Worthy Brown's Daughter by Phillip Margolin Read Free Book Online Page B

and your daughter are clearly the victims of a terrible injustice, and I’ll help you.”
    Worthy looked stunned. Matthew guessed that he had never truly believed that he would be able to convince one white man to take up his cause against another.
    “Have you thought of taking Roxanne when Mr. Barbour is not at home?”
    “Yes, suh, but we is colored, and there ain’t no place we could hide. Then, too, I don’t want to chance Roxanne getting hurt.”
    “So you’ve come to me.”
    Worthy sat up straight and laid the hat in his lap. He looked very serious.
    “Mr. Penny, I believe things should be done legal and by agreement. I made my word with Mr. Barbour that I would work for my freedom, and I kept it. I want him to keep his word.”
    “Quite right, and we will make Caleb Barbour keep his word. I intend to file a petition for a writ of habeas corpus. That’s Latin for ‘bring the body,’ and we will get the court to order Caleb to transport Roxanne to your arms. You have my word on it.”
    Worthy Brown sat ramrod straight for a moment. Then he clasped Matthew’s hand, shaking it up and down like a thirsty man working the handle of a water pump.
    MATTHEW SPENT ANOTHER HOUR ASKING detailed questions about Brown’s history in Georgia and Oregon. When Worthy left, Matthew wrote a draft of his habeas petition, which he put away when the fading sun cast shadows across the room. There was an inexpensive café across the street that catered to sailors, workingmen, and neighborhood businesses. After finishing off a glass of beer and a plate of sausage, potato, and cabbage, Matthew climbed the outside stairs to his office.
    A chessboard lay on the floor of Matthew’s apartment. It had taken Matthew a month and a half to make it. When he had finished the board, Matthew had begun carving the pieces. Two white knights and the white king’s bishop stood on their appropriate squares. A half-finished queen’s bishop lay on its side, unable to stand because Matthew had not yet whittled the base. It was almost dark when he sat down on the narrow landing that fronted the office and settled in his rocking chair to work on the bishop’s miter. He whittled slowly on the half-finished chess piece until the night sky filled with stars.
    Matthew put down his knife and walked to the railing. There was a constant din from the street below. Matthew welcomed the noise. It was a comfort to someone who lived alone and missed the company of the woman he had loved deeply. When Rachel was alive, he had never felt alone, even when he was by himself.
    Time had softened the pain caused by his loss, but there were moments when a memory would blindside Matthew. At first, he had fought the grief that could make him howl like a dog. Then he came to believe that his grief was a tribute to the depth of his love for the woman he would never hold again, and he’d learned to let it flow through him like the river that had carried Rachel away.
    Matthew pulled his thoughts away from Rachel and focused them on Worthy Brown. There had never been any question that he would take on Worthy’s case. Some cases demanded to be taken: cases that nourished the spirit, uplifted the soul, and gave a lawyer the strength to pursue all of the tired, often petty, lawsuits that make up the bulk of a practice. For Matthew, the deciding factor had not been the loathing he felt for Caleb Barbour or the incredible inhumanity of the man’s actions or the value of Worthy Brown’s information to the case in Phoenix. What convinced Matthew that he had to represent the former slave was Worthy Brown’s unwavering belief in the sanctity of contract and his willingness to resort to the legal system that permitted his people to be treated like cattle. Brown had demonstrated a belief in principle that transcended personal experience and an ability to understand the idea of law sorely lacking in many people of Matthew’s acquaintance, including members of the bar.
    What worried