Southern Justice

By Jim Jones

In 1879, Franklin County, Mississippi, George Walker Guice’s seemingly normal life is forever altered as he quickly takes center stage in a feud with the neighboring Hawley family. The feud, which will end on the busy streets of Natchez, Mississippi, in 1881, quickly turns violent. Between 1879 and 1883, a very young George W. Guice will be shot by his nemesis, retaliate against his adversary, face a murder trial, lose an appeal to the Mississippi Supreme Court, and surrender himself to the state penitentiary to serve a life sentence. Facing an unknown future, George Guice senses renewed life after receiving a pardon in 1886. With his newfound freedom, Guice gradually attempts to, once again, live an ordinary life. Before long, he finds work as a Jackson, Mississippi, police officer. For a time, it appears as if Guice has truly put his past behind him; however, that changes on January 14, 1893. On this day, Officers George Walker Guice and Percy Clifton Hines are directed to arrest two vagrants. While in the performance of their duty, a violent shoot-out occurs within earshot of city hall. When the gunfire stops, two men lay on the ground, fatally wounded. The following months produce two trials, an appeal to the Mississippi Supreme Court, and an unexpected twist for two young defendants. Based on true events, this story follows the short adult life of George Walker Guice and shows that Southern justice often has a way of working itself out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781640276321

Book preview

1

The mild winter of 1879 was winding down in the Hamburg community of Franklin County, Mississippi. Asa Guice sat on the edge of his well-worn front porch, seemingly mesmerized by the sound of his young wife’s rocking chair as she slowly swayed back and forth. The solid oak chair had been a gift from Asa two birthdays past; Sarah used it often. Today, bundled up in a bright-red sweater, she rocked ever so gently, pausing just long enough to take a sip of coffee. Asa sat silently with his back against one of the front-porch supports, carefully studying the freshly plowed acres of land that lay before him. His gaze was intense; his old yet spirited pale-blue eyes seemed transfixed as he studied his surroundings and pondered this year’s crop. Nothing seemed to interrupt his thoughts except for the occasional rays of the bright morning sun as it peeked out from behind the massive oak tree standing directly to his front.

The weather had been unseasonably warm lately, causing spring to arrive prematurely. Most of the trees that surrounded their home were already displaying fresh green sprouts, except for the stubborn oaks. Several dogwoods scattered about along with a few fruit trees, and a couple of large redbuds were practically covered in colorful blossoms. Though the flowers were still in their infancy, the varying colors of white, pink, and purple seemed to dominate the otherwise bleak landscape.

Asa had been a farmer in these parts for many years. The sixty-six-year-old was certain there would be another substantial frost within the next week are so; more than likely, it would be sometime around Easter. He reckoned Old Man Winter still could deliver an unwelcome punch, maybe one that was capable of damaging his crops if he planted them too early.

Asa Jones Guice was born in Franklin County, Mississippi, in 1813; he was the son of Daniel Guice. Their family was of German ancestry.

Asa raised nine children with his first wife, Clarissa Higdon. After her death, he married Sarah Claughton; she was twenty-three years his junior. His second marriage produced an additional six children.

All of Asa’s children from his first marriage were grown. Some of them remained in the general area, trying to establish a life of their own, while others moved across the river to the state of Louisiana.

Two of Asa’s sons became doctors. His second born, Daniel, elected to stay in Franklin County; practicing medicine and farming kept him busy. Like his father, Daniel also married a Claughton; her name was Elizabeth.

Daniel Guice’s wife died in 1877, which left him a widower; after eleven wonderful years of marriage, he was back residing with his father in the spring of 1879. The rest of the Guice household was made up of Asa’s wife, Sarah, and their children, which consisted of four boys and two girls. Basil was twenty years old. George Walker was eighteen. Griffie was fifteen. Estelle was thirteen. Durwood was ten, and Herbert Lester was five.

Daniel and his half brothers, Basil and George, helped their father with the hard work, such as plowing and planting. Durwood and Herbert were too young to assist in that manner but did their part by performing minor chores around the house; Durwood also attended school. Asa believed in a good education and did everything within his power to ensure his children were granted that valuable opportunity.

Asa and his older boys had already plowed up most of their cleared acreage in anticipation of this years’ crop but had so far held off on planting anything; however, the signs now indicated they should soon get started. By the time their crops broke through the rich dark soil, the threat of any frost should be well over.

Although he had performed this same inspection countless times over the past few months, Asa once again walked over to the barn so he could examine his planting supplies. He removed a lid from one of the many containers. Reaching inside, he lifted a handful of bright-yellow kernels to inspect them. After a few moments, he allowed them to slowly cascade through his fingers until they once again lay motionless inside the wooden cask. He repeated this same process several times, carefully checking each container. Once he was through examining every type of seed, he ensured the lids were secured before exiting the barn.

Basil and his brother George stood under a lean-to, which ran off one side of the old barn. The boys were tasked with taking a set of harnesses and cleaning them, a tedious chore they had executed numerous times before. Both boys had taken a damp cloth and wiped the leather strips free of dirt and other debris; now they were rubbing a type of homemade soap on them. The soap’s lather had to be worked into the leather to keep it soft and pliable. This type of work must be performed quite often so the life of the harnesses could be extended. Asa approached them and casually inspected their work before voicing his approval. You boys are doing a fine job. Basil pointed out an area that required mending; his father took a long look at it before handing it back to his son. I’ll get to it directly. You might want to fetch the mending material and have it ready for me.

Two of their mules, Jack and Slow Poke, peered over their makeshift fence and stared at the boys as if to take in their handiwork. George lifted the harness and shook it at them; I’m fixing this for you, Jack, so you best get ready. The two mules turned around and slowly made their way toward the other end of the pasture. Basil noticed the mules wanted no part of the harness and made a comment about how neither he nor the mules were ready to return to the field; both brothers laughed as they continued their work.

Asa returned to the front porch and sat down without saying another word. Sarah carefully folded up her two-week-old Natchez Daily Democrat and looked at her husband. Do you want a cup of coffee, Asa?

Coffee sounds good, sounds mighty good.

I’ll fetch you a cup before I get started with dinner. You’ll have to send one of the boys to town for some supplies; I’m running low on sugar and flour.

I reckon I can send Daniel. Remind me after we eat.

Sarah soon brought out a large cup of steaming black coffee and handed it to her husband before returning to the kitchen. Asa cautiously sipped from the cup until he was certain he could drink it without burning his mouth. He continued to sit silently and stared at the fields as he did earlier that morning, occasionally tilting the cup up to his mouth before lowering it back down and resting it on his right leg. One of their dogs made her way onto the porch and stood there, awaiting some attention. Asa ignored her until she tried to sample his coffee. He gently pushed her face away. Mama will have your hide, and mine, if she catches you drinking out of her good china. After attentively listening to Asa’s poor excuse of a scolding, Mollie collapsed onto the porch and rested her head against Asa’s leg. Asa reached over with his free hand and began to rub her back before scratching her behind the ear; Mollie was in heaven. She moaned with pleasure and steadily wagged her tail, which created a thumping sound every time it struck the hardwood porch. This went on for several minutes until Asa abruptly stopped. Mollie waited a few seconds to see if the attention would resume before finally walking off in search of another family member.

Asa’s weather-beaten wood-frame home was positioned close to the road. He could easily see anyone coming or going down the dirt thoroughfare. This morning, he noticed a buggy coming from the north, losing sight of it every now and then as it disappeared behind the plentiful pine trees that lined the road. As it got closer, he recognized one of his neighbors, Quinton Hawley; both men had married Higdon sisters. The men knew each other as neighbors and past relatives by marriage. When Quinton got to within ear shot, the two men waved and bid each other a good morning; Quinton continued making his way toward the city of Meadville. Asa went back to pondering the weather.

2

After Quinton Hawley returned from town, he stood by his fireplace, trying to warm his backside. It was not particularly cold outside, but old age was taking its toll on his frail body. Cold just seemed to latch on to him and not let go as easy as it did in years prior. Though unwanted by other members of the Hawley household, the small fire felt good to Quinton.

The old man would turn seventy-seven in a few days. He had seen a lot in his lifetime. During his early years, hard work and a family inheritance resulted in Quinton owning a farm in Franklin County of over a thousand acres, one that consisted of good fertile soil. Between 1830 and 1860, Quinton owned several slaves and was considered quite wealthy. He continued to work his farm throughout the Civil War but suffered greatly afterward. Shortly after the war, his massive estate was quickly pared down to less than four hundred acres. Without slaves and with little money, it was now up to him and his family to tend the land. His later years proved difficult.

In the spring of 1879, the large Hawley family consisted of the old man, his wife, Emily, their three sons, a daughter, their new son-in-law, and a few young cousins.

The elder Quinton was too old to work the land or tend to the livestock. This type of work was left to his three sons and his son-in-law; however, his age did not prevent him from handing out sage advice or issuing plentiful orders. Over breakfast that very morning, his soft but firm voice yielded a brief set of instructions to his sons, capped off with his dry sense of humor. You boys need to start planting the lower field and quit waiting for the corn to plant itself. I swear, I believe your sister can outwork any of you boys; I’d almost wager on it.

Simpson looked directly at his father and, with a grin that half covered his face, responded. We’ll get on directly, Pa. I swear, if I knew you had two nickels to rub together, I do believe I’d take you up on that bet.

I may or may not have two nickels to rub together, but I do have a belt that can rub some skin off your backside if you sass me one more time. Now get your lazy butt up and go do some work.

Simpson pushed his plate toward the center of the table. I reckon I better get started before you start pulling on that belt of yours. Saying nothing else, Simpson stood and motioned for his brother to follow him. Minutes later they were headed to the fields, their father looking on from the barn.

Quinton’s two oldest boys, Simpson and Quinton Jr., were responsible for ensuring their father’s orders were carried out. The youngest son, Alexander, still had to pull his share, but being the youngest of the bunch gave him certain privileges the others did not enjoy. They teased their younger brother to no end, but it was all in good fun.

A few years prior, Simpson taught his brother Alexander how to shoot and how to properly care for a firearm. On his sixteenth birthday, Simpson gave his brother a magnificent Smith & Wesson pistol. Alexander marveled at it for days on end, showing it off to anyone who would stand still long enough to look at it. The younger Hawley looked up to his big brother, trying his best to emulate him.

Quinton Jr., often referred to as Quint, was the quiet one of the bunch. He labored hard and complained very little. When he wasn’t working, he was constantly beside his father, often reading the newspaper to him.

John Wayland Pritchard was older than the Hawley boys by a few years. John married their sister Alpha two years prior and resided in the Hawley home. He was reluctant to take the lead for the first few months but eventually started telling the Hawley boys what to do. This resulted in quite a few arguments and even a fight or two before the issue was finally put to rest. Quint and Alexander thought there was nothing wrong with their brother-in-law telling them what to do, immediately carrying out his wishes; however, the older Simpson wanted no part of it. On one occasion, Pritchard sat under a shade tree and instructed Simpson to get the mules ready to plow. Simpson just walked away, which caused Pritchard to go after him and demand he do as he is told. Within seconds the two young men were on the ground, each one trying his best to whip the other one. The fight was short but fierce; each man suffered his share of cuts and bruises. Old man Hawley sat the two men down that evening and told them he expected both to work together. There would be no orders given, but each would volunteer to help the other. Both men saw this as a victory and behaved themselves afterward.

Though he said nothing to his family, Simpson felt like his sister and her husband were trying to take control of the old homestead. His father remained in charge but yielded more and more control to the son-in-law, who was six years senior to Simpson. Even his mother seemed to take to the idea of Alpha and John taking over the farm one day. Maybe they were right; perhaps he should get his own place. He had already spoken to a neighbor about purchasing some land that bordered his father’s farm. After pondering it for some time, Simpson set himself a goal; he would find a job nearby and save for the land. Once he established himself, he would get married and perhaps start a family of his own.

3

The town of Meadville was awash with colors. Flags of red, white, and blue hung throughout the city. Several people from across the county were in town to celebrate the Fourth of July. The hotels were full. Some townspeople rented out their spare rooms. There were even tents erected on each end of town. By all accounts, the population was double what it normally was. There was music and other various forms of entertainment, to include shooting contests; the young men of the area quickly signed up. The streets were crowded with people. Among those present were the families of Quinton Hawley and Asa Guice.

Shortly after they arrived in town, Asa’s children went off in search of their friends, except for Herbert, who was still too young to go off on his own. Asa and Sarah took their young son and made their way toward the center of town, where the music was being played. They drank cider and mingled with the different families, some being neighbors of theirs. When the band wasn’t playing, a selection of politicians got up to give a brief speech. Asa had seen it all before but was amazed at the size of this year’s crowd. He looked around, seeing folks stretched from one end of town to the other.

Basil and George did not sign up for the shooting competition but stood and watched just as young Alexander Hawley did. The neighbor boys spoke to each other and speculated on who they thought would win the grand prize. There were several participants, all of them eventually beaten by either Thomas Steward of Natchez or the local boy, Simpson Hawley. Throngs of people gathered to see the shoot off. It took twenty minutes, with Steward taking the early lead before Hawley got out in front for good. After the competition was over, the crowd cheered as the two men shook hands. Constable Wilkerson awarded Hawley the ten dollars in prize money. Simpson stuffed the money in his pants before shaking hands with numerous bystanders. Eventually he returned the rifle to his father’s wagon before taking in other parts of the festival.

Griffie Guice and her sister Estelle waded through the crowd of people in search of their schoolmates. Estelle found hers first, leaving Griffie by herself. Griffie continued to walk around until she came upon several boys wrestling. She immediately spotted one of her neighbors also taking in the spectacle; Simpson Hawley was still beaming from winning the shooting contest. Griffie thought the young man was very handsome. She made her way closer to him, trying to think of some way to get his attention. At the last moment, she pretended to trip and fell against him. Simpson reacted and caught her before she tumbled to the ground. She thanked him for being such a gentleman, and before long, the two of them were engaged in conversation.

Simpson suggested they get away from the crowd; they walked toward the edge of the city. You are lucky I was there to catch you. You could have hurt yourself.

Luck had nothing to do with it. It was destiny.

You mean I was destined to catch you?

That’s exactly what I mean. Of course, it could have easily been someone else. There is another young man in town that fancies me.

Another young man that fancies you; does that mean I fancy you?

You do think I am pretty, don’t you?

Yes, I guess so.

You guess so!

I mean, of course I think you’re pretty.

And you have been noticing me at church, haven’t you?

I suppose I have looked your way a time or two.

Then it’s settled. I can be your girl.

What makes you think I need a girl chasing after me?

Oh, you have it all wrong, Simpson Hawley. You will be the one doing the chasing. Griffie smiled at him before running toward some abandoned property near the end of town, her long red hair bouncing as she ran. Simpson looked around, as if to see if anyone was watching, before chasing after her. He found her leaning against the front door of an old house that was in desperate need of repair. You can kiss me if you like.

Simpson leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. She pulled away slowly but continued to gaze into his eyes. Simpson thought she was soft and pleasant enough, her lips ever inviting. He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her further inside the run-down building. Simpson quickly took stock of his surroundings before gently positioning Griffie in a shaded corner of what used to be an elegant parlor. Most of the room was covered in sunlight, which poured through a gaping hole in the roof. Simpson placed his arms around Griffie and began to kiss her repeatedly. Damn, you sure are a pleasure to kiss.

You can feel my bosom if you like. Simpson reached up and tried to get his hand down the front of her shirt but was unable to do so. Griffie, sensing his frustration, opened the first two buttons of her blouse. Simpson still had difficulty reaching his destination but finally grabbed hold of her right breast. It was small but soft. Simpson had never held a woman’s breast before. It took some persuasion, but Simpson finally convinced Griffie to let him see her with the blouse fully open. The two of them kissed for a long time before Griffie told him she had to be getting back.

They exited the run-down house and slowly walked back toward the east end of the city. If I marry you, will you take me away from here? I want to live in some place fancy like New Orleans.

I was planning on having a place of my own, next to my pa.

I don’t want to be on some old farm, working myself to death. I want a big house in a magnificent city. Don’t you think I deserve that?

I reckon you do.

If you can’t give that to me, then I suppose this boy in town will.

Who is this boy you keep talking about?

Just you never mind about him. I’d rather have you, but if you ain’t willing to take me to New Orleans, then I’m sure he will be.

Why, Griffie, your dreams sure are big. A man must have money to live in a place like that. It would take me some time to earn enough to get started there.

Oh, I’ve got time, Simpson. I’ve got nothing but time.

The two new lovers made their way toward the center of town. Griffie soon spotted her family looking for her and ran up to them, leaving Simpson by himself. United once again, the Guice family made their way to their wagon and proceeded to leave Meadville. Other families were also leaving. From a seated position near the front of the wagon, Griffie continuously scanned the crowd of people until she spotted Simpson standing in the shadows near the general store. The two of them maintained eye contact as long as possible. Eventually, their wagon rounded a large curve, which caused her to lose sight of the town. Griffie finally settled in next to one of her brothers, pleased that Simpson Hawley was interested in her.

Simpson stood there until Asa pulled out of sight. He then made his way to the town square, where he located his brothers. Alexander ran up to him. Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.

I’ve been here and there little brother, here and there. Within minutes, the Hawley family was making their way back to their farm. Simpson rode on the back of the wagon with his feet dangling, kicking up a small dust trail. A smile crept across his face as he thought about the day’s events. Ten dollars and a new girl—why, you couldn’t beat that with a stick.

4

Simpson saw Griffie at church not long after the town festival but was unable to say anything other than hello. For the past few days, all he could think about was the girl who lived two farms over. His appetite had lessened, enough that his family asked him what was wrong.

Come Monday, Simpson was busy working the fields but couldn’t fully concentrate on his work. After an hour or so, he stopped what he was doing and leaned his hoe against the wagon; his eyes stared toward the north. Then, in an instant, he unhooked one of the horses from the wagon team. Alexander noticed what he was doing and went to investigate. Little brother, I need to go and take care of some business over at Asa’s place. There ain’t any need to tell anyone where I’ve gone. I’ll be back soon enough. Alexander watched his brother until he disappeared into the wood line.

Simpson crossed the creek that marked the beginning of Asa’s property and soon spotted Asa and his boys in the lower field tending to their crops. He almost rode right up to Asa, asking permission to see his daughter, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to marry the girl; he was certainly confused. If he could just talk to her one more time, perhaps he could determine if there was really something between them. Eventually, Simpson turned the horse and made his way toward Asa’s home. As he approached the farmhouse, he could see a girl feeding chickens near one of the outbuildings. Simpson wasn’t sure if it was Griffie or her sister Estelle until he got closer. He tied his horse to a tree between the dirt road and Asa’s house and made his way toward the barn. He was trying his best not to be seen. After some doing, Simpson popped his head out from behind the edge of the barn and called out to Griffie. She walked over to him. What on earth are you doing here?

I just had to come and talk to you.

Did my mama see you?

I don’t think so. I saw your pa and your brothers working the field. Can we talk?

Go inside the barn. I’ll be right there as soon as I make sure where mama’s at.

Simpson took up a seat on top of a bag of grain. After a few minutes, Griffie returned and shut the barn door behind her. Without saying a word, Simpson took her by the arm and began to kiss her. Griffie allowed him to do as he wished. He unbuttoned the top of her dress to expose her small breasts, gazing at them for the second time. Simpson then lifted the bottom portion of her clothing and stared at her, his trembling hands resting on her thighs. It’s all right if we do it, but you better hurry. If my mama catches us, she’ll beat me good. Simpson never said a word.

It took the nervous man longer to remove the last obstacle of clothing than it did to complete the act. When finished, both stood and straightened out their clothing. Simpson watched her until she fastened the last button on her powder blue blouse.

Griffie peeked through the crack in the barn door before returning to Simpson’s side. I suppose you do love me? I was worried you were never going talk to me again.

I think I do. I’m not sure.

Well, you still want to marry me, don’t you?

Maybe, I’m a little confused. Perhaps we can talk about that later.

No, sir. You just had your way with me, Simpson Hawley. You’ll either agree to marry me, or I’ll march right in there and tell my ma what you did. My pa will kill you.

There ain’t any call for that. I’ll marry you, but I have to talk to my pa first.

It will all work out. You’ll see. We’ll live in a nice house in a big city. Natchez or Jackson, maybe even New Orleans. Griffie picked up the bucket of chicken feed. You need to leave now, but don’t let my mama see you leaving. She reached up and kissed him good-bye.

Simpson cautiously made his way back to where his horse was tied. For some time, he sat motionless atop the gray mare, trying to figure out what he should do. Things were moving too fast. He was certain his father would agree to the marriage, but would Asa? He knew his father got along well enough with the Guice family, but Griffie was still very young.

As Simpson made his way home, he became more and more comfortable with the idea of marriage, confident both fathers would agree. There was only one issue that still burdened him. His plan was to build a farm next to his father, but Griffie kept talking about living in some big city. By the time he got home, Simpson had convinced himself that Griffie would change her mind once they were married and she had a place of her own.

When Simpson arrived back on the farm, he could see his brother-in-law waiting for him. Where have you been?

Just went for a ride.

Alex says you went over to Asa’s place.

Yep, I reckon I did.

What did you go there for?

I reckon that ain’t any of your business.

No other words were said. Simpson jumped in and helped his brothers tend to the remaining chores. Quint never checked up as he continued to dig at the grass and weeds surrounding the plants. Alexander stopped and brought the water bucket over to his brother, offering him a ladle of water. You all right brother?

I’m fine. Let’s get this chore done and head back in.

After putting their gear away and tending to the horses, the young men entered the house and washed up for supper. Emily and Alpha quickly placed out some fried chicken and potatoes. As soon as their father gave the blessing, the hungry boys tore into it.

When they were through with supper, Simpson approached his father and sat down beside him. Pa, I got something to ask you. I want your permission to marry Griffie Guice. The entire family stopped what they were doing and gathered around.

How does she feel about this?

She’s wants to get married too.

Quinton looked at his wife; she had a broad smile on her face. Well, I can’t think of any justifiable grounds to object. You have our permission.

Thanks, Pa.

The entire family congratulated him. Even his brother-in-law gave him a big hug. She’ll be welcome here; you’ll see.

All I have to do now is talk Asa into it. Pa, Ma, will you go over there with me?

Simpson’s mother grabbed him by the hand. Of course we will, first thing tomorrow. Asa’s a smart man; he knows he can’t find a better son-in-law in all of Franklin County.

Simpson lay in bed and stared out the window. He had a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach, remembering how John Pritchard asked his father’s permission to marry Alpha and how the men sat on the porch for over an hour, discussing it. Simpson tried to prepare himself by devising answers, but that only made it worse; however, the activities of the day eventually took their toll, and Simpson drifted off to sleep.

Morning came quickly. After a small breakfast, Quinton, Emily, and Simpson climbed onto the buggy and made their way down the dirt road that would take them to Asa’s place. The short trip lasted only twenty minutes; very few words were spoken at first. Quinton watched as his son slapped at the reins. He could tell Simpson was nervous, so he began talking about this year’s harvest, anything to take his mind off what he was about to do.

As the Hawleys pulled up, they observed Sarah seated in her rocking chair. The two families exchanged initial pleasantries from where they were. As Simpson helped his mother and father down, Asa stepped out from behind the barn. The menfolk shook hands while the women hugged each other. Griffie, Estelle, and Herbert had been in the kitchen, churning butter, when they heard the Hawleys arrive. They ran to the door to see who their visitors were. Griffie was all excited; she ran back into the kitchen and used a wet cloth to quickly wash off her face and hands before commencing to churn as if she wasn’t interested in who had come a calling.

Sarah invited their guests inside. Once everyone was seated, Asa was the first to speak. What brings you folks out this way?

The elder Hawley responded. "Asa, there ain’t no reason to draw this