‘They treat you badly?’ Nathaniel asked.
‘It wasn’t the guards,’ Turner murmured. ‘They put me in with two other prisoners. Everyone’s looking for a scapegoat.’
‘Can you blame them? You did warn the guard.’ Nathaniel snorted as he looked Turner up and down, feeling a twinge of sympathy for him. He might have sold everyone out, but even if he avoided the gallows, Turner’s life term was sure to be a short and painful one. ‘I hope for your sake that Hiram Deeds delivers on his promises.’
Turner shuffled unhappily from foot to foot, acknowledging this was unlikely, then raised his chin defiantly.
‘You ain’t got nothing to gloat about, Nathaniel. We were on the same detail.’
Nathaniel nodded. ‘So that’s why they were all shouting at me. They think I’m as guilty as you are.’
‘Yeah. So you’d better hope you don’t get left alone with anyone, either.’
‘I’ve got nothing to fear. I know the truth about what happened.’ Nathaniel sighed. ‘And for that matter, telling the truth in there is the only thing that can save us from the gallows.’
Turner’s sneer suggested he thought this was an even more unlikely prospect than Hiram Deeds helping him.
Then they both waited in pensive silence for the guard to return and take them to the courtroom where they faced the visiting judge along with Governor Bradbury and Hiram Deeds. The only witnesses were guards, adding further weight to Turner’s belief that this would turn out badly.
Judge Matthews heard the testimony of the guard who had separated them, his story being that they had silenced Ramsey Carr to settle an old grudge before they escaped. The judge grunted with satisfaction on hearing this summation of events, then turned to Nathaniel with the bored air of a man going through the formalities.
‘Nathaniel McBain,’ he said, ‘serving seven years for numerous robberies and misdemeanours, but never with violence. It would appear your time in here has helped you develop a killing streak.’
‘It’s the opposite,’ Nathaniel said, standing tall as he spoke his mind honestly. ‘I took to thieving only because I was hungry and misguided, but I know now I did wrong and the regime here has changed me. When I get out of here I plan to work hard and stay out of trouble.’
The courtroom echoed to subdued snorts of derision. Judge Matthews waited with his chin resting on an upturned hand until the commotion had quietened down before replying.
‘Nathaniel McBain, I’ve been subjected to an endless litany of lies over the last two days and I’m in no mood for any more.’ He leaned forward. ‘You say you planned to stay out of trouble and yet you killed a man.’
‘I didn’t. It was an accident. I …’ Nathaniel noted that Judge Matthews was tapping his fingers on his desk with exasperation. The prisoner code of conduct was never to sell out your fellow prisoner, and Nathaniel found that he couldn’t do it even when that other prisoner was Turner Jackson. ‘I admit we were fighting, but it weren’t to settle no grudge. It was another matter.’
Judge Matthews snorted. ‘And then you planned to escape?’
Nathaniel took a deep breath. In thinking through how he would explain away the incident, he had only one indisputable fact that would help him and now was, he felt, as good a time as any to mention it.
‘I wasn’t planning on escaping. I only had five days of my sentence left to serve. I plan to avoid jail for the rest of my life, so I’d have been foolish to risk everything by attempting to escape, wouldn’t I?’
This declaration had the desired effect of making Judge Matthews raise his eyebrows and show some interest in proceedings for the first time.
‘Perhaps you would,’ he said, ‘although that still leaves the matter of you fighting with another prisoner for a reason you are not prepared to divulge.’
‘And I’ll take my punishment for that, but I didn’t kill Ramsey and I wasn’t trying to escape.’
Judge Matthews leaned towards Governor Bradbury and engaged in a whispered conversation, then looked at Nathaniel with his head still bowed.
‘And who was holding the knife?’
‘I don’t know,’ Nathaniel said, ‘but it wasn’t me.’
He glanced at Turner, but Turner was staring at the floor and gave no sign that he had heard his comment.
‘So your story is that Turner killed Ramsey?’
‘I didn’t say that!’ Nathaniel said, taking a pace forward. ‘I just meant—’
‘Silence!’ Judge Matthews glared at him until he took a pace backwards, then turned his gaze on to Turner. ‘And what’s your story, Turner Jackson, serving life for bank robbery, manslaughter, to detail just the top two items on your very long list of crimes?’
Turner kept staring at the floor until a guard nudged him, making him raise his head. He lifted a manacled hand to rub his chest, wincing, then looked around the courtroom, taking in the row of hostile witnesses.
Then he dropped to his knees, raised his hands in a pleading gesture, and bleated out his story.
‘It was Nathaniel,’ he screeched. ‘He held the knife. He killed Ramsey. He—’
‘You double-crossing …’ Nathaniel said then swung round to Turner, aiming to finish the job that the other prisoners had started.
He only managed to swing back a manacled hand, aiming to strike Turner across his lying mouth before a guard stepped in and clubbed the back of his head, knocking him to the floor.
He lay stunned while Turner blurted out a story that started with Nathaniel having just shown everyone how bad a temper he had. Then it went on to agree with the only other witness’s version of events, except he added the detail that Nathaniel had buried the knife in Ramsey’s throat.
By the time his tale had ended and Nathaniel had been dragged to his feet Judge Matthews was consulting with Governor Bradbury. Then he turned to the prisoners, his eyes lively, although Nathaniel reckoned that that was only because this was the last trial of the day.
‘The punishment for a prisoner who kills another is the gallows,’ he said. ‘A man was killed and so, based on the testimony I have heard, I have to decide whether one of you should hang, or both.’
‘I’m innocent,’ Nathaniel said. ‘Everything Turner said was a lie.’
‘May the grace of the Lord Jesus be with God’s people,’ Judge Matthews said, ignoring Nathaniel’s plea as he looked at Turner, then turned his gaze on to Nathaniel. He raised his gavel.
CHAPTER 3
‘Take the men out of the cage two at a time,’ Hiram Deeds ordered. ‘Each group gets three minutes.’
Nathaniel had been trying to let the gathering darkness and the steady motion of the cage rock him into sleep, but it had only lulled him into a forlorn torpor. Now that they had stopped he sat hunched in the far corner of the mobile cage, watching Marshal Kurt McLynn and most of the guards disperse to take up widespread defensive positions before Hiram unlocked the cage.
Ten prisoners were in the cage, chained and attached to the bars in pairs, and his fellow captives on the two-day journey to Bear Creek all had the same blank-eyed stare as he had as they awaited the inevitable.
Nathaniel sat beside a sour-faced Mitch Cartwright, the prisoner who had handed out the knives and who had been one of the few men to get out of the quarry before being brought down.
Eight of the captives were men sentenced to the gallows for their part in the breakout, including Turner Jackson, who sat at the opposite end of the cage to Nathaniel.
One of the few pleasures left to Nathaniel was to catch Turner’s eye occasionally and snarl, letting him know that his duplicity had earned him nothing but the worst possible fate. So when Turner had been freed from the bars and had happened to glance at him before standing, Nathaniel glared back and bared his teeth, making Turner turn away.
Turner had the dubious honour of being manacled to Javier Rodriguez, who, under the traditional prison hierarchy, was treated with some deference by the other prisoners. Hiram mockingly picked up on that
deference and gave a short bow as Javier stepped down from the cage.
Nobody paid deference to the only other prisoner not to have been sentenced because of the breakout. This sombre man was tall and painfully thin, and had features so gaunt they were almost skull-like. He was known only as The Preacher. He sat opposite Javier, his hands raised as high as he could get them and his head lowered while he muttered to himself, presumably in prayer.
What his crimes were Nathaniel didn’t know, but the fight to avoid sitting beside him when they’d been loaded into the cage suggested that, to have worried these men, it had to have been something terrible.
When Turner and Javier had taken care of their absolutions, this being the only chance they’d get before being settled down for the night, the next two prisoners made their way out.
Mitch and Nathaniel would be the next to leave, so Nathaniel stretched his cramped limbs while looking around. They’d been riding along the rim of Devil’s Canyon and had stopped so close to the edge he could see down into the canyon to the winding blue ribbon that was the river at the bottom.
He stared at the water, enjoying what would probably be one of his last pleasant sights, until his turn came. Then, with an uncomfortable rattling of chains as he and Mitch tried to establish a walking rhythm, they headed down the cage, but Nathaniel stopped beside Turner.
‘As long as they string you up first and I get to see your lying body,’ Nathaniel said, ‘I’ll die a happy man.’
Turner didn’t meet his eye as he squirmed uncomfortably on the base of the cage. Nathaniel resisted the urge to kick him, reckoning he might get a better chance to work off his anger on him later, then he left the cage.
‘Bushes over there,’ Hiram said, pointing, ‘and be quick.’
Nathaniel and Mitch made their way over, but Mitch dawdled, making every pace a fight.
‘Get into step,’ Nathaniel said.
‘Ain’t got nothing in step with you,’ Mitch grumbled.
Nathaniel sighed. ‘You don’t believe those rumours Turner started that it’s my fault it all went wrong, do you?’
‘Sure do. Turner told us everything. How you sold us out to Hiram Deeds. How you sounded the alarm. How you killed Ramsey when he tried to stop you.’ Nathaniel shook his head. ‘That’s not the way it was. Turner was the one who …’
Nathaniel saw the scepticism in Mitch’s eyes, so he gave up attempting to explain himself. Once rumours became widespread they were accepted as fact and nobody would listen to the truth. Not that it mattered this close to the gallows.
He turned away from Mitch, aiming to drop his pants first, but then a whipping blow to the side of his head with the loop of chain that connected them sent him face first into the dirt.
A mixture of his fall and the shared manacles dragged Mitch down on top of him. He tried to buck him away but Mitch had a tight grip on the chain and he dragged it round Nathaniel’s neck, then drew back, choking him.
Nathaniel threw his hands to his neck and grabbed the cold metal, but he couldn’t tear it away from his neck to let him breathe. So he lunged for Mitch’s hands, but the man’s bunched fists were like iron.
Slowly Mitch twisted the chain, tightening it even more.
Motes of light and darkness flitted across Nathaniel’s vision as he fought for the air he couldn’t gulp in. Then footfalls approached, followed by a thud. Mitch’s hold slipped away, letting Nathaniel roll on to his side, gasping.
Then the guards beat Mitch and they even landed a few blows on Nathaniel for good measure. Afterwards they pulled both men to their feet and dragged them back to the cage.
‘Nobody gets out now,’ Hiram said. ‘You’ll all just have to stink up the cage.’
‘Hey,’ Mitch whined when they reached the door. ‘I don’t want to spend the rest of my life chained to this double-crosser.’
The guard ignored him and moved to push him into the cage, but Hiram stopped him with a raised hand.
‘Wait,’ he said. ‘We don’t want no trouble tonight. Chain him to someone else.’
‘Who?’ the guard asked. ‘Nobody wants to sit beside the man who got them all put in there.’
As Hiram considered the prisoners, Turner muttered that Mitch was right about Nathaniel being a double-crosser and this encouraged most of the men to grunt that they didn’t want to be chained to him either.
Hiram’s gaze stopped when it reached the last man in the cage. He smiled.
‘Teach him a lesson for selling everyone out,’ he said. ‘Manacle him to The Preacher.’
‘Obliged,’ Mitch shouted, and the order gathered grunts of approval from the other prisoners.
‘And then I want no more trouble from in here,’ Hiram snapped, pointing at each prisoner in turn. ‘I’ve brought dynamite along. At the first sign of trouble I’ll blow you all to hell.’
In short order they removed Nathaniel’s manacles and transferred him to sit beside The Preacher. His new companion didn’t stop his steady muttering to himself, leaving Nathaniel to wonder why this was such a punishment.
Once he was sitting, Turner caught his eye from the other side of the cage.
‘If Mitch can’t get you,’ he said, ‘at least I can get to watch you enjoying your time with The Preacher.’
‘He ain’t so bad after suffering Mitch’s company,’ Nathaniel said, ‘and your lies.’
‘You’ll have changed your mind by morning.’ Turner laughed. ‘Provided The Preacher doesn’t eat you in the night.’
‘I reckon this is the best position,’ Marshal Kurt McLynn said, looking over Shackleton Frost’s shoulder at the cage 400 yards ahead of and below them.
Shackleton drew back from the edge of the ridge and shook his head.
‘I don’t agree,’ he said. ‘We should be nearer to the cage and you need other men scouting around.’
Kurt laughed when he noted Shackleton’s grim expression.
‘Still questioning my orders, I see. Will you stop whining if Pablo Rodriguez does show and I bring him to justice?’
‘Nope. I don’t care about him. I guard prisoners and all I care about is discharging my duty.’
‘My duty,’ Kurt said. ‘Your duty is to do what I say, without questioning me.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Shackleton snapped. ‘And what are my orders now, sir?’
Kurt stared at Shackleton for several seconds to ensure he knew he’d noticed his sarcasm, then he gestured down the ridge.
‘Demonstrate that local knowledge you’re so proud of. Decide on the direction Pablo is most likely to come from, then lie in wait for him. If you guess right, capture him and hold him until I arrive.’
Shackleton nodded, then turned to go, but he’d had to swallow a lot of pride over the last few days to stay involved with this mission and the urge to speak his mind became too great. He turned back.
‘Before I go, I’ll say this – you’re a fool.’ This act of open defiance made the rest of Kurt’s men look up in shock. ‘We could have got Javier Rodriguez to Bear Creek without any trouble if we’d done this my way, but riding openly down Devil’s Canyon is inviting disaster, and hiring Hiram Deeds was utter madness.’
Shackleton could have gone on to detail everything Kurt had done wrong in setting up this mission, but Kurt’s sneer said it’d fall on deaf ears, so he turned away, giving the marshal no chance for a retort. Now he welcomed the opportunity to spend time with the two-man team he’d worked with for the last three years.
With his head down he snaked along the top of the ridge to join Barney Clarke and Elwood Brown.
The two men noted Shackleton’s firm-jawed expression and each cast a smiling glance at the other, acknowledging their own thoughts about Kurt and his methods. Then they settled down to await darkness.
An hour later they made their move.
Elwood pointed out their destination and route in a silent and quick manner that only people who have worked together for years could understand.
Then they made the
ir way down from the ridge and into a winding gully that came out 400 yards from the edge of the canyon and slightly further away from the cage. There, a bright fire was now lighting up a semicircle a hundred yards wide.
Flickering light even played along the rim of the other side of the canyon a quarter-mile away.
Elwood and Barney murmured their disapproval of the lack of a guarded fire, but Shackleton said nothing. They had both heard enough of his complaints.
Now they just had to wait to see if Pablo would show. As the northern route to this point had plenty of cover, whereas the southern route was more open, Elwood judged he’d pass them here.
‘Do you reckon he’ll come?’ Shackleton asked.
‘Ain’t got a clue,’ Barney said, while Elwood gave the question more careful consideration.
‘If I were Pablo and I knew that double-crossing snake Hiram Deeds was looking after the cage, I’d …’ Elwood looked around then lowered his voice. ‘I’d already be here.’
Shackleton flinched, not having expected this answer. He then followed Elwood’s gaze to look at the ridge, then along the route that Elwood indicated with an outstretched finger. He nodded, seeing what Elwood had noted.
Although the fire was bright enough to appear to have been carelessly situated, a large boulder could be seen between the fire and the cage; it prevented the prisoners from getting any of the warmth and light, and also ensured that were shrouded in darkness. Between the edge of the canyon and the ridge there was 400 yards of open space, but there were enough mounds and hollows to mean that long stretches of the ground were in shadow.
‘So Hiram is doing precisely what I tried to warn Kurt about,’ Shackleton murmured, aghast.
‘Yup. He’s lit up the area to let us all see that everything is fine. Except, come the morning, the cage will be one prisoner short.’
‘Or will have one prisoner more if I have anything to do with it.’
The Gallows Gang Page 2
