The Last Legal Hanging

by Mae Berry

  “No, no. I never had the note. Didn’t you take it with you Miss Lawton?” Mr. Mills turned toward her.

  “I don’t—” Sam’s face flushed. Her hands turned icy. She couldn’t look at Finn.

  “If you don’t have it—” Finn turned toward Sam.

  “Finn, I—”

  “Don’t,” Finn’s voice was calm. He stood and yanked Sam to her feet. “Thank you for your time Mr. Mills, but we must be going.”

  “Oh… well… glad I could… help?” Mr. Mills scrambled to his feet and trailed after Finn who towed Sam after him never releasing the tight grip on her arm.

  “Yes. You’ve been most helpful. Come Miss Lawton.” Finn stalked toward the door making a brief bow in Mrs. Mills’ general direction.

  Chapter 23

  Bates

  March 24, 1882

  Kearney, MO

  My patience is wearing thin. I am a tolerant man. I take good care of my family. But I expect respect. Opal is not respecting me. I take a deep breath.

  “Opal, wife,” I remind her with just a touch of displeasure in my voice. I do not want to turn her into a puddle on the floor by being upset with her, but it is difficult when she is being contrary. “I have made my decision. We are moving, end of the discussion.”

  “No, Bates. Nooo,” she wails, “I don’t want to leave our home, our folks. We’ve got Dehlia now. She needs to grow up with her aunts an’ uncles an’ cousins. Besides, I…”

  “Enough! No. More. Discussion. We are moving!” I roar over her. Sure enough, she collapses on the floor a bawling, heaving mess. I clench and unclench my fists. I do not understand what has gotten into my wife. She has been so difficult. I frown at her sobbing on the floor. A woman needs to respect her husband. Support him, not challenge everything he says. When did this fickleness start? My soft little doe changed before Dehlia was born. It was better after the baby came, but still, the woman forgets her place. And it is happening more and more. It is my job to provide for this family. I take exceptionally good care of them. She has no reason to complain. I shake my head. I have a strong urge to raise my hand to her. I have never done that, but she has never made me this angry.

  I slam out of the kitchen door and stare at the fields. I suck in big gulps of wet air. Unseasonably hot and humid for March. Maybe that has my docile wife in fits. The screen door slams behind me. I tense and turn around ready to tear into Opal with my words.

  “Bates,” mother’s tone is distant. I force a calm look on my face and turn back toward the fields.

  “Mother,” I echo in the same flat tone.

  “When are you leaving?” She pulls her shawl closer around her shoulders.

  “End of next week.” I keep my voice even. I see her nod.

  “Good,” she says. I stare at her in surprise.

  “What ‘re you gonna do ‘bout he’p ‘round here?” Whenever I am nervous, my hayseed twang resurfaces. Something I dislike.

  “Gonna sell this God-forsaken plot of ground and move in with Martha Ann. This land always meant more to your father. ‘Cides, your Uncle Lester said he’d buy it.”

  I tense. “You never even thought ‘bout leavin’ it to me, did you?”

  She snorts. “Fer what, Bates? You’re cursed and ya know it. Your fate was set afore you was born. And you sealed it with Lewis.” A stifled sob escapes her then she turns to glare at me, hate etched in every line of her face. I swallow hard. “I realize what ya did, Bates, to Lewis. Kain’t prove it, but I know. Wouldn’t do nothin’ about it if I could prove it. Ya are as ya are and I’m part to blame. But I ain’t never gonna forgive or forget what ya done. Ya be devil’s spawn through and through.” She turns and with head held high walks back into the house.

  I stand there mind flittin’. Kain’t git a hold of any thought. Then it’s as if a weight rolls off me. There is nothing for me here. Never has been. Never will be. It frees me. Opal pokes her head out then inches closer. Her face is red and blotchy, tear tracks on her cheeks. I study her. She put on weight after the baby. Her soft curves are now ample. She’s let herself go past plump to fat. One more sign of her disrespecting me, I suppose, her not caring how she looks. She comes to stand before me, not meeting my eyes. She lays a hand on my arm. I flinch.

  “I’m sorry, Bates. I never should o’ riled ya. Please forgive me?” She looks up at me through her lashes stopping the harsh words on my tongue. “I shoulda told ya sooner and this ain’t the way to do it but…”

  I place my free hand over hers and sigh. “What is it?” I say as gently as I can.

  “I… I’m with child again, Bates.” I rock back on my heels. “I’m thinkin’ this one will be a boy.”

  A boy? A slow grin spreads over my face. I bend over and grab her around the waist and swing her around as she laughs. I’m careful as I set her on the ground and place my hands over her stomach. A boy. I can change things. Leave the past in the past. A fresh new start. I hold her cheeks, gaze into her eyes and lean over to give her a soft kiss on her forehead.

  “I’ll always take care of you and the babies, Opal. I will always do what is best for all of you.”

  Bates

  April 9, 1884

  Stanley, MO

  “Bates, please! At least talk to the preacher. He kin help you figure this out. There ain’t no reason to be in so much agony in yer soul.” Opal looks into my face her big doe eyes begging me to listen. She lays her hand on my arm. It is all I can do to not shake her off. Violently. It is to the point now where I can not even stand to hear her talk. Her speech and manners are coarse. They irritate me. I rub my eyes and try to calm, breathing through the niggle in my stomach.

  “We have been through this. I attend every Sunday with you and the children. I need not join.” I turn from her hoping to put an end to this pointless discussion. She grabs my arm and let’s loose a wail as if the demons of hell are on her.

  “Please, Bates! I am so scairt fer yer immortal soul! I kain’t stand the thought of my children’s pa bein’ eternally damned!” I shake off her grasp. Her concern is touching if misplaced. I head out to the garden. The sound of her sobs fade. I walk to the little shed and extract my shovel and trowel. I strive to keep the outside of our home ordered. It sooths me to have everything in its place, everything aligned. I wish Opal could understand that. Her housekeeping is sporadic. I look over my domain and ponder what to do with my wife.

  Her incessant harping on my spiritual state is wearying. The woman understands nothing. I know for me, it is too late. I am past the point of redemption. I have crossed that line from being a called sinner to one the Lord has rejected. I try to live a good life to the best of my ability. I do my duty. I take excellent care of my family. I am not happy about the state of my spiritual welfare. It is an agonizing weight that threatens to extinguish the happiness in my life. I often wonder about the value of continuing to draw breath. But how can I leave my sweet little children? They need me. Opal too, obviously, still needs to be under my tutelage. A man’s burdens are heavy indeed.

  Dehlia and Benjamin Cade are under the big oak arguing. A flash of irritation crosses over me. Opal knows I don’t want her leaving the young ones out on their own in the garden. Too many things could happen. They are not quite five and two, not old enough to be on their own. Benjamin catches sight of me and squeals. A piercing noise. He starts out as fast as his chubby little legs can carry him. Dehlia looks up and starts for me too, rapidly out distancing her brother. She wraps her grubby hands around my leg at the same time Benjamin launches into me nose first, swiping the dripping appendage on my trousers. Opal’s time is better spent looking after her children instead of hounding her husband. I have grown too lax with her. She needs reminding of a wife’s role and the mastery of a husband.

  Bates

  July 21, 1884

  Stanley, MO

  Edward Soper stands and pounds the table in front of him with his fist. “It is too late! The saloon is comin’ in and that is final. Nothin’ thi
s council decides is gonna make a lick of difference. The contract is signed and sealed. Besides, this is good for the town. Bring folks up from the neighboring areas. And our men’ll be able to drink a beer without having to head to Butler to do it.”

  “Yer happy ‘cause yer the one supplin’ the beer, Soper. There’s some of us that don’t cotton to livin’ in a town with a saloon in it.”

  “Now, hold on a minute. Why is yer ‘pinon more right than any of the rest of us? Ya should—”

  “I weren’t done talkin’, stop interrupting me, I—”

  The shouts rise over each other. I stand from the table pushing my chair so it scrapes on the floor. The arguing halts for a moment. The town council has been talking in circles for hours. Enough is enough. A saloon is coming to Stanley. There is nothing anyone can do.

  “Gentleman, I bid you goodnight. I need to go home and make plans for my family.” I place my hat on my head and turn to the door. Mr. Mills follows me and stops me before I can leave.

  “What are you planning to do, Bates?” He looks at me, eyes squinting, frowning. I suppose if anyone here is a friend it’s Ellis Mills, the justice of the peace. I suspect though, he is more fond of the discount he gets at my butcher shop than he is of me. I turn toward him.

  “I will move my family from town, Ellis. A saloon attracts an element I do not wish to have my children exposed to.” I pat my bowler and move to the door. He grabs my arm.

  “Now don’t do anything hasty Bates. We’re still hashing this out.” I stare at his hand on my arm until he removes it. I look up not making eye contact.

  “I surely must return to Opal and the children, Ellis,” I say firmly. “Give my salutations to your wife.”

  I step through the door of the Methodist Church and draw in a deep breath. The humidity hangs in the air in anticipation of a thunderstorm I hear rumbling in the distance. Hopefully it will wash the air clean and bring a reprieve from the heaviness. I head for home.

  A saloon. Who could have predicted that? I know first hand precisely what drinkin’ did to my pa. A chain of mistakes I am still payin’. I sigh and rub my eyes. I know what needs doing, but it is hard. The notion of uprooting my family and starting over again is appalling. Opal will fight me every inch of the way since she is swollen with our third child. She is more contrary than ever.

  Life really is not worth living. It is only a question of time when I will leave my family forever and ever. I do not wish to see them suffer as I have. Hideous thought! Wouldn’t a kind, merciful, loving father wish to spare his children the pain of this life?

  Chapter 24

  Finn made it to the yard of the First Baptist Church before he yanked Sam to the side of the building and exploded. “Again, Samantha? Do you want to tell me what that was?”

  She swallowed. “Whatever do you—”

  “Don’t. Don’t ye dare say ye donna know what I be talkin’ ‘bout. YOU told me ye gave me everythin’! I checked the box. No, note!”

  Sam fidgeted. “Actually, I told you I gave you everything I wrote.”

  Finn’s eyes bugged. “Really? Semantics Miss Lawton? Ye implied ye gave me everything!” He turned from her and paced along the side of the building stopping with his back toward her. He sucked in a deep breath and released it then turned to her. “I want the truth. Straight up. Do. You. Have. The. Note?” He stalked toward her.

  She took a step back, retreating until her back hit the church wall. Her stomach threatened to heave. She forced herself to meet his eyes. Utter betrayal and stone-cold fury stared back at her. “Finn, I…” Her eyes flicked over his face searching for a crack. Something to reconnect.

  “Do. You. Have. The. Note?” Finn’s controlled voice was devoid of any emotion.

  Sam swallowed. Her eyes fell from his. “Yes,” she whispered, sagging against the wall.

  Finn growled and slammed his fist next to her head causing her to jump. “Waat else?” He turned away and jerked his cap from his head painfully yanking his curls. Her hands fluttered toward his back. He turned around, teeth clenched. “Waat. else?”

  What was he asking? She searched his face for a clue, but all she saw was rage and hurt. “Else? Do I have anything else?” He jerked his head once. “Noth… Nothing else. I have the note back in Kansas City.”

  Finn scrubbed at his face. “Yer donna trust me.”

  “No… no… I, I trust you. It’s just that…”

  His eyes probed hers. “It’s jist waat?”

  “I… I…” She stopped.

  Finn looked away. His shoulders slumped as his head bowed. He stood for several moments looking at the ground then back at her. His sad eyes stared at her with a trace of a wistful smile. He placed his cap back on his head and turned toward the street. His movements were slow as if he’d aged in the last ten minutes. “I’m sorry the Gittin investigation has come between us. I hoped that… well, it doesn’t matter does it?”

  Sam clamped her hand to her mouth. What had she done? She wrapped her arms around her middle and stumbled after him. “Finn, wait! Please wait!” He paused mid-step but didn’t face her. “I… I… I’m so sorry. I never meant to keep things from you. I was so angry. At the Pinkerton’s. About being ignored. About… I don’t know. I knew if I left it with the agency it would be filed and forgotten.”

  “Why dinna ye share it with me?”

  “The note is the case to me. It is my failure that kept that monster from being caught. It is mine to fix. Mine to make right.” Tears welled in her eyes as she choked back a sob. “I… I never meant to hurt you,” she whispered.

  Finn turned and removed his cap, rubbing his hand through his hair again.

  “Finn, haven’t you ever had something you needed to set right? A task you couldn’t give to anyone else no matter how much you wanted to?” Sam’s eyes filled with tears.

  Finn’s shoulders sagged and he rubbed his temples. “Look ‘ere, lassie,” He stopped and clenched his fists staring at the ground. “Sam… I thought we were doing this together. I thought what is between us… was between us…” he motioned back and forth with his hand. “Was important. It was to me.”

  Sam put her hand to her mouth again. “Please don’t say that.”

  “Waat?” He stared at the ground.

  “Was. Please don’t talk about what is between us as was… I don’t think… I don’t think I can stand that.” She looked into his face. A hiccup escaped her. “Finn, please… I need this… I need you.”

  Finn’s eyes locked on hers with an intensity she’d never seen. “Be needin’ me fer waat exactly?”

  Sam searched his face. He was holding himself back, waiting for her response. It would decide everything. It would decide what happened between them next. She looked into his eyes again. Did she trust him? Could she trust him with herself? He seemed to sense her struggle and held out a hand. She looked at it and tentatively took hold. He pulled her in and gently wrapped his arms around her. It was amazing how safe she felt. How cherished.

  After a few moments he leaned back and lifted her chin until she looked into his face. His eyes crinkled as a lazy smile appeared. “Now lassie, we be in this together? Completely together?”

  He relaxed at her wobbly smile. “Aye laddie. Together.” She pressed her head to his chest.

  Finn snorted. Her brogue was perfect.

  Bates

  April 28, 1891

  Stanley, Missouri

  I scratch at the itchy beard on my face, a necessary evil. One more sacrifice of many I make for my family. Sweat trickles down my back and my unfamiliar clothes chaff. As I walk along the familiar block, I smile. Edward Soper walks by without a second glance. For months I sat next to him at town meetings. I chuckle under my breath and shake my head. The gate to the churchyard is open. I frown. Irresponsible of someone. I hear voices. A heated conversation between a man and woman. I hesitate. Maybe I should come back later. No, I will miss the last train.

  I close the gate making sure the latch is
lined up and secure. I walk the roundabout way to the graveyard. I walk straight ahead, the couple in my peripheral vision. She is tiny and clutches her stomach as she sags against the building. Is she sick? The man leans into her. Every muscle tight. She looks so broken, so sad. My steps falter. I hate to see any living thing in pain. And she appears to be in a lot. The man slams his hand into the wall above her head and she flinches. Ah, this could be a husband reminding his wife of her place. They appear to be a couple. Comfortable in each other’s presence despite their current situation. Still, she looks miserable. The man folds in on himself. A picture of defeat. He turns toward the street and I get a good view of his face.

  It is strange how familiar words jump out of conversation. Even a distant conversation. He says a name, “Gitten”. I freeze. The woman turns. She pleads. He turns to her and after more talking they embrace. They start toward the street arm in arm. I slip behind a large tree so I can listen. The woman tells the man a story. She uses the word “suspect”. As in a questionable substance? Or a potential criminal? Ah, she is discussing someone who may have committed a crime. A detective then? Surely not, she is a woman. Then she laughs telling how she trailed a big man from a house. The man nods. He understands. Perhaps he is the detective?

  She says the house belongs to a woman. A Mrs. Richards. A Mrs. Richards from Kansas City. I freeze. A Mrs. Richards. Wretched timing… for them. I wait until they disappear down the street. I turn and hurry to the train station. Opal and the babies will understand. They will wait. Aftera all, they are not going anywhere.

  ✽✽✽

  Sam floated toward home enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. Carpetbag in hand and a smile on her face. The trip back from Stanley was euphoric. Each brush of a hand or arm, even through many layers of fabric, sent chills up her spine. She wasn’t sure she said a coherent sentence the entire ride. Every time she looked into Finn’s eyes she felt her stomach flip. She smiled as she trudged up the steps and fit her key in the lock. The door jerked open and in the entry stood Hattie, a thundercloud on her normally controlled features.