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Show page 124 TRIAL OF STOREY PORTER Up t o the time he ran away, Storey Porter taught many young boys of our town marksmanship on an improvised range on h i s farm. S h e r i f f Grady Bone brought Storey back from Texas and placed him in j a i l the minute they r e t u r n e d . The s h e r i f f was a big man, proud and o f f i c i o u s , and sharp enough t o know t h at Storey P o r t e r wasn't a c r i m i n a l . But the sheriff put on a good a c t. "We been a long time finding Storey," Bone explained to hangers-on at the j a i l . He stood with thumbs hooked in his b e l t , his coat open, the l e a t h e r of h i s h o l s t e r showing. "Storey knows he has to face t r i a l . Right, Storey?" "My gun k i l l e d him, c a n ' t deny t h a t , " Storey said from h i s c e l l. "It don't necessarily mean a conviction," said Ben Sapp, a thin deputy, pious of face, "if you got witnesses. By the way, Anne lives at Mrs. Guest's." That was the rub. Storey had had no witnesses. There had been one shot from a rabbit gun and Forrest Clinton had sagged down, with blood oozing over his shirt, and blood seeping from Storey's hand running down his fingers. Forrest had had a jug in one hand, and had been laughing so hard, and had tried four times to get the jug to his mouth but he never did. He had |
