Prologue
He was going to die anyway. That's what the doctor in Denver had told him three weeks ago. So what if it was by hanging instead of consumption? Why did it matter how he died? He was dead anyway.
"Wallace, food's here," Came the curt, cold tone of the Deputy and Wallace watched as his plate was slammed onto the concrete ground just on the inside of his cell. The food looked downright revolting and Wallace sniffed and scowled as he sat up on his cot and rubbed at his aching bones. He never should have set foot in Colorado. He should have just kept on riding until he hit a new town, a town far away from Colorado Springs.
But Wallace always got what he wanted. Or so he thought.
"Blasted female doctor," He muttered under his breath. He reached for his plate and began wolfing down his food. Food was food. He needed to eat. It was disgusting. It was garbage. Wallace cleaned his plate anyway and then he reared back and threw his plate as hard as he could out of the cell. It hit the Deputy, who was seated at his desk, on his shoulder with a resounding crack and Wallace grinned as the Deputy bellowed and staggered to his feet.
Wallace let out a loud belch for good measure as the Deputy reached the bars of his cell. Red-faced, fuming, the Deputy snarled, "You are lucky you are hanging by the end of the week or so help me God I would kill you myself!"
"I'm dying anyways," Wallace said with a shrug.
"I would make it hurt more, last longer," The Deputy hissed, "I would make damn sure you suffered until you were begging me to end it. You are a lying, thieving, sorry excuse of a man and it gives me damn pleasure to put that rope around your neck in four days. I'm counting them down Wallace, I am counting them down!"
"Why don't you try calming down instead of counting down?" Wallace drawled in a lazy tone.
"What?"
"Well, I reckon with the way you're breathing hard and with your face as red as a tomato you may be dead long before me. So you better calm down."
The Deputy took a deep breath, his eyes still shooting daggers at Wallace and then he turned and walked away. Wallace made a rude gesture and then collapsed onto his cot and put his hands behind his head.
"Stupid injun," He growled into the sudden silence, "Blasted female doc. Michaela, I hope you shed a tear for me when I hang. I still think about you," He whispered, "I dream about you. All the time. I'll dream about you tonight. I hope you dream about me." He let out a deep, raspy cough and rolled over onto his side.
"Yessiree, I dream about you. You're so beautiful. Michaela," Wallace breathed out and then curled himself into a ball on his cot, closed his eyes and went to sleep.