Alias: The Hangman From Hell

by Franklin D. Lincoln

It was almost dark when the man, now known as the Hangman from Hell, sauntered along the board sidewalk leading toward the Eureka Café. He had been told by the hotel manager that it would be a good place to find some supper.

  Laredo had been restless cooped up in his hotel room since he had been escorted there two hours earlier. Sheriff Logan had become occupied with Belle Bonner’s bounty and had asked Clay Shaw to escort their new local celebrity. As uneasy as The Kid felt with Sheriff Logan, he would have preferred his company far more than that of the taciturn deputy, whose eyes were constantly on him. It may have been The Kid’s imagination, but somehow he felt the lawman was suspicious of him. Did Shaw know that this man in the long black coat was an imposter? If so, why hadn’t he sounded the alarm already? Or did he have something else on his mind?

  The deputy had left him in his hotel room. There was something mocking in the lawman’s face as he pulled the room’s door shut and ambled off down the corridor to the stairs leading to the lobby, one flight down.

  The Kid had rested a few minutes; sprawled on his back across the bed. His black coat spread open and beneath him. He listened intently for sounds in the hallway; hearing only the rustling of people passing by. When he was fairly sure that Shaw was completely gone, he shuffled toward the door, opened it a crack and peeked out. At first the hallway looked empty, but as he stepped to the other side of the door to peep at the other end of the corridor, he saw a hefty man sitting in a wooden captain’s chair, near the stairway. There was a deputy’s star on his vest and a sawed off shotgun stood against the wall next to him.

  Laredo shut the door quickly, as if it were a hot poker. He leaned his back against it and cursed under his breath. Shaw had left a guard behind. Why? Was he a prisoner? Or was the guard there for his protection? The Kid had to find out.

  As the supper hour neared, The Kid decided to test the situation. He would try to leave the hotel. He could always use the pretense of going out for food as his excuse. With any luck, he might make his way to the livery, retrieve his horse and gear and clear out of this crazy town before the situation could get worse.

  When he made his move, the deputy stood, gripping the shotgun and blocked his path. The Kid explained that it was suppertime and he needed to go out. The big deputy thought about it, momentarily, then allowed him to pass by.

  As Laredo neared the lobby desk, out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of the lawman on the stairs behind him; watching. Making it look good, The Kid asked the desk clerk to recommend a good place to dine. The spindly clerk had recommended the Eureka and had given him directions to find it.

  The Kid left, keeping an eye out for the deputy. When he crossed the street, he caught a glimpse of the lawman coming out of the hotel; still watching him. Again; was he guarded as a prisoner or was this merely for his protection?

  Now, as Laredo was about to enter the Eureka Café, he nonchalantly threw a furtive glance about. His guard was no longer in sight, but Clay Shaw was briskly striding down the street, coming in his direction.

  Acting as if he hadn’t noticed Shaw, he pushed the café door open, stepped in and closed it quickly behind him. Immediately, the buzz of a full room of conversations assailed his ears. The café was packed; almost every table occupied. Considering the room was large enough to house over twenty tables, the Eureka Café was doing a thriving business at the expense of the jailed men waiting to be star attractions at the hanging gallows this week end.

  To his surprise, the room, almost immediately, came to a sudden hush, followed by almost conspiratorial like whispers. Laredo quickly looked about trying to discern the reason for this sudden change in the environment and noted nothing at first, before he realized every eye in the house was on him. He suddenly realized that he was the reason for the sudden reaction of the clientele.

  He felt flustered at first; glancing about, almost embarrassed. But he quickly realized he needed to project the image of a tough man, used to such notoriety. He hitched his shoulders beneath his too large coat and glared at the onlookers. He tried to feel meanness within him, but the truth was, he was just plain scared.

  He pushed his way between a few tables, stopped and looked around again, as if looking for an empty table. Not seeing one right off, he turned slightly and looked behind him. A lunch counter ran most of the width of the building. There were eight stools in front of it and they were all filled except one at the far end, next to the back wall.

  As he turned and made his way toward the empty stool, the dining room crowd returned to their normal buzz. Somehow The Kid felt some relief in this, though he did not know why.

  A big, burly man with scraggly whiskers, sitting next to the empty stool, shot a furtive glance at the hangman as he came near him. He pursed his lips with an expression of disgust, slid off his stool; turning his back to the man in the black coat, and tossed some coins onto the counter next to his half finished plate of food. He stomped toward the door and went out.

  Two more men followed suit, leaving their meals behind and exiting promptly. Deputy Clay Shaw passed them on his way in as they were leaving. Laredo tried not to let the exodus of the three men bother him, but what bothered him most was Clay Shaw. He pretended not to notice the deputy and started to climb onto an empty stool.

  A young girl in her twenties came rushing through the swinging half door behind the counter. She had golden blond hair, ivory complexion, and large round blue eyes. She wore a white apron tied tightly over her blue calico dress that accentuated her slim figure. She was carrying a pot of freshly brewed coffee. On seeing the hangman, sliding onto the stool, she quickly placed the pot on the counter next to the partially emptied plates of the previous customers. She scooped up the coins and dropped them in the pocket of her apron. She pulled a pad from the same pocket and retrieved the pencil that had been tucked behind her ear. “May I help you, sir?” She said mechanically as she did a hundred times every day. She didn’t seem to react as if their was anything special about this man in the long black coat, but when she looked up at his face, she felt a bit startled for no reason other than there was something about the man’s boyish face and sad eyes that drew her toward him. She flushed a bit and tried to hide her embarrassment.

  Before The Kid could respond, Clay Shaw approached saying, “Sue, this is Mister Dillard. You know. The Hangman.”

  The girl seemed to freeze in place, like a statue and her expression changed from that brief flash of warmth to cold fear. The Kid didn’t like the way Shaw had made the introduction and he knew that it was deliberate. Shaw had obtained the reaction that he wanted from both of them.

  “Surely, you can accommodate Mister Dillard better than this. He shouldn’t have to sit at the counter. I think I saw a table in the back corner.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course,” Sue said. “The one I keep open for Dad. I’m sure he won’t mind. He is later than usual tonight.”

  “Well, I’m afraid he got tied up for a while,” Shaw said. “He’ll be along later. Mister Dillard will have plenty of time to get his meal.”

  “All right,” Sue said as she came around the corner. “Right this way Mister Dillard.” She headed off across the room without looking at him.

  The Kid noted the wry expression on Clay Shaw’s face. It was taunting and sardonic. He tried not to let on he noticed. He just turned and followed after the waitress.

  Sue sat him at a table in the far back corner. The table was old and scarred without a table cloth. It wobbled on three uneven legs. She took his order and returned to the counter where Clay Shaw was still waiting. She now greeted the deputy warmly with a big smile. He smiled back and clasped his hands on each of her upper arms and pulled her close. He gave her a quick kiss. She responded and they both seemed to be laughing, even though it couldn’t be heard through the noise of the crowded dining room.

  Laredo felt like a Peeping Tom, watching, even though they were out in public. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of wistful longing. Jealousy, perhaps.
/>   Shaw finally left and Sue returned behind the counter and swinging door leading into the kitchen.

  When The Kid’s meal arrived, it was not delivered by Sue. A big buxom woman, many pounds overweight and her thin brown hair was tied back in a tight bun. She was well past fifty and she only grunted as she served him and quickly shuffled off.

  The Kid shrugged it off and turned to his food. He was famished and put his full attention to his meal. At this point, he hardly cared what he was eating but it tasted unusually good.

  He was just finishing his pie when he was interrupted by a small feminine voice. “Mister Dillard, I’d like to speak with you, if I may.”

  Laredo glanced up, his fork with a bite of cherry and crust, half way to his mouth. He put it down quickly; a quizzical expression on his face. Standing before him was a petite young girl. At least he was quite sure she was a girl for she was dressed in men’s clothing. A broad brimmed hat sat tilted on the back of her head, letting her full head of blond hair hang out from under and spill in a curly mass to her shoulders and framing her delicate round face. The hat was tied firmly beneath her chin with a strap. She wore a corduroy jacket opened over a blue checked shirt. Her faded jeans were tucked into the tops of well worn cow boots. “I’m Patsy Dolan. My father is Ward Dolan. He runs the Diamond D north of here.” She said it as if he should have known who she was talking about. “I’ve just got to talk to you.” She sounded like a school girl.

  Without a word, The Kid gestured to the empty chair on the other side of the table. He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip while she seated herself. It had cooled down and it was flat. He grimaced at it, placed the cup on the table, and glared at the young girl with annoyance.

  “You are The Hangman? Right?” She was almost stammering. “You’re here to hang all those men, aren’t you?” She didn’t give him a chance to reply. Just continued. “But you can’t,” she blurted. “Not all of them, anyway. You can’t. He’s not guilty of anything. He’s the wrong man.”

  “You’re talking to the wrong man. I have no say in who gets hanged. I just do it.”

  “But, I’m telling you, you’ll be hanging an innocent man. He’s not even a man though, he’s just a boy.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.” He said it firmly with irritation in his best go away and leave me alone tone.

  “But somebody’s got to,” she pleaded. “You can’t do this. It would be murder.”

  “He had a trial didn’t he?” The Kid said flatly. “You should have spoken up then”

  “They wouldn’t listen to me. The Judge and The Sheriff said he admitted he was the Laredo Kid. But it was all a mistake. He’s not the Laredo Kid.”

  Laredo sat up straight with a jolt. His eyes fixed on her pale face. A chill slid down his backbone, like a sliver of ice. He knew the girl could see the surprise on his face and he tried quickly to hide it, but she had already seen it and she said, “You know that’s true, don’t you?” Her big blue eyes bored into his. Another slice of ice dripped down his spine.

  Did she know who he really was? “No she couldn’t,” he told himself. How could she?

  “No. No. How could I know that?” He tried not to stammer. Then, tried to conceal his surprise more by saying. “And how can you be sure he isn’t?”

  “I know he’s not. He told me.” Her lips turned into a pout.

  “You believe him?”

  “Of course. He’s a good boy. He’s honest and he doesn’t lie.” Her face darkened with a frown. “Not really, but he did lie to my father, when he told him that he was the Laredo Kid.”

  “So he admitted it.”

  “No he just said it to impress my Pa.”

  “Doesn’t sound very impressive to me.”

  “You see, my father is…..”

  “Ward Dolan. I know you told me already. But, I’m afraid that means nothing to me and I really don’t care.”

  The girl pursed her lips defiantly. “Maybe you don’t, but my father is a powerful man. Runs one of the biggest spreads around.” Her words speeded up as she continued as if afraid that The Hangman wouldn’t listen long enough. “He’s been having trouble with Kurt Malloy who owns the next spread over. Malloy wants to take over Dad’s spread and has been giving him trouble. He’s brought in hired guns.”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with…..”

  She cut him off. “My dad was looking for gunfighters himself in order to fight back. Cliff thought my dad would hire him if he told him he was a gunfighter.”

  “Cliff?”

  “Yes. Cliff Allen. That’s his name. He told Dad that he was the Laredo Kid. I guess he didn’t realize that when word got out, the law would be coming after him. The Laredo Kid is a wanted outlaw, you know.”

  Yes. How well he knew it. He didn’t respond. He just stared at her.

  She finally went silent. His unresponsiveness angered her. “Oh you don’t care do you?”

  He nodded side to side without a word and returned to his pie. The girl’s eyes flashed and she shoved the chair backward as she stood. “You’re a mean evil man. I never should have come here.”

  Laredo heard a hush in the room and he kept his head down, refusing to look up at the girl as she stomped away. Once the hush ceased and the restaurant returned to its normal din, he glanced up just in time to see the girl closing the front door of the café behind her. It was only then that he realized the sudden hush within the restaurant had not been caused by his confrontation with the distraught young girl, but by the new comer that had just entered.

  Belle Bonner in her men’s attire, long riding duster, and the sixgun around her hips was enough to grab the room’s attention with her entrance. Upon seeing the hangman at the back table, she had headed across the room toward him.

  “That young lady didn’t seem to like you much, did she?” Belle said as she approached.

  “Most people don’t.” The Hangman grunted, taking another sip of the bland coffee.

  “That makes two of us, don’t it? People don’t seem to like me much either. Mind if I share your table?”

  “I’m almost done, anyways.” He drained his cup and put it down.

  She dropped into the empty chair. “Don’t let me chase you away.”

  “Nobody chases me away.” He sneered. “I’m just done.” He stretched backward, straightening his leg so he could reach into his pants’ pocket and fish out enough coins to pay for the meal. They thudded onto the table.

  “I hear, you’ve got plenty of work this weekend,” she said.

  “Enough,” he grunted starting to push his chair back.

  “I’ve got to hang around a few days before I can collect my reward money. Maybe, I’ll get to see your handiwork first hand.”

  “Be my guest.” He was clearly annoyed.

  “Hanging really isn’t my thing, though. I prefer the more sudden brand of justice.”

  “Is that what you call what you do? Justice? Bodies draped across a saddle, dead?”

  “Dead is dead,” she said. “Whether with a hunk of lead in them or a rope around the neck. We both do the same thing. Civilized people need people like us. They don’t have to get their hands dirty and they can tell themselves what wonderful Christians they are.”

  “Did you come here to eat or to preach?” The Kid almost growled it out with annoyance.

  “No one ever accused me of preaching,” she said. “But I sure do know a lot about Hell and Damnation.”

  “I’m sure.” Laredo sounded disinterested as he gazed past her. Sue was busy with a customer at the counter. He raised his hand and waved to her, trying to get her attention. Belle turned slightly and saw Sue nodding toward the hangman in acknowledgement. She was wiping her hands on her apron as she turned and disappeared into the kitchen. Belle swung back to Laredo a bit of a sardonic grin starting to spread.

  “You did want to order, didn’t you?” Laredo said.

  “Why. Yes. I just thought for a moment you were flirti
ng with that girl.”

  Again it was the big buxom waitress that came hurriedly across the room. “You wanted something?” She didn’t sound pleasant.

  “The lady would like to order,” The Hangman said.

  The waitress screwed up her face with disdain as she appraised the gun toting female with the large floppy brimmed hat. It was obvious what she was thinking. “Lady? Huh?”

  “What’ll you have?” she blurted as she took her pad from her apron pocket and slid the pencil out from behind her ear.

  “I’ll have whatever the gentleman just had,” she said knowing the word gentleman would rankle the old woman as much as the word lady.

  The waitress raised an eyebrow as she glanced from one to the other. She dropped the pad back in her pocket without writing anything down as she strode abruptly away.

  “Nice …uh….lady, that one.” Belle mused. “I guess it’s all just a matter of definition.”

  “Guess, I can’t blame her,” Laredo admitted. “I don’t suppose either one of us would fit in the civilized world, as you put it.”

  “Believe me, kid. I wouldn’t call them civilized either.”

  Kid? What was that? Did she know who he was, or was it just a generic term she used? He tried not show his sensitivity to it and said nothing in response. Best to let her do the talking.

  “I suppose all of these good civilized folk are going to be having a good time watching men strangle to death at the end of a rope, tomorrow.”

  “Well, it does seem like a carnival to them,” Laredo admitted. “Circus is in town. Everyone’s here to have a good time. I must admit I don’t understand it. Watching people die.”

  “They’re bad people. Don’t they deserve to die?”

  “I suppose so. But it shouldn’t be entertainment.”

  “You sound like you don’t like what you do.” It was more of a question.

  “It’s a job,” The Hangman said flatly.

  “But you don’t like it?”

  “Didn’t say that.”

  “I must say, kid. You don’t seem to be the type for this sort of thing. You’re much too nice.”

  There it was again. Kid.

  “Are you sure, you’re Henry Dillard?” She eyed him quizzically. “You don’t even look like a Henry, much less a Dillard. Those are wimpy names. They hardly fit a rugged, handsome person like you.”

  Maybe she did suspect him. Maybe she knew his secret.

  “Man can’t help the name he’s saddled with,” Laredo tried not to choke it out. Tried to keep his tone even.

  “You can always change your name.”

  Was she probing, now?

  “I did,” she added flatly.

  “You mean your name’s not Belle Bonner?” Turning the attention on her.

  “Of course, not. You don’t think my folks would have named me that. They expected me to grow up prim and proper, not a woman bounty hunter. Belle Bonner. Now that’s a tough name to be feared. That’s why I chose it.”

  “What was it originally?” The Kid asked.

  “Prudence. Prudence Pennypacker.” She grinned. “No outlaw worth his salt would allow himself to be shot dead by a Prudence, much less a Pennypacker.”

  “No. I guess not.” He smiled, suddenly feeling less uncomfortable as the buxom waitress returned.

  *****

  Chapter Nine