Floyd Allen strode toward the courthouse steps. Sheriff Webb waited for him. As the big man approached, Judge Massie appeared. Without a glance at the Allens, he stalked into the courthouse and on into his chambers.
Sheriff Webb and his deputies stepped aside and permitted the Allens to pass in. Behind them trooped the more daring of the Hillsville men and women, and those of the hill men who had taken no definite sides, but had kept their convictions to themselves as best they could.
Floyd Allen strode into the prisoner’s bay. Claude, his son, was at his heels, Sidna, his brother, at his side.
The three took chairs. They sat down, with the patriarch in the middle, Claude on the left and Sidna on the right. Judge Massie still was in his chambers. Sheriff Webb was aligning his special deputies about the courtroom.
The rest of the Allens, the twenty who had ridden into town behind the patriarch, ranged themselves in the front seats of the spectator’s bay. They were not all Allens, but they were Allenites, many of them blood relatives of the man awaiting judgment.
Among them were Sidna and Wesley Edwards, but recently released from the county jail for the Garland Allen kidnaping.
The Hillsville people filed in. They took seats about the courtroom. Those who could not find seats stood around the walls.
Sitting in one of the seats, near the front, was Nancy Elizabeth Ayres, a pretty woman who had testified for Floyd Allen at his hearing.
Half a dozen deputies ranged themselves about the Allenites, standing back of them, watching them intently.
Dexter Goad, clerk of the court, a grim, uncompromising fighter against the Allen rule of the county, came in. He wore a pistol strapped to his waist, leaned a shotgun against his desk.
He looked at Floyd Allen with the calm scorn of a fanatical enemy. His blue eyes blazed a challenge that was backed up adequately by the pistol and the shotgun. He sat down and began calmly riffling his papers, his face stern, his jaw set. He was known as one of the bravest men in Carroll County, a berserk fighter who had lived through a dozen threatened feuds.
Floyd Allen looked back at him, curling his crooked, heavy lip in scorn. Claude Allen kept his eyes on Goad and Sidna Allen watched him covertly.
Sheriff Webb stepped through a door in the rear of the courtroom. He reappeared, almost instantly, and Judge Massie followed.
Goad, with his eyes fastened on Floyd Allen and his hand caressing the butt of his revolver, banged a gavel on his table and announced the court, at the same time getting to his feet.
The spectators arose. The Allenites in the spectators’ bay arose.
VI
Floyd Allen sat adamant, glowering contemptuously at Judge Massie. Sidna and Claude Allen sat with him, their grim faces riveted on their leader.
Dexter Goad tugged at his revolver. Floyd Allen saw him. A pair of deputies stepped into the bay.
Floyd Allen got up slowly. A forced smile overspread his dark face. Claude and Sidna Allen got up and stood, surly and scowling, beside him.
“I wouldn’t ’a’ done that, paw,” said Claude Allen, aloud, “who’s he that we have to get up when he comes in?”
The giant patriarch said nothing. He continued to curl his lip in that contemptuous smile until Judge Massie was seated. Then he sat down as Dexter Goad resumed his seat and picked up his papers.
Dexter Goad rapped for order. The courtroom was silent as a tomb. Floyd Allen leaned back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other and waited with supreme confidence.
The Allenites in the front rows of the spectators’ bay sat immobile. The deputies shifted from one foot to the other, keeping an alert eye on the men. Walter Tipton, one of Floyd Alien’s lawyers, coughed spasmodically. His hand shook noticeably as he wiped his mouth with his handkerchief.
Dexter Goad arose and handed a sheaf of papers to Judge Massie. A low hum ran over the courtroom. Dexter Goad rapped sharply. The deputies deployed toward the seat of the disturbance. Silence fell again.
Foster walked to the bench, before Judge Massie. Goad continued to stand. Walter Tipton took his place at the other end of the bench. He wet his lips with his tongue. Foster wet his lips. Goad’s hard eyes were upon Floyd Allen.
Judge Massie studied the papers. It was unnecessary. What he wanted was time for the tension to ease. His face was white, but stern. His fighting jaw was outthrust and the veins showed in his strong hands.
He looked up from the papers, out over the courtroom. He looked at Floyd Allen and the Allenites in the front row of seats. A contemptuous smile came to his lips as he swept the courtroom.
His eyes were blazing with the bitterness of his resentment against the show the Allens had staged.
In an even, dispassionate voice, he began his pronouncement.
“We are confronted here, not with the case of the Commonwealth of Virginia versus Floyd Allen, but with the case of Law and Order versus feudalism,” he began. “Unfortunately, we are authorized only to deal with the case of the Commonwealth of Virginia versus Floyd Allen, charged with assault and battery and interfering with an officer in performance of his duty.
“The defendant in this case has seen fit to defy this court and to create a situation in this county that is inimical to the proper functioning of justice and intolerable to duly constituted authorities. He has seen fit to attempt to set up a dictatorship, to place himself and those of his family without the law or, if you please, above the law.
“The proceedings in this case do not, as I have pointed out before, permit us to deal with outlawry and rebellion, since this defendant is not charged with these crimes. But it does permit us to show to this defendant and those who have encouraged and applauded him in his course and to those whom we are charged with protecting through the duly constituted law, that law does and will prevail, despite threats of violence and attempted coercion.
“Therefore, in full consideration of the evidence as it has been presented to me, I shall render my judgment and sentence in the case of the Commonwealth of Virginia versus Floyd Allen—”
Walter Tipton wet his lips again. Dexter Goad watched Floyd Allen like a cat. Sidna and Claude Allen leaned forward. They sensed the voice of calamity in Judge Massie’s opening remarks.
Floyd Allen was unmoved. He sat back in his chair, glaring at Massie. His hand rested on his side, significantly. The leer still creased his heavy face.
Now Judge Massie, looking directly at Floyd Allen, resumed his pronouncement.
“I pronounce the defendant guilty as charged and sentence him to one year in prison—”
A sibilant, rasping sound escaped Floyd Allen’s lips. Sidna and Claude Allen were on their feet. The Allenites in the spectators’ bay were on their feet. A dull roar that mounted to a storm of voices ran over the courtroom.
Dexter Goad banged his table fiercely. Walter Tipton was shouting to the court:
“I move that the judgment be set aside and a new trial granted.”
Now Judge Massie banged his gavel.
“Motion denied,” he said. “Sheriff Webb, take this prisoner to jail.”
“I ain’t a-goin’t’ go, I ain’t a-goin’ t’ go,” bellowed the giant patriarch.
Dexter Goad was running to Sheriff Webb’s side. Floyd Allen whispered quickly to Sidna and Claude.
Then, in a flash, the giant whipped his revolver from his belt. He fired point blank at Sheriff Webb.
Webb staggered back, wrenched his own pistol from its holster.
Another shot sounded. Sidna Alien’s revolver spat fire.
Judge Massie started to his feet, clutched at his heart, coughed harshly and then slumped in his chair, slowly sinking from sight behind the bench.