Zora laughed at him frankly.
"We can't," she said. "Don't you know that Colonel Cresswell will attach our cotton for rent as soon as it touches the warehouse?"
"But it's ours."
"Nothing is ours. No black man ordinarily can sell his crop without a white creditor's consent."
Alwyn fumed.
"The best way," he declared, "is to go to Montgomery and get a first-class lawyer and just fight the thing through. The land is legally ours, and he has no right to our cotton."
"Yes, but you must remember that no man like Colonel Cresswell regards a business bargain with a colored man as binding. No white man under ordinary circumstances will help enforce such a bargain against prevailing public opinion."
"But if we cannot trust to the justice of the case, and if you knew we couldn't, why did you try?"
"Because I had to try; and moreover the circumstances are not altogether ordinary: the men in power in Toomsville now are not the landlords of this county; they are poor whites. The Judge and sheriff were both elected by mill-hands who hate Cresswell and Taylor. Then there's a new young lawyer who wants Harry Cresswell's seat in Congress; he don't know much law, I'm afraid; but what he don't know of this case I think I do. I'll get his advice and then--I mean to conduct the case myself," Zora calmly concluded.
"Without a lawyer!" Bles Alwyn stared his amazement.
"Without a lawyer in court."
"Zora! That would be foolish!"
"Is it? Let's think. For over a year now I've been studying the law of the case," and she pointed to her law books; "I know the law and most of the decisions. Moreover, as a black woman fighting a hopeless battle with landlords, I'll gain the one thing lacking."
"What's that?"
"The sympathy of the court and the bystanders."
"Pshaw! From these Southerners?"
"Yes, from them. They are very human, these men, especially the laborers. Their prejudices are cruel enough, but there are joints in their armor. They are used to seeing us either scared or blindly angry, and they understand how to handle us then, but at other times it is hard for them to do anything but meet us in a human way."
"But, Zora, think of the contact of the court, the humiliation, the coarse talk--"
Zora put up her hand and lightly touched his arm. Looking at him, she said: "Mud doesn't hurt much. This is my duty. Let me do it."
His eyes fell before the shadow of a deeper rebuke. He arose heavily.
"Very well," he acquiesced as he passed slowly out.