Crooked River by Shelley Pearsall Read Free Book Online Page A

that our Pa's Indian didn't kill the trapper?” she said.
    “I don't know what to think, truly I don't,” Mr. Kelley answered, rubbing his eyes wearily. “Amik was always a good friend. For all the years we were growing up. He was never the kind to—”
    Right at that moment, Pa and the boys came stomping through the doorway. Me and Laura were so taken by surprise, we nearly knocked over our chairs in our rush to stand up.
    First thing Pa said, of course, was that nobody came out to the field to tell him there was a fellow here to see him, and he gave me and Laura a hard look. After that, he sat down at the table and announced that he was Major Carver—and as the major general of this part of Ohio, it was his duty to ask the fellow what business he had in our settlement.
    Mr. Kelley's narrow face turned as pink as a spring wildflower and his elbow sent his spoon clattering to the floor. “I'm Mr. Peter Kelley Esquire,” he managed to say, trying to reach for his spoon. “I'm an acquaintance of the Chippewa Indian you have caught for murder—”
    “Acquaintance?” Pa's voice was sharp.
    Mr. Kelley took a deep breath. I could see his shoulders rise up and down, and I felt sorry for him because of my Pa being the way he is.
    “I'm newly in the practice of law,” he said real quiet. “And I have come to see about perhaps defending him in his trial.”
    My mouth just about fell to my feet when I heard that. All he had told us was that he was acquainted with the Indian from boyhood. He never breathed a word about defending him. Or being a lawyer.
    My Pa let out a loud hoot of laughter. “Well, don't that beat all,” he said, smacking his hand down on the table. “George,” he hollered at my no-good cousin. “George—this man is gonna stand up for a savage. Don't that beat all you ever heard?”
    Cousin George grinned and shook his head.
    “You a real lawyer?” Pa asked.
    “Yes,” Mr. Kelley answered, as red as beets.
    “You study many books?”
    “Yes,” Mr. Kelley said.
    “Well, I'll tell you what.” Pa snorted and leaned forward. “You got more ed-u-cation than you got brains, Mr. Peter Kelley, Esquire. Everybody around here knows that savage up there”—Pa jabbed his finger toward the loft—“kilt a poor fellow who didn't have no reason to die. Kilt him in cold blood with a tomahawk.” He fixed his eyes on Peter Kelley's face. “And if you keep that Indian up there from hanging for his crime, you got the fewest brains of any man I know on this green earth.”
    Pa stood up and pointed at the door. “Now git out of my house.”
    Seems like when a person is treated poorly by someone else, it makes you want to take their side. I don't know why. Maybe it isn't even a side you would have picked under other circumstances.
    I couldn't imagine how Peter Kelley was going to stand up to my Pa. Or how he was going to save an Indian who everybody believed was guilty. But as I watched Mr. Kelley pick up his hat and walk out the door with his skinny shoulders and his too-big coat, I am ashamed to say that I wanted to see him try.

I didn't expect that Peter Kelley would ever dare to come back to our house. Not with how Pa had run him off. While we fixed supper that night, I asked Laura, “You think he'll still try to be the lawyer for Indian John?”
    “Perhaps,” Laura said, keeping her eyes on the turnips she was cutting.
    “You think all he told us is true? About Indian John not being the kind of person to kill a trapper?”
    “I know what our Pa and the other men have said,” she answered evenly. “That's what I know to be true.”
    I felt sorry for Laura. She had been real quiet and downcast ever since Pa had sent Mr. Kelley away and scolded us. I figured she had taken a small fancy to the lawyer just in the brief moment we had met him. On account of his wavy red hair and gentle eyes, Ithink. And I expect he would have made a good beau for her if he hadn't been going against our Pa and defending