Alias: The Hangman From Hell

by Franklin D. Lincoln

They had ridden about a mile out of town, when Laredo called a halt. His pistol was still in his hand and trained on the lawman. He sidled his mount closer to Sheriff Logan, reached over a slipped his sixshooter from its holster, and tossed it away into the brush alongside of the trail. There was a Winchester rifle in the saddle boot under the right fender of the saddle on of the horse the sheriff was riding. Laredo snaked it out of the sheath and tossed it into the brush on the other side of the trail. “Now get off the horse. Drop the reins and put your hands up. Keep them there until I tell you to put them down.”

  Logan eyed his captor warily as he reluctantly climbed out of the saddle and did what he was told.

  “I’ve got something to tell you, Sheriff,” Laredo said. Logan eyed the gun in the Kid’s hand. “And, just to convince you, I’m going to put my gun away. That doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you if you decide to do something foolish, so don’t try it. I just want you to hear me out. It’s up to you to believe what you want, but I hope you’ll know I’m telling you the truth. God knows how tough it is for me to tell you this.” He slid the pistol into his holster and clamped both hands over the pommel of the saddle.

  “You can put your hands down now, Sheriff.”

  “You sure are a strange one,” Logan said. “Just what in hell is going on here.”

  “I need to tell you something important.”

  “Well then do it. Don’t keep me standing here like an idiot. You take me out of town at the point of a gun. Just what the hell am I supposed to think?”

  “Just listen,” Laredo said. “There’s seven men back there in town that’s slated to hang tomorrow. Whether it goes on tomorrow or not, I don’t know. You’re going to be minus one hangman, me. Shaw and Caine already know I’m not Henry Dillard, but they were going to let everyone think I was until after the hanging was over. The show needed to go on. I’m sure they had plans to deal with me afterward.”

  “Show?” The lawman blustered. “It’s not a show. It’s justice.”

  “Think that if you want to, Sheriff. As much as it really is a show, I really do think Isaiah Caine doesn’t think so either. At least he doesn’t want to admit it to himself. He’s on some sort of mission to deal out his own perverted brand of justice and has set himself up as a supreme being of power. The man is sick. He’s worse than I am and that’s pretty bad.”

  “Just who the hell are you?” Logan demanded.

  “I’m getting to that,” Laredo answered. “As I started to say, there are seven men back there slated to hang. I can’t speak for six of them, but they probably are guilty and deserve punishment. But, one of them is innocent of any wrong doing. You can’t let him hang.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s a boy back there accused of being The Laredo Kid. Well, he’s not. His name is Cliff Allen and all he’s guilty of is bragging that he was The Kid, just to impress his girl’s father.”

  “That’s preposterous,” the lawman scoffed. “Why would any fool do a thing like that?”

  “Because he is a fool. A young fool.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Logan asked.

  “Because I don’t want him to hang. And, he has a girl that doesn’t want him to hang. But, most importantly, he doesn’t deserve to hang, just because he’s a fool. If that were just cause, I’m afraid we’d all have been swinging from a rope by now.”

  Logan nodded, “I’m afraid you’ve got that right, but how do I know you’re telling me the truth. How can you be so certain the boy is innocent.”

  “Because,” Laredo hesitated. It was hard to say the words. “I know he’s not the Laredo Kid.”

  “And just how do you know that?” The lawman already knew the answer.

  “Because.” He nearly choked it out, hardly believing he was saying it. “I am The Laredo Kid.”

  With that The Kid kneed his horse forward, close to the other horse, and slapped him sharply on the rump. The animal shied and tossed his head; then ran off down the darkened trail toward town.

  Laredo put spurs to his own mount, slapped him across the withers with the reins, and rode off in the other direction. By the time, Sheriff Fred Logan could catch up his horse and retrieve his weapons, Laredo should be long gone with too big of a head start for the lawman to want to follow him. All he could hope for now was that the old lawman would return to town and make sure that Cliff Allen didn’t hang.

  Sheriff Logan didn’t bother to hunt for the guns in the brush. He knew it would take too long and The Laredo Kid would get farther away by the minute. Besides, if what The Kid had told him was true, and he had no reason to believe it wasn’t, it would be more important to get back to town and tell the judge what he knew. He couldn’t let Cliff Allen die as The Laredo Kid while the real one was getting away Scott free. He hurried off down the trail toward town. If he were to find the horse along the way, that would be good. But if he didn’t he should still be able to make it back to town in a half hour. He still wasn’t too old for that, he told himself.

  He had been on the trail for almost ten minutes, when he heard the clippity clop of horses hooves around the next bend. With any luck, whoever was on the trail this time of night, could give him a lift back to town in half the time his old feet could do the job.

  As the rider rounded the bend, Logan could see he was astride and leading another horse behind him. The horse was saddled, but carried no rider. Logan hurried his step to meet them.

  A moment later Logan recognized the rider as Clay Shaw. The horse he was leading was the horse the sheriff had ridden out of town on. Logan lifted a hand, flagging him down.

  “What’s going on out here, Sheriff?” Shaw asked as he drew rein next to the old man. “I saw you ride out of town with Henry Dillard,” He added as explanation for his appearance.

  “Henry Dillard? That wasn’t Henry Dillard. That man was an imposter.”

  “He was?” Shaw answered as if he had no knowledge.

  “Of course he was,” Logan answered. “You already knew that.” He sounded accusatory.

  “I knew it?” Shaw almost stammered, trying to sound innocent.

  “Of course you did. He told me you did, but I didn’t believe him. I didn’t want to believe him. I didn’t want to think you’d go behind my back with the judge. Why in hell didn’t you tell me about what you two were cooking up? I would have gone along with it. Or did you both think I was getting a mite too old for this job? You want this job, yourself? Is that it? Why didn’t you come to me about it? Hell, I’d’ve let you have the job. I don’t want it anymore, anyways.”

  “You..you don’t?” Clay seemed genuinely surprised. “You really would have let me have it?”

  “Of course. But, we’re wasting time jawing here. We’ve got to get back to town.”

  “Back to town? But, what about Dillard or whatever his name is? And what happened to him anyways? Where is he?”

  “ He spooked my horse. Rode off and left me afoot. That’s not important now. What’s important is we get back to town and tell the judge that he can’t hang that young fellow he thought was The Laredo Kid.”

  “Thought was the Laredo kid?” Shaw exclaimed. “What do you mean thought? He is The Laredo Kid. I arrested him myself.”

  “No, Clay,” Logan said. “You got the wrong man. He just isn’t The Laredo Kid. That’s all there is to it.”

  “That’s not true,” Shaw protested. “How could you say such a thing?”

  “Because, it is true. That man we all thought was Henry Dillard, is the real Laredo Kid.”

  “How..how do you know that?“ Clay’s voice was rising to a fevered pitch.

  “He told me so.”

  “He told you? And you believed him?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid I do, Clay.”

  “But Sheriff,..Fred, I already caught The Laredo Kid. I have a reward of ten thousand dollars coming to me. It can help me and your daughter a lot. You understand that don’t you?”

  “Well, yes�
�but, if we’ve got the wrong man…….” His words trailed off.

  “No one will, know,” Clay interrupted. “No one knows, now.”

  “I know, Clay,” the old lawman said flatly.

  “No you don’t. All you know is what some no good outlaw told you. How can you believe that?”

  “Well, I do, Clay,” Logan said emphatically. “Now let’s get back to town. We can’t stand around here arguing all night.” He started for the extra horse and reached for the reins Clay was holding.

  “No!” Shaw shouted. “That reward money is mine. You can’t cheat me out of it!”

  The old law man glared at his young deputy as if seeing him for the first time. He angrily snatched the reins from Clay’s hand and turned to step into the stirrup.

  Without a thought Clay Shaw drew his pistol and fired point blank at the old man’s back. The horse shied and stepped away.

  Gunsmoke was still curling from the muzzle of the gun and the echo of the blast was still fading away as Clay sat there in the saddle; stunned by what he had just done and looking down at the folded form lying in the trail.

  Then as reality seeped into his brain, a wry half smile spread across his face. “Crazy old man,” he said to himself. “He deserved what he got.”

  In the brush, not fifteen feet a way, a rider and horse were hidden, watching and listening. The rider had been there just long enough to see Clay Shaw murder the sheriff.

  *****

  Chapter Seventeen