A Lady Like Sarah

by Margaret Brownley

  "What?"

  "Close your eyes and look like you're praying."

  "I am prayin'," she said. "Like I told you, I've been prayin' up a storm."

  Justin lowered his head. "Now listen to me. Everything's going to be okay. When the time comes, you'll know what to do."

  Her lashes flew up. "That must be some kind of miracle you're expecdn'." She eyed him with a suspicious gleam. "It ain't gonna be locusts, is it?" she asked with an anxious glance at the sky. "You know I can't stand those things."

  "Shh. Close your eyes." He glanced at Briggs, who was busy giving orders to the hangman marshal. The marshal was a youth of no more than seventeen or eighteen. Face drawn, he appeared to be almost as scared as Justin felt. Obviously, this was his first official duty.

  "I'm sure it won't be locusts," Justin said.

  The hangman lifted the hinged trapdoor, checked the iron lock, and then let the door fall with a bang.

  Sarah jumped and her eyes flew open.

  "It's okay," Justin whispered.

  Marshal Briggs moved to her side. "Okay, that's enough praying for one day." He pulled a watch from the pocket of his waistcoat and signaled for the hangman to escort Sarah up the steps leading to the platform.

  Sarah sought Justin's eyes, her trusting gaze ludicrous in light of her situation. "I'm not all that fond of snakes either," she shouted to be heard over the crowd.

  "I'll pass on the message," he called back.

  He turned and scanned the throng of people. What was taking so long for George to make his move? As much as he hated violence, he couldn't think of any other way to save her. None of his own efforts had worked. Now it was up to George. He prayed a silent prayer.

  "Psst."

  Justin turned and spotted Sarah's brother Jed frantically gesturing with his hand. Feeling a sense of dread, Justin pushed his way through the mob of people to join him.

  "We have a problem," Jed whispered. "We can't get our horses through. The road in and out of town is blocked with wagons. We need more time."

  "We don't have more time," Justin said sharply.

  "Think of somethin'," Jed said. "And hurry!" With that, he turned and disappeared through the crowd.

  Justin spun around and frantically pushed his way toward the gallows.

  A hush fell over the spectators as the hanging marshal positioned Sarah directly below the gibbet and pulled a black hood out of a wooden box.

  Marshal Briggs walked up the steps and stood in front of Sarah. He unrolled a parchment death warrant and read it aloud. She was charged as an accessory to the killing of one Matthew Jenkins, an innocent passenger on a Wells Fargo stage. After reading the warrant, he rolled it up again and handed it to one of the men by his side.

  Justin moved forward. "Marshal, the prisoner has made one last request."

  Briggs faced Justin, his expression dark with impatience. "This is a hanging, Reverend, not a general store. Request denied."

  "She's entitled to one last request!" someone shouted, and Justin thought he recognized Jed's voice.

  The crowd began to hiss and boo, and Briggs quickly relented. "All right, but make it quick."

  Justin looked around for Ma, thinking he could buy time by having Sarah hold Elizabeth. Apparently, she'd done what he'd told her to and taken the baby home.

  Now what? Then he spotted Barrel a short distance away and an idea clicked in his mind.

  "Miss Prescott has an affinity for the hymn 'Amazing Grace,'" he said. "And Mr. Barrel has graciously agreed to sing for her."

  Barrel's face turned a shocking red. He shook his head, both chins trembling, and backed away. "No, no, no," he protested. He moved away, his arms windmilling as he fought his way through the crowd.

  Before he could escape, Timber Joe stopped him. "Hold it right there, mister." His rifle pointed at the big man's chest. "We can't have ourselves a hanging till the fat man sings," he drawled. "If you know what's good for you, you'll start howling like a lovesick hound."

  Ignoring Barrel's pleas, Timber Joe nudged him with his rifle and forced him to walk toward the gallows. All eyes followed the two men up the steps. The stairs sagged and creaked beneath Barrel's considerable weight. The barber stood next to Sarah sweating bullets. A passing stranger might easily mistake Barrel for the one to be hung instead of Sarah, who looked remarkably calm by comparison.

  Barrel pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead.

  "Sing!" Timber Joe ordered, thrusting the muzzle into Barrel's back.

  Barrel opened his mouth, emitting an awful screeching sound. Somewhere in the distance a dog protested with a wailing howl.

  Sarah's mouth dropped open, her eyes wide in disbelief. Briggs fell back as if shot, his hands clamped firmly over his ears. Men and women alike scrambled about in an effort to escape. Horses nickered and pawed the ground.

  A look of pure agony crossed Timber Joe's face, but he stubbornly kept his rifle in place.

  Looking sorry for the man, Sarah glanced at Justin, then back at Barrel. She then surprised Justin by joining Barrel in song, her voice sweet and clear. Justin was so touched that she remembered the words to his favorite hymn, it took him awhile to notice Barrel had stopped screeching. The tenor's tone was now strong and vibrant, each note resonating with depth and power. Barrel couldn't sing solo in front of a crowd, but he could sing a glorious duet.

  Slowly, the spectators began to move in closer, and even Marshal Briggs seemed affected by what he heard, a wistful look having replaced his usual scowl.

  Justin couldn't resist lifting his voice in song, too, and soon others joined in. Even Timber Joe lowered his rifle and began to sing.

  At the end of the hymn, a waiting silence hung in the air.

  All too soon, the marshal raised a megaphone to his mouth. "The Prescott brothers have exactly sixty seconds to turn themselves in. If they fail to do so, Sarah Prescott will meet her Maker. May her soul rest in peace."

  Justin glanced around but the street was still blocked, and there was no sign of Sarah's brothers.

  Once again, Briggs reached for his pocket watch. "The countdown begins . . . now!"

  Thirty-three

  Forty-six, forty-five, forty-four—"

  Sarah kept her eyes focused on Justin. The man looked as nervous as a gunslinger without his weapons. She forced a smile, hoping to relieve his mind. God performs miracles. Isn't that what Justin always says?

  "Thirty-five, thirty-four, thirty-three—" Her faith got her through the night, but it was hard to hold on to God's hand with a rope hanging over your head. A chilling reality hit her: time was running out. With nothing left to hold on to, she began to panic.

  Her mouth dry, her body trembled so hard that her handcuffs rattled. What if she'd run out of miracles? Like her papa. Like her ma.

  "Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen—"

  Her mind muddled with fear, the last bit of hope faded away. She glanced up at the sky. God, I plumb hope You know what You're doin!'

  "Zero!" Briggs shouted, and a hushed silence followed.

  The only sound that Sarah could hear was the pounding of her own heart.

  The marshal held up his hand, and no one moved. "This is the last chance to save Sarah Prescott. If her brothers are here, now is the time to step forward."

  She stared hard at Justin and mouthed the words, "I love you." Never again would she be able to feel his arms around her.

  Briggs signaled with his hand, and the hanging marshal moved toward her, slowly, refusing to look at her. He lifted the hood upward. Sarah closed her eyes.

  "No!" Justin cried.

  Her eyes flew open.

  Briggs pointed a threatening finger at Justin. "You come one stop closer, and I'll arrest you for obstructin' justice."

  Justin took another step.

  "Arrest him!" Briggs yelled.

  "No, don't, please," Sarah begged, but no one paid her the least bit of heed.

  Two of his deputies hastened d
own the steps, but before they reached Justin's side, a man who was vaguely familiar broke through the crowd, his face flushed as if he'd been running.

  "I canna tell a lie. I'm the lassie's brother," he called with a wave of his hand.

  Confused, Sarah stared at him. Had she heard right? She suddenly recognized him as the Scottish drummer they'd met on the trail and who had sold them baby bottles. But identifying the man raised more questions than it answered. Why would the hawker say something that was not true? Something that was bound to land him in hot water?

  Stunned silence followed the peddler's announcement, followed by thunderous applause led by Barrel, the singing barber. The deputies bypassed Justin and started for the drummer.

  Then a second man stepped forward and introduced himself as a Prescott. Sarah had never seen the man before in her life. Judging by the look of confusion on Justin's face, neither had he.

  This time, the crowd went wild. Several moments passed before the clapping and hooting stopped. The instant it grew quiet, another stranger stepped forward. "I'm Sarah's brother."

  Sarah glanced at the marshal, who stood rubbing his hands together and practically licking his chops. "We got the Prescott brothers," he announced to the crowd. "You can be certain that at long last, justice will be served."

  At that very moment, shouts sounded from a short distance away. Three men forced their horses along the boardwalk, yelling and waving their weapons until the gawkers scrambled out of their way. The leader, a short stocky man wearing an eye patch, slid off his horse and walked up to the marshal on bowed legs.

  "Thought we'd never get through," he said. "We're Miss Prescott's brothers," he announced, his thumbs hooked onto his belt. "Now you let that girl go, you hear?"

  Briggs looked downright befuddled. "I didn't know there were six Prescott brothers," he said.

  Sarah was even more perplexed than before. She glanced at Justin, who shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment.

  Just then, a tall man with a sweeping mustache stood on the rooftop of the livery and introduced himself as a Prescott. "Sorry, Marshal," he shouted, "but me and my two brothers couldn't get through Main Street."

  Much to Sarah's surprise, Jed stepped from the crowd. "I'm Sarah's brother, and so is he." He pointed at Robert.

  Sarah gasped in dismay. She never meant for her brothers to sacrifice their safety on her behalf.

  By the time it was over, some twenty "brothers" had turned themselves in. The deputy marshals practically ran around in circles, not knowing who to arrest first.

  Justin ran up the wooden steps and quickly strode up to Briggs. "You've got what you wanted, Marshal. A deal's a deal."

  "Now you hold your horses," Briggs bellowed. "You're not gonna get away with this!" He turned to all the men claiming to be Prescotts. "You're imposters, all of you! Get out of here, before I run you all in." He pulled out his gun and fired it into the air, sending the men running for cover. "Go!"

  Briggs holstered his gun and shouted to the hanging marshal, "String her up!"

  Thrity-four

  Justin lurched forward, but he was stayed by two deputy marshals, each grabbing an arm.

  The crowd booed. Seeing Sarah standing beneath the gibbet apparently had a sobering effect on even the most revengeful spectator. Even Owen's widow seemed to have second thoughts.

  "Let her go," she said to her brother, before turning and disappearing through the crowd.

  The cries grew louder and fists pounded the air. "Let her go! Let her go!"

  Briggs showed no sign of backing down. The townsfolk had made a fool of him, and his eyes glittered with the need to reassert his power.

  The hanging marshal started to lower the black hood over Sarah's head, but she refused it. With a shrug, he tossed the hood aside and reached for the knotted rope. The shouts had died down, and only a few sobs could be heard. A couple of spectators fell to their knees in prayer.

  Justin fought to free himself, but the deputy marshals held tight.

  A single voice shattered the hushed silence. "Release Miss Prescott at once." The speaker's commanding voice attracted attention, and all eyes turned to a man who stood in the shadows of a doorway. From where he stood, Justin was unable to get a good look at the speaker and didn't recognize the voice.

  Even Briggs seemed puzzled at first by the man's identity. "By whose authority?" he sneered.

  The man stepped out of the shadows, and a murmur rippled through the crowd. "By the authority vested in me by the state of Texas, I order you to release this prisoner."

  Justin's mouth dropped open. The dignified man was none other than Judge Fassbender. The judge didn't look or sound anything like the drunk man Justin had previously encountered.

  Briggs still couldn't see him clear enough to recognize him. "Only the governor can stay a hanging, and I've not heard from Governor Roberts."

  Under less grim circumstances, Justin might have laughed. Suddenly, the town marshal was concerned with protocol.

  Fassbender pushed his way through the throng and stood in front of the gallows. "I'm not staying the execution. I'm overturning it."

  Surprise registered on Briggs's face. "You're—"

  "Judge Fassbender." He turned to the crowd and tipped his hat. "I just received a telegram from a witness who disputes the claim that the Prescott gang was responsible for the death of a Wells Fargo passenger. It seems that the stagecoach victim's abused wife decided to shoot her husband during the holdup and let the robbers take the blame."

  Shocked gasps rose from the crowd.

  Briggs looked like a man about to be pushed over a cliff.

  His face red, he stammered a denial. "Since when did you give a witness any heed?"

  "Since I was soundly reminded why I became a judge in the first place. And it wasn't to hang innocent people." He glanced at Justin before pointing to Sarah. "Since Miss Prescott has not been charged with any other crime, she is to be released at once."

  Cheers drowned out the rest of his sentence.

  The hanging marshal quickly unlocked her handcuffs, and the crowd broke into applause.

  The instant her hands were free, Sarah ran down the stairs and into Justin's arms.

  Justin held her tight. He couldn't believe their good fortune. If it hadn't been for the Scottish peddler, Jed, and all the rest, Sarah might have been hanged before the judge arrived.

  "You didn't tell me you had so many brothers," he said softly in her ear.

  "I didn't know myself," she whispered back. "I guess it's what you call a plague of brothers."

  Justin laughed. "That's exactly what it was," he said. "A plague of brothers! God really does work in wondrous ways."

  Wanting to thank the judge, he searched the crowd, but Fassbender was gone.

  Mrs. Hitchcock saddled up to Justin and nudged him with her elbow. "Cost me a bundle to hire them," she said and then promptly repeated herself.

  Justin stared at her. "You hired those men to say they were Sarah's brothers?"

  "Not all of them," she said, her voice shrill with uncertainty. "We only hired three."

  "That's the God's honest truth," added another woman. "I know what you're thinking, Pastor. They can prove their real identity, so there was no chance of them being hanged or anything."

  Mrs. Hitchcock nodded. "We couldn't let that precious child's mother hang, now could we? Could we?"

  "None of us could," Ma added, joining the little circle that had gathered around Justin and Sarah.

  "I thought I told you to leave," Justin said.

  "I couldn't leave," Ma replied. "My dray is boxed in with all those other vehicles."

  Sarah clapped her hands together in delight upon seeing Elizabeth.

  "Don't tell me," Justin said, eyeing his landlady. "You arranged for Sarah's 'brothers' to show up too."

  Ma refused to admit it, but she didn't deny it either. Instead, she handed Elizabeth over to Sarah, a conspiratorial smile on her face.

  Sarah held
the infant in the circle of her arms, tears glistening. "You're the dearest, sweetest baby in the whole wide world."

  Elizabeth stared at Sarah with unblinking eyes and her mouth twitched upward.

  "Would you look at that?" Sarah said "If that ain't the most beautiful smile."

  Justin grinned like a proud papa. Ma and the other ladies walked away, leaving him and Sarah alone with Elizabeth.

  "She's cutting a tooth," he said.

  "Oh, Justin . . ." She looked up, her eyes swimming in tears of happiness.

  "Come on," he said. "Let's go home."

  "Wait," she said. She lay Elizabeth in his arms. "I need to talk to my brothers."

  He glanced at the end of the street where George, Jed, and Robert sat on their horses waiting with a saddled horse for Sarah. Justin glanced back at the marshal. The lawman was in a heated argument with Judge Fassbender and not paying any attention to them.

  He shifted Elizabeth onto his shoulder. "Sarah, if the marshal finds out that they're the real Prescotts—"

  She squeezed his arm. "I won't be long."

  "Let me go with you."

  "I need to talk to them alone."

  He didn't want her to go, didn't want to let her out of his sight. "If anything happens to you—"

  "It won't," she promised.

  "Hurry before Briggs realizes who they are. Meet me at Ma's house." He gave her directions and kissed her on the forehead.

  She lifted her skirts higher than any lady should and ran down the street to her three waiting brothers.

  Thrity-five

  George led the way to the deserted fort outside of town, riding hard. By the time Sarah dismounted and tethered her horse to the railing in front of one of the old buildings, George and Jed were already in a heated argument.

  "Of all the foolhardy things to do!" George shouted. "What if the marshal had recognized us as the real brothers?"

  "He didn't," Jed said defensively.

  "He could have!"

  "Okay, so I made a mistake," Jed said. "I didn't like all those other men chimin' to be Sarah's brothers when they ain't."