Unless he recovered.
The thought sank in my belly, souring at what he might do if he pulled through.
In a moment, I swallowed hard and said, “Mr. Morgan, can I walk with you to your automobile? I need to tell you something.”
As we walked, I told him what I suspected, talking fast and low wanting to get it all in, but not wanting to catch anyone else’s attention. Several times I stopped speaking when a passerby got too close. How little Johnnie fell down the well, and about Gillis beating up Guyla. How Gillis had accused me of breaking them up and threatened to go to his kin lawman. The conversation I’d overheard in the Company store. Then about the sheriff threatening me after the fire at Pearl’s. Everything. All of it came out like a dam had broke inside me. I paused a minute and touched one of the pearl earrings, then tamped down my urge to tell him about the party.
“Mr. Morgan, I have a feeling Guyla Belle is in a bad way inside that cabin and she needs help.” We stood by the lawyer’s automobile while he listened, not saying a word.
When I was through, Mr. Morgan rushed me back inside the courthouse and told me to wait on one of the benches out in the hall, then disappeared around the corner. I heard a door squeak open and close.
In a bit, I paced back and forth down the hall, pausing to stop beside closed doors, straining my ears to hear anything. An hour passed before the lawyer came back. He grabbed hold of my arm, hurrying me down the courthouse stairs and back over to his automobile. “Mr. Morgan… What is it, Mr. Morgan?”
“Get in, Honey.”
“Why?” I took a step back, suddenly afraid. “I’ve got Junia in the side parking lot.”
“She’ll be fine for a little while. We’re meeting the state police over at the Gillis cabin. They want to hear your recounting of events. Mr. Gillis should be arrested if he’s injured his wife, and you can help her by telling your side of the story.”
I took one more step back and stood frozen. “But—”
“They won’t take you anywhere. I’ll be right beside you. Promise.”
“Will this hurt my chance of getting emancipation?”
“Not at all. Get in, Honey. You need to help her. And not to do so might hurt you.” His eyes were friendly but insistent.
Reluctantly, I climbed in and rolled down the window, the automobile uncomfortably stuffy, the road jarring. A few miles deeper into the wide tree-canopied paths, the air cooled, and the ride became tolerable.
“I hope she’s okay,” I said softly.
“Don’t worry, Honey, they’ll find her. If the judge signs the warrant, they’ll search every inch of the home. Johnnie needs his mother. Regardless, they’ll ask his sister to consent to a search.”
“Maybe she won’t, if she’s helped him.”
“They’ll get their search warrant one way or another. Oh, almost forgot, Honey. I telephoned the prison about your father and was finally able to speak with him.”
“How is Papa?” I turned to him.
“Only spoke with him briefly, barely a minute, but he’s doing well.” He lifted a hand off the steering wheel. “Sounded good. Sends his love to you and asks that you post letters to him. He said they’re still not allowing any visitors. They’ve placed him and the rest of the prisoners in isolation during the polio outbreak. Then the line went dead.”
“Isolation?” I said, miserable at the thought of him being alone and cold in a cramped, dark cell.
“It’s not a punishment, Honey. It’s for everyone’s protection. Good news is, there was an announcement in the papers in March about a vaccine coming soon. The state has said they’ll be getting the cure into prisons. Mr. Faust told me he will do everything in his power to see that Jackson gets inoculated. He’s well and still has his privileges, and I hear he will be granted outside privileges as soon as he receives the vaccine.”