A Visit with The Judge

Ninety Days Inside The Empire: A Novel by William Appleman Williams

Page 33

Happily, Mrs. Langdon was a Plain Jane. He stopped his hand on the way to the drawer with the bourbon.

-- Now that's not quite right, Marsh.

Indeed not. Mrs. Langdon was slender but not skinny. Her breasts did not punch your eyes out, but they moved easily with her hips and thighs.

-- I'll bet she sits a horse.

But it was her face and eyes and mind that Marsh liked most. Her head was a bit narrow, but the full mouth balanced the high cheeks and the sharp nose. The hair was black with a few slivers of silver, cut in a kind of bouncy bob. Her eyes told you that the mind was engaged. As had the conversation.

-- Ah, enough of that, Marsh. Get to the job.

"Marlene, when do I have time to do homework?"

"Tomorrow is full, but you're free Friday afternoon until Mr. Hanson come Monday at three. You can be lazy for a change." The last was clearly an invitation for the weekend. Marsh ignored it.

"If anything comes along, tell it Tuesday."

So on that Friday afternoon Marsh began to inquire into the situation of Mrs. Langdon. He learned quickly that she told the truth. The property was hers clear except for the debt; and the land was a mix of good and maybe just fair. Some would grow food and fiber, but the rest was marginal for grazing her two horses and a couple of cows. She got some money from breeding both. And some government agency, probably the military, was whispering to banks and realtors about a big construction contract. She did have a problem.

Marsh had been taught by his ancestors, and also in the best seminars at Tulane, that an effective lawyer did not call in his tabs too quickly (let them earn interest), and most of all not for minor reasons. Various people owed him three kind of dues. One involved a few Negro families that he had helped keep their tiny acres. Another had been banked from various white farmers and small business men who now and again had to scramble to stay clear of the banks, other corporations, and tax collectors. One or two of them also used his garden to hide their booze when the revenuers were on the prowl. The potential big one, though it was intangible, was the reputation he had consolidated by winning a big injury case against a powerful implement company.

He decided to take them in that order. So Saturday morning he spent riding around to see the Negroes. He asked them to do some part-time work for Mrs. Langdon. Well, for Mr. Harland, they could see what they could manage. He took it for what it was: well, maybe, but only if he protected them against white folks. They knew how to bargain, too.

After lunch at the last Negro farm, he cantered over to his favorite white farmer. They fished and hunted, but mostly liked to talk politics over some white corn. Henry Watson unscrewed the jar and Marsh told him he had a difficultly.

"You a funny man, Marsh. You keep findin' problems better than some lady to warm your bed."

"Warmin' the bed is a serious matter, Henry. Can't be too careful lest you wake up freezin'."

"Yes, so...."

"You know Mrs. Langdon?"

"Can't say I rightly know her, but I hear she's honest and a bit in a hollow these days. You thinkin' marriage or a fee?"

"I'm thinking the banks and the government tryin' to get her best land."

"She come to you?"

"You send her?"

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A Visit with The Judge

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