found that the conveyance by Pete Banning of his land to his two children was proper and in no way fraudulent. He denied any relief to Jackie Bell.
Expecting as much, Burch Dunlap perfected his appeal almost overnight, filed his brief, and hurried the case to Jackson, to a supreme court that was already quite familiar with the facts.
Over the Christmas holidays, Joel stayed with Florry and spent his days at the Wilbanks firm writing the reply brief in opposition to Dunlap’s appeal. His research, much of which had already been done, was exhaustive and thorough and troubling. As a general rule, when looking at all jurisdictions, the case law tended to favor the orderly transfer of land among generations of family members. However, the law also took a dim view of those involved in criminal activity transferring assets to avoid the claims of their victims. There was little doubt Pete tried to get rid of his land before he killed Dexter Bell.
As Joel labored for hours over his research and writing, he often felt as though generations of his ancestors were present in the room with him. They had cleared the land, clawed it from the wilderness, tilled the soil with oxen and mules, lost crops to floods and pests, added acreage when they could afford to, borrowed money, endured lean years, and paid off their loans after bumper harvests. They had been born on the land and buried there, and now, after more than a century, it all came down to young Joel and his legal skills.
In Old Sycamore, they were resting under neat rows of tombstones. Were their ghosts watching Joel and praying for a win?
Such questions were heavy burdens, and Joel went about his day with a thick knot in his stomach. The family was humiliated enough. Losing the land would haunt them forever.
He was also burdened by the obvious reality that he and Stella were counting on the income for many years. They would pursue careers and find success, but they had been raised to believe that the family farm would always provide some level of support. Raised on the soil, they knew that there were good years and bad, bumper crops and floods, ups and downs in the market, and that nothing was guaranteed. But their land was free and clear, and thus able to withstand the lean harvests. Losing it would be hard to accept.
Then there was Liza. She talked more and more of coming home, of getting back into her life on the farm. She claimed to miss Nineva, which Joel doubted. But she missed her rituals, her gardening, her horses, her friends. If it all vanished, the damage could be catastrophic. At every visit, Dr. Hilsabeck inquired about the lawsuits and appeals and all that legal mess that to him was indecipherable.
So Joel researched and wrote. John Wilbanks reviewed his drafts, edited, and offered comments. He filed his brief on January 18, and the waiting game began. The supreme court could hear the case in three months, or twelve.
That afternoon Joel packed his papers, cleaned his desk, and tidied the little office where he had spent so many hours. He had already said good-bye to Florry and planned to drive to Oxford that night to begin his fourth semester of law school. He joined John Wilbanks on the terrace for a drink. The weather was unseasonably warm and springlike.
John lit a cigar and offered one to Joel, who declined. They sipped Jack Daniel’s sour mash and commented on the weather. Wilbanks said, “We hate to see you go, Joel. It’s nice having you around the office.”
“I enjoy it,” Joel said, though it was a stretch.
“We’d like to have you back this summer for another clerkship.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” He had no plans to return for the summer, or next year or the one after that, but it was too soon to inform John Wilbanks. “I may stay in school this summer,” he said. “Finish next December.”
“What’s the rush? You’d better enjoy the college days, son.”
“I’m tired of those days. I want to get out and start a career.”
“Well, I hope you’ll consider our offer of an associate’s position.”
Why beat around the bush? His father never minced words and was admired for his bluntness. Joel took a long pull on the whiskey and said, “Mr. Wilbanks, I’m not sure I can practice law in this town. When I see that courthouse, and it’s rather hard to miss, I think of my