If he went to court right now, Lewiston knew it would be a disaster. There were multiple witnesses that saw what happened and everyone he came across seemed to hate Archie almost as much as he did. He couldn't blame them. It would be easier to walk across hot coals, than to have a ten minute conversation with that asshole. No. There was only one chance to winning this case. Lewiston needed someone objective. Someone who wouldn't take sides and just talk about the facts. Lewiston needed to have a one-on-one meeting with the doctor who saw the Landen boy before he died.

He walked up to the doctor's office that stood next door to the sheriff's and knocked. "Come in!" Lewiston heard, giving him permission to enter. He walked in, smoking his cigarette and closed the door behind him.

"Hey doc," Lewiston said in between puffs. "Can I have a few moments of your time to ask you a few questions?"

The doctor, who was sitting at his desk, writing in his ledger, simply looked up and gave Lewiston a flat look. "Please don't smoke that while you're in here," he said.

Lewiston looked at his cigarette. He then cracked the door open and tossed it outside and closed the door again to get back to business.

"Hi, I'm Lewiston Lee. Defense attorney," Lewiston greeted, "I believe you retrieved a bullet out of my client's ass today."

"Yes," the doctor said as he continued to write in his ledger. "He's a very cantankerous man."

"Don't I know it, but that's not quite why I'm here. My client is facing trial for-"

"Beating a young boy." The doctor interrupted as he closed his ledger. " I'm aware. I had to mark his time of death."

The doctor got up and put the ledger away on a bookshelf. Just a few feet away from the desk. Lewiston watched as the doctor fiddled with the books then went over to his medicine cabinet a few feet away and started aimlessly moving things around. It seemed like he was doing everything he could to not look at the lawyer.

"Yes." Lewiston said, getting annoyed with this game. "Everyone seems to dance around on what happened that night, so I was hoping you could give it to me straight. Doctor please, tell me what exactly happened to the Landen boy"

"Alright, I will," he announced as he turned his whole body around, facing Lewiston for the first time. "That man beat that poor little boy with a solid stick! Probably a cane! By the time he was done with him, the boy couldn't even walk! His father found him a few minutes later still lying on the ground. He put him in the back of his wagon and began to take him home. While riding home the wagon lost a wheel and it completely flipped over, injuring the boy further."

"Wait, what?" New information rang into Lewiston's ears.

The doctor continued, "By the time I got there, there was nothing I could do. He was too far gone."

"Doc," Lewiston said as he rushed over to him. "The injuries that he died from, were they from the beating or the accident?"

"Didn't you hear me? He was injured from the beating and the accident!"

"Which did he die from?"

"If he wasn’t beaten, he would have sat in front of the wagon and not the back! He would have been able to safely jump off!"

"His beating wouldn't have affected the wagon wheel!" Lewiston said, louder than he intended, but this was the first glimmer of hope he had for this case, and he was not about to let go. "Now which was it?!"

The doctor was quiet. He did not want to answer, but finally he did.

"The wagon." He answered in a low tone. "The marks from the cane were only on his back."

"And you'll testify this in court?" Lewiston asked.

"No!" The doctor announced as he took a step away from the lawyer, once again unable to look at him.

"Doc!"

"That man deserves to die!"

"He does, but not from this." Lewiston explained. "But when he does die, it should be for all the crimes that he committed, not the ones he didn't. Take it from another boy who has been beaten by the same cane."

What Lewiston said didn't resonate at first. Lewiston could tell when it did, when the doctor's posture straightened and for the first time he turned around and really looked at him.

"Now will you please testify?" Lewiston asked in a quiet, hushed, tone.

After a deep breath, the doctor answered with a solid, "yes." Nothing more needed to be said between the two men. For two strangers, a lot was revealed to each other. Neither one of them was sure if it was respect or sympathy. Whatever it was, they knew they had an understanding and that was all that they needed.

Lewiston cleared his throat, trying to get into more of a professional way of speaking again and said, "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow at noon."

This time it was Lewiston who couldn't look at the doctor as he walked out the office and stepped outside. The sun blinding him from a drastic light change that comes from a dark office to sunny outdoors.

Lewiston shielded his eyes while he patted his pockets down and brought out his cigarette case. He took one out and lit it up. Smoke filled his lungs, and his heart began to slow its pace, and once again Lewiston started to feel in control.

He let the smoke out of his lungs with an exhale and walked next door to the jailhouse. He greeted the deputy with a nod as he walked past his desk, down the narrow hall and stopped in front of the last cell. There he found his client, lying on his bed, looking pathetic and grouchy.

Archie did his best not to move his body as he picked his head up to look at Lewiston. Still clearly in pain from the bullet hole in his backside. After he got a good look at his lawyer, he dropped his head back onto his pillow. Now forced to look at nothing but the ceiling.

"I heard you had yourself a good time while I was rotting in here," he said to Lewiston.

Lewiston ignored his petty comment and said, "I came to let you know that I found a way to get you off those charges."

Archie continued to stare at the ceiling, not believing him at first. It wasn't until he remembered that Lewiston was his only chance that he finally asked, "how?"

"You didn't kill that boy. He was in an accident on the way home. He died from the injuries of the accident. Not from you."

Archie just about jumped out of the bed but stopped and collapsed back onto his pillow when  pain shot from his ass and up into his back. He took a few deep breaths, at first to deal with the pain, but with each breath it turned into sighs of relief.

"So, I didn't kill him." He said on the verge of tears, like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Lewiston couldn't stand to see this and projected, "Don't you dare act redeemed! You still have plenty of blood on your hands!"

"But not a white boy's," he said, still feeling at peace with himself.

Lewiston couldn't stand his presence any longer and left. He wasn't sure what he was looking for when he told him, but he should've known it wasn't going to be pity. Archie beat countless children at his school. It only made sense that the only reason he would get arrested is because he just happened to beat the wrong child. It didn't matter that Archie killed before, because Lewiston knew what Archie and so many other white people thought. Indians were people, but they weren't real people. So, with that in mind, it's no wonder that Archie felt he had no blood on his hands, and he could go to sleep guilt free.