“But what is the alternative? No lawyer wants this case.”
Colonel James Erwin looked thoughtful. “There may be one that does.”
“Butwho is Nicholas Woodfin?” Elizabeth asked me when I returned from the lawyers meeting at McEntire’s tavern (but for the presence of Mr. Wilson, I might have termed the gathering a family reunion with perfect truth).
“I have met him but once, I think. He has been a licensed attorney now for precisely one year, but we hear good things of him-at least your cousin James says so.”
“Woodfin… Woodfin…” Elizabeth shut her eyes and wrinkled her forehead. A sign, no doubt, that she was flipping through the pages of that great studbook-cum-social register that all the frontier gentlewomen seem to have indexed in their brains.
“Asheville,” I said helpfully.
She opened her eyes wide. “Asheville! So near! And his wife is-?”
“He doesn’t have one. He’s only twenty-one, and doubtless he has been working too hard in his studies to find time for courtship. But there is someone of your acquaintance who may vouch for him, and you will value his opinion even above mine-Mr. David Lowry Swain.”
Elizabeth gave me a look. “I might have guessed that, Burgess. Cousin James would not recommend a young novice for an important case unless there was some sign of distinction about him. For an Asheville attorney, that sign could only be a clerkship with the honorable David Swain, who is surely one of the most promising young men on the frontier-excepting yourself, my dearest.”
I smiled at her generosity of spirit, but I did not think I merited the comparison. I am a simple country lawyer, content with my lot in life. Never was I as driven to succeed as the tireless Mr. David Swain of Asheville, whose ambition might pass for ruthlessness in the eyes of more humble folk. In the score of months that I had been an attorney in Burke County, I had heard much about him and his aspirations. Although he was not from a prominent family, he had struggled and sacrificed to attain a good education, after which he worked harder than any three so-called gentlemen to better his lot in life. He was barely thirty, yet already he had served five terms in the North Carolina legislature. His days of toil and poverty were behind him, and I daresay he was now as much a gentleman as anyone in Carolina.
“David Lowry Swain,” said Elizabeth thoughtfully. “But he is forever traveling, and he stays for months in Raleigh, does he not? One wonders that he would have had time to mentor a lawyer in Asheville. Is he still the member for Buncombe County in the House?”
“No. He refused a sixth term. He is a circuit court judge now.”
Elizabeth sighed. “He married exceedingly well.”
“Really? Pretty, is she?”
That look again. Elizabeth takes a dim view of my teasing. “Eleanor White is the daughter of a North Carolina secretary of state,” she said primly. “Her maternal grandfather was Richard Caswell, governor during the Revolution. Thanks to Eleanor, and to his own efforts, of course, David Swain has connections that extend well beyond Asheville. That whole family has prospered in state politics. James Lowry of the State House of Commons is his half brother, you know.”
I didn’t know. Latin verbs are child’s play compared to unraveling the tangled lineages of the North Carolina gentry. “DavidLowry Swain and JamesLowry are half brothers? Curious coincidence of names.”
“Not a coincidence at all,” said Elizabeth. “Don’t you know that story? It’s common talk in the western legal circle. David Swain’s mother was Miss Caroline Lane, who as a young woman was married to a Mr. David Lowry. They lived on a farm in north Georgia, and she bore him a number of children. Sadly for his wife and babes, David Lowry was killed in an Indian raid, and poor Caroline Lowry married again-to a Mr. George Swain, who is a merchant and a physician. They had six or seven children-I forget the exact number-”
“Really? I would have thought you’d have their birthdays down by heart.”
She waved away the Swain offspring. “They aren’t important, except for the youngest. And his mother named him after her first husband-David Lowry. So he is David Lowry Swain. Isn’t that a sweet story, Burgess? Such a tender remembrance. The poor woman never forgot her first love.”
“One wonders how Mr. Swain felt about the matter,” I muttered. “Though perhaps after six predecessors, the happy couple had run out of names anyhow. They might have called the next one after the cat.”
“Names are a serious business in good families, Burgess,” said my wife reprovingly. “It tells the world instantly and precisely what your connections are-Oh!”
Her lecture on dynastic nomenclature was cut short by a wail from the nursery. Our own son and heir, young master William Willoughby Erwin Gaither, was in need of his mother’s attention.
A few minutes later Elizabeth returned to pursue the topic of Nicholas Woodfin with renewed interest, but I was unable to satisfy her curiosity regarding the young gentleman’s antecedents. I said that Colonel Erwin had vouched for Woodfin as a competent attorney, and we were too preoccupied with legal matters to inquire into his suitability for breeding purposes. Elizabeth murmured that perhaps someone in her family would know who he was, and I did not doubt that for a moment. The Erwins of Belvidere have eight daughters; no gentleman west of Wilmington escapes their scrutiny.
After a few minutes of companionable silence, my wife looked up from her embroidery and said, “Something has just occurred to me, Burgess dear.”
“Yes?”
“None of you lawyers wants to defend this poor girl Frankie Silver. Is that correct?”
“It is most fervently the case,” I assured her.
“Aha! Then why would Nicholas Woodfin agree to take it?”
“I can give you three reasons. First, he is a very young attorney who needs the trial experience, and perhaps even the celebrity that might be gained from this case. Second, he has another case on the Superior Court docket, so he is coming anyway. Another case will only make his trip more fruitful. Third, Woodfin may be well connected by association with David Swain, but your family assures me that he is by no means rich. The legal fees in the Silver case will not amount to much, but I’m sure they will be welcome to a fledgling attorney.”
“Those are good enough reasons, I suppose,” said Elizabeth. “But what would cause Mr. Woodfin to accept this case when our Morganton lawyers would not?”
“Precisely that, Elizabeth. Nicholas Woodfin isnot a Morganton lawyer. A local man would lose the community’s goodwill and a substantial portion of his income from deeds and wills by associating himself with the infamy of Frankie Silver. Nicholas Woodfin will suffer no ill effects. He can take the case, show off his legal skills to his fellow attorneys in circuit court, collect his fee, and then ride away to Asheville, some fifty miles away, where few people will know or care about a Burke County murder case. He will not lose a scrap of business for his effort, and if he does well in court, he may even increase his practice by gaining the goodwill of the legal community.”
“It seems very suitable for all concerned,” Elizabeth conceded. “But what of that poor young woman? Will she be well represented by such young and inexperienced counsel?”
“Your cousin James assures us that Nicholas Woodfin is an able fellow who plans to specialize in the practice of criminal law. He may well be Mrs. Silver’s best hope for a defender. Besides, Thomas Wilson has graciously consented to serve as second counsel, so that Woodfin can have the benefit of his experience.”
“For part of the fee, of course,” said Elizabeth, smiling.