The posse hauled Billy to his feet and chained up his hands. A posse member with a thin black mustache slipped away from the group and walked toward the back corner of the house. He thought the brush would be a nice, private place to relieve himself...until he parted the weeds and saw me.
"Shit," he said, yanking his pants back into place. "Pat, we got us another one."
The mustached man grabbed my arm and dragged me out of my hiding place. A little red-haired man with glasses brought a small length of rope to the black-haired man. The man with glasses lashed my hands behind my back. The other man forced me to kneel on the ground, holding me from the shoulders so I couldn't get loose, even if I managed to untie myself. Sheriff Pat Garrett ambled over to me, an easy grin on his face. He reached up and untied the bandanna holding my hair back.
"Rampaging Riddle," Garrett said lightly. "I should have known The Kid's pretty young companion couldn't be far behind him." He jerked his head at the man who was holding me down. "Make sure you search her good, Poe. I hear tell the gal always has a blade on her somewhere."
Poe stepped around to the front of me and unbuckled the gunbelt around my waist, tossing it aside. He found Father's hunting knife strapped to my side and a small throwing dagger I'd hidden under my trouser leg. Garrett whistled softly; the redhead began scribbling furiously on a scrap of paper. I supposed he must be a reporter of some sort. Garret warned the man (Ash, he called him) to stop writing so quickly; he wanted no detail overlooked due to haste.
Poe lashed Golden Boy's saddlehorn to Storm Cloud's, then tied another length of rope to secure our horses to Garrett's. They boosted us onto our horses and allowed our hands to be cuffed in front so we could grip the saddlehorn to steady ourselves. As we rode away, I noticed a trail of large blood drops on the ground. The blood trail was pointed the direction that Chavez, Hendry, and Dave had ridden. I swallowed sickly. This trail meant that one of them was hurt pretty good. I offered a quick, silent prayer for the Great Spirit to help whoever had been shot survive.
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After three straight days of riding, our party reached a little one-horse town. Billy and I spent the night in the same cramped cell in the local jail, then were shaken from our beds after only a few hours' sleep. Guards flanked us and marched us into the packed courthouse; it seemed everyone and their mother was eager to watch a judge seal the fates of Billy the Kid and Rampaging Riddle.
I was the first to be called to the stand. I had to swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The judge read off my list of charges, which included some things I'd done and some things I didn't.
Most women would have told the judge they were pregnant in hopes of escaping the noose, or cried on the stand and begged to be set free. But I didn't do either of those things; I did what I'd sworn to do: tell the truth. When I stepped off the stand, it was Billy's turn. The judge (who resembled a fat toad) read off Billy's list of charges, which was almost as long as his lists of aliases. The judge got about halfway through the list before he had to declare a recess for lunch.
After everything was said and done, the trial took under five hours. This was mostly because we weren't being tried by a jury. After all, what jury would have convicted us? We were heroes to most people in the territory.
The judge handed down my sentence first: prison, then death by hanging. I winced involuntarily, even though I hadn't expected anything else.
Then the judge started on Billy: "It is therefore considered by the court here that said defendant William H. Bonney, alias Kid, alias Henry McCarty shall be confined in prison in Lincoln County. On a day to be set, the said defendant will be taken to a suitable and convenient place of execution within said county. There, he shall be hanged by the neck 'til he be dead, dead, dead!" He pointed his gavel at Billy. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, young man?"
"Yes, sir, I do." Billy cleared his throat and declared, "You can go to hell, hell, hell."
The courtroom erupted in shrieks of laughter; I even giggled inspite of myself. Judge Hop-Toad, of course, didn't find Billy the least bit amusing. He said that if Billy weren't about to be executed anyway, he'd be jailed for contempt. Then the deputies came to take Billy and I away again.