Soon as I woke next morning, I was into clothes, out the door, and down at the courthouse. I had no watch so I asked a fellow the time. I then asked if he knew when court started. “Nine o’clock,” he said. It was presently eight so I sat on a bench across the street, stomach growling from hunger. I cared little on this as I deserved tribulation for my sin. By the time Clay and the marshal came along, I was well into purgatory.
I followed them in to stand before Judge Garvin Montgomery, who was white haired and sported a well cultivated mustache. He brought proceedings to order, called the case, and we stepped forward. Charges were read by the marshal. Murder. Clay was asked to plead and he said “guilty” at which I jumped in. “He shot in my defense,” I cried, and the judge told me to hold m
