Alias: The Hangman From Hell

by Franklin D. Lincoln

“What the hell is going on here?” Sheriff Logan demanded. His eyes were blazing like steel and his grip on the pistol was firm. Clay Shaw looked on smugly.

  “Well, thanks for your concern,” The Hangman said sarcastically, trying to hold his voice firm and trying to hide the fear that permeated his body with a chill that went all the way to his bones. He could feel his legs tremble, but he didn’t show it. “Someone just tried to kill me.”

  “What were you doing here this time of night anyhow? Besides, I had a guard outside your room to protect you.”

  “Protect me?” Rage swelled in The Hangman’s voice. “I thought I was being treated like a prisoner. You might have clued me in.”

  Logan’s stare softened. “Well, I supposed it might have seemed that way. I didn’t think of that. I figured you understood. But, why would you think otherwise? And just what the hell are you doing out here and how did you get past my deputy?”

  Clay Shaw was smiling now.

  “Easy. I just walked passed him. Next time you send someone to protect me, tell him to stay awake.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question. What were you doing here? You weren’t running out on us were you?”

  “Now why the hell would I do that? I’ve still got a job to do. And I still have pay coming. As for being here, I couldn’t sleep and there were some things in my saddle bags that I wanted. You sent my horse to the livery before I could get them off this afternoon. Seems to me you take a lot for granted around here, Sheriff.” A good offensive is the best defense.

  The sheriff seemed to agree and acquiesced. The sternness in his eyes faded and his face loosened. “Perhaps I do,” he said. He hefted his pistol, dropping the barrel and slipping the weapon into his holster. The smile on Clay Shaw’s face faded.

  “You should have told me or the deputies.” He indicated Shaw. “Anyone of us could have gotten your things for you.”

  “I thought I could get along without them. But, when I couldn’t sleep, I thought I might as well come here for them, myself.”

  “Just the same,” Logan said. “It was a foolish thing to do.” Then he added. “You have any idea who that jasper was that tried to drygulch you?”

  “No. I didn’t even think there was any reason for you to be protecting me.”

  “With the work, you’ve got cut out for you this week, there’s bound to be friends of some of those prisoners who don’t want the job done.”

  “I’ve never worried about that in the past.”

  “Well, I worry about it. We didn’t get all of those bank robbers, you know. The ones you met up with on the trail. They may not have known who you were then, but I’ll bet they’re still around waiting for a chance to spring their pards. And if they are, by now they sure as hell know who you are and have a score to settle with you.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it that way. Maybe, you’re right. Maybe I should have stayed put in my room. I certainly will for the rest of my stay.”

  “I’ve got a better idea, son,” Logan said. “How about you stay at my house for the remainder of your stay?”

  Great. That’s just great, the Kid thought. He’ll have me where he wants me. Right under his eye. There’ll be no chance to get away for sure. He started to protest. “Oh, no, Sheriff. That won’t be necess……..”

  “Nonsense, my boy. It’ll be my pleasure. And my wife won’t mind either.”

  Before Laredo could think of a response, another wisp of hay drifted down from the hayloft above them. Both men looked up. More hay was sliding down and there was the sound of movement up there.

  Logan pulled his pistol quickly, pointing it upwards. “Who’s up there?” He shouted as warning. “This is Sheriff Logan and I’ve got a gun on you. Come down. Keep your hands empty. If you got weapons, drop them first.”

  There was another movement and a louder rustle of hay. A pistol belt dropped to the floor. There was a pearl handled gun in the holster. Logan had seen it before.

  A dark figure wearing a long coat emerged from the shadows and dropped from the loft. “Nothing to worry about,” a feminine voice said as she lifted her head so her broad brimmed hat no longer hid her face. “It’s just me.”

  “Belle Bonner!” Logan gasped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Sleeping. Or trying to. A person can’t seem to get much sleep around here, with all these goings on. There were no rooms left in town, so I crawled up into the loft.”

  “Did you see what happened, here?” Logan asked.

  Bonner eyed The Hangman closely. She seemed to be letting him know that she was thinking about something. Then to the sheriff, she said. “Yes,” dragging the word out slowly. She glanced back at The Kid. He cringed to himself. It only showed in his eyes though. “At least part of it,” she said.

  She looked once more at the Kid, knowing he was waiting for it “I saw this hangman feller first.”

  Now it’s coming, The Kid thought.

  “I heard him moving around. It woke me up and then I saw the lantern moving. I crawled to the edge of the loft and saw him down here.” She paused and Laredo waited. “He was going through his saddle bags,” she lied. Laredo took a breath and held it. Tried not to show surprise in his eyes. “Then someone started shooting at him and started a fire when he shot the lantern. The Hangman shot back at him and the man ran off. I was pretty scared by then, because the place was on fire. This guy,” she indicated The Kid, “put the fire out and then all of you were here.”

  “How come you didn’t try to help him out? You being a gunfighter and all.” There was a bit of sarcasm in Logan’s words.

  “Wasn’t none of my business.” She glanced coyly to The Hangman. “I wasn’t about to mix in. But then the place was on fire and I got scared.”

  Scared? Laredo thought to himself. Satan himself couldn’t scare Bell Bonner. But, she had some reason for backing his story and he knew that didn’t exactly mean that she was helping him. He knew he would have to pay for it. Whatever Belle knew, thought she knew, or didn’t know, one thing was for sure: he would regret the day Belle Bonner ever entered his life.

  “I heard you fellas talking about this man staying with you, Sheriff. Does that mean he won’t be using his room at the hotel, no more? If that’s the case, could I take it over? I don’t rightly take to sleeping in the hay, but it was better’n the hard ground outside.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Logan mused. “It is being paid for by the town you know.”

  “I’ll be glad to pay for it myself, Sheriff. You know I’m good for it as soon as that reward money comes through.” She glanced at The Kid. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me taking over your room, now. Would you, Mister Dillard?” She emphasized the ‘Mister Dillard”

  Laredo caught the meaning. At least he thought he did. “No. No. Of course not.” Then to Logan, “I don’t see what harm it would do to give Miss Bonner, my room.” He also emphasized her name. “I’m sure you can agree, Sheriff.”

  Logan sighed. “I guess it would be all right, after all.” It was obvious he felt the need to please The Hangman.

  Clay Shaw looked on silently. He still seemed amused.

  Sheriff Logan lived in a white frame house at the south end of town. It was a neat two story structure, had a small yard in front and back, surrounded by a white wooden picket fence. By the time Logan and The Hangman arrived the house was almost completely dark save for the orangey glow of a single kerosene lamp in the living room that was visible shining through the front room picture window.

  The sheriff’s wife had stood up from her rocking chair as the two men entered. Logan quickly introduced Henry Dillard to his wife Abigail and explained the circumstances that led to offering The Hangman a place with them for the night.

  Abigail Logan was probably about the same age as the sheriff, but she looked much older. Her face was thin and drawn. Her hair was completely white and she appeared to be a bit frail. She eyed the man in the black coat warily, looking him ove
r carefully, as if trying to make up her mind if her husband had made a wise decision by bringing this man of death into her house.

  Laredo noticed her concern immediately, but then too, he thought he noticed a softening of her tired old eyes as she gazed into his. “I guess it’ll be all right,” she said. “I’ll go put an extra blanket in the spare room for you Mister Dillard.”

  She started for the stairway as another figure appeared on the steps. “What’s going on?” A young feminine voice said. There was still a bit of sleep in the words, but the voice sounded vaguely familiar to Laredo.

  As she stepped off the bottom step into the light, Laredo caught the sight of her. She was young. Blond hair tumbled across her shoulders and she was wearing a light blue robe. And The Kid recognized her immediately. Sue from the restaurant.

  “I heard voices and….” She stopped short as she recognized The Hangman.

  “Suzie,” Logan started to say. “This is Mister Henry Dill…….”

  “I know who he is.” She almost snapped it out, flat and cold. “The Hangman.”

  Logan glanced from his daughter to The Kid, a bit of a loss for words. Laredo interjected. “From the restaurant. Earlier this evening.”

  “Oh yes, of course,” the sheriff said understanding. Then back to his daughter, Logan said. “I’ve asked Mister Dillard to stay with us while he’s in town. He’ll be in the spare room next to yours. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Why should I mind?” She said. “It’s your decision. Besides,” she glared at The Kid. “I keep my door locked.” With that she whirled and disappeared up the stairs into the darkness. Abigail followed behind her.

  “I told you before, Sheriff, I didn’t think this was a good idea. I afraid I’m too much of an imposition on your family.”

  “Nonsense,” Logan insisted. “I know best and they will just have to deal with it. Besides, you gave your room away. You can’t go back now.”

  “We could always throw her out again.”

  “We could, I suppose. But that wouldn’t be very nice. Besides, I want you right here with me.”

  Yes, Laredo thought. Right where you want me. Where I can’t get away.

  *****

  Chapter Eleven