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From: "Simple Man" <Simple@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "When Ages Collide) (Mg, coins rom, law)
Date: Sun,  6 Jul 2003 05:10:02 -0400
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[Okay, I think I'm ready to try out something more substantial now.  This
story is dedicated to my teacher, Frank McCoy, a legend in his own time.]





When Ages Collide

{ASSM} (Mg, cons, rom, law)



By Simple Man (C)2003







     Jonathon Witherspoon was not the kind of man you expected to see at an
arraignment, indeed not the sort of man you expected to see in any Court.
His stature in the community was impeccable as well as his contributions.
Many sat in high office because of him, and him alone.  This majesty of a
man, however, had one small failing.  He was attracted to little girls, the
younger, the better.  Being branded a pedophile would ruin him and a whole
empire would crumble setting the worlds currency into debt.

     That's where I come in; I'm Steven Boyd, attorney at law.  I am not
your common lawyer, far from that; I take in the clients of big business,
criminal law, jury trials, big money on the line.  If you can afford me then
you don't have any problems.  I am arrogant and proud; judges cower behind
their bench when I arrive in Court.  Take the women and little children off
the streets, I have arrived!

     Little Sally McDermott was pregnant, and the world wanted to know just
how a ten year old girl could be pregnant.  The world was stupid, Biology
101, could explain this, but it was of an outrage they felt rather than any
knowledge about how a girl so young could conceive.  Never-the-less, public
opinion was in high gear and there would be no place to change venue to.
Jonathon Witherspoon was going to jail and the stock market dropped 4000
points in a matter of a few hours.  It was Black Friday all over again, but
it gave me time to prepare.

     Franklin Highfeather, a Blackfoot Indian, did my investigations; he was
cunning and deadly, in that order.  I needed to know everything about the
McDermott family and especially little Sally, and I needed it now.  Franklin
's fee is something I do not care to talk about, but thirty silver Cadillac'
s and his many preteen squaws was some idea of his value to me and the
Blackfoot nation.  A single remaining war hero and he had the scars to prove
it.  The little girls of the reservation threw themselves at his feet hoping
to be his next acquisition.  He loved all of them, and they knew it.

     One little Blackfoot girl was Shawnee, a runaway from her own
reservation, merely eight years old, she was a gift to me, and one that I
cherished, my one true companion in life, incredibly beautiful, utterly
devoted to me.  I understood little girls and when I got what I wanted on
Sandy McDermott, it would be my kind of trial.  Highfeather was like a ghost
in the night, one second there, the next gone.

     I had only turned around for a second to explain what I wanted, but now
the room was empty like he had never been there at all.  All that remained
was a small white feather on the floor, his trademark.  If there was
anything at all, he would find it or bring the squealing girl to me half
alive.

     Superior Court in the State of Wyoming was almost a throwback to the
days of cowboys and gunslingers, and up to date with the latest technology,
but it was not technology that made this Court special, it was that case
that was coming to trial and the world watched.  CNN portrayed the little
girl, Susan, as innocent and the victim of a brutal rape, leaving her with
child.  The stakes were going higher and so was the price.  CNN showed the
parents, they were barely literate and the father actually drooled on
camera.  This was better that anything I could wish for.  The world had
sympathy for the child now more than ever before.  It was going high-profile
and I was getting excited.

Tiny eight year old Sweetwater clung to my feet. I could not pronounce her
Indian name which sounded even better, but she huddled there naked, waiting
to please me with her body.  She was the prefect girl, completely
subservient; she kept herself clean and my house too.  I gave her eight
hours to herself to do as she pleased, but the rest of the time she did what
I told her to do, including loving me when I needed it.  You have to
remember she was Shawnee Indian, and I treated her as she expected to be
treated.  Hell, all women should be trained so well.

     Her kisses were sweet and lengthy and small nipples grazed my lips, she
was teasing me, helping me to unwind.  But I had more important things on my
mind and I was less than the lover she needed tonight.

     "You make plans of war.  I go now, clean your house."

No woman would have ever let me do as I wished like that, and that was
exactly what the girl knew and why she did it.  I had visions of buffalo on
the open plains and the hunt with many braves on horses, women and children
left behind, the silent arrows made no sound as the buffalos dropped, there
would be food tonight.  Many young boys would become braves tonight for
their courage and the blood of their conquest would be spread on their loins
as mothers carried their daughters into tents tonight for it was a brave's
right to take the girl of his choice, and no mother wanted her daughter's
blood to be mixed with that of the beast.

     Hear ye, hear ye, come one and all, the Superior Court for the State of
Wyoming is now in session, all having business before this Court draw near
and be seated, the right honorable Judge Melvin Creebs presiding.  All
stand!

     The Judge was all that I expected him to be.  He took his place on the
bench and gaveled his court to order.  Be seated!

The courtroom was filled to the maximum, the air stood still as if no one
took a breath.  Everyone was in place.  I opened the double doors and walked
in like I owned the place; there was a hush from the masses, and a gasp from
the Judge.  That's right; it's Steven Boyd here to defend the moral rights
of all accused.  Hi Melvin, how is your sister today?  The little Indian
maiden throwing flower petals in front of me as I walked was an added touch
that never failed to harvest a jury.  As I stopped and spoke, the little
Indian girl huddled at my feet.

     "Your theatrics will not sway this court Mister Boyd!"

     Two dozen arrows flew to his bench and stuck in the rich dark oak.  The
girl at my feet rose, standing tall.

     "He is with us; it would be well if you listened."

     You could hear a pin drop from then on.  I truly loved a grand
entrance, it put everyone in the right mood, but more important it proved
that I was in charge, not the Judge.  The perfect defense if your client is
guilty.  Highfeather had delivered the goods ahead of schedule and earned
himself some big money.  This was going to be good.

Twelve braves in war paint leaped to the floor and withdrew their arrows
from the bench, jurors fainted and the Judge was in obvious distress, and
then they were gone.  It only took seconds, but before it was over, the
child spoke again.

     "The withdrawing of the arrows means you have been warned, heed this
warning and be just as in the eye of an eagle true to her mark, for this
will happen only once."

     Nobody knew it, but the Judge was very superstitious about Indian lore,
and the girl's words shook him to his bones.  The prosecution objected and
rightfully so, but the twin arrows landing in the table before him, quieted
him to silence.

     "Susan McDermott is pregnant!  That means she is going to have a baby.
Look at her little body, can she do it?  I think she can, I think she wants
it, I think she seduced a man and made him do it to her.  But it was not
Jonathon Witherspoon who took her; it was her own father, a man of no
intelligence and a lot of lust."

 From high in the air a sound filtered down.

     "A daughter shall come to her father in her own time and he shall not
touch her or be with her, for she is holy now."

     Twenty three arrows drove into the floor, the jury gasped.  One brave
pulled the girls father to his feet and dragged him to the front.  The man
was a total idiot and drooled as he pissed his pants.  I brought the girl to
him and he began to rape her again, before it was all stopped.

The gavel sounded like a cannon shot and the Judge bellowed "ENOUGH"!  Two
braves in full war paint stood on either side of the sitting Judge, their
arms crossed.  He pointed to the jurors, they have to decide, not me.  The
jury went into the deliberation room, four braves stood guard.  The arrows
were collected and everyone waited.  My lovely Sweetwater walked down the
aisle and turned to face that mass of people.

 "When a daughter has been defiled, the sun will not rise that day and all
will know she has been taken against her will.  The eagle will not fly, the
fish will not swim, the flowers not bloom, for the taking of a daughter must
be by her husband and not from her father."

Forty eight arrows struck her father and he died as he lived, in utter
ignorance.  The law was served today by something out of the past, an Indian
tribunal, the judgment coming from God.  Tonight there would be penance to
pay for interfering and atonement for deeds done.

     The buffalo still roam free, their heritage maintained, the great
animals left alone, but hardy braves keep an eye on them just the same.

The jury didn't bother coming back with a verdict and the Judge retired.  I
had done my job and walked from this courtroom with the girl I loved in my
arms.



The End

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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