Rope Burn

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  She took the cloth off the basket and moved along the bars, letting the prisoners reach through to get biscuits.

  When she turned to the Jensen brothers, Chance didn’t get up from his bunk. “I don’t have much of an appetite,” he said with a surly expression on his face.

  “Don’t mind my brother, ma’am,” Ace said as he went to the bars and reached through to take a biscuit. “I surely do appreciate your kindness. If it’s all right with you, I’ll just go ahead and take a biscuit for him, too. I’m sure he’ll eat it in a little while.”

  “You go right ahead, sonny,” she said. “You boys remind me so much of my grandsons.”

  “Why thank you, ma’am.”

  The old woman smiled, bobbed her head, and moved on. After he had ushered her out, Turley pushed the cell block door up most of the way and looked back at Ace.

  “Don’t go thinkin’ kind thoughts about that ol’ gal,” the jailer said. “Her grandsons were owlhoots, both of ’em. Plumb lowdown varmints, and rattlesnake mean. They wound up dancin’ on air over at Yuma Territorial Prison, and considerin’ everything they done, you could’ve hung ’em half a dozen more times and it would’a just started payin’ for all of it. Ever since then, she’s been comin’ in here to bring food to the prisoners, but it never changes nothin’. They’re still dead!”

  Cackling, Turley went out of the cell block. Ace sat down and ate one of the biscuits, but it didn’t taste as good as it might have otherwise.

  The jail’s thick stone walls kept some of the heat out, but even so, it grew stiflingly warm in the cell block as the day went on. Or maybe that was just desperation he was feeling. By the middle of the afternoon, when it had become obvious that the prisoners weren’t going to get a midday meal, the hammering stopped.

  “Executions are usually carried out at sunup, aren’t they?” Chance said. “Maybe they’re going to change things up and hang us when the sun goes down.”

  Or maybe they wouldn’t even wait that long, because a few minutes later, the cell block door opened again and Marshal Hank Glennon strode in, shotgun tucked under his arm. The trio of deputies followed him.

  “All right, you Jensen boys, on your feet,” he said. “You’ve got another date—and this time it’s with the hangman.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ace’s heart seemed to fill his throat. He couldn’t believe everything was going to end in this scruffy little Arizona Territory settlement. He didn’t stand up, and neither did Chance.

  Glennon drew his Colt. “All right, if that’s the way you want it, I’ll blast your kneecaps and we’ll drag you to the gallows. Either way, you still wind up at the end of a rope.”

  The Jensen brothers looked at each other. Chance said, “If I’ve got to cross the divide, I want to be on my feet when I do it.”

  “Yeah, that’s the way I feel, too.”

  They rose from the bunks at the same time. Glennon kept the gun trained on them as he said, “Let ’em out of there, Turley.”

  The old jailer crabbed along the aisle to the door and unlocked it, then got out of the way in a hurry. Glennon motioned with the Colt. Ace and Chance walked out and followed the marshal as he backed into the office, where the shotgun-toting deputies waited.

  Sergeant MacDonald called from the cell block, “You boys are gonna be shakin’ hands with the Devil real soon now! Hope you enjoy it!”

  Ace and Chance ignored the taunt. With the deputies surrounding them, they walked out of the marshal’s office. Shotgun barrels prodded them toward the edge of town, where the gallows stood waiting. Just one rope dangled from the crossbar above the trapdoor.

  “You’re gonna have to take turns,” Glennon said. “I’ll let you decide who goes first. If you can’t decide, I’ll flip a coin.”

  “I was born first,” Ace said. “Reckon I can leave first.”

  “Yeah, that’s just like you,” Chance said. “Always hogging the lead.” The brave grin he gave his brother took any sting out of the words.

  Not surprisingly, quite a crowd had turned out to watch the double hanging. A feeling of celebration hung in the hot air. There was nothing like an execution to spice up the monotony of day-to-day life in a frontier settlement.

  As they trudged along the dusty street, Chance asked in a low voice, “Are we going to make a break for it?”

  “We’ll just get gunned down if we do.”

  “Yeah, but that’s a better way to go than dancing on air, isn’t it?”

  Ace looked around at the townspeople gathered on the boardwalks and in the street. “It’s just like in the courtroom,” he said. “If any shooting starts, innocent folks are liable to get hurt.”

  Chance made a face. “And we can’t have that. I swear, Ace, sometimes I think you’re just too blasted decent for your own good.”

  “If that was true, Fate ought to see to it that something happens to get us out of this mess. But it’s not looking like that’s going to happen.”

  Indeed, the brothers had reached the bottom of the thirteen steps leading up to the gallows platform. When they hesitated, Glennon said, “We can still shoot you and carry you up there, if that’s what you want.”

  “We’re going, we’re going,” Ace muttered.

  “Up you go, then.”

  Ace headed up the stairs first, with Chance following him. Another deputy with a shotgun waited at the top, along with a scrawny man in a dusty black suit who clutched a small black book. Ace figured he was a preacher, there to share a last-minute prayer with the men about to be executed, if they so desired.

  Glennon followed them to the platform, with Turley behind him. The marshal ordered, “Tie their hands behind their backs.” Turley had a couple of short pieces of rope ready to carry out the order. He jerked the knots painfully tight, but from the looks of things, Ace and Chance weren’t going to be uncomfortable for long.

  The nervous-looking minister said, “If you boys would like to say anything, either to these folks or the Lord—”

  Ace interrupted him. “Sorry, sir, but I reckon the Lord already knows what’s in our hearts and minds.”

  “And we don’t have anything to say to this bunch,” Chance added as he cast a hostile glance over the assembled crowd eager to watch them swing.

  “All right, then,” Glennon said as he took the dangling noose and started to fit it over Ace’s head and around his neck.

  The old woman who had brought biscuits to the jail stood in the front ranks of the crowd. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “They’re innocent! They didn’t do it!”

  “Hush,” Glennon snapped at her. He tightened the noose around Ace’s neck. Ace took as deep a breath as he could with the rope pressing against his throat and closed his eyes. The crowd was hushed in anticipation now.

  That silence meant the sudden rattle of hoofbeats sounded even louder than it might have otherwise. Ace opened his eyes.

  A cavalry patrol of two dozen men, led by an officer and trailed by a wagon drawn by a team of four mules, came down Packsaddle’s main street from the west. They didn’t stop when they reached the edge of the crowd, so the group was forced to part for them as the soldiers rode right up to the gallows.

  The officer in charge was a lieutenant, Ace saw, a wiry, dark-haired man with a thin mustache. As he reined in, he held up his other hand in a signal for the rest of the detail to halt.

  Glennon asked, “What do you want, Lieutenant?”

  “I understand you’re holding some men from Fort Gila in your jail, Marshal.”

  “How’d you know that?”

  “It’s the army’s business to know what goes on,” the lieutenant answered. “Is it true?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got ’em locked up. They busted up a saloon, and they can’t pay the fine and damages. The judge sentenced them to thirty days behind bars.”

  “Well, that sentence will have to be set aside. The army has a prior claim on them.”

  “What in blazes are you talking about?”<
br />
  “They’re deserters,” the lieutenant said. “We’ve come to take them back to the fort so that military justice can deal with them.”

  That explained why MacDonald and the other soldiers had been so anxious to put Packsaddle behind them this morning. They must have known that someone would be coming after them. They might have believed that their absence wouldn’t be noticed for a while, and for that reason, they had delayed their escape long enough to stop in the settlement for a drink.

  Of course, everything had gone awry for them after that. If they had been able to ride out early this morning, they might have still gotten away, but stewing in jail most of the day had given the lieutenant and his men time to catch up to them.

  Those thoughts flashed through Ace’s brain. This was an interesting development, but it wasn’t going to do anything to save him and Chance.

  Marshal Glennon began, “If you think you can just ride in here—”

  “As a matter of fact, I do think that. I think I can ride in and do whatever is necessary to complete my mission, considering that I have the full weight of the United States Army behind me.”

  Glennon looked like he wanted to argue, but even though he had a handful of deputies to back any play he wanted to make—assuming that they would do so—they wouldn’t be a match for two dozen hardbitten cavalry troops.

  After a long moment, Glennon said, “I’ll have to talk to Judge Bannister. If he agrees, I don’t guess there’s anything I can do about it.”

  “You do whatever you need to do, Marshal,” the officer replied blandly, “as long as you release those ten prisoners into my custody.” He smiled and nodded toward the gallows. “Then you can get on with your other business.”

  “All right, I suppose I can—Wait a minute. Did you say ten prisoners?”

  “That’s right. That’s how many men deserted yesterday.”

  “There are only eight troopers locked up in my jail.”

  The lieutenant looked surprised and somewhat disbelieving. “That can’t be,” he insisted.

  “Well, it’s the truth, as you can see for yourself if you take a look in my cell block.”

  “What happened to the other two men?”

  “How in blazes should I know? Maybe they split off from the rest of the bunch and ran away in some other direction.”

  The two men stared at each other for a few seconds, then the lieutenant jerked his head toward the marshal’s office and said, “Come on. Send for the judge, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  Glennon stomped down the stairs from the gallows, paused to issue an order to one of his deputies, and then walked toward his office. The lieutenant dismounted and handed his reins to one of the troopers, then followed Glennon. Both of them disappeared into the sturdy stone building. The deputy Glennon had spoken to trotted off toward the town hall to fetch Judge Horace Bannister.

  Quietly, Ace said, “Sort of wish the marshal had taken this noose off of me before he left. It’s not the most comfortable feeling in the world, having a rope around your neck.”

  “As long as it’s not too tight, I reckon you can put up with it,” Chance said. “What do you think is going to happen?”

  Ace shook his head. “Blamed if I know.”

  The judge emerged from the town hall, out of his black robe now and wearing a brown suit and hat. He went into the marshal’s office, and after a while—which seemed a lot longer to Ace and Chance as they stood on the gallows waiting for their destiny to be revealed—Glennon and the lieutenant emerged from the marshal’s office and came toward the edge of town where everyone waited tensely.

  When they got there, Glennon didn’t climb the steps. He just looked up at Turley on the platform and said, “Turn them loose. They’re going with Lieutenant Olsen.”

  “What?” Ace and Chance exclaimed at the same time.

  With a smug smile, the lieutenant said, “I was sent to bring ten men back to the fort. I’m going to deliver ten men, as ordered.”

  “But we’re not deserters,” Chance protested. “We’re not even in the army!”

  “That’s what I pointed out,” Glennon said, “but the lieutenant seems to think you’d prefer that to what you’ve got waiting for you here.”

  Chance looked at Ace, cocked his head to the side, and said, “He’s got a point there.”

  Ace couldn’t contain a sigh of relief as Turley lifted the noose from his neck. A second later, he felt the jailer cutting the bonds that held his hands behind his back. As the rope fell away, Ace pulled his arms in front of him and started rubbing some feeling back into his numb hands.

  “I reckon we’re in the army now,” he said.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Jensen brothers’ horses had been put in the stable the night before when they were locked up.

  “Ed Watson down at the livery was disappointed when he heard you boys wasn’t gonna get your necks stretched after all,” Turley informed Ace and Chance as they stood next to the army wagon. “He figured with you boys bein’ dead, he’d get to sell these critters.” The old-timer lowered his voice. “O’ course, he’d’a had to split whatever he got for ’em with the marshal, but it still would’a been a nice little profit.”

  “What about our guns and the rest of our gear?” Ace asked.

  “Where you’re goin’, you ain’t gonna need it! Same as the horses. So Ed gets to sell it all anyway! Turns out it’s a great day for him!”

  That set Turley off in gales of laughter once again. He walked away guffawing.

  “You know,” Chance mused as he watched Turley, “I don’t think I like that old codger.”

  They had traded guards. Now, instead of deputies with shotguns watching them, troopers with Springfield rifles stood nearby with the weapons held at the ready. Other soldiers escorted the prisoners out of the jail. Lieutenant Olsen and Marshal Glennon were on the boardwalk, watching as the deserters climbed awkwardly into the wagon. Ace and Chance were forced at gunpoint to join them. The soldiers had brought ten pairs of manacles and shackles with them, and soon those restraints were fastened around the prisoners’ wrists and ankles.

  “I wonder how far away this Fort Gila is,” Ace said. “The lieutenant said MacDonald and the others deserted yesterday, so it can’t be too far.”

  “Even if the patrol just left there this morning, it’s too late in the day for us to get back there before dark. We’ll have to spend a night on the trail.”

  “Are you thinking we might have a chance to get away?”

  “The thought crossed my mind,” Chance admitted as he made a face at the uncomfortable irons he wore.

  “If we did that, we’d be fugitives, not only from the law but probably from the army as well. I’m not sure I want to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”

  “What’s your idea, then?”

  “Talk to the commanding officer when we get to the fort,” Ace said. “He’s bound to be a reasonable man. He won’t punish us for deserting when we’re not actually in the army.”

  “Yeah, but he’s liable to send us back to Packsaddle. . . where there’s a gallows waiting for us, remember.”

  “Not if we can convince him we’re telling the truth about what happened. Since MacDonald and the others are deserters, maybe he won’t put too much stock in their version of the story.”

  Chance sighed. “You sure have a lot of faith in other folks’ intelligence and decency, big brother. You just don’t realize how stupid and venal most people are.”

  “I just like to give them the benefit of the doubt,” Ace said.

  “Well, in this case, I hope you’re right and whoever’s in charge at the fort will be reasonable.”

  The troopers mounted up. Lieutenant Olsen gave the order to move out. As they left Packsaddle behind them, Ace didn’t look back. He hated to lose the things he and Chance were leaving behind, but he supposed the horses, guns, and other items were a small price to pay to escape the gallows.

  Of cou
rse, as Chance had pointed out, they could only hope they weren’t heading into something even worse . . .

  * * *

  This part of the territory was flat and semi-arid, for the most part, although some stretches were green with vegetation and there were occasional rolling hills. Low but rugged-looking mountain ranges loomed in the distance.

  Ace and Chance had been in Arizona before, but not this particular area. Ace knew some isolated ranches were located here and there, and mining was also important in these parts, but mostly the region seemed to be pretty sparsely populated.

  That probably had something to do with the Apaches who lurked in the mountains and came out to raid from time to time. The army had been engaged in hostilities with them for quite a while without seeming to make any real, long-term dent in the Indians’ activities. From what Ace had read about the conflict, it was a war unlike any other the soldiers had fought before. The Apaches were able to strike and then disappear as if they had never been there.

  Maybe that was one reason Sergeant MacDonald and the other troopers who had deserted with him looked so unhappy about going back. Not only would they have to endure whatever punishment was meted out to them, but they would have to go on dealing with the threat of the Apaches, too.

  The group made camp that evening atop a small, lightly timbered ridge that swept down into a broad, dry valley. Lieutenant Olsen posted guards to watch the horses as well as the prisoners. The shackles were removed from their ankles so they could move around a little, but the manacles remained locked on their wrists. They all had to stay close together to make it easier for the sentries to watch them, so there was only a short distance between where Ace and Chance sat on the ground and the cluster of troopers led by MacDonald.

  The scarred noncom glared at the Jensen brothers in the fading light and declared, “This is all your fault.”

  “How do you figure that?” Chance asked. “We didn’t make you desert.”

  “If it wasn’t for you two—especially you, pretty boy—we’d have had our drinks and ridden out of Packsaddle last night. We’d have been a long way off before they discovered this morning that we were gone. And they never would have caught us.”