August, 2010

Issue #11

The Hanging
by Terry Alexander

Water flowed from the slanted roof, splashing in the torrent of the once dry dirt street. Stray drops nestled in the wood, seeking out the nicks and depressions in the material to ebb into the interior of the structure.

Nick Taylor stood in the down-pour. He stared at the body swaying in the howling wind. Edgar Clifford twisted on the length of rope, driven by the strong air currents. Several kerosene lamps illuminated the porch and lower portion of his body. An occasional lightning flash highlighted his face. Edgar's swollen tongue protruded from the frozen lips; his eyes bulged to the point of bursting. A dark mottled purple spread over Ed's face, where the blood pooled beneath the skin.

Eight men killed Ed a short time ago, hanged him from the porch support outside his own store. Only Nick remained to watch the rain cascade from the merchant's feet and splash on the rough wood. Most of the others returned to their homes, anxious to get some sleep or find solace in a bottle and forget the dirty business of burial.

Jackson Chambers left a short time ago. Nick brushed water-soaked hair from his eyes. He licked his lips, hoping for Jackson's quick return with the wagon and shovels. He too felt anxious to put the day's business behind him.

I only hope we did the right thing. I hope we did the right thing. Ed killed the Caldwell girl. Several people saw her talking to him. Ben Meyers found her body in Ed's cold house.

During the winter, Ed hired men to harvest the ice from frozen ponds. He stored it in a huge thick walled building. The heavily insulated walls kept the ice through most of the summer and turned him a tidy profit.

Meyers found Reba's body when he was pilfering free ice. It was a hot day. Ben was putting up winter hay for his cattle and wanted cold water for the field. The sight of Reba's blood soaked body scared the hell out of him. Ben dropped his jar and ran down the street screaming. Within a few minutes, the whole town knew about Reba. It didn't take them long to seize Edgar Clifford and tie him up like a yearling waiting for the branding iron.

The preacher took control of Reba's remains. He and the women ushered her body to the undertaker where they all supervised old Tucker's work on the girl. That left Edgar to the mercies of the men folk.

"Let's hang him!" Kelso Johnson shouted. "Let's hang him and get it over with. Man like this doesn't deserve to live another minute."

"My daughter Edith disappeared last year." Bob Lynn pulled his skinning knife from the scabbard. He ran his thumb along the blade. "Ed probably killed her too. Let me have him. I'll get the truth out of him, before I cut his throat."

Jackson tightened his grip on the ropes holding Edgar. "We can't kill him yet."

"Why not?" Kelso demanded.

"Why should we wait? Let's kill him right now," Bob Lynn said.

"We have to tell Emmett. He needs to know what happened to his daughter," Jackson said, "and we should send for the sheriff."

"Sheriff, hell!" Kelso spat a stream of tobacco juice to the ground. "The county sheriff is fifty miles away. The nearest deputy is over at Clarkton. He'd be over half a day getting here, maybe longer."

"We're a state now," Jackson argued. "We have laws to go by and officials to carry out those laws."

"We dealt with lawbreakers long before we became a state." Kelso stared up at the thin man. "What's wrong, Jackson? You lost the stomach to do what's right?"

Bob Lynn pulled Kelso away from the crowd. "We need to wait for Emmett. He should see his girl's killer."

"Have you lost your mind, Bob?" Kelso yanked himself free of Bob's grip. "Emmett won't be here for two hours. I say we hang him now and let justice be done."

"We wait for Emmett." Jackson stared defiantly at Kelso. "I sent Ben after him. He'll be here shortly."

The crowd mumbled among themselves. Bob Lynn and Kelso stood away from the mob over to the side talking the loudest. "Alright! Alright," Kelso said. "We wait for Emmett."

"Taylor," Jackson shouted. "Get down to Miller's road. That's the most likely route they'll take. Bring them here double quick."

Taylor nodded, as he climbed aboard his mule. He desperately wanted to say something to take control of the situation, but fear of the crowd stilled his tongue. He pointed his mule toward Miller's road and touched it lightly with his heels. The breeze grew harder, swirling the dust around him, a cool wind heavy with the promise of rain.

The young farmer fumbled for his tobacco sack. He stuffed the bowl of his crudely-made pipe. Nothing like a good smoke, he thought, as he scraped the match over the brass knob on the saddle. The wind sucked the flame away before he could fire the tobacco. He succeeded on the third attempt and puffed away at the strong mixture.

The steady clomp of hooves over the Widder's Creek Bridge came to his ears. I won't have to go all the way to Miller's road. A smile of relief split his face.

"Ben, Emmett, that you?" he shouted, pulling his mule to a stop.

"Yeah, Taylor," Ben answered. He waved as the pair rode into view. "We came as quick as we could."

Emmett sat straight backed in the saddle, his knuckles white on the reins of the blue roan. "Why did he kill Reba?" he asked. "Has he said why he killed my girl?"

"He won't talk." Taylor shook his head. "He hasn't said one word."

"Come on Emmett, let's get to town," Ben said, tossing his head at the building clouds. "It's gonna come a toad strangler in a little while and I ain't anxious to get soaked."

Taylor gazed up at the swollen black clouds that filled the horizon. "They're moving fast. We can't outrun it, that storm will be on us before we know it. Ben's right though, we need to get moving."

He settled the mule in line behind Ben's mount, as the first drops began to fall. The rain quickly grew in intensity, driven by a fierce unforgiving wind, soaking the trio within seconds. Words were useless, carried away with the wind and drowned out by the downpour. Taylor wiped the water from his face, careful to keep the lead horse in sight. A man could get lost easily in a storm like this. Familiar things took on an unreal quality.

A blob of light appeared in the distance. Taylor knew it came from Edgar's store. As one the small group aimed for the unspoken promise the light offered. Taylor caught glimpses of men moving within the warm glow ahead. The blob broke into six separate kerosene lamps. Jackson had the place lit up like a big city saloon. Five men waited under the shelter, watching the drops slap into the earth. Ed sat in the center looking down at the porch.

Is that the look of a killer, a child murderer? Taylor stared at the squat figure of the merchant. His eyes scanned the faces of the other men on the porch. He didn't have an answer.

Water splashed around Taylor's boots, as he slid from the saddle. It made little difference, as he was drenched through to the skin. Emmett pushed past him, his boots banged on the porch boards in his haste. He walked straight up to Edgar. The grocer got to his feet and met the farmer's gaze as he approached.

"Why did you kill my daughter?" he demanded. "Why did you kill Reba?"

Ed stared at the older man. "I didn't kill her, Emmett. I didn't kill your girl. You've known me for years. We're friends. I didn't kill Reba."

Emmett spit in the merchant's face. The thick wad of tobacco juice trickled down his jaw and dripped from his chin.

"Hang him," Emmett said at last. "No need to keep something like this alive any longer."

"Yes Siree." Kelso jumped to his feet. "That's what I've been saying all along." He grinned; showing a mouthful of brown tobacco stained teeth, as he fitted the rope over Ed's head and settled it around his neck. "You're getting what you deserve."

"Mr. Caldwell, are you sure about this?" Taylor found the courage to speak. "Maybe we should get the Sheriff, let him deal with Edgar."

"Shut up, Nick," Bob Lynn shouted. "Emmett's made his decision. Let's string this killer up and be done with this."

"Let me have the rope." Emmett held out a tough work scarred hand. "Reba was my daughter. It falls to me to finish this."

"Emmett," Edgar pleaded. "Don't kill me. I didn't harm your girl."

Kelso passed the coil to Emmett. The mob watched, as he wound the rope through the porch headers and tied it off to his saddle horn.

"Think about this, Mr. Caldwell." Taylor stepped in front of the older man. "If we hang him without trial, are we any better than he is?"

"Emmitt, please listen to me. I didn't kill Reba," Edgar begged.

"Edgar," Jackson stepped up to the merchant, facing him eye to eye. "This is your last chance to give your side of the story."

"I didn't do it. I saw Reba this morning. She rode her little buckskin into town to get some nails. She said Emmett was working on the barn."

"What if he's innocent?" Jackson shouted. "We don't want to hang an innocent man."

"She never came home." Emmett swung up in the saddle and pulled back on the reins. The roan responded easily, one step back, then two taking up the slack on the rope.

Nick grabbed the bridle. "Think about this, Mr. Caldwell. What if he didn't kill Reba?"

"No more talking," Emmett shouted, as he kicked Nick away from his horse. "I'm ending this now."

Ed stood ramrod straight, up on his tiptoes. He glared at the grizzled sodbuster. "I didn't kill her," he croaked. "I didn't kill Reba."

The horse took a third step back, then a fourth. Ed's face began to flush. His legs kicked out wildly, his feet seeking solid purchase. Within minutes, Edgar Clifford kicked his life away.

Taylor searched for words, hoping to justify what they had done. He couldn't take his eyes away from Ed's body, swaying in the breeze, twisting on the rope. It's a terrible thing to watch a man die this way, a terrible thing.

Jackson wouldn't look up at the body. "I'll be back shortly," he said as he turned toward the livery.

Taylor stared up at Edgar's purplish face. Eight of us killed Edgar Clifford a short time ago. He thought. Everyone else has left. It's just me and Jackson now. We need to take Ed to the cemetery. I hope we did the right thing. God, I hope we did the right thing.

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