Alias: The Hangman From Hell

by Franklin D. Lincoln

It was dank and dreary in the cellar of the court house. A feeble hint of light filtered in from the small windows at ground level outside. The walls of the cellar were built solidly with large stone and mortar, providing a good sturdy foundation for the courthouse, built above. The floor was made of large flagstone, set in cement. It was rough and uneven.

  Sheriff Logan had ushered the hangman out of the courthouse. The sky above was starting to darken with the threat of rain. Logan escorted the hangman to the cellar. Since there was no access to the cellar from inside the court building, they had had to exit through a rear door and then down several steps from the outside to a solid oak door entrance. Logan had keys in his pockets which unlocked it, but he knocked first before inserting the key.

  They were met by a heavy set man of fifty on the inside. He wore a star on his vest, that said, Deputy. He had a club in his hand and wore no pistol.

  The rush of damp, mildewed air was the first thing Laredo noticed. The darkness and shadows took a bit of getting used to as they progressed down a short empty corridor and stopped in front of another oak door. Logan unlocked this one, as well, following the same routine he had with the outer door.

  There was another corridor running down the middle of the cellar. There were two guards posted. One at each end of the corridor. They each wore a deputy badge and carried a club. Neither one of them wore a gun.

  “We don’t allow the guards to have any guns in here, just in case one of the prisoners might jump one and get his weapon.” Logan explained, without being asked.

  On each side, of them, two cells with iron bars were installed, side by side. These were modular type cells that could be moved and reassembled. They had barred ceilings that did not reach up as high as the cellar ceilings and the small windows above. The floors of the cells were of steel plating and bolted to the flagstone floor.

  Three of the cells housed two prisoners each. The fourth cell held only one. The two men in the first cell on the right were lounging on bunks against the back wall. One was tall and burly and the other was squat and fat. Both looked like hard cases. Their clothes were dirty and they both had long shaggy hair and scraggly beards. They both glared up at the two men standing outside their cell, then turned their gazes away, not seeming to care who the hell the visitors were, even though they would know the sheriff right off.

  Logan spoke up loud for all to hear. He was chuckling as he said it. “You boys might want to take a good look at this man. His name is Henry Dillard and he’s here to swing you all to Kingdom Come.”

  No one seemed to be interested in looking.

  “Deke Johnson and Telly Burke,” Logan said to the hangman, pointing to the two men in the first cell. “Killers from up north. Marshals brought them in two weeks ago, in the tumbleweed wagon.” He assumed that the hangman was familiar with the barred jail on wheels that was used to transport prisoners.

  Turning to his left, Logan said, “Ike Skaggs and Zack Baylor.” One was sitting on his bunk and the other leaned against the cell’s side bars. Both were hard cases like the prisoners in the other cell. “Baylor, the one standing, was one of the bank robbers from Llano. One of the men that those jaspers that jumped you wanted to break loose.”

  He stepped forward to the next cell. “These are the other two from Llano. Burt Jeffries and Tim Billings.” They were equally hard looking cases as the others. Billings was the only light haired one of the bunch, and what little beard he had, was hardly noticeable. He was much smaller and younger than the rest.

  Turning back to his right, Logan indicated the last cell which housed only one prisoner. There was a young man of light complexion lying on his bunk. His head was pressed down on his pillow. His face was hidden and only his brown hair was visible.

  “This one,” Sheriff Logan said with a hint of pride in his voice. “Is probably our star attraction. He may not be as bad as these other fellers, but he is the most well known, The Laredo Kid.”

  Laredo dared not show any special interest. He merely nodded. It was a good thing that he had been tipped off about this before. Otherwise, he might have involuntarily shown his surprise. And, that probably wouldn’t be fitting for The Hangman from Hell.

  “These round out the seven for the main event on Saturday. The three you’re swinging tomorrow are over in the jail. They are lesser known men and their crimes are not as many as these men, here. Oh, they are killers and thieves, of course, and they deserve to die, but they certainly are not in the same league as these jaspers.

  “I’ll need to see them too,” Laredo said, trying not to show more interest in one prisoner over another.

  “Of course. I’ll take you over there as soon as we finish up here.”

  “I think I’ve seen enough for now, Sheriff. I might want to come back later for measurements, though.”

  “Sure. Whatever you say Mister Dillard.”

  It was starting to sprinkle as Logan and the hangman emerged from the courthouse cellar. The wind was blowing up a storm at a rapid pace. Dark black clouds rolled in, like a ceiling above the town of Plainview. The day was becoming almost as dark as night, and a rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.

  “Boy!” Sheriff Logan hailed a young lad of about fourteen, as they emerged to the front of the courthouse, where he and The Kid had left their horses tied to the hitch rail. Large drops of rain were beginning to pelt the dry dusty street. . He tossed the boy a coin and said, “How about taking these two horses over to the livery? Tell Sim, I sent you and I want both horses cared for the same as I always want for my own.”

  “Will do, Sheriff,” the boy said as he caught the coin, pushed it down in his jeans pocket and set to untying the reins.

  More and more large drops fell from the sky. Street traffic and passerbys quickened their paces, heading for cover before the sky would start pouring down its wrath. Logan escorted Laredo across the street to the Sheriff’s office. He had just opened the door and ushered The Kid inside when all hell broke loose. A giant flash of lightning lit up the street with an immediate boom of thunder following. Heavy rain poured from the clouds and as Sheriff Logan shut the door behind him, rivulets of water were already streaming down the front window. A strong pelting staccato pounded against the glass.

  Clay Shaw stood up from the chair behind Sheriff Logan’s desk as the two men entered. His gaze went straight to Laredo. It made The Kid nervous and he tried not to let the deputy notice his unease, by sauntering nonchalantly about the office, giving it the once over.

  Shaw moved around the corner of the desk, making it obvious that he was making the sheriff’s desk and chair once more available to the rightful occupant.

  “Starting to get nasty,” Logan said, hanging his hat on a wall peg. “Don’t reckon it’ll last long though. We get these passing gushers from time to time, Mister Dillard,” Logan said as he took his place in his chair. He pulled the kerosene lamp close, lifted the globe, struck a match and set it to the wick The flame flickered to a steady glow and the lawman replaced the globe, spreading light throughout the room. Laredo was still perusing the wanted posters on the opposite wall. He noted there were none for The Laredo Kid. He turned to face Logan. Shaw was just seating his rump on the corner of Logan’s desk. He adjusted his holster and pistol to rest more comfortably on his thigh. “Doesn’t do much for crops or grass though,” Logan continued. “That blasted sun comes right back up and dries it all up before it gets a chance to soak in.”

  “That’s the other three?” The hangman asked idly, indicating the large single jail cell at the rear of the office. It was dark back there and only moving shadows revealed there was actually someone there.

  “Yep,” Logan said, rising to his feet and picking up the lamp. “Wanna take a look?” He strode past Shaw toward the cell. The Hangman followed.

  As they came close to the bars, Logan lifted the lamp shoulder high. The Kid moved close beside him. In the glow of light he could see the three prisoners. They were all young. The oldest one couldn’t
have been more than.sixteen. He sat on his bunk with his back to the outside wall. Spicules of rain drifted in from the open barred window above his head. His long black hair was wet. The other two lounged on their own bunks on each side of the cell.

  “That’s Deke Porter,” Logan said. “Mean cuss. Always in trouble. Money grubbing grifter. For some reason, he has the ability to lead others into trouble. Like those two boys.” He jerked a thumb toward them. “Bud and Tod Jenks. Drifted into town a week ago. Didn’t seem to cause any trouble, none. But they were down on their luck broke. Threw in with Porter and now, here they are.”

  Laredo sized them up. The smaller one, which Logan had indicated as Bud, was probably the youngest, had light scraggly blonde hair and smooth apple cheeks.

  “They’re just boys,” Laredo said with surprise in his voice. He regretted it immediately, for the hangman should be impassive. He hoped Logan didn’t notice.

  “Does that bother you, Mister Dillard?”

  Damn! The lawman had noticed it. He had to cover it up quick. “No. No. Doesn’t matter to me. One neck is just like another.” Was that the right response? He hoped so. “Just different sizes, is all,” he added, trying to sound even more believable. He turned away and moved back into the office, as if he had seen enough. In fact he had.

  “What’d they do?” He asked as the sheriff followed him.

  “Horse stealing,” Logan said as he set the lamp down on the desk. He blew out the flame. The rain had subsided and the brightening sky outside began to filter new light in through the front window. Thunder was rumbling off in the distance as the storm moved away. Light rain was still dripping down the window pane.

  “Is that all?” Laredo once again sounded surprised and hated himself for it.

  “Horse stealing is a hanging offense,” the lawman said gruffly. “You know that.”

  Of course a hangman knows that, Laredo thought. He knew better than to make an issue of his mistake. He ignored the comment and said. “I don’t judge. I only hang.”

  Shaw stood up from the corner of the desk, eyes still on The Kid and moved out of his way as Laredo strode past him, hands clasped behind his back and gazing out the brightening window. “Looks like it’s letting up now,” Laredo mused out loud.

  “Good,” Logan said. “I’ll take you over to the Plainview hotel and get you situated. It’s the best in town and we reserved you a room before everyone started pouring into town. There isn’t a room left anywhere in town now and many of our visitors are camping out in their own wagons. Can’t be comfortable with these showers springing up all the time.”

  Then to Shaw, he said. “Take care of things here, Clay. I’ll be back as soon as I get Mister Dillard settled.”

  “You don’t need to go to any trouble, Sheriff,” Laredo interjected. “I’m sure I can find the place and get settled on my own. I’m used to it.”

  “Well, Asa, over at the hotel might not understand that you are priority there. I need to make sure he’s on board with that.”

  Damn! Laredo thought. Can’t I ever get out of this law dog’s sight? He started to stammer a feeble protest, but Logan didn’t give him a chance.

  “Come on, I’ll show you.” Logan grasped the hangman by the upper arm and guided him toward the door. With his other hand he replaced his hat over his graying hair. Then he opened the door and ushered The Kid through.

  There was still a light drizzle of rain left when the two men stepped out onto the board sidewalk. The street was still practically empty, the townspeople having taken shelter, but there were signs of people stirring about under awnings and other havens of shelter. Steam was pluming up from the wet, dusty street and the sky was beginning to brighten through a cover of low hanging fog. Lances of lightning, without thunder speared the sky in the distance. The smell of ozone still lie pungent in the crisp freshness of the passing shower.

  A lone rider had appeared from up the street and was approaching the two men in front of the Sheriff’s office. The rider was slight of build and wore a long brown slicker. A wide brimmed hat flopped loosely downward covering the rider’s face. Long dark hair hung down from under the hat and fell upon narrow shoulders. The rider ambled along at a slow even pace on a sorry looking mustang, which had obviously been played out for quite some distance. Trailing the horse and rider was another horse; an old bay mare. Its reins were in the rider’s left hand as the horse allowed herself to be led. Across the saddle, a body wrapped in canvas, was draped; arms dangling on one side of the horse and feet hanging off the other side. Water dripped from the rain soaked canvas.

  Sheriff Logan, making no effort to escort Laredo any farther, watched intently as the rider neared and swung toward the hitch rail in front of the Sheriff’s office. The rider swung down in front of him, tied the horses to the hitch rail; then, turned to face the two men.

  The front part of the rider’s hat brim still hung low over the face. The rider was shorter than the Sheriff and Laredo and it was only when the rider looked up at them that they could see the face clearly. They were both startled a bit at first, and thought they were looking into the face of a boy. But it only took a moment to realize that the face belonged to a woman. Grime covered her face and the corners of her unpainted lips, turned downward along with a hard scowl, making her look ageless at first glance, but on closer look, it was obvious that she was young; probably not over thirty.

  She pulled a paper from inside her open slicker, shook it out and handed it to Logan. “Blaine Gordon,” she said, thumbing over her shoulder at the body on the horse. “Two thousand dollar reward.”

  Logan glanced at the paper. It was a wanted poster. Blaine Gordon. Two Thousand Dollars Reward. Dead or alive.

  “Bounty Hunter?” Logan said absently, a bit surprised and handing the Wanted poster back to her.

  “You got a problem with that?” She said it evenly, almost wanting the lawman to give her trouble. She kept her voice low and husky, forcing a menacing tone that did not become a woman

  “No. No,” Logan almost stammered. “Just making an observation, is all. You must be Belle Bonner I’ve heard of you. I’m Fred Logan. The sheriff here.”

  The woman stared impassively at his badge for a moment. “Never would’ve guessed.” She almost growled it out sarcastically. Then she added with annoyance. “So tell me, Sheriff, why must I be Belle Bonner? Can’t a woman be a bounty hunter?” Her eyes were a pale blue; cold and menacing without a spark of light; almost like dead unseeing eyes.

  “Sure,” the lawman said, shifting back and forth uneasily on his feet. “But, I’ve only heard of one. You are Belle Bonner aren’t you?”

  She didn’t answer at first. She glanced toward The Laredo Kid. Her gaze fixed on his face as if she was trying to remember where she he seen it. She took a full measure of the man, looking him up and down. “Yeah, I’m Belle Bonner, all right,” she said as she stared into The Kid’s eyes. Laredo’s body stiffened and he felt cold as if a sliver of ice had just slid down his back bone.

  “You must be the undertaker in these parts,” she said. “You should be smiling. I’ve brought you business.”

  A pang of relief waved over The Kid and he relaxed slightly as he realized she had mistaken him for an undertaker.

  Before The Kid could find his voice, Logan put in, “Oh. No. This is Mister Henry Dillard…..”

  “Really?” She cut the sheriff’s words off sharply as she swung her attention back to Laredo. Once again her eyes settled on his face. There was a slight hint of an upturn at each corner of her small mouth. Her lips were thin and pale. She held herself in check, forcing herself not to smile, even wryly. “The Hangman From Hell, they call you. I’ve heard of you. I must say I certainly admire your work.” She looked him up and down again, more carefully than she had done before. “Some how, I would’ve expected you to be a much bigger man.”

  Laredo could feel her gaze dropping to the bottom of his coat, noting it draping well below his knees. Did she know he was an
imposter? He could feel his pulse starting to race in his temples.

  “Big reputations, tend to do that,” The Kid managed to choke it out, trying to sound normal. “I expected you to be coarser and less attractive, too.”

  “Attractive? Don’t get cute with me, buster boy. That crap doesn’t work on me.”

  She turned to Logan. “Well, we gonna stand around palavering all day or are you gonna pay me off for this load of garbage I brought you?” Then to Laredo, “Guess I didn’t bring you any business after all, Croaker. Guess that’s why you ain’t smilin’”

  “Look’s like you’ve got me all figured out ma’am,” Laredo removed his hat and half bowed to her, mockingly, hoping to hide his discomfort.

  She stepped close to him as he straightened. Her eyes flashed sharply, like daggers, stared at him directly; eyeball to eyeball. “That’s right, Croaker.” It was almost a whisper. “I’ve got you all figured out.”

  *****

  Chapter Eight