PART FOUR

Tanner stood on his bunk, peering out the window. The shots had come from the saloon a few doors away, of that he was certain. He also felt pretty sure his friends were involved. So far, there had only been the three shots.

A door down the hall opened, and Tanner sat down on the bunk again. Larabee was a welcome sight, but the presence of both deputies was not. They stood Larabee against the bars and searched him. Then one deputy opened the cell next to Tanner's and gestured for Larabee to enter. Larabee stepped into the cell. The deputy locked the door behind him, and the law officers left.

"Is this part of your plan?" asked Tanner.

Larabee turned to look at him. "It is now. You don't have to worry about EJ. Thompson any more."

"That's good to hear."

Tanner's tone was bitter, and his attention went back to the window. Larabee glanced out his own window, already knowing what held his friend's attention. He tossed his hat and duster on his own bunk and sat down heavily.

"Back when I was huntin' buffalo, I sometimes found myself thinkin' how nice it'd be to go home to a soft bed every night. Have a roof over my head instead of stars. "Tanner turned a haunted look on Larabee. "I'd give anything to sleep under the stars again."

"We're going to get you out of here, Vin." Larabee promised softly. "You have my word on it."

The hall door opened again, and Sheriff Willingham entered the cell area. He strode up to Larabee's cell. Both prisoners looked at him expectantly.

"It's too early to tell just yet, but the doc says we might just have a double hanging tomorrow," said the sheriff. "You want to tell me why you did it?"

"No." Larabee answered flatly.

"There were about ten people in the saloon. All of them say you called Thompson out."

"And they'll all tell you he drew first."

They had, indeed. They had also pointed out he had drawn on Larabee's back, but Willingham didn't let his expression reveal that.

"I've talked to the judge. We'll let you go after the hanging tomorrow. Just be out of town before sundown."

He didn't mention the alternative, merely turned and walked back to the main office.

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The cool evening air was filled with the sounds of celebration as Josiah walked down Tascosa's main street to the adobe jail. He grabbed hold of the doorknob and wasn't surprised to find the door locked on this, the night before the hanging. A voice from inside challenged him. Even though they couldn't see him, Josiah smiled benignly.

"Peace, brother," he called. "I've come to see your prisoner."

He heard the lock being turned and the bar across the door being withdrawn. The door opened a little bit and the yellowish light from inside spilled out onto the boardwalk. Josiah smiled down at the bearded deputy, completely unaffected by the shotgun he held level. The deputy sighed and moved out of the way, letting the big man enter.

"Don't know why you're wastin' your time on the likes 'a him, preacher," observed the other deputy, opening the desk drawer to retrieve the keys. "He won't appreciate any words you got for him."

Josiah's fingers tightened on his Bible. "No man should be without spiritual guidance before going to face final judgment," he said quietly.

"We gotta search you before we let you back there. Sheriff's orders for tonight."

"I understand."

Josiah spread his arms to the side, his expression one of peaceful supplication. The bearded deputy patted him down in a perfunctory manner, then flipped through the Bible. He paused at a place marked by a faded purple ribbon and scanned the passages there.

"Daniel in the lion's den?" he questioned.

Josiah paused only a moment. "Courage in the face of adversity," he explained, accepting the book again.

"Thank you, brother."

The tall, slender deputy led him down the hall to the cells. Larabee was seated on his bunk, flipping Ezra's cards at his hat with mixed success. Tanner was standing by his cell's small window, staring out at the starry sky. A faint evening breeze played enticingly through his beard. Larabee looked up at their entrance, but Tanner didn't stir.

"Brought you some company, Tanner," said the deputy.

Tanner didn't turn. "Brother Tanner," Josiah said a little louder than was necessary, "I've come to offer comfort for your soul on this dark night."

Only Larabee noticed the flicker of hope in Tanner's eyes as he turned toward Josiah. "Glad you came," he said, making no effort to hide his gratitude. He gestured toward the stool near the cell. "Have a seat."

Josiah looked at the deputy. "Leave us, please."

"I don't think—"

Josiah stepped closer to the deputy, increasing his menacing height. "A man has the right to make peace with God away from the ears of outsiders."

The deputy took an involuntary step backward. "All right, it's your funeral. But you give a yell if either one of 'em tries something."

Josiah smiled. "I am safe in the arms for the Lord."

The door shut behind the deputy. "Or the devil," said Larabee softly, as he stood to shake the preacher's hand. Josiah smiled a very wide and toothy grin.

"The Good Book can offer much comfort to a soul during trying times. It reminds us that both vengeance and forgiveness are the providence of the Lord. One must have courage and faith in the face of all hardships."

Josiah's voice rose as he emphasized each point. "Your salvation, Brother Tanner, is at hand!"

Tanner cast a sidelong, what-the-hell-is-he-up-to look at Larabee. Chris only glanced at the door, which was not fully closed.

"The key to your salvation is faith, Brother Tanner, faith that there is a greater plan for you. If you have faith, your salvation stands before you!" He moved closer to the bars, fixing Tanner with his pale blue eyes. "Do you believe?"

Unsure what else to do, Tanner just nodded. The hall door closed with a quiet dick. Josiah smiled.

"Then let your salvation begin. I am going to begin with the story of Daniel in the Lion's Den," Josiah said firmlv as he began to unbutton his shirt.

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Ezra signed and stared at Hog Town's tent saloon, absently noting the scores of newly repaired bullet holes in the walls. He had tried all seven of Tascosa's more sturdily built establishments with no success. He glanced back at Buck, who was securing his horse, then walked into the saloon. There were several dozen men inside, filling the chairs and limited floor space.

After a moment he spotted his quarry. He recognized the tall, gaunt man from a picture he had seen in a paper some months ago of Frank Calhoun hanging his thirteenth victim. The older man wore a simple black suit and had a shot of whiskey in front of him. In spite of the crowd, he had the table all to himself.

Ezra paused at the bar and ordered a bottle. He poured himself a shot and looked around. Finally he started for the table. "It would seem the overwhelming popularity of this event has made seating scarce. May I join you?" he asked indicating the one open chair with the hand holding the bottle.

"Suit yer'self."

Ezra sat and tossed down his drink. "I don't envy the man who has to pull the lever at today's event." Calhoun finished his own drink. "Anyone can do it if they've had enough stiff belts."

Both men looked up at a commotion at the bar. Ezra took advantage of Buck's loud and animated entrance to slip a small packet from his jacket and to pour the contents into Calhoun's glass. As the hangman turned back,

Ezra hastily splashed whiskey into the glass. "Let me buy you another drink."

"Thanks, friend."

Buck leaned casually against the bar and sipped his beer, watching Ezra make small talkwith Calhoun. The gambler met his gaze briefly, and Buck mouthed the words, "Hurry up."

Ezra ignored him. Calhoun finished his doctored drink and staggered to his feet, swaying drunkenly.

"Must've had too much whiskey," he said, his words thick and slurred. "Gotta get rid of some..."

He took an awkward step and would have fallen if Ezra hadn't caught him. "Let me help you, friend. I feel partially responsible for your state of inebriation." Calhoun nodded his thanks, though he didn't fully understand the words. Ezra helped him outside.

Buck hastily finished his beer and left shortly after they did. He reached the pair just as Calhoun collapsed, and he helped Ezra pull the unconscious hangman upright. You sure this'll keep him out of the way until after the hanging?"

Ezra smiled. "Believe me, Mr. Wilmington, the powder I used will put him to sleep for at least eight hours. And I assume you've arranged for a distraction after that?"

"You got that right. Seems Fionna likes him anyway. She's got a nice, comfy bed all ready for him."

"It's a pleasure to find someone who truly enjoys their work."

The two men half-carried Calhoun toward one of the run-down cabins.

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Larabee pushed the food on his plate around with his spoon, not really interested in it. He had to admit it was a hearty meal, probably the best Tascosa could offer a condemned man for breakfast.

Tanner's meal sat untouched on the foot of his bunk. Few words had passed between the men since sunrise. The hunter stared out the window at the completed gallows and the gathering crowd.

"Looks and sounds more like a circus than a legal lynching," he said, quietly. "I'm glad JD. isn't going to be here to see it."

The hall door opened. Larabee moved to the front of his cell as Willingham and both deputies walked into the area. The attentive deputies carried shotguns. The sheriff unlocked Tanner's cell and stepped inside.

"It's time, son."

Tanner let out a shaky sigh. "Yeah. I guess it is." He stepped to the bars between his cell and Larabee's.

"It's been a good ride, Chris," he said extending his hand.

Larabee caught it in a firm grip. "Take care, Vin. I'll be watching."

Tanner's eyes closed tightly for a moment as he turned away from his friend. The sheriff secured his hands behind him with rope and led him from the cell.

Vin stepped out of the back door and paused, letting his eyes adjust to the morning sunshine. He ignored the crowd, letting his gaze go to the fluffy white clouds riding across a pale blue sky. One of the deputies put a hand on his shoulder.

Tanner looked back at the man. "Just give me a minute," he said, his tone not quite a plea. "I ain't gonna be seeing it again."

The deputy's hand dropped away. Tanner took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders slightly, and walked down the stairs. The gathered crowd parted, leaving a clear path to the gallows. The festivities in the background died away as he slowly walked closer. Soon the only sounds that could be heard were people shifting in nervous anticipation and the cry of a small child.

Tanner paused twenty feet from the gallows, searching the crowd for familiar faces. Josiah's solemn face looked down at him from the platform where he had promised he would be. He couldn't see any of the others, though. The deputy's hand came up to push Tanner along. Tanner stumbled forward another few feet. Then he saw Nettie Wells.

"Sheriff," Tanner called hoarsely. "Hold up a minute."

Willingham turned around. "What is it?"

"Hurry it up!" someone in the crowd shouted. "I got things to do!"

The sheriff looked out over the crowd in the direction of the voice. He finally spotted the speaker. He whistled to one of the special deputies he had brought in for the hanging. "Jake Haskins! You just earned yourself fourteen days."

A murmur passed through the crowd as they turned to see what was happening. There wasn't much of a struggle as the cowboy was taken into custody.

Willingham turned to Tanner. The former bounty hunter said, "You see that gray-haired lady in the white shirt and blue riding skirt? That's my aunt. My sole surviving kin," he lied. "I want to talk to her."

Willingham nodded and led the condemned man to the elderly woman. Tanner dropped to one knee so she wouldn't have to look up at him. Nettie Wells placed her hands lovingly on each side of his bearded face and kissed his forehead. Her eyes were alight as she smiled and said, "Good to see you, son."

"It's good to see you too, Nettie," he said, feeling like he'd just been gut-shot. "I'm just sorry it had to be now."

"Son, I come and go as I please. You know that. Besides, I wouldn't miss this for the world." Somehow Tanner managed a smile of appreciation for the old woman's spunk. Nettie hugged him tightly. "Your mother'd be proud," she said finally.

Willingham put a hand on Tanner's shoulder, and Nettie reluctantly let him go. Tanner nodded briefly to Mary Travis, standing nearby with tears in her eyes. Then he turned and started up the steps to the gallows.

"Keep your head up," Nettie called. "You're a Tanner. And I'm proud of you."

Tanner reached the platform. The hangman was well-dressed for the occasion, in a black suit with tails and a frilly white shirt that the wearer kept adjusting in a way that was almost familiar. A black hood hid his features. Josiah was reading passages out of a worn Bible, words Tanner supposed some might find comforting. Willingham raised his hand to silence the murmur that had started again.

"'Vin Tanner, you have been found guilty of the murders of Jess Kincaid and Tom Jones. By the power vested in me, you are hereby condemned to hang by the neck until dead on this, the fifteenth day of September, 1875,'" he read from a piece of paper. He folded it and looked at the prisoner. "Any last words?"

Tanner looked silently skyward. Lord, I hope you know what you're doing here. He shook his head. "Let's just get this over with."

Willingham nodded briefly, then positioned Tanner on the trapdoor and tied his feet with a leather strap. He left the platform. Josiah stepped closer and asked, "Do you want anything?"

Tanner's expression was sardonic. "That's a silly question."

Josiah put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Keep the faith, Brother Tanner, and I'll see you on the other side."

The big man descended the steps. Tanner stared toward the jail, where he could see Larabee peering out the window. Buck was standing nearby. The tracker flinched slightly as the hangman slipped the noose over his head and tightened it slightly.

"Don't think you're getting away from me so easily, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said, his voice muffled by the hood. "I do not intend on collecting said interest you owe from your paltry estate."

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Larabee watched the gathering crowd outside the window. His stomach did a slow roll as Vin stepped out the back door of the jail. He paused on the steps, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the bright day. The former bounty hunter looked up briefly at the fluffy white clouds riding across a pale blue sky that matched his shirt. The sheriff's deputy put a hand on Tanner's shoulder.

Tanner looked back at the man and said something. The man's hand dropped away. Tanner took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders slightly and walked down the stairs. The gathered crowd parted leaving a clear path to the gallows. The festivities in the background died away as he slowly walked closer. Soon the only sounds that could be heard were people shifting uncomfortably in the growing heat of the day and the cry of a small child.

Larabee's eyes narrowed as he watched. Tanner paused about twenty feet from the gallows. The deputy's hand came up to push Tanner along as he drew his weapon. Tanner turned slightly and spoke to the deputy, who shook his head. A moment later the sheriff pushed through the crowd to Tanner's side. The doomed man leaned forward and whispered in the sheriff's ear.

Someone in the crowd shouted, "Hurry up I got things to do!"

The sheriff looked out over the crowd in the direction of the voice. He finally spotted the speaker. He whistled sharply to someone Larabee couldn't see. "Jake Haskins! You just earned yourself fourteen days!" A murmur passed through the crowd as they turned to see what was happening. There wasn't much of a struggle as Jake was taken into custody.

Tanner spoke with the sheriff a moment longer. He finally nodded and took over as escort to the gallows steps. Tanner stopped before a slender grey-haired lady who stood a full head shorter than himself. He knelt down on one knee so that she wouldn't have to look up at him. She held him close for a long moment before he stood and faced the gallows. Tanner walked calmly up the stairs. It was a few minutes more before the condemned man and the hangman stood alone on the platform.

Hearing footsteps in the corridor, Larabee turned and saw Haskins being escorted into the cell previously occupied by Tanner. He couldn't believe the audacity of the newcomer as he sat on the bunk and began to eat Tanner's untouched meal. "I wouldn't eat that if I were you," Larabee said coolly. Haskins looked up momentarily and, being a completely practical man, resumed eating.

Inwardly sickened, Larabee turned and rested his head against the bars, his jaws clenched as he held tight onto the window's bars. The shadow of a cloud paused on the gallows platform as the handle was pulled. He blinked as Tanner fell. Over the silent crowd he heard the sharp crack of bone breaking.

He dropped heavily to the bunk and put his head in his hands. He couldn't believe their plan had failed; that Tanner had gone to his death believing their plan would save him at the last moment. They had tested the rig. It had held up easily. Larabee's stomach knotted. He grabbed the unused spittoon and was sick.

Haskins slammed the coffee cup back down on the tray. "Hell, now I've lost my appetite," he complained. Larabee looked up. An evil twinkle appeared momentarily in his eyes. He launched the contents of the spittoon into the other cell. Dead on target.

Hearing screams and shouts of people outside the jail over Haskins caustic swearing, Larabee stood to look out the window. He could see several women had swooned and a buckboard was coming down the road in a great hurry. The dapple brown horses were heavily lathered. The wagon slewed to a stop and one of the two passengers jumped from the wagon before it came to rest. He was quickly followed by a dark-skinned man.

Larabee's eyes were drawn back to the platform where the hangman stood. His head was bowed. As if the hangman knew Larabee was watching, he looked up and shook his head slowly.

"No!" someone shouted. Horrified, Larabee recognized JD. as he stumbled toward the gallows shouting 'no!' repeatedly, tears streaming down his face. Chris was heart-sick. This was the one thing Vin didn't want JD. to see.

A tall figure parted from the crowd to intercept JD.'s flight before he could get close. Larabee was pretty sure it was Buck. JD. beat on the man, shouting, "How could you let this happen? He was innocent! He was framed!"

A moment later Nathan arrived as Mary and Nettie also went to Buck's aid. JD. saw them and collapsed, overcome by grief and exhaustion. Nathan helped carry JD. back to the buckboard. The driver, Judge Travis, stepped over the seat and helped lift JD. over the side.

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The sheriff posted two beefy deputies near the gallows to prevent someone from messing with the body. Ezra didn't stand his lonely vigil long. Josiah joined him shortly after the crowd departed. Ezra took the opportunity to disappear into the hotel to change out of his black suit.

Ezra returned as a stiff wind began to blow, making the rope creak. He buttoned his red jacket as he walked. The deputies stopped him from approaching closer than twenty feet. Checking his watch, he saw it had been about an hour since the hanging: Josiah joined him in the street, holding a battered Bible in his hand. It wouldn't be long now before the sheriff returned to finish the ritual.

Josiah turned as the back door of the jail opened and the sheriff stepped out. He walked down the stairs and approached the gallows. "The next of kin may claim the body, at the top of the hour," he told his men.

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The guards watched as a wagon carrying a coffin made its way slowly down the street. One checked his watch. It was straight up noon. "Right on time," he said.

The other turned his head to a strange angle, cracking his stiffened neck and grunted. "Surprised anyone would be willing to claim the carcass of a murderer."

"Look on the bright side. Now you don't have to spend the afternoon digging a hole to plant him in."

The gray-haired woman who drove the wagon pulled the team to a gentle stop and set the brake with practiced ease. She stood and one of the guards stepped forward to give her help down. "Can we give you a hand?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the body.

Nettie looked at Tanner and took a deep breath. Tears shone in her eyes as she shook her head. From behind her, she heard Buck."Ma'am?"

"These gentlemen have agreed to help me," she said, indicating Buck and Nathan who had come to stand just behind her. "'but thank you for your kind offer."

"Ma'am," the guard replied, tipping his hat. The two wandered off toward the saloon as Buck climbed the seven stairs to the top of the platform. He drew out his shaving-sharp Bowie knife and reached for the rope, his grip on the rope bringing the gentle swing of the body to a stop. He waited until Josiah and Nathan had climbed underneath the gallows, then cut the rope, letting Vin's body fall into their waiting arms.

Ezra and Nettie slid the coffin off the end of the wagon, where it stood resting against the wagon waiting for its occupant. The four men didn't speak as they carefully maneuvered Tanner's body out from under the gallows. Buck and Josiah held the body gently as Nathan severed the ropes that secured Tanner's hands behind his back.

They lifted Tanner and eased him into the waiting coffin. Nathan untied his feet, then gently loosened the noose and removed it. He heard a commotion coming up the street as he placed a pair of silver dollars over Tanner's eyes. He looked and saw a photographer. The others had spotted him as well.

"Vulture, what do you want here?" Nettie asked, her hands on her hips.

"Just a photo, ma'am, proof of the hanging for the governor's records."

"If you must, but hurry up. I have things to do before I can properly bury my kin."

The small man hurried and set up the tripod. He placed the camera box on top of the platform and secured it with the screw. He pulled the black drape over his head and quickly aimed the camera. He covered the lens and placed the photographic plate in the side of the box. He pulled a thin sheet of black material out of the camera, then removed the lens cover. He counted slowly to ten and replaced the lens cap.

Nettie stepped between the camera and the coffin, her hands on her hips. "Now leave us to mourn in peace." With a tip of his hat the photographer gathered his equipment and hastily departed.

Before Nettie could return to the task at hand, she heard a quiet "Ahem" behind her. She turned to face a small, narrow eyed, weasel of a man in a black suit and top hat. He removed his hat allowing the black ribbons tied neatly around the band to touch the ground, as he asked, "May I be of service to you and your loved ones?"

Nettie took a deep breath and shouted at the undertaker, "You get out of here too! You're worse than all of them! I don't want you anywhere near him!" The small man took a step back as he tried to placate the obviously distraught woman, but she didn't let him get a word in. "I'll see to the burial myself. Good day!" She turned her back on the man and returned to the wagon.