
“The same position he was when he was cut.”
All this while Livergood retained his hold on Palmer. The visual evidence was strong; Harrison was in no mortal danger. Crafton was holding him; he was not choking him or stomping him or punching him. He was restraining him. It was no more threatening than might be seen a dozen times a day when children fought.
“Describe the knife,” Palmer continued.
“I suppose the blade was about four inches long. A white-handled knife.”
“How long did they remain there?”
“They did not remain there.” Palmer removed Livergood’s arm from around his body and separated. Livergood took the witness chair again and continued, “I could hardly tell how they were separated. I know I went toward them and helped separate them.”
“What happened after the blows were struck?”
Even as he recorded these words, Hitt wondered why Palmer had neglected to ask his witness to demonstrate how the two blows were struck. It seemed an odd omission.
“I don’t know as Mr. Short did anything. If he did I didn’t see him do anything. Greek Crafton got out of the house and directly after Greek was cut, John was cut. John was making toward Quinn when he was cut.”
“Where was John when Greek was cut?”
“John was behind Quinn like. He was in a leaning position too. Mr. Short had hold of Greek and Quinn. He let them go immediately after the cutting was done. After Short let him go, Greek got out of the house and John commenced throwing a pair of scales at him (Harrison), and a stool. They were all loosened up when John was cut. When John received the blow he stood to the south of Harrison and Greek to the west of him... I think that was the position they were in at the time.”
Palmer sat down at his table again. “What became of Greek Crafton?”
“After he got out of the house he was carried to Dr. Million’s residence in Pleasant Plains and they commenced dressing his wounds. He lived from Saturday morning until Monday night. The night of the eighteenth he died at Pleasant Plains.”
“You spoke of John throwing something. Was that before or after he was cut with the knife?”
Livergood answered firmly, “After he was cut with the knife.” Palmer leaned back in his seat and allowed a few seconds to pass before nodding to Judge Rice and saying he had no more questions. The judge pointed to the defense table. Logan stood. He would begin the cross-examination. But in the relaxed atmosphere of this courtroom, it was accepted that Lincoln might also question the witness as he desired. There were no rules against this double-teaming, as it was known.
Logan took a position directly in front of the witness. There was a somewhat condescending edge to his tone as he asked, “Was there not a little circumstance you omitted? You say as they went back Greek had hold of Quinn with both hands?” Livergood acknowledged that was true. “You said when he drew his knife Greek had but one around him?” That too was true. “How long was it before Quinn struck did he take his hand away?”
“Immediately.”
“What did Greek do when he took his right arm from around Quinn?”
“Greek struck him in the face.” Hitt kept his head down so no one might see his smile. So that’s what Logan was after. “Immediately after Greek struck him in the face he drew the knife.”
Logan pressed his advantage. “Did Greek give him a pretty severe blow before he drew the knife?” That was it, that was key to it all. Several jurors in the first row leaned forward.
“I don’t know,” Livergood answered, either honestly or well prepared. There was no way of knowing. “I can’t speak for that.”
“Did you see the mark?” Logan asked, implying that Greek had struck such a strong blow as to leave a mark.
“No, sir.”
“It was not until Greek keeping hold with his left and letting go with his right hand struck him in the face that he drew his knife?”
“No, sir, but immediately after that Quinn drew his knife.” Logan was carefully countering the damage that Palmer had done to the defense, putting Peachy Quinn in real danger. “You say when you first went in you saw Greek had hold of Quinn around the body and arms with both his arms?”
“Yes. Quinn was holding onto the counter.”
Logan looked at the jury as he asked this next question, to make sure they understood its importance. “The first thing you heard when you went in was by Quinn, ‘I don’t want to fight you and I won’t fight you?’”
Palmer sat still as Livergood agreed that was correct. “Yes. Greek still held onto him and he held onto the counter.”
He was drawing a strong image of Harrison desperately trying to protect himself. He said clearly he did not want this fight. He held onto the counter to prevent it. “What broke him loose?”
“Mr. Short and John Crafton interfering. That pulled Short back. Short, I suppose, was trying to separate them and John interfered.”
“To prevent their being separated?”
Livergood shook his head. “I don’t know about that.”
Logan continued, “John made the remark that, ‘Greek could whip him and should whip him’?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t say that that is exactly the words. When they retreated back the balance took Quinn back I suppose. He was dragged back from the counter.”
This was the point Logan was trying to emphasize: Quinn did not want this fight. “Was he not dragged back with such force as to break his hold on the counter?”
Livergood shrugged as he answered, his reluctance visible. “Yes, I suppose so. I think he was holding onto the bar of the counter.”
For the first time, Lincoln spoke. His voice, which at times tended to rise and even become strident, was soft and even. A curious friend asking a question. “Was there not an iron railing?”
“Some witnesses said so,” Livergood acknowledged. But he couldn’t be sure. “I took him to be holding onto the counter and trying to be kept from being pulled away.”
Lincoln nodded, and stood. As he did, Hitt deftly dipped his pen twice into the inkwell. He had brought four pens with him, two gold and two steel. The gold nibs, while costing as much as $4, wrote easily although they tended to wear quickly. He had been using these gold pens for several months and was aware they would soon have to be replaced. He checked his open inkwell to make certain an ample supply remained. For this assignment he used a simple black ink purchased at a Chicago stationers.
Lincoln glanced down as if reading from nonexistent notes, then asked, “How long had Greek Crafton been in before you went in and saw him with his arms around Quinn?”
“Only a little while. I started from Turley’s store with him.”
“What was said when you started about what you were going for?”
Livergood answered strongly, “Nothing was said at the time.”
Lincoln persisted. “Did you go in concert with Greek Crafton?”
“No, sir! He asked me to go along with him. He did not tell me what for.”
“Objection, your honor!” Palmer stood, waving his hands. “This is not proper cross-examination.”
It was here for the first time that Hitt got a sure glimpse of the underpinnings of the defense case. Lincoln intended to demonstrate that when Greek Crafton found out Harrison was at Short’s store he set out to beat him. But he wasn’t going alone, there were three of them: Greek and his brother who was waiting at Short’s for them and Livergood. Lincoln told Judge Rice flatly that he was going to make his case that his client had good reason to be a-feared for his safety. He was firm in that, and said he would either show it now or later.
Palmer reminded the judge that his witness had been firm that was not at all the situation.
Judge Rice finally ruled that this was not the proper time, or witness, for Lincoln to prove that. “Bring it in on your own witnesses,” he told him.
Having had his say, and confident the point had been made to the jury, Lincoln sat down and Stephen Logan resumed questioning the witness. Logan had sensed an advantage in Palmer’s demonstration and decided to press it. He asked Mr. Broadwell, a member of the prosecution team, to assist him. He positioned Broadwell in front of the jury and took Crafton’s place behind him, wrapping his arms around the prosecutor. “Is this the way they stood?” he asked Livergood.
“Yes, sir. And Quinn held his arms out to the counter.” Logan directed Broadwell to grab hold of the jury railing. “When he was dragged loose they went in about the same position. When Greek let go with his right hand and struck him in the face with it, still holding him with his left hand.”
Logan directed Broadwell to let loose his right arm and raise it. “How did Quinn’s position change before he struck him?” he asked.
“He kind of turned around with his side to the Greek.”
“What side of Greek were the wounds on?”
“The left side.”
Logan deftly turned Broadwell to his left. “Then he was standing in about that position and had to strike around to hit Greek?”
“Yes.”
“Was he so that he could see where he was striking?”
“Yes, sir.”
Logan paused dramatically as if Livergood’s testimony was confusing. “But it was in this position?”
“Yes, sir.”
He let that confusion drip into his voice, wondering, “But he had to stoop around in that position and Greek still had hold of him?”
“Yes.”
“And Short was holding him too, was he not?”
“Yes.”
Logan put his hands on Broadwell’s shoulders and gently pushed him into a stooping position, then turned him to the side. “And after receiving the blow in the face he stooped around in that way?”
It was an awkward position and made it appear as if Harrison was being overwhelmed. Livergood tried to limit this damage, telling Logan, “It was not a blow struck as if standing loose in this way. I suppose much more of his arm was loose.” He got out of the witness chair and took hold of Broadwell in a manner that did not restrain him. “Short had hold of him so, and Greek had his left arm around Quinn’s body.” He let loose and stood tall. “And in that position Greek was struck.”
The adjustments Livergood made were slight, but significant, making it seem as if Harrison was being restrained rather than held firm and unable to move.
“What was John doing then?” Logan asked, reminding the jury of the odds.
“Not much of anything. He had just been pulling back but he could not pull away further because he got against the counter. It was before that he said Greek should and could whip him.” He mused, almost to himself, “The whole thing occupied very little time.”
“So that not long after John said that the blow was struck, first by Greek and then by Quinn?”
“Yes.”
“Did you say anything while it was going on?”
“No, sir, not a word.”
* * *
Livergood spent the remainder of the morning on the witness stand. There were many more questions about the precise positioning of the participants and the timing of the events. Both Lincoln and Logan had their chance: Could Livergood recall John Crafton’s exact words? He could not. Did Harrison say anything? He did not. Did he demand to be let loose? He struggled. Did he threaten Greek? He didn’t say a word.
Palmer was quite satisfied with the morning’s work. He had demonstrated to the jury the fury of the attack and had shown them how it happened. Nothing in the demonstrations, either his own or those staged by the defense, positioned Harrison in any life-threatening way. In fact, it seemed Mr. Short was trying to break up the fight when the sticking was done.
Lincoln and Logan also were satisfied. They had planted the seeds for their case. They had filled the room with the Crafton brothers and Livergood, all of them out to beat Harrison. While they had not gotten much of their own case in yet, as expected, they had limited the damage from an eyewitness.
Livergood finally stepped down off the witness stand. Hitt watched him walk past the lawyers’ table to the gallery; as he passed Harrison he glanced at him, acknowledging him with a slight nod. When he got to the back of the courtroom, he was surrounded by a group of young men, who pounded his back and reassured him he had done right by Greek. Lincoln and Logan sat at their table, both of them facing Harrison and, Hitt guessed, bucking up his confidence. Hitt wondered for a moment what must be running through Harrison’s mind. To be the cause of all this, to feel the breath of mortality at such a young age, and all because of a stupid action.
His reverie was interrupted by Judge Rice declaring a brief break in the proceedings. A “necessary break,” Hitt assumed, as the judge banged his gavel and was gone into his chambers. The melody of courtroom noises erupted, replacing the respectful silence; spectators stood and stretched, stamped on the wood floor to get the blood flowing back into their legs and began discussing the testimony of the morning. In essence, the overture was done; the stage had been set, the players had made their introductions and now the drama of it could unfold.
The next witness to be called would be Greek’s brother John Crafton, who had been at the center of it all.