The Last Legal Hanging

by Mae Berry

  She pulled her pistol from her waistband and stepped into the inky darkness. She stood a moment to give her eyes a chance to adjust then slid one foot across the floor. She moved halfway through the room and was looking for a place to hide when the alley door slammed shut. She gasped and pressed her hand to her chest as her heart attempted to burst out of her rib cage. An errant gust of wind. Her breath was just about under control when the “errant gust of wind” loudly clunked something into place against the alley door. She froze. Her mind refused to function. After several minutes, she heard the front door to the bar open then close with a decided snick of the lock. Whoever it was, was quick. Or not alone. She waited, pistol clenched in her hand. Nothing. Not a sound.

  She moved back to the alley door and pressed against it. It didn’t budge. She was trapped. Who could be out there? The Pendergast informant? Did he know she was here? Obviously or why block the alley door? She closed her eyes as Spotwood’s words earlier worked back through her mind. A big man. A man with a beard. Beards were easily grown or faked. A laborer. The man you want. A big— Her eyes popped open. Panic swamped her. Gittin. He was here. She was sure of it.

  ✽✽✽

  Finn cursed again. Luck was not with him tonight. He had hit the streetcar stop minutes after the last car of the night and had been forced to commandeer a horse. A decision that would probably cost him his job, not that he cared. His heart was in his throat as he thought through the ramifications of the note. He only knew of one man that Samantha was looking for. Why, oh why had she gone after Gittin alone? What was she thinking? Was the note even intended for her? Maybe someone had sent it to him? Was she off trying to prove she could do this on her own? Finn shook his head as he urged the horse on. No, earlier she said she didn’t want to jeopardize the case. She would miss out on the capture. What had happened?

  As he neared the Climax, he slowed the horse to a halt. It was too quiet at this end of the West Bottoms. But if he charged up with the clatter of hoof beats it would alert whomever might be in there. He needed to play this cool. Detached. Right. That was not going to happen. He tied up the animal then surveyed the building. The front was quiet and dark. No sign of life. The alley then. He would know his way around this part of town if his head was tied in a sack. He crept through the darkness to the back door of Pendergast’s then cursed as his head slammed into something hard and unyielding. He felt along the obstruction. Someone had wedged a wooden beam against the back door. Anyone trying to open it from the inside would not be able to. Finn leaned his weight against it. Whoever had placed it there had done the job well. Removing it would require a mallet and make far too much noise. Any doubts he had about the situation disappeared. Sam was in there. Alone. With a murderer. He paused a moment to plan his next move.

  ✽✽✽

  Sam drew an unsteady breath. Think. She had to think. Never had she been in this position. She was always the hunter, not the prey. Her thoughts blinked in and out like fireflies. Not once staying long enough to grasp.

  No one but Spotwood knew she was here and she was under no delusions that he would be concerned until tomorrow when she missed meeting him. Finn was on a stakeout. He wouldn’t realize Gitten wasn’t showing until morning. By then it would be too late. For her.

  What was Gittin waiting for? He would eventually have to come for her or risk the barkeep showing up in the morning. But there were hours between now and then.

  She ran a trembling hand over her forehead. Prey. Her throat felt like cracked river mud. Prey. She shook her head and straightened to her full height. No. No, not her. Being prey was a state of mind. Even a rabbit had tricks. She refused to be the mouse in the corner waiting for him to pounce. She would not be at the mercy of another’s expectations ever again.

  Should she go in there guns blazing, all bravado? She swallowed. There was a time not that long ago when that was exactly what she would do, forget the consequences just to prove herself. What had changed? Finn. At the thought of him she closed her eyes and prayed she would see him again.

  Now, if only Gittin underestimated her. If only he determined her to be a weak inconsequential female, incapable of being a threat. If she could convince him of that, she just might stand a chance of coming out of this alive. Sam checked her pistol then hid her hand in the folds of her skirt. She took a deep breath and slowly opened the door to the bar.

  Bates

  May 3, 1891

  West Bottoms, Missouri

  I stand in the shadows and survey the darkness. It is quiet, peaceful. I know she is in the back room. I can feel her fear as it bleeds under the door. It fills the room. I breathe in. I can smell it. The coppery smell of sweat with just a hint of her scent, lavender. A tug toward the back room hits me in my center. I smile. I can wait. I am a patient man. It won’t be long. I know Miss Lawton. Her small stature and impulsive nature insure this business will be quickly dispatched.

  It always amazes me. The resistance people put up to cling to a miserable existence. They profess to believe in a paradise hereafter, yet clutch at this life with surprising tenacity. Take Miss Lawton, she lives a downtrodden existence with a mother who despises her. She looks for meaning in a man who pretends to care but manipulates her for his own ends. She will scrabble and scrap to clasp at a pain filled slow death instead of embrace a quick usher into glory.

  I sigh and shake my head. I finger the edge of my knife. The blade a soothing weight in my hand. I slide it back into its sheath. A small click sounds from behind the bar. The crack around the door widens. I smile. It is time to help Miss Lawton.

  Chapter 30

  Sam hesitated then stepped through the doorway. The bar was in semi-darkness. The only light was a lamppost a block away which cast a faint pool of light on the floor by the windows. She left the door behind her open and paused for her eyes to adjust. She scanned the room praying that Gittin wasn’t nearby.

  “Mr. Gittin?” The steadiness of her voice was reassuring and a surprise. She focused on the darker shadows in the corner of the room furthest from the windows. Her heart jolted when she saw a slight movement. She turned her attention there. “Mr. Gittin, I’ve waited a long time to talk to you.”

  The shadow wavered. “Indeed?”

  Sam suppressed a shiver, the rich baritone was familiar. “Yes, sir. I have followed your activities for some time.”

  A low chuckle answered her. The hair on her arms rose. The shadow moved toward the meager light. Sam held her breath. When he reached the windows, he stopped and held out his arms in a what-do-you-think gesture. His face was still cast in shadow but a faint glow illuminated his outline. He was the man she had followed a short time ago. A man with four confirmed and two suspected murders.

  “Indeed.” She echoed his inflection. “I have a few questions, if I may?” Gittin’s shoulders shrugged as he crossed his arms and widened his stance. He seemed intrigued. “Yes, well…,” Her words failed. She had to keep him talking. Time played into her hands. “Your father. He died under mysterious circumstances. Do you know anything about it?”

  “Yes.” An amused tone crept into his voice.

  “Oh?” She shifted.

  He took a step. “He was a miserable man.”

  She swallowed. Chills skittered up her arms at the double meaning behind his words. “I see.” She raised her voice. “Did you kill him?”

  “Yes.” The shadow did not waver.

  “Why?” Sam blurted without thinking.

  “He was miserable. He is better off.”

  Body count now at five confirmed murders. Sam swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat.

  “What about your brother?”

  “Lewis?” Gittin uncrossed his arms. “What about him?”

  “He… he,” Sam cleared her throat, “he died of malaria.”

  “Yes?”

  “In the middle of January, a time when it is unlikely to contract the disease.”

  Gittin nodded his head. “Lewis was very sickly. He alw
ays had a delicate constitution. It was unlikely he would live long.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  “I gave him a pharmaceutical concoction. He died in convulsions.”

  “Poison?”

  He hesitated then shrugged.

  “Why?” Sam whispered as horror swamped her. Gittin took another step. She gritted her teeth and held her ground.

  “It is complicated.” He took another step. Sam frantically searched for a topic that would keep him talking.

  “In the note you left in Stanley, you stated that you had reached a point where there is no redemption. You could not repent even if you would? I don’t understand. What did you mean?”

  Gittin froze, his entire body rigid. But at least he stopped moving.

  “Are you a church going woman, Miss Lawton?” He was earnest in his inquiry. Sam panicked. The wrong answer would bring him on her in a heartbeat.

  “I have attended church, Mr. Gittin,” she swallowed, “from time to time.”

  He appeared to study her. “You have no man to guide you. I do not doubt this topic would elude you,” he murmured as if he were speaking to himself.

  Sam kept her expression calm. She wasn’t sure what he could see in the low light.

  He straightened. “You see, Miss Lawton, there are several Bible passages that speak to a man hardening his heart to a point where the Lord will no longer pursue him. In other words, he has passed the point of redemption and the Lord leaves him in that state.”

  Sam’s knees wobbled. He wanted to talk. Good. She had looked up verses after talking with Finn. Only two days ago? It seemed longer. What to say. Enough to engage him, but not enough to anger or intimidate him.

  “You mean like in Ephesians? The passage references darkened understanding and hardened hearts?”

  “Yes, that is one passage.”

  She tried not be affronted at his condescending tone.

  “But there is more to it.” He sighed. A deep heavy sigh as if from depths she couldn’t begin to understand.

  Sam noticed a slight brightening of the light around the door. Surely, it was wistful thinking on her part. “Oh? How so?” She leaned forward and stared at Gittin, determined to keep his focus on her.

  “Psalm chapter 95 states, ‘Unto whom I sware in my wrath that they should not enter into my rest.’ Hebrews 3:12 and 15 ‘Take heed, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God. While it is said, today if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts, as in the provocation.’” As he spoke Gittin raised his arm above his head fingers stretched toward the ceiling then slammed his palm on a table.

  Sam jumped. He nodded his head as if he had made an irrefutable point. He was insane. Absolutely beyond a shadow of doubt deranged. Sam thought she saw the knob behind him turn. Gittin must have noticed her preoccupation. He started to turn toward the door.

  “That is absurd, sir” Sam let her disdain drip into her words, “you have ignored the fact the Lord clearly states it is the sinner’s choice. God doesn’t walk away from you, you walk away from Him.”

  Gittin turned back to her. He clenched and unclenched his fists. His shoulders rose, and he reached under his coat. “I would not expect a woman to understand the intricacies—”

  “You,” Sam interrupted, “you made your own decision. You are responsible. You. Not God.” She had his undivided attention now. If she was wrong about the knob moving, she was a dead woman.

  Gittin rushed towards her. She raised her pistol but he was moving too fast and she was shaking too hard. As she started to squeeze the trigger, the door to the bar banged. She jumped. There was a flash and retort of gun fire. Sam threw herself behind the bar. There was a grunt and thud as something heavy hit the floor. She stayed on hands and knees listening, her breath coming out in sharp pants. Oddly, the smell of stale beer seemed to be all she could focus on. Finally she stood, eyes moving to the immobile form on the floor. She let out a ragged breath and raised her eyes to her rescuer. Sam froze as the diminutive figure held up a lantern and slid back the shutter. She felt suspended in time. There, without a hair out of place or wrinkle on her garment stood Hattie.

  Her mother ran an assessing eye over Sam then pursed her lips. “Honestly, Samantha, don’t look so astonished. I could hardly let him kill you.”

  Sam opened her mouth to respond when Finn appeared in the doorway out of breath. Unseeing, he shoved past Hattie and rushed to Sam. His eyes were wild as he ran his hands up and down her arms then turned her so he could check her back.

  “Ye all right?” His voice was hoarse. His eyes flicked back and forth between her own. Sam couldn’t speak. She nodded and laid her head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. She felt the rapid thump of his heart. Without stopping to think or consider the consequences she stood on tip-toes and tugged him down, kissing him with all the pent-up fear of never seeing him again. Surprise froze Finn for an instant then he kissed her back with equal ardor.

  Hattie cleared her throat. “Shouldn’t one of you check the fugitive?” The sarcasm in her voice was palpable. Sam decided she could forgive her. Gittin let out a moan. Finn broke the kiss and strode to Gitten placing his pistol against the man’s head.

  “Do na e’en think ‘bout movin’!” The vehemence in his voice shocked Sam. He patted Gittin down. She shuddered as he removed a wicked-looking knife from a sheath. She glanced up but Hattie was gone.

  “Sam, call for the watch please. We have a prisoner who is long overdue for a jail cell.”

  Chapter 31

  May 25, 1891

  Kansas City, Missouri

  Sam sat on the lid of her trunk and bounced. The hinge groaned as the latch finally caught. She looked around at the sad remnants of her sitting room. She had packed and moved everything she wanted. The rest was up to Hattie. She did one more visual scan and stopped when she saw her mother in the doorway.

  “Hattie.” Sam gave a slight nod. Despite “the event”, as Hattie called the action at Pendergast’s less than a month ago, nothing had changed. Sam took in her mother’s stance; head high, back straight, arms graceful at her side. Still, if Sam was a betting person, her money was on Hattie being far more agitated than she appeared. Hattie’s indifferent act made things easier for them both.

  “It appears you are packed.” Hattie glided into the room.

  “Yes, I believe I am.”

  “You’ll be at the boarding house on Pennsylvania Avenue? In case any correspondence arrives or acquaintance stops by?”

  Sam nodded. “At the address I gave you.”

  Hattie nodded and strolled around the room trailing a finger along the top of the battered sideboard. Sam rolled her eyes when she pulled out a hankie to wipe her hands.

  “Well then, I suppose you’ll be off as soon as that man comes for you.” Sam smiled. Finn had been “that man” ever since “the event”. Both phrases spoken in a hushed tone with emphasis.

  “Yes, Daniel is coming with a wagon for this trunk and the bureau in my bedroom. Finn will be here soon.” She settled her satchel over one shoulder. “Any minute.”

  “Whom?” Hattie tilted her head to the side and glanced at her.

  Sam sighed. “Finn.” She shook her head. “Was there something you wished to say?” She gazed at Hattie whose eyes were fixed on the sideboard top.

  “Actually, yes,” she smoothed her skirt and faced Sam. “You need to understand, Samantha, that I have done my best.”

  Sam’s mouth fell open. Why this conversation now?

  Hattie held up a palm. “My upbringing,” she hesitated then looked out the window, “my early life formed my nature so that demonstrative emotional expressions are difficult.” She turned her gaze to Sam. “It is that quality that made me an excellent spy. It is much easier to decide which emotion would benefit a particular situation than it is to allow whatever unbridled feeling may haphazardly surface.” Sam intently studied her mother. Hattie never mentioned her past.
Sam was so distracted she didn’t realize Hattie continued. “… have felt your growing-up years lacked something. But I assure you,” Hattie moved until she stood directly in front of Sam, “you would not be who you are without my guidance.”

  “Hattie…” A flush spread to Sam’s hairline as she clenched her fists. Hattie’s eyes flickered. Sam frowned. Was Hattie trying to say something or was this another example of her manipulating the situation? Most likely, she was being baited. For some reason Hattie felt the need to challenge her. Test her.

  Sam rolled her neck and said uneasily, “Whatever you need to tell yourself Hattie.” Hattie gave Sam a tight smile that seemed out of place and dipped her head slightly. Sam made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat. Hattie was not a puzzle she wished to solve today. In fact, there was probably more going on with her mother than she would ever realize.

  “Hattie?”

  “Hmm?”

  “How did you know? That I was in trouble?”

  Hattie’s gaze returned to the window. “I saw the note.”

  “Yes, but the note appeared to be nothing more than a rendezvous with a snitch. How did you know to come?”

  Hattie rubbed her nose and blew out a breath. “I am more aware of goings on than you give me credit.”

  Sam tilted her head and Hattie met her stare without further comment. Definitely more going on then she wanted to deal with. Ever.

  Sam shifted her satchel. “I’m sorry, I need to wait for Finn on the porch.” She left the room, walked down the stairs, and out the front door.

  Finn appeared at the end of the block. His eyes met hers and his face exploded into a brilliant smile. He gave a little skip and lengthened his stride. Sam laughed. She was ready for new memories.