Chapter Nine
There must have been over a hundred different faces, but even through the raucous crowd, Mort saw her. Beryl Monroe. Their eyes collided, and although Mort could see she was enjoying the show, there was something else amidst the brown sparks that deserved attention. She was getting her wish, the Mort Cory gang was going to die, but it wasn't at her hands as she had planned. Did the sudden twist in her scheme matter that much to her to put a stop to this lunacy, or was she going to laugh when they swung? Just when Mort figured that the time between Slim's neck being fitted for a noose and his own had ticked down to zero, there was suddenly a gun at his feet. How it got there, Mort would never ask the giver, but he figured he knew the reason why.
With all of those blazing eyes, not one was looking at him as Mort leaned down and picked it up, and as he wrapped his hand securely around the handle, he looked for Beryl, but she was gone. He didn't need to look at the gun twice to know it belonged to her, the final gift a woman that lived for revenge could give to ensure part of that payback still belonged to her. But what could Mort do when he was only one among many? He had to save Slim and Jess, of that he was certain, with only moments until they would swing, as two men were already in position to slap the rumps of the horses they sat upon. Was he good enough to place two consecutive bullets in a precise position to sever the ropes that circled the necks of his friends? Jess had that skill, without a doubt, but Mort's hand wasn't Jess'. But it was never a surprise what a body could do when precious lives were at stake. Mort fired the bullets and the pressure on the ropes was immediately released as his accuracy was spot-on. Every eye turned toward him and like a roll of thunder that started out loud and then diminished, a hush came over the crowd.
"Hold it!" Mort's voice mimicked that thunder clap. "I might not be able to shoot you all, but the first one that raises a gun is going down!"
"You're only prolonging what's coming to you!" In a group there always seemed to be a natural leader, and the one unofficially in charge of this mob hoisted himself higher by putting one foot on a rock to speak. "Just give it up, Cory!"
"To die?" Mort questioned, zeroing in on the loud mouth, "no, I'm here to fight just like you would if you were an innocent man about to be lynched."
"But you're not innocent!"
"How do you know that?" Mort asked, the pain in his leg suddenly non-existent as he stood at his tallest.
"You're Sheriff Mort Cory!" The man spit Mort's name like he needed to remove something bitter from his mouth. "Outlaw! That should be enough!"
"No," Mort slowly shook his head, "the sheriff part, now that should be enough."
"What do you mean?" Did that tone imply that his anger was knocked down one notch, replaced with confusion?
"Whether or not you see it this way, this badge represents the law," Mort's left hand rose to touch the star on his vest. "If I or my friends here were really guilty, then a man backed by a badge like this would lead me to the gallows, after I was tried and convicted, not before, and certainly not by someone only pretending they were for justice."
"There's no pretense in what you and these other two have done," the heightening of his voice brought the murmurs to trickle over the crowd again. "You're guilty and you're going to hang!"
"All right," Mort slowly nodded, "if we're guilty then let the law decide, or do you want to swing up there with us?"
"No one's going to convict us for doing away with the Mort Cory gang!"
"All it takes is one person with a conscience," Mort held up a finger, and the crowd's muttering suddenly changed tone, "and there's plenty more than one witness here."
"Going by the law's fine by me," a voice in the crowd said, and several others echoed in similar form, while one added, "they'll still hang."
One of the hardest things for Mort to do was surrender the gun, but it was given to the self-appointed leader. With guns still pointed at them, Mort joined Slim and Jess on horseback, yet no longer under the ominous tree limbs, but in a steady ride toward the nearest town, Lofton. It seemed like the longest ride they had ever taken, but it was completed in less than thirty minutes. As a faded sheriff's office sign loomed above them, for a moment they wondered if they were brought to a lawless town, but then an aged star and his young sidekick stepped through the door, and they were surrendered into a lawman's hands.
"I never thought looking at the inside bars of a jail cell would feel good," Jess said as he lowered himself to a cot, "but it does. At least it does when our only other option right now would be six feet of dirt over my face. If I didn't say it proper on the way here, thanks, Mort, for cutting us down. I certainly wasn't expecting the rope to suddenly go slack."
"Me either. If I hadn't been looking at Jess all tied in knots, I would have thought that he had fired those shots. You did well, Mort, but you did more than that, you got us time." Slim put his hand on Mort's shoulder. "We were far too close to meeting its non-existence."
"I just hope that time we've been granted will do us some real good," Mort sighed as he looked first at Slim and then to Jess. "Everyone's still convinced we're guilty. Even the sheriff and his deputy out there."
"We just have to convince them we're not," Slim said with a few shakes of his head.
"That ain't likely to happen," Jess said, getting up from the cot to give Mort's leg some needed rest. "I doubt anyone here would believe our innocence even if we were all redheads with beards down to our toes."
"Maybe not," Mort shrugged as he eased down onto the cot with Slim's assisting hands, "but we can't give up hope."
"Sure, but that's gotta be some trial they've got planned tomorrow," Jess said, looking out through the barred window. "They're already building the gallows and we ain't even stepped foot in the courtroom yet. Likely we'll barely be seated when the judge pounds his gavel and tells everyone what they already know. Death by hanging."
"Well, we're not in there yet. Try to get some rest," Mort said with more assurance than he felt, watching Slim find a less than comfortable position on a stool, "a lot can still happen between now and then."
Mort's words would be proven true just as the sun had completed its setting. The outer door of the sheriff's office squeaked open, but no one in the separate jail room paid heed, as it had already opened and shut several times before then. The first was to bring a tasteless meal to the prisoners, then bring a more appetizing meal to the lawman on duty, again to have a drunk totter in, only be sent back to the saloon again, and then to switch the man behind the desk from sheriff to deputy. This last time, however, held a much different meaning.
"You have a visitor," Deputy Northwood stuck his head through the doorway to make the announcement, and then his voice changed directions as his next words were addressed to the guest. "Five minutes, Ma'am."
Their eyes shifted from blue to brown and back to another blue as they straightened their positions to stand. What woman did they know that would come to their jail cell other than her? Beryl Monroe's presence filled the jail room before she had even fully entered and then somehow ignited the walls with invisible flames when the deputy pulled the door closed behind her. She gave Jess the same thirsty stare that she had showed him before, but there was no pause at his position, as her steps kept going until she was in front of Mort. The less than ten second wait was held in silence as they stared at each other, broken only by the blink from her eyes.
"You surprised me out there," Beryl's voice still held an ample volume of its sinister pulse, but there truly was astonishment lining her words. "I expected that when I gave you the gun, you'd take the easy way out. At least then, if you would have pulled the trigger on yourself, it would have almost been like me doing the same. The other two I would have let swing, but you, Mort Cory, you belonged to me."
"And I disappointed you," Mort answered with a flicker of a smile, "which means you still aren't going to get what you want."
"Oh, I will," Beryl nodded, her mouth matching Mort's, and then some.
"How?" Mort asked, but instinct made his eyes turn toward the closed door, as if his question was already being answered on its other side.
"My boys are working on that now," Beryl replied, keeping her smile in place, "and as soon as they're finished, we can ride out of here together. All of us. And then you'll see what else I have in store for you."
"You're gonna spring us?" Jess asked, taking a step closer in Beryl's direction. "Nothing doing."
"Pretty Boy," Beryl couldn't stop her lashes from fluttering, "how many times do I have to say that I always get what I want?"
"You ain't got me," Jess answered with a snap.
"True," Beryl raised an eyebrow high, "but the other you is a good enough imitation."
"Maybe he's got me beat where a women like you is concerned," Jess said coolly, "but I'd take on his gun, anytime."
"And if he would win?"
"What makes you think he could? Or does he really have more than what I've got?" Jess lowered his voice, inching as close to her face that he could through the bars, his lips parted just enough that Beryl had to quickly suck in a rush of air to fan her yearning.
"You are not going to be my undoing!" She suddenly backed up, the words coming out in a hiss. She bent at the waist and hoisted up two layers of her skirt, and the white undergarment that nestled against her leg showed a distinct shape of black. Fitting the gun in her hand she pointed it at Jess, the command in her voice like ice. "I should have quit looking in your eyes the moment I first saw you. Back up. Now."
"The deputy will know you're involved in our escape," Mort pointed the obvious fact out, but Beryl simply shrugged her shoulders.
"So? I gave him a phony name when I came in. Besides, he might not remember me at all if he doesn't come to," Beryl turned toward the door as its handle was being turned, her eyes lighting up when her dark-haired employee entered. "Ready?"
"Got the keys," he smiled, swinging them on the end of his finger. "You'd be surprised how obliging a lawman can be when he's out cold."
"Remember that," Beryl said as she shifted her gaze to Mort, their eyes staying locked tight as the cell door clanged open. "Now move."
They walked by the man on the floor, his chest and face touching the ground in a way that blocked the visual of his airflow, making the deputy's fate unknown as their exit was made complete. Outside the other two men were waiting, their guns in position to keep each foot moving one after the other, until they came into an alleyway where they stopped at a line of horses. In a situation such as Slim, Jess and Mort were being thrust into, there would have normally been no cause for a smile to touch their faces, but in seeing the animals that were waiting for them it was such an occasion, even if it was only a flicker.
"It's Alamo," Slim said, reaching a hand out to his four-legged companion.
"Where'd you find our mounts?" Mort asked, getting an extra boost in the seat of his pants from the man supposed to be him to top his horse.
"I told you they were the best, didn't I?" Beryl answered as her favorite helped her into a buggy. "This just proves it even more. Now let's get out of here."
Beryl led the way, while the oldest member of her followers lingered behind to clean their tracks. By the time he caught up, the buggy was stopped, the horses were tied to a line and darkness had taken control over the earth. With a rifle in an even point in their direction, their allowed space to move only along the creek's bank for water, Beryl's prisoners sat on the damp ground in a tight cluster.
"What's going to happen now?" Slim wondered aloud, dipping his handkerchief into the water to try to wash away the feeling of the rope around his neck, even though it had been removed several hours before.
"I know one thing. That town's not going to react well to our escape," Mort whispered around the water he had cupped in his hand. "They won't be looking for a hanging tree this time if they catch up."
"You think she's thought that far ahead?" Slim asked, watching Mrs. Monroe out of the corner of his eye with a young arm held snuggly around her waist and a mouth exploring another.
"She knows," Jess said slowly, letting the last of the droplets of water on his hand drip back into the stream. "She knows exactly what's gonna happen if that mob catches up, which means she's gotta strike before they get here. I wish I could shed this feeling, but it's nagging up my spine, around my neck and thumping over my head."
"What feeling's that, Jess?" Slim asked, but certain he already knew the answer.
"We ain't got long to live."