were not so well controlled as those of Isaiah Stewart, for I could see rage in every line of his face. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw set in a clenched scowl, and his body put me in mind of a coiled spring as he leaned forward, straining to catch every word of the testimony. I hoped that he had not managed to smuggle a weapon into the courtroom. This is the elder son, I thought. The one who was away on a long hunt with his father at the time of the murder. What was his name? It was not written in any of the court documents, for he was not involved in the proceedings in any way, but someone had spoken of him. I had it now! Jackson. Jackson Stewart, married to a Howell girl, who was surely some kin to the Thomas Howell on my witness list. Surely that would cause dissension in the ranks of the family. I felt that regardless of the outcome of this case, the ripples of pain and ill will would course through that community for years to come. In one sense, a trial is the end of a crime, but in another way it is only the beginning of a protracted torment more cruel than the hangman’s rope. The survivors suffer at leisure.
Mr. Alexander took charge again, asking that Miss Nancy Wilson be brought forth to testify. Gabe Presnell opened one of the great oak doors at the back of the courtroom and ushered in a sharp-faced young woman in black. She moved in no great haste, serenely indifferent to the stares and murmurs that arose as she passed. Her head was held high, her countenance white with anger. I noticed that the jurors sat up straighter when they caught sight of her. This is a personage, I thought. She is no older than the defendant, but this is a lady who knows her own mind, and woe betide the traveling drummers, bears, or Indians who get in her way.
On her way up to testify, the stern young woman passed little Mrs. Silver, and I could feel the enmity crackle between them. They glanced at each other, scorn on both sides, and quickly looked away.
When Nancy Wilson had been duly sworn, William Alexander began his questioning with a reassuring smile. “Now, Miss Wilson, speak up. There is no need to be afraid.”
She flashed a look at him that said foollouder than I could have shouted it, but she made no audible reply. I glanced at the defendant. She did not direct her gaze toward the witness, but her face no longer bore the vacant stare that she had effected for most of the morning; now, although she would not look, she was listening.
“You are Miss Nancy Wilson of the Toe River section of western Burke County?”
“I am.”
“And, for the record, are you any relation of Mr. Thomas Wilson, an attorney in Morganton.”
This question caught her off guard, for she had been stoking herself up to talk about the murder. She blinked once or twice while she got her bearings, and then said, “I don’t believe so. My brother is named Tom Wilson, but he’s no lawyer. We don’t know any Wilsons in town.”
There was soft laughter around the courtroom at the lady’s confusion, and I saw Mr. Wilson the attorney shake his head, smiling.
“Well, now we know where we are,” said Mr. Alexander cheerfully. “Let us proceed. Are you acquainted with the defendant Frances Silver?”
“I am,” she said in a low voice. “She was married to a kinsman of mine. My mother is the sister of Charlie’s father.”
“Did you hear Mrs. Silver speak of the disappearance of her husband?”
“I did.” An emphatic nod. “Last December I was visiting at Uncle Jacob’s cabin when Frankie came in to say that Charlie had not yet come home.”
“Did she say where he had gone?”
“She had already told the family that Charlie was gone the day before. She just came to say he wasn’t back yet. A day or so earlier he had gone over to George Young’s place. To get his Christmas liquor, according to her. Which was a lie.” Her tone spoke volumes about the insolence of one who could foully murder a man and then besmirch his memory with cruel falsehood. I saw the jurors glance at one another, though, and their expressions convinced me that all the men in the courtroom had thought in unison, “Maybe Charlie Silver didn’t go to