Whitfield testified, with the bar closed in the Boston House Saloon, and Cole beside him, and me in a lookout chair with a shotgun, and two country deputies with Winchesters at the saloon doors. He stood up, and Eaton swore him in, and the judge asked him what he seen when Jack Bell was shot, and Whitfield looked right at Bragg and said Bragg done it. The tables had been pushed to the walls for the trial, and the chairs had been set up in rows. Most of the town was there. The Sheltons sat near the lobby door, in the back.
There was no prosecutor. The judge asked Whitfield questions, and then Mueller, Bragg’s lawyer, cross-examined. You could see his heart wasn’t in it. He knew Bragg was guilty, and he knew that Judge Callison knew it. Whitfield was the only witness against Bragg. Mueller called Bragg’s foreman. Vince said he didn’t see who shot Bell and the deputy, but it wasn’t Bragg. Mueller brought three more of Bragg’s hands to the stand. They all said the same thing. When Mueller brought the fourth, the judge stopped him.
“You gonna say anything different?” the judge said to the hand.
“Nope.”
The judge addressed the room.
“Anybody in the court got anything different to say other than Bragg didn’t shoot anyone and you don’t know who did?”
No one stirred. Judge Callison nodded to himself.
“That’ll do then; no reason to waste time saying the same thing over and over.”
“My client has a right to testify in his own defense,” Mueller said.
“ ’Course he does,” the judge said. “Swear him in, Eaton.”
Eaton took the Bible to Bragg. Bragg looked at it without comment.
“Put your hand on the Bible,” Eaton said.
Bragg didn’t move. Cole reached over and picked up one of Bragg’s hands and slapped it onto the Bible, and held it in place. Bragg didn’t resist. Eaton said the words. Bragg didn’t answer.
“He so swears,” Judge Callison said. “What have you got to say for yourself, Mr. Bragg.”
Bragg stood slowly.
“Fred Whitfield is a goddamned liar. I didn’t shoot Jack Bell or them other fellas. I don’t know what happened to them.”
He sat down. Judge Callison looked at him for a moment and half smiled.
“Eloquent, Mr. Bragg. But unconvincing,” he said. “I find you guilty of these charges and sentence you to hang at Yaqui Prison at a time to be decided by the prison warden.”
He banged his gavel and said, “Court’s adjourned.”
And that was Bragg’s trial. Stringer and Cole and I and the other deputies took him back to his cell.