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  “I want to compliment my esteemed colleague on mounting a brilliant defense under extremely difficult conditions,” he said. “It is our constitutional duty to see to it that everyone gets the best defense possible, and I do not believe the accused can say they did not.

  “However, despite Mr. Gilmore’s best effort, the evidence is overwhelming and compelling. You heard Mr. Dunnigan give very accurate descriptions of each of the men, doing so in a way that would identify them whether or not you saw their faces. You heard Mr. Jensen tell what he heard through the door before he captured the defendants. You heard Mr. Matthews testify that the money Matt Jensen recovered from the robbers matched exactly the amount of money that was stolen in the robbery. And lastly, there is such a thing as dying testimony. Whether or not Emma Foley is present to be cross-examined, she did make the accusation in front of three witnesses, and the fact that it was dying testimony gives it a great deal of weight. Gentlemen of the jury, there is no doubt here. Boone Parker, Al Hennessey, Ed Coleman, and Billy Taylor are all guilty as charged.”

  Chapter Six

  After hearing arguments from both sides, the jury found all four accused guilty and, despite the protestations of the other defendants that it was Boone Parker who killed both Mrs. Foley and Frank Meade, the judge sentenced all four to die, the execution to be carried out that very day.

  With their legs hobbled by chains, Deputy Goodson was given the responsibility of taking the four prisoners from the court to the holding cell. The prisoners shuffled by the crowd of people who had gathered around the courthouse in order to get a ticket that would allow them to watch the hanging. Although all four had been sentenced to hang, the gallows could only accommodate three at a time. Because it was generally agreed that Boone Parker was the one who actually did the shooting, he was selected to hang alone, after the others.

  Once outside, Deputy Goodson took them across the courtyard toward a small holding cell. It was quiet in the yard since, as yet, no spectators had been allowed around the gallows. As they passed through the shadow of the gallows, someone was up on the deck, oiling the hinges to one of the three trapdoors. He pulled the lever and the door swung open with a bang. When it did so, Coleman let out a little cry of alarm and Boone laughed.

  “You think it’s funny, do you?” Coleman growled at Boone.

  “I was just wonderin’ if you were goin’ to pee in your pants when they drop you through the trapdoor,” Boone said. “Come to think of it, that might not be such a bad idea. If you pee in your pants, maybe you’ll put out the fires in hell and it’ll be cool by the time I get there.”

  Goodson laughed.

  “What are you laughin’ at?” Coleman asked.

  “You,” the deputy answered.

  “Well, I’m glad we can be so entertainin’ to you.”

  “Quit your cryin’, Coleman,” Hennessey said. “We’re all in the same boat here.”

  “It ain’t fair,” Coleman said. “We wouldn’t none of us be here if Boone hadn’t been so trigger-happy. He’s the only one should be hanged.”

  The four men were put in the holding cell, where they waited for no more than fifteen minutes. Then Goodson came back to get Hennessey, Coleman, and Taylor.

  “Wait, what are you takin’ us out now for?” Coleman asked. “There ain’t even nobody out there yet.”

  “The judge wants you boys already up on the gallows before we let anyone in to watch,” Deputy Goodson said.

  “Boys, if you get there in time for supper, save a place at the Devil’s table for me, will you?” Boone called out to them as they were taken from the cell.

  As they started across the courtyard, the man who had been working on the gallows came down and started walking toward them. As soon as he was even with them, he pulled a gun and pointed it at the deputy’s head.

  “Cut ’em loose,” he said.

  Goodson looked up in surprise, then his face reflected his shock.

  “Why, you ain’t Jules,” he gasped. “Where’s Jules? Who are you?”

  “I’m the man that’s already killed Jules, and I’m gonna blow your brains out too if you don’t do what I tell you to,” the man with the gun answered. “Now, unlock those hobbles like I said.”

  “Howdy, Strayhorn,” Hennessy said. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Strayhorn! Strayhorn, don’t forget me!” Boone called from the cell.

  “Sorry, Boone,” Strayhorn called back to Boone. “But I got me some ideas of my own, and there ain’t room for two leaders.”

  “You son of a bitch! You can’t leave me here!” Boone shouted angrily.

  “Yeah, I can,” Strayhorn replied easily.

  From behind the courthouse a rider appeared, leading four horses. Strayhorn looked up at him. “Have any trouble, Teech?”

  “Yeah, I had to knife the guard at the back gate,” Teech said. “You boys hurry up and get mounted. We gotta get out of here.”

  Suddenly, two guards came into the courtyard from the front of the building.

  “Stop!” one of them shouted. He fired a shot, which missed. Strayhorn returned fire and he didn’t miss. The guard who had fired collapsed with a hole in his chest. The other guard, suddenly aware that he was alone, and not realizing that only two of the outlaws were armed, retreated back around the corner.

  “Let’s go!” Strayhorn shouted.

  For just a moment, the prisoners took their eyes off the deputy. Goodson used that moment to draw his own pistol.

  “Hold it!” he shouted. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere!”

  Strayhorn turned toward the deputy and fired. Goodson fired back, hitting Coleman. Coleman went down. Strayhorn fired again, and this time the deputy went down.

  “Come on, boys, let’s go!” Strayhorn shouted, swinging into his saddle.

  “What about Coleman?” Taylor asked.

  “What about ’im?” Strayhorn replied as he dug his spurs into the side of his horse. His horse bolted toward the back of the plaza, followed by Teech, Hennessey, and Taylor. Coleman lay in a spreading pool of blood on the ground behind them.

  “Don’t leave me, you bastards! Don’t leave me here like this!” Boone shouted angrily.

  By now the shouts and gunfire had alerted the others, and several armed men appeared in the courtyard, just in time to see the four riders gallop through the back gate. They fired at the outlaws, but not one bullet found its mark. The entire band had gotten away.

  Later that same day, Boone Parker was led to the gallows. His legs weren’t hobbled, but his hands were handcuffed behind his back. He hesitated at the foot of the thirteen steps.

  “Get on up there, Parker,” Sheriff Craig said. “These good folks have already missed one hangin’. I don’t intend to disappoint them again.”

  “Well, maybe you could come on up here and hang alongside me,” Boone suggested. “The folks ought to really like that.”

  “You know, there might be some who would be pleased at that,” the sheriff replied with a chuckle. Then, more gently, and using his first name, Craig said, “Come on, Boone, the sooner we get this over with, the better it is for all of us.”

  Boone moved onto the scaffold, and was positioned under the noose. From there he had a very good look into the faces of the spectators, and he glared at them defiantly.

  A clergyman stepped up to Boone, then began to pray.

  “Oh, Holy Jesus, who of thine infinite goodness didst accept the conversion of a sinner on the cross; open thine eyes of mercy upon Boone, thy servant, who desireth pardon and forgiveness, though in his last hour he turneth unto thee. Renew in him whatsoever hath been decayed by the fraud and malice of the devil, or by his own carnal will and frailness. Consider—”

  “That’s enough of that,” Boone said. “Get this Holy Roller off here and let’s be done with it.”

  “But my son, will you not now repent?” the minister asked.

  “I ain’t repentin’ for a goddamned thing.”

  “Mr. Parker! You
are going to meet God with heresy in your heart and blasphemy on your lips! You’ll spend an eternity in hell for that!”

  “Thank’s for the words, Padre,” Parker said sarcastically. “They was just real comfortin’.”

  The clergyman, shaking his head in sadness, stepped down from the gallows.

  “Any last words, Boone” Sheriff Craig asked.

  “Just get it done,” Boone said.

  The sheriff nodded, and the hangman stepped up to slip a hood over Boone’s head. Once the hood was in place, he fit the noose.

  “When the trap opens, don’t hunch up your shoulders,” the hangman suggested. “Just relax and it’ll be better.”

  “Really? How the hell do you know?” Boone mumbled from under his hood.

  “You aren’t my first hanging,” the hangman replied. He stepped over to the handle, then looked at Sheriff Craig. The sheriff nodded, and the hangman pulled the handle.

  The trapdoor swung down on its hinges and Boone’s body dropped through the opening. Either Boone didn’t follow the hangman’s instructions, or the hangman’s instructions were wrong, because Boone didn’t die right away. He was still alive, and for almost four minutes he kept drawing his body up as if in that way he could relieve the weight on his neck. His stomach heaved, and those nearest the scaffold could hear rasping sounds from his throat.

  Chapter Seven

  There were more than two dozen men gathered at the sheriff’s office after the hanging. These were the men who had answered the call to join the posse in pursuit of the escapees and the ones who had helped them escape.

  “Sheriff, how long are we going to be out?” one of the men asked.

  “As long as it takes,” Craig replied.

  “The reason I ask is, I can’t be away from the store too long. I mean, my wife can run it for a while, but we got kids to raise and she’s goin’ to have to be with them.”

  “Potter, there’s nobody goin’ to hold it against you if you don’t go,” Craig said. “This here posse is strictly voluntary.”

  “Maybe I better stay home too,” another suggested, and after a little more discussion, the posse was cut down to ten plus the sheriff.

  “Is Matt Jensen goin’ with us?” someone asked.

  Sheriff Craig shook his head. “I think he would go by himself if I asked him to, but Jensen don’t believe in posses,” he said.

  “What do you mean, he don’t believe in posses?”

  “I don’t know,” Craig said. “It’s just a thing with him.”

  “Well, by damn, I aim to be on this here hunt whether he wants me to or not. Deputy Goodson was my wife’s brother, and I aim to get some revenge.”

  Craig shook his head. “We aren’t going out for revenge, Staley,” he said to his deputy’s brother-in-law. “We’re goin’ out to bring them back—to hang for those who have already been convicted. And for trial for the others.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t worry, I ain’t plannin’ on doin’ nothin’. Watchin’ ’em hang is revenge enough for me,” Staley said.

  “Good, I’m glad you feel that way. All right, those of you who are goin’ out, go home and get yourself an extra box of ammunition and a warm coat to wear. Better pack an extra blanket in your bedroll. Take some oats for your horse, some bacon, beans, coffee, and jerky for yourselves. I figure on us ridin’ out of here in no more’n half an hour.”

  Matt was playing cards in the saloon when the sheriff came in a few minutes later.

  “Matt, can I talk to you for a few minutes?” the sheriff asked.

  Matt looked at his hand and smiled, then laid it down. “Sure,” he said. “As bad as this hand is, you’re probably saving me a couple of dollars by pulling me out of the game. I’m out, boys.”

  Matt scooped up the money that was in front of him, then followed the sheriff back to the corner of the saloon. They stood alongside the silent piano to hold their conversation.

  “I’ve got a posse together,” he said.

  “How many men do you have?”

  “Ten. I started out with over twenty, but about half of them backed out.”

  “You would be better off if about half of what you have left quit as well.”

  “I know you feel that way,” the sheriff said. “But there are at least four out there that we know about, and there may be a few more. One of them was Marcus Strayhorn, and he’s known to have a few men riding with him.”

  “My offer still stands, Sheriff. If you would like, I’ll go after them myself.”

  Craig shook his head. “I appreciate your offer, but there’s no way I can send my posse home. These men want to go, Matt.”

  “I know, I know. I’m not saying give up your posse. I’m just saying I’ll go after them myself independent of your posse, if you would like.”

  “No, I’d rather you not,” the sheriff replied. “What I really want you to do is to stay on here and act as my deputy while I’m gone. What with Goodson dead, I don’t even have a deputy to look after the peace right now.”

  “All right,” Matt said. “I’ll do that for you if you like.”

  “Yes, I would very much like,” Craig said. “And I thank you for agreeing to take on the job.”

  “Sheriff Craig!” someone called loudly. Looking toward the front door, they saw Staley standing there. Staley was wearing a wool-lined, sheepskin coat and carrying a Winchester rifle.

  “I’m back here, Staley,” Sheriff Craig called back.

  Staley looked around the room until he spotted Craig. Then, when he saw Matt, he scowled.

  “I thought you said he wasn’t goin’ with us,” Staley said.

  “He’s not going with us. I’ve just asked him to be my deputy while we’re gone,” Craig said.

  “Good. I don’t want to be ridin’ with anyone who don’t want to be ridin’ with us.”

  “What is it, Staley? What do you want?”

  “Oh,” Staley said, as if just remembering why he had come in. “All the rest of the boys is down to the sheriff’s office waitin’ on you,” he said.

  “Good,” Craig said. “We’ll get on our way then.”

  “Good luck, Sheriff!” one of the saloon patrons called.

  “Yeah, good luck,” another called, and by the time Craig and Staley left the saloon, there were good wishes from everyone in the place.

  Five minutes later, much of the town had turned out to watch the mounted posse ride off in pursuit of the escaped prisoners. There were a few more good wishes called, and some of the men said aloud they regretted the pressing reasons that prevented them from going along as well. But a cold wind and low-hanging clouds in the west made them secretly glad that they would be spending this night in the warmth and comfort of their own homes.

  Cairo, Illinois

  Layne McKenzie was a strikingly pretty woman with raven-black hair, brown eyes, high cheekbones, and lips that were a little fuller than average. After graduation from Southern Illinois University in Carbondale, she returned home to Cairo to apply for a job as a teacher in the Cairo school system. The examination process had been much more difficult than she anticipated, perhaps because there were four teachers applying for one position. All four had had to take a test, then be interviewed by the members of the Cairo School Board. After more than a week of waiting, Layne had finally received a letter from the school board asking her to appear before them at two P.M. today.

  Because Cairo sat at the confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers, it was a major hub of river traffic, not only from the North, but from the East. Also, because it was the railroad gateway that connected the South to the North and the West to the East, it was a major rail hub.

  Layne could see ample evidence of that now, because from the anteroom she had a view of the many boats that were tied up at the bank of the Ohio River. And from the window on the opposite side of the room, she could see the depot where, even now, two of the sixty-five passenger trains that passed through Cairo daily were standing in the station, taking on
or discharging passengers.

  She waited nervously in the anteroom, wondering what she had forgotten, or what questions she had failed to answer properly. When the door to the meeting room opened and Mr. Stallings stepped out into the anteroom, Layne took a deep breath. Stallings was the secretary of the school board and, or so she had perceived, had been the most difficult questioner during the interview proceedings. She hoped that his summoning her was not a bad sign.

  “Miss McKenzie, would you please step into the meeting room?” Stallings asked.

  Nodding, Layne picked up her handbag and followed his invitation.

  Layne knew two of the school board members, and had known them for most of her life. One was a banker, the other was the minister at her church. They smiled at her as she entered the room, and that eased her nervousness.

  “Congratulations, Miss McKenzie,” Mr. Travelsted, the Superintendent of Schools, said. “The school board is pleased to offer you employment as a teacher in our system, with a starting salary of forty dollars per month. You will start next fall.”

  Layne was thrilled by the offer, though the excitement was somewhat tempered by the fact it was still seven months until fall.

  “This offer is contingent upon two things,” Travelsted continued. “You must take no other employment in the interim, and you must remain single for the duration of your employment by the Cairo school system. Do you agree to our terms?”

  “I agree,” Layne said.

  “Here is a ruler,” Mr. Stalling said, now smiling for the first time. “The ruler is symbolic of your position as a schoolteacher.”

  “Thank you,” Layne said, returning the smile.

  “The question now,” Layne said to her mother and father that evening, “is what do I do from now until school starts next fall? I shall go crazy hanging around, doing nothing.” She was holding the ruler in one hand and slapping it quietly into the palm of her other hand.

  “I have an idea. My brother has been wanting you to come West for a visit. Suppose I write to him and see if this is a good time,” Layne’s mother suggested.