The two men turned the corner and walked through the wooden gate which blocked off the courtyard behind the courthouse. Doc felt his mouth go dry as the gallows towered before him. He'd seen them hundreds of times before, but this time, it was different; this time the snow-covered noose swinging in the wind was meant for him. His feet slowed in the snow, which by this time was covering the ground with some measure, and he couldn't make them move faster. Sensing the slackened pace, Dillon squeezed Adams' shoulder.
"Doc?"
The old man shook his head. "It's nothin' Matt. Just never looked at gallows in quite the same way before, that's all."
Dillon couldn't think of anything to say, so he remained quiet, and slowly the two men continued toward the large wooden platform. They stopped when the were about ten feet from the bottom of the stairs. Doc was relieved that it was snowing so hard, because he was pretty sure that was the reason there wasn't a crowd forming. It was just Sheriff Taber, his deputy, a preacher, Matt and the hangman. Doc extended his hand to Taber.
"Sheriff, thanks for your hospitality and your understanding."
The man shook Doc's hand. "I'm sorry it turned out this way for you, Dr. Adams, I truly am."
Doc faced Matt, who by some miracle had managed to remain calm, at least outwardly. He removed his gloves, hat and coat, and handed them to the marshall.
"Well Matt, this is the end of the line for us."
"It was a helluva ride, Doc."
"You bet it was." He extended his hand, and Matt shook it. "Don't forget me, Matt."
"I couldn't, Doc."
"So long, Matthew."
Tears stung the marshall's eyes, but he kept them from falling. "So long, Galen."
Dillon kept a tight lid on his emotions as Doc walked up the stairs toward the noose. When he reached the top step, Adams and the preacher exchanged a few words, but Matt couldn't hear what they said. Doc shook the man's hand, and the preacher walked down the steps. Dillon gripped the clothes in his hands hard as he watched Adams shiver from the cold as the hangman offered him a hood. As he expected, Doc shook his head no, and the hangman slipped the noose around his neck. Matt made himself hold Doc's gaze, even though he thought at any moment he was going to become violently ill. The pale blue eyes stared gratefully into Dillon's electric blue, and Matt understood in that moment how much love Doc Adams had for him; and it was then that he almost lost it, but still he maintained the contact, giving the strength that he knew was needed.
Doc felt himself shiver from the cold, and when the hangman put the snow-covered noose on him, he shuddered.
The hangman's gentle burr soothed him slightly, "Steady, fella, it'll be over in a minute."
The hangman gently drew Doc's hands behind him, binding them with a rope. He saw the wedding ring.
"You want me to give this ring to that marshall over there?"
"What do you mean?"
"If they take ya over ta the undertaker's with it on, lad, you'll not be keepin' it."
"I'm not bein' buried here. The marshall's takin' me back to Dodge with him."
"You have anythin' ya want ta say, lad?"
"Nope. I've already said it all."
"All right then. Here's hopin' that St. Peter's angels meetcha along the way..."
And the hangman reached for the lever...