The Gallows Pole

by M. Shaunessy

  The red brick courthouse was standard design according to Jacob. They opened the wooden door and entered. They were inside the white painted hallway had paintings of past presidents and local sceneries of the New Mexico deserts and plateaus. There were another set of large double doors in front of them. It was marked in a copper plate engraving labeled, ‘Court Room’ below it a quote, ‘The judge is condemned when the criminal is absolved’. They also saw a few busts of famous judges and presidents, and a philosopher. Sheriff Barns greeted them as he led Jacob and Jane down the hallway. It seemed that they were going around the courtroom as Barns turned a corner. There was another door at the other end of it. As they walked closer to it Jacob saw another plaque that read ‘Judge William Mar-shall’ ‘Leave all excuses at the door’.

  Barns knocked on the stained glass that was on the door and waited a few seconds.

  “Enter,” responded a rugged voice that came on the other side of the door.

  Barns turned the knob and opened the door. The three entered and saw a middle-aged man. His leathery face glanced up and saw the three walking through the door. Jacob finally got a better look at him. His graying beard around his mouth looked like frayed cotton. He was looking over the report that Barns had left on his desk before they arrived and was not happy what he read.

  “Judge,” said Barns, “This is Jacob Jones and his girl friend, Jane Pager.”

  Jacob extended his hand in good gesture as the judge hesitated a moment then shook it. He then motioned them to sit in the leathery green wing chairs in front of the judge’s oak desk. Jane no-ticed how beautiful the desk was with its decretive carved engravings around the edges. It was unusual to see an expensive piece of furniture in an ordinary judge’s office. Jacob also took no-tice and thought he had seen one like it somewhere else.

  Jane took a quick glance around and saw a single window brightening the room. There were a couple of paintings on the wall; one was a portrait of Senator Stephen Wallace Dorsey. However, the main decoration that covered the walls were three large bookcases that surrounded them filled with law books. She also noticed a wooden file cabinet that was set in the corner next to one of the bookcases.

  Judge Marshall took a long look at them as he studied them for moment with his brown gravy-like eyes before they stopped on Jacob. He then spoke.

  “So, your Gabe’s brother huh?” Judge Marshall asked.

  “Yes Sir,” Jacob replied, “Look, before you say something, let me tell you that my brother is not a murderer.”

  “Is that so? And what kind of evidence do you ya have to support that?” Judge Marshall wondered.

  “About seventeen years,” Jacob replied.

  “Well that won’t hold up my court son. What do you do for a livin’ Mr. Jones?”

  “I’m an architect,” Jacob replied.

  Judge Marshall raised a brow and said, “An architect huh? Not a lawyer or a lawman?” Jacob shook his head. “Then what give you the right to tell me whether your brother’s guilty or not in my town?”

  “Cause I know my brother. And one thing I do know is, that he didn’t kill that poor girl,” Jacob replied.

  “Did you read my plaque outside my door?” The judge asked as they both nodded silently, “I suggest you go back out there, cause it seems that you brought a few in. Now accordin’ to my sheriff, your brother was caught red handed, literally.” The judge picked up a Bowe knife and showed it to them. “With this knife in his hand. Is this your brother’s knife?”

  “Yes sir,” Jacob replied, “That was a Christmas present. Our father gave it to him a long time ago.”

  “Well it was found with her blood on it in his room. We also have a witness who saw it happen. Now she testified that she saw your brother kill that poor maid in his room with this knife. Now my question is, why?” Jacob opened his mouth, but before he made a sound, the judge continued. “I’ll tell ya why, cause he was in drunken rage accordnin’ to the witness.”

  Jacob and Jane’s face turned to shock as Jacob said, “That’s not true!”

  “Not true huh?” the judge said not convinced, “How many drinks did he have last night?”

  “Five, maybe six. All beers,” Jacob replied.

  Marshall nodded and said, “Well that’ll put any man in the drink.” He looked to Barns and said, “Bring him in.”

  Barns nodded and left the judge’s chambers for a few minutes. They sat silently. The only thing they heard was a tick-tock from a German made clock that was hanging behind them. To Jacob, minutes turned to hours as they waited for the sheriff to return with his brother. It was not until ten minutes later that the door behind them opened and Barns escorted Gabe in. He was still lock in chains as Barns moved him over next to the judge’s desk.

  The judge looked at him sternly. It was the like god preparing judgment on his demented soul. He then spoke.

  “You have any last words before I pass judgment on ya?”

  “P-Pass judgment?” Gabe wondered, “Judge, sir, I didn’t kill her. Matter of fact I was trying to save her. She was commin’ suicide with my knife!”

  Suicide? Jacob thought. That would explain it. Silvia’s sister hung, she had nothing to live for. He had guessed that Silvia had feelings for her sister.

  “Is that so?” He said as he leaned back. “How much do you remember last night? As in, what was the victim wearing and what color was it?”

  Gabe thought very hard. It never occurred to him what she was wearing, nor who she was. It was a blur. Maybe it was the beer that he drank.

  “I-I don’t remember.” Gabe replied.

  “When he woke this morn, he said he had a splittin’ headache,” Barns added.

  “That’s usually a sign of bad hang over,” said Marshall. He paused for a moment as the three visitors waited in suspense. “Gabriel Jones, this court finds you guilty to first degree murder, to Ms. Fox. I sentence you to death by hangin’.”

  Jane gasped as Jacob mouth dropped in disbelief. He could not believe it. They were going to hang his little brother.

  “You can’t do that!” Jacob said as stood. The judge turned to him. “I know for a fact you can’t judge that way. You need a courtroom, lawyers, heck even a jury! This is not fair!”

  “Fair?” Marshall said unemotionally, “That may work where you come from boy, but here, I am the lawyer, the jury and the judge, and in this town that is fair! However, since you are new around here, perhaps I’ll give Gabe here a second chance at life. That is, if you have enough for my services.”

  “Services?” Jacob wondered. “You mean like bail money?”

  Judge Marshall nodded a bit and replied, “Somethin’ like that. You got four days to come up with one thousand dollars, or your brother here will have a date with our hang man, unless you have it with ya?”

  Jacob shook his head and replied sadly, “No sir.”

  The judge nodded again then looked to Barns, “You can bring him back to his cell.”

  Barns nodded in agreement and took Gabe by his arms as he pulled towards the door.

  “Jake? Jake? I don’t wanna die Jake!” Gabe pleaded.

  “Don’t worry little bro, we’ll get you free.” Jacob replied.

  However, as Gabe and the sheriff crossed the threshold, a young man ran in to Barns. Barns and the judge recognized him as the young man who works at the bank as a gofer for the bank president. Jacob saw him and knew he had to be eleven or twelve years old.

  “Sheriff! Sheriff!” he blared.

  “What is Brian?” Barns asked as everyone looked at him.

  “It’s the stagecoach sir, it arrived in Albuquerque.” Brian told him.

  “So?”

  “Without the stagecoach.” He informed him, “Only the horses and harness arrived.”

  “Damn blasted!” Marshal cursed, “That the third time this month. I thought you said you had it under control Tom?”

  “It must be those damn Mexicans bandits, judge,” Barns replied, “But don’t worry we’ll ge
t them.” He then looked to Gabe, “Come on, back to your cell.”

  He then left with Gabe as the young man followed them. Jacob looked back to Judge Marshall and wondered if he could help. Perhaps he could let Gabe go for no fee as a man of good will.

  “Is there something we could do to help?” Jacob asked.

  “Na,” He replied, “Better let the law handle it. You two might as well return to the hotel.” They both nodded as the stood, but before they reached the door Judge Marshall reminded them, “And don’t forget, you got four days.”

  They both looked at each other wondering how they will raise the money to bail out Gabe. They did not bring much with them. In addition, Jacob knew he did not have a thousand in his bank account. Heck he did not have five hundred saved. They both frowned and headed back to the hotel in dismay.

  Chapter 5

  The Cottonmouth Express

  “What are we going to do?” Jane asked as the couple leaned on the bar at the hotel, each with a drink in their hand.

  “I don’t know,” Jacob replied.

  “Well, how ‘bout your father?” she suggested, “He could wire us some money?”

  Jacob turned to her and said, “No, if he found out that Gabe’s in jail, he’ll think I’m not responsible, and I’ll never get that promotion that he promised me. No, we gotta get him out of this mess ourselves.”

  “We? Look Jake, I like your brother very much, but I think we need help. I mean, how going to raise that kind of money ourselves out here in the middle of the desert?”

  “Will you two stop bickerin’,” a voice boomed from across the room. There were three cowboys sitting at the table playing a few hands of poker. “Can’t hear m’self think!”

  Jake looked over and saw the black bearded man. His matching dusty ratty hat gave him the impression that he was not just any cowboy. He turned back to his cards he had in his hands.

  “Sorry sir.” He apologized.

  The three snickered as the black bearded man said, “Listen to that. The city slicker says he’s sorry, sir.” He chuckled as he mocked Jacob, “You know what? I don’t think he’s sorry enough. You play poker boy?”

  Jane looked to Jacob for a response as he stumble, “I-I-,”

  “Of course he does,” Jane interrupted as Jacob looked to her with a quizzical look. Jane said to him quietly, “This could be great chance to make some of Gabe’s bail money.”

  “But Jane, I haven’t played poker since I was a teen,” Jacob replied.

  “But you were good at it,” Jane reassured him, “I seen you play.” She took his arm and guided him over to the game table. “My fiancé plays great poker, the best in Missouri. So, what are we playing?”

  “Five hand draw,” the black bearded man replied unsurely.

  Gabe sat down as Jane stood behind him. The skeptic dark bearded man shuffled and dealt the cards out to each player.

  The judge sipped his black coffee as he stared at the hotel from the window of the sheriff’s of-fice. Sheriff Barns sat at his desk reading the local paper ‘The Union County Leader’.

  “I just had a thought,” the judge started, “What if we could find someone to ride that route and snuff those Mexicans out?”

  Barns looked up not knowing what he meant and said, “What? And lose another gold load?”

  Marshall turned to his sheriff friend and replied, “Of course not! The bank couldn’t afford it. No, I’m talking a mock run. Stagecoach only. Except this time I want you and your boys ta tail it at a safe distance.”

  Barns nodded as he got the picture of the judge’s idea in his head and asked “Ok, alright, but who in the world would be dumb enough to ride that route? I’m sure after every local read about it in t’day’s paper they’ll never touch that stagecoach.”

  “Who said it had to be locals?” Marshall said turning his gaze back to the hotel as he took another sip of his coffee.

  Barns cocked one of his eyebrows and said, “You’re not thinking of usin’ those nice visitors from St. Louis are ya?”

  The judge glanced sideways and replied, “Why not? They have a debt to pay me, and what bet-ter way to do that, than have them do me a little favor. Why don’t ya go over there and tell them the good news.”

  Barns folded his paper, placed it on his desk, stood, and grabbed his hat from the coat rack by the door. He then commented, “I don’t think this is a good idea Will.”

  “Tom, I don’t pay you to think,” he reminded him, “I pay you to apprehend those bandits and put them in that jail cell of yours.”

  “And what about Jones and his fiancée? They could get killed.”

  “Well, I think they’re getting a little suspicious of how we do things ‘round here. If the Mexicans don’t kill them, the cottonmouths will.”

  “You mean you want me ta leave them out there?”

  “I mean, you get those bandits and bring them back here,” The judge pointed out, “That architect is smart enough to get back on his own. No sense of wastin’ a horse.”

  Barns frowned, opened the door and said, “I still don’t like it.”

  “Then git ’nother job,” replied the judge, “Otherwise do your duty.”

  Jacob held the cards in his hand. He had two pair, aces, twos and a Jack of hearts. He won the last two hands. When Jacob played, he used his brain and played by the rank of the cards, not by luck of the other players. Generally, the higher the rank you have the better chance you have of betting more money.

  The three other players that identified themselves, Bret, Luke and the dark bearded man called himself ‘Big Art’. They all eyed Jacob and waited for him to make his call.

  Jacob sighed and discarded his Jack. ‘Big Art’ then dealt out the appropriate cards to the other players. Bret had three eights. Luke fanned his cards and only had two aces, but Art had the biggest hand so far, a flush of clubs to the king.

  Jacob flipped his card slowly, drew his breath in and glanced at the card. Jacob found the last ace and placed the card in his hand. He did not make an expression as he learned that could re-veal his hand to others, psychology.

  “I’ll open, five cents,” Art said as he tossed a red chip in the pot.

  “I’ll call,” Bret said as he flipped his chip in.

  Luke frowned and said as he threw the cards on the table, “Damn, fold.”

  Jacob glanced at the pot, ten cents. He placed his right hand over his chips, picked up a few of the reds, and said, “I’ll see your five and raised you ten more.”

  Art was wondering what he had to raise that much. He must be bluffing he thought. He glanced to his cards then to Jacob. He then tossed two red chips and a blue chip in the pot and said, “Raise you twenty.”

  Bret called another twenty. Jacob called.

  “Ok I call,” said Art as he threw the blue chip in, “Whacha got Bret?”

  Bret laid his cards down and proclaimed, “Three eights, you?”

  Art nodded and laid his cards down slowly and said, “Flush of clubs.” He grinned as he and his friends chuckled, “Can ya top that city man?”

  Jacob frowned a bit. Maybe it is intimidation, he thought. He saw “Big Art” grin as if he had already won. Keep the face he thought. He looked into Art’s brown eyes, then down to his cards as he slowly lowered his hand. Art’s expression gradually changed as he saw what Jacob had.

  “I do hope my full house beats your flush,” Jacob said as he heard Jane giggle from behind.

  Jacob then grabbed the pot, but not as fast enough as Art stopped him and grabbed his arm.

  “You cheating bastard,” said Art angrily as he stood quickly alarming the couple.

  Jacob then realized why people called him “Big Art”. He stood over six and a half feet tall. He did not see it fast enough, but Art drew his ‘Smith & Weston’ six-shooter and pointed at Jacob. Jane’s heart jumped as both of them stood.

  Carl looked over and saw the commotion ad said, “What the hell? Art! Put that gun away. Ya know the rules!”


  “What don’cha tell him that!” Art cried, “He used that pretty lady of his to help him cheat!”

  “That’s not true!” Jacob shot back.

  At that same time, the sheriff pushed the swinging doors and witnessed the turmoil. He saw “Big Art’s” gun aimed at Jacob’s head, something he did not want to happen.

  “What the hell’s goin’ on here?” Barns ordered, “Art put that gun away!” Art glanced to see the sheriff. He hesitated as Barns repeated his order.

  Art frowned sadly, as he lowered his gun and holstered it. Barns advanced towards Art and said, “Good, now I don’t care what you did or what he did, you don’t ya ever raise your gun at an unarmed man, especially when he’s a visitor. Do I make myself clear?”

  Art looked at him and nodded in an agreement.

  “Good, now apologize.”

  Art turned to Jacob and said regretfully, “Sorry.”

  Barns then said to art, “Now why don’t you and your boys make yerselfs useful and get ready to saddle up. I got a job for ya.”

  Art nodded and gestured his two friends to follow him as they exited the saloon. Barns walked over to Jane and Jacob. He noticed the poker chips and the cards that were on the table. Jacob did not know if gambling was illegal in New Mexico or not. Barns gestured them to sit back down as they did. Barns sat in “Big Art’s” chair and started his proposition.

  “Ya’ll have to excuse ‘Big Art’,” He started, “He’s not apt to losing’, especially to visitors like yourselves.” The couple nodded, “Now, I was just talking to the judge and he may exempt you from that bail of Gabe’s.” Jane smiled hopefully, but Jacob did not. There had to be catch, “Now how you two feel about driving a stagecoach?” And there it was.

  “A Stagecoach?” Jacob said quizzically.

  “Yup, it seems that our last driver,” he paused, “Is unable to drive for awhile and the bank is hiring temp drivers.”

  “You’re talking about the one that was hijacked by those Mexican bandits aren’t you?” Jacob suggested.

  “Yup, ‘fraid so.”