The colonel rounded the corner, yelling and swearing. "What the hell happened?" he demanded. "I heard some shots."
"Mackenvale got hit."
"Where is he?" the colonel said. -
"Off to the hospital," a sergeant replied, pointing at a jeep flying away in the distance.
"How bad is he?"
"Looked pretty bad. Got him in the throat."
"Throat! Why did they move him?"
No one answered.
"Did anybody see anything?" the colonel demanded.
Sounded like it came from up, Ozzie said the looking up past Cedar Street. "Why don't you send a jeep up there to look around."
"Good idea." The colonel addressed his eager men with a string of terse commands, punctuated liberally with obscenities. The soldiers scattered in all directions, guns drawn and ready for combat, in search of an assassin they could not identify, who was, in fact, in the next county when the foot patrol began exploring the abandoned feed mill.
Ozzie laid the briefcase on the floor next to Jake. "Is Jake okay?" he whispered to Nesbit. Harry Rex and Ellen stood on the stairs where Cobb and Willard had fallen.
"I don't know. He ain't moved in ten minutes," Nesbit said.
"Jake, are you all right?" the sheriff asked.
"Yes," he said slowly without opening his eyes. The soldier had been on Jake's left shoulder. "This is kinda silly, ain't it?" he had just said to Jake when a bullet ripped through his throat. He fell into Jake, grabbing at his neck, gurgling blood and screaming. Jake fell, and was tossed to safety.
"He's dead, isn't he?" Jake asked softly.
"We don't know yet," replied Ozzie. "He's at the hospital."
"He's dead. I know he's dead. I heard his neck pop."
Ozzie looked at Nesbit, then at Harry Rex. Four or five coin-sized drops of blood were splattered on Jake's light gray suit. He hadn't noticed them yet, but they were apparent to everyone else.
"Jake, you've got blood on your suit," Ozzie finally said. "Let's go back to your office so you can change clothes."
"Why is that important?" Jake mumbled to the floor. They stared at each other.
Dell and the others from the Coffee Shop stood on the sidewalk and watched as they led Jake from the courthouse, across the street, and into his office, ignoring the absurdities thrown by the reporters. Harry Rex locked the front door, leaving the bodyguards on the sidewalk. Jake went upstairs and removed his coat.
"Row Ark, why don't you make some margaritas," Harry Rex said. "I'll go upstairs and stay with him."
"Judge, we've had some excitement," Ozzie explained as Noose unpacked his briefcase and removed his coat.
"What is it?" Buckley asked.
"They tried to kill Jake this mornin'."
"What!"
"When?" asked Buckley.
" 'Bout an hour ago, somebody shot at Jake as he was comin' into the courthouse. It was a rifle at long range. We have no idea who did it. They missed Jake and hit a guardsman. He's in surgery now."
"Where's Jake?" asked His Honor.
"Over in his office. He's pretty shook up."
"I would be too," Noose said sympathetically.
"He wanted you to call him when you got here."
"Sure." Ozzie dialed the number and handed the phone to the judge.
"It's Noose," Harry Rex said, handing the phone to Jake.
"Hello."
"Are you okay, Jake?"
"Not really. I won't be there today."
Noose struggled for a response. "Do what?"
"I said I won't be in court today. I'm not up to it."
"Well, uh, Jake, where does that leave the rest of us?"
"I don't care, really," Jake said, sipping on his second margarita.
"Beg your pardon?"
"I said I don't care, Judge. I don't care what you do, I won't be there."
Noose shook his head and looked at the receiver. "Are you hurt?" he asked with feeling.
"You ever been shot at, Judge?"
"No, Jake."
"You ever seen a man get shot, hear him scream?"
"No, Jake."
"You ever had somebody else's blood splashed on your suit?"
"No, Jake."
"I won't be there."
Noose paused and thought for a moment. Come on over, Jake, and let's talk about it."
"No. I'm not leaving my office. It's dangerous out there."
"Suppose we stand in recess until one. Will you feel better then?"
"I'll be drunk by then."
"What!"
"I said I'll be drunk by then,"
Harry Rex covered his eyes. Ellen left for the kitchen.
"When do you think you might be sober?" Noose asked sternly. Ozzie and Buckley looked at each other.
"Monday."
"What about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow's Saturday."
"Yes, I know, and I'd planned to hold court tomorrow. We've got a jury sequestered, remember?"
"Okay, I'll be ready in the morning."
"That's good to hear. What do I tell the jury right now? They're sitting in the jury room waiting on us. The courtroom is packed. Your client