by Ralph Cotton
“Yep,” said Falon, “out in the barn. That’s where Kirby and the rest of them are. I’m just sitting here for a while to keep up appearances.”
“Do you mind if I go cut some dust from my throat?” Tomblin asked. “All this coffee is doing is aggravating me.”
“No, go ahead,” said Falon. But as Tomblin stood up from the table he added, pointing a finger at him, “Don’t think that this is over though. We’re finding them bodies. Every time we go to run the traps we’re scouring the countryside till we find them.”
“I understand,” said Tomblin. He turned and stepped over to the open end of the bar, where Brother Lexar smiled, passed a small green bottle to him and nodded him toward the rear door leading out back and to a weathered livery barn. Slipping a small gold piece into Brother Lexar’s hand, Tomblin said in a hushed tone, “Brother Lexar, you’re the only real Christian in the bunch.”
“I provide only what the Lord allows,” Brother Lexar said with a sly grin, pocketing the gold piece.
Tomblin started for the back door, but stopped short when the sound of a brass bell rang out from the direction of the believers’ meetinghouse. Looking around at Frank Falon, he said, “Does this mean I can’t get on out back and catch a quick nip?”
“You know what that bell means,” said Falon. “Don’t bring trouble on us. Let’s get out front and make a showing.” He called out to Brother Lexar behind the bar, saying, “Hurry back there and tell all my men to hightail it out to the street, pronto!”
Out front, the bell rang again. “Yeah, yeah, we hear you,” Falon said sarcastically. Looking back on his way to the front door, he saw Tomblin corking the small green bottle and sticking it inside his shirt. Tomblin grinned, running a hand across his lips. “Make damn sure that’s hidden,” Falon said. “You know what Jessup will do if he catches you drinking.”
“Right,” said Tomblin. “I just had to get a quick taste, is all.” He adjusted the front of his shirt, making sure the bottle was not showing, then followed Falon through the bat-wing doors.
On the boardwalk Falon stopped abruptly at the sight of Jim Heady, his hands bound. Heady was being dragged along the middle of the street on the end of a short rope by two of Father Jessup’s men. Heady resisted, cursing the two men loudly in a whiskey-slurred voice; but his captors yanked him forward, causing him to stumble along.
“Uh-oh,” Falon said to Tomblin, “it looks like we’ve got a problem here. What’s this young fool gotten himself into?”
“Beats me,” said Tomblin, “but I can tell you what happens next.”
“I know,” said Falon. He looked back and forth nervously as more of Father Jessup’s men appeared in doorways and gathered along the boardwalks and hitch rails. “There ain’t a damn thing we can do about it though. We’re outnumbered.”
“We’re always outnumbered,” said Tomblin in a tone of disgust.
“What are you saying, Ace?” Falon asked coldly.
“Nothing,” Tomblin replied in a clipped tone. Behind them, the rest of the men came through the bat-wing doors, having came from the barn at the sound of the bell, with Brother Lexar hurrying them. “But we can’t stand by and allow this to happen to one of our own.”
“It’s the new man, Ace,” said Falon. “He ain’t exactly one of us yet, as far as I’m concerned.” Falon stared away from Tomblin rather than face him.
From the street, Jim Heady called out in his whiskey-slurred voice, “Ace, Frank, Jaw, look at this! All of yas! Don’t let them do this to me!”
One of the men leading him reached out with a long backhanded slap and sent him sideling to the ground. The other dragged him to his feet and shouted, “Now keep your mouth shut, sinner, if you know what’s good for you. You’re in enough trouble already!”
“Uh-oh,” said Tomblin, “here comes Father Jessup.” He called Falon’s attention toward a large, powerful-looking man who stepped out of the doorway of the former sheriff’s office across the street with a bullwhip coiled around his left shoulder.
“Aw, Jesus.” Ace winced.
“What the hell did he do?” whispered Splint Mullins.
“Shut up and listen,” Jaw Hughes replied.
“Whatever he done, he don’t deserve no damn bullwhipping,” said Quentin Fuller.
“Quiet, all of you!” Frank Falon hissed over his shoulder. Farther up the street, two more of Jessup’s men came dragging another man along in the same manner.
“Look!” said Lewis Barr. “It’s that young wolfer! The one from the boiling pits.”
“I don’t give a damn about him,” said Lewis Barr, “but I ain’t standing by and letting them whip Jim Heady. He ain’t done nothing! Hell, he’s been back in the barn with us all morning!”
“Everybody get ready to make our move,” said Kirby Falon, standing directly behind his brother.
“You stand down,” Frank Falon said in a harsh tone without turning to his younger brother. “I give the orders here. And I’m saying for everybody here to stand down and keep their mouths shut!” His right hand tightened around his gun butt. “Anybody saying otherwise?”
The men fell silent just as Father Jessup stepped into the middle of the dirt street to address the gathering crowd. “I want all of you to take a look at what we have here,” Jessup’s strong voice called out. “These men have both committed acts that not only bring shame to Paradise, but also bring offense to the Lord and His followers.”
Jessup turned first to the young wolfer, who the two men had stood up beside Jim Heady. “All of you remember Randall Turner, the man who ran up a burden of debt on himself and his family? Now that our community of believers has allowed him to work it off in a forthright manner, as any righteous man would want to do, instead of being grateful for the opportunity to redeem himself, he has chosen to go around talking against the very ones of us who have helped him!”
Randall Turner started to speak, but before he could say anything, one of the men holding him reached out and punched him soundly in his stomach.
Jessup smiled and turned his attention away from the young wolfer and toward Jim Heady. Pointing an accusing finger he said, “This man has been caught drunk, ignoring our town ordinance against alcohol.” Jessup turned and faced the crowd of onlookers and said with finality, “Both men will be whipped publicly, ten lashes each.”
“Like hell I will!” shouted Heady, hearing Jessup’s words. He struggled violently against the men holding him. But it did him no good. The two men overpowered him and jerked him to the ground by the rope around his wrists.
Watching, Jessup called out, “Look at his resistance now! But where was this man’s strength when it came to fighting Lucifer’s temptation?” He pointed to the hitch rail. “Maybe this will open his eyes to the error of his ways. Take him to the hitch rail, Brothers,” Jessup called out to the two men holding Heady by his arms.
Upon seeing the bullwhip come down from Jessup’s shoulder and uncoil like a snake, Jim Heady managed to rise to his feet and call out in a sobered voice, “If you put that whip across my back, you better hope to God you kill me!”
Ace Tomblin murmured to himself, “Damn it, Heady, shut up.”
The two men dragged Heady to hitch rail, where two other men helped to untie his hands and stretch his arms across the rail and retie them. Heady struggled with the men and turned toward Father Jessup, shouting, “If you don’t kill me, I’m coming for you! You hear me, you rotten son of a—”
His words stopped abruptly as a pistol barrel whipped down across his bare head, not enough to knock him out, but enough to addle him while the men finished tying him. Jessup called out to one of the men, “Brother Paul, go to the blacksmith shop, fetch a pair of tongs. Jerk his tongue out and cut it off! He needs to be taught a lesson against blasphemy.”
Brother Paul Chapin hurried away toward the blacksmith shop.
“Aw, Jesus, Frank,” said Ace Tomblin, “we can’t let Jessup get away with something like this!”
; “You’re right,” said Falon, feeling that he wouldn’t be able to control his men if he allowed such an act to go unchallenged. Stepping forward he said to Jessup, “Father Jessup, he didn’t mean any blasphemy by it. Look at him.” He nodded in Heady’s direction, hoping to get Jessup to show some mercy on the young man. “This poor dumb ol’ boy doesn’t even know what blasphemy means.”
“It doesn’t matter if he knows it or not, he blasphemed me,” said Jessup. “And whosoever blasphemes me, blasphemes the Lord almighty.” Jessup’s voice resounded powerfully as his eyes swept his gathered followers.
“He thinks pretty highly of himself, don’t he?” Jaw Hughes grumbled among the men behind Falon. “I believe we ought to make a stand here. What say everybody?”
“Easy, men,” Ace Tomblin warned them, speaking in a lowered voice. “This is likely going to get out of hand any second now as it is. Don’t push it.”
“Horsewhipping is enough, Father Jessup,” Falon called out. “He’s one of us. Anything else that gets done to him ought to be done by us.”
“Defy me and you defy the Lord, Falon!” Jessup’s voice boomed. As he spoke, he swung the whip out and cracked it in Falon’s direction. “You are treading on dangerous ground.” But staring into Falon’s eyes, Jessup saw more than defiance. He saw a warning. Falon’s words were not meant to challenge him. Falon was telling him in his own way that he wouldn’t be able to hold his men back if Jessup insisted on taking Heady’s punishment any farther than a public whipping.
“Father Jessup,” said Falon, “it’s plain to see the man is drunk and talking out of his head. Whip him if you have to. But then give him to us. We’ll see to it he never causes any trouble here again. You have my word on it. You have everybody’s word on it.” He gave a nod back toward the men gathered behind him, hoping Jessup would see that he was about to start a wildfire.
Jessup did see it. After considering his response, Jessup said, “I expect he’ll loose his tongue soon enough once the whipping commences.” Without looking at Falon he called out to Lexar, who stood off to one side watching, “Brother Lexar, you step out here and wield this whip for me. This man is a drunkard and will be punished.” Looking at Chapin, who came running back to the middle of the street with a pair of iron tongs in his hand, Jessup said, “We’ll not be using the tongs today. Instead Brother Lexar is going to whip this sinner until he cries out long and loud for God’s mercy!”
Jim Heady shouted, “Don’t bet on it, you big tub of—”
Again the pistol barrel silenced Heady.
In front of the former saloon, Jaw Hughes murmured to the other men gathered behind Falon and Tomblin, “This ain’t right, Lexar bullwhipping Heady. Lexar’s the man who sold him the whiskey.”
“Shut up, Jaw,” said Falon. “We’re lucky we stopped him from cutting Heady’s tongue out. Don’t push the matter!”
As Lexar walked past them on his way to the middle of the street, Falon said secretively, “Go easy on him, Lexar. Me and the boys won’t forget it.”
Lexar gave no response. In the middle of the street he stopped and took the bullwhip from Jessup’s outstretched hand. “Spare him not, Brother Lexar,” Jessup said. “Let God hear this sinner cry out for mercy!”
“You ain’t getting a word out of me!” Heady shouted defiantly, looking back over his shoulder as the two men tied his arms out along the hitch rail.
“Don’t beg for nothing, Heady!” Jaw Hughes called out before Falon had a chance to stop him.
“Not a word, Jim, ol’ pard!” said Arby Ryan. “Show them you can take it!”
“Shut up, both of you!” said Falon, although he felt like saying the same thing himself. Then he murmured under his breath, “This boy Heady is tough. He ain’t going to give them the satisfaction.” He stared confidently, watching one of the men rip the back of Jim Heady’s shirt open, exposing his naked white back.
Preparing himself, Heady squeezed his eyes shut and called out to Lexar, who had taken the whip and spread it out for a long swing, “Do your worst! You’ll get nothing out of me!”
Falon and his men winced as one when the first crack of the whip resounded and a bloody red welt appeared across Heady’s back. Heady let out a long, shrill, agonizing scream, then began sobbing and crying aloud, “Oh, God, no! Please! No more! God have mercy! Oh mercy! Oh God! Mercy! Mercy! Mercy!”
Jaw Hughes swallowed a tight knot in his throat and said quietly to the others, “Well, I guess he held out as long as he could.”
Chapter 6
Jim Heady screamed and begged until his words came in nothing more than a rasping whimper. By the fifth crack of the whip he lost consciousness and his head bowed beneath the hitch rail onto his wet naked chest. Lexar shot Falon and his men a look, but there was no letup in the way he swung the long whip, or the sound that it made slapping and tearing the pale fresh on Heady’s bloody back.
“I’m not forgetting this,” Falon whispered to the men gathered in close around him, their eyes fixed onto the grizzly scene.
“All this for having a few drinks to cut the dust from his gullet,” Jaw Hughes whispered in reply. “And this son of a bitch the very one what sold it to him.”
“I know,” said Falon. “You ain’t telling me nothing that I ain’t already thought about.”
When the final crack of the whip fell silent Jessup called out to Falon and his men, “You can have him now. Take him to the cells behind the believers’ meetinghouse, where he’ll spend today and tonight reflecting on his drunkenness and what it was brought him. Perhaps now he’ll understand that this town is the Lord’s town, and the Lord’s vengeance will be come upon all who defy His ways.”
“Yeah, let’s hope so,” Jaw Hughes murmured with an air of sarcasm. “Come on, Arby, let’s cut him loose.”
Without waiting for Falon’s approval, the two ventured across the street to the hitch rail. Lexar handed the whip to Jessup and the two stood watching while Hughes took out his knife and cut the ropes that held Heady’s arms tied to the rail.
Jessup called out, “Ordinarily I would demand that this man spend the next week behind the meetinghouse.” He turned and nodded at the young wolfer who stood between his two guards. “But today we seem to have more than our share of transgressors to deal with in the name of the Lord. Brother Edmunds and Brother Searcy, take Randall Turner to the hitch rail and bind him good and tight.” He swung the whip out on the ground before him. “I’ll take care of this one myself.”
“That’s damn big of him,” Jaw Hughes whispered to Ryan, the two of them lowering Heady between them as he moaned in pain. “Easy with him, Arby. He’s cut all to hell.”
“I’m easy with him,” said Ryan. The two managed to drag Heady away, each holding him by an arm and a wrist, the toes of his boots leaving two snaking trails in the dirt behind him. Blood ran from his back down around to his belly and dripped steadily, leaving a string of dark spots on the dirt street. “Poor son of a bitch didn’t deserve this,” Ryan whispered.
“Am…am I through…?” Heady managed to ask in a rasping moan.
“Yeah, you’re through, Heady,” said Arby Ryan. “You might’ve held out just a tad bit longer, I’m thinking.”
“Leave him be, Arby,” said Jaw Hughes. “It’s a hard thing, taking a whipping like that.”
“I know it is,” said Ryan. “I meant nothing by it, just that he might’ve held out a minute or two.”
Hughes gave him a frown, then said to Jim Heady, “You’re spending the day in a cell. Then you’re done with all this. You can put it out of your mind.”
“Give…give me a gun,” Heady pleaded, his voice hoarse and spent from screaming.
“Sure thing, Heady,” said Jaw Hughes. “That’s the main thing you need right now is a gun. That would get you killed quicker than a cat can lick his whiskers.”
“I mean to kill him,” Heady moaned.
“Not right now you’re not,” said Arby. “Get yourself back in shape. Then go kil
l him. Nobody I know would ever blame you for it.”
The two men dragged Heady the rest of the way to the meetinghouse, where three men standing guard dragged him inside. On the street the first crack of the bullwhip brought a tight, short yelp from Randall Turner, followed by a deep gasping sound as he fought to keep control of himself.
Not satisfied with how the young man managed to keep from screaming aloud for mercy, Jessup nodded slowly, slung the whip out on the ground and said, as he prepared for another swing, “So be it then. If you want to show us how tough and insolent you can be…I’ll make this punishment a harsh example of the kind of malady that befalls the stubborn and wrongheaded.” The next crack of the long bullwhip fell with more viciousness than the first.
“Good God almighty!” said Ace Tomblin to Frank Falon, keeping his voice down. “He’s going to kill this one!”
“It sure as hell looks like it,” Falon replied. Squinting at the sight of the young wolfer writhing, clenching his teeth, tightening every muscle in his body against the slicing pain to keep from screaming his lungs out. “Poor bastard. He might be hoping Jessup does kill him before this is done.”
Jessup stood silent for a moment, seeing if Randall was going to break. When he saw the young man seem to swallow the pain and slump, his weight pulling down hard on his tied arms, Jessup slung the whip out again, preparing to deliver an even harder blow, if he was capable of it. But before he could make the swing, a commotion from the direction of the meetinghouse drew his attention.
“Let me go!” a woman cried out. “Get away from me!”
Poised for the next lash Jessup turned and saw Delphia Turner come running toward the middle of the street, her thin gingham head cover flying free. Three women from the meetinghouse ran along behind her, grabbing frantically at her as she slung herself away from them and made her getaway. At the sound of his wife’s voice, Randall Turner managed to turn his face enough to get a look at her and call out, “Run, Delph, run! Get away from here!”