Cole's Redemption (Love Amongst the Pines) (3 page)

             
"It is. Now, do I get to buy the drifter, or what?"

             
"Your mind's really set on this?"

             
She nodded, showing more certainty than she actually felt. He sighed.
             

             
"Look, I'm sorry but I can't let you have this fella. If you're really set on this plan,
there's
three boys down at the jail. Two of them are just wanderers, came through town about a week ago and were arrested for disorderly conduct. They tried to practice shoot at the Ladies' Auxiliary meeting.  Then there's the Dennis boy, he stole a horse from the Granger stock. Pick one of them but be quick about it. Right now, I need to get this over with before the crowd gets ugly," the Sheriff glanced around nervously, "and, they
ain't
that close to pretty as it is."

             
Natty dug her heels into the dirt, not budging from her spot, and gave him a scornful look.

             
"I don't want one of them. They
ain't
condemned and facing a
hangin
'." She crossed her arms, waiting for the lecture that was to come. "A girl has a right to marry
who
she wants, and I want him," she said between clenched teeth.

             
"Listen here, Natty, this fella's a dangerous killer. He'd just as soon shoot you as look at you. You've got no business tying up with the likes of him." In demonstration, the Sheriff yanked the chain, causing the prisoner to scowl. "
Lookit
,' he's got the devil in him for sure."

             
"He's the one I want, Bill. He's young and strong, and if you just leave those irons on for a spell, I know I can get a good portion of work out of him."

             
The lawman scratched his head. "I don't know, Natty. I don't see how it can be done. I mean, what if you was to take him home and something bad happened?" He glanced up as his deputy finished tying the counterweight to the noose. Natty knew they would be testing the gallows as soon as he gave the word.

             
"Please, Bill. I
ain't
givin
' up my Pa's claim and spending my life raising some widow man's brats. And I sure
ain't
gonna
end up tied up to some half cocked local boy who thinks I'll just throw in my silver mine so he can move me into town and cling to his Mama's skirts."

             
The sheriff sighed. "I swear, I don't know how you've made it this long."

             
Natty stepped forward, grasping his arm. "I love that place. I know most people think mining silver out of that hill is a lost cause, Sheriff, but I
ain't
gonna
give it up until I have to!"

             
"If this young fella gets hold of a gun, Natty, he might just blow your fool head off."

             
The man beside him stood silent, staring at the gallows and the crowd of people beyond it.

             
"Maybe you can hobble him, Bill." Dermott said as he walked up to join them. "You know, the way you do a mule that won't behave."

             
Sheriff Watkins chewed on his bottom lip. "Well, there might be one thing we could do. I heard tell that down in Kansas they fixed a fella so he couldn't ever shoot a gun again. Might be we could help you out after all. All you really need him to do is a push cart, swing an ax, and lift a shovel, right?"

             
"That's about all there is to it, yeah."

             
"All right. I'll have to talk it over with Judge Cummings. He's got the final say, you know. Come back after supper and I'll see what we can do."

             
Suddenly, the condemned man snapped to attention, jerking the chains in the Sheriff's hands. "You can't do this. You promised me a hanging."

             
Sheriff Watkins yanked the man back. "I'm the law in this county, and I can do whatever the Hell I want, bushwhacker. If I wanted to dress you in women's pantalets and march you down the middle of Main Street, there
ain't
nothing you can do about it!"

             
"I'm not going anywhere but up those steps."

             
"You don't have no say in anything anymore, son. Whether you like it or not, you're
gonna
to do what I tell you."

             
The sheriff turned to one of the men holding court over the proceeding.
             
"Hobart, send everybody home. I've got business to attend to here."

             
In the next instant, a loud crack sliced into the afternoon. A hush fell over the crowd. All eyes looked up to see the counterweight had snapped, and the bag of sand had fallen through the trap mimicking what would have happened had a man been standing there with the noose around his neck.

             
Natty glanced at the gunslinger. He jerked as if he'd been struck by lightning.
A sheen
of sweat covered his forehead, and he squinted against the bright sunlight. Turning his head, he glared back at her.

             
The sharp pain she saw in the muddy brown-green depths of his eyes stung like a hornet. For a moment, she hung suspended by his gaze, caught like a fly in a spider web.

             
When he looked away, she plummeted back to earth, suddenly set free of his penetrating stare.

             
Cole
Remmington
was taken back to the gray, dirty cell
where he'd spent the last week. Poorly ventilated, smelling of sweat and urine, the room gave him a chill. He'd barely stepped inside when the familiar clang of the door being shut and locked in place shook him out of his reverie. What the hell would happen to him now?

             
Though unbidden, the memory of that half pint of a girl returned to him. There he'd been all set on dying when she walked up, pretty as you please, and offered to marry him!

             
Having traveled extensively in his twenty odd years, Cole had met many people, known lots of women,
from
the stiff necked Boston socialites to the hard wound women of the prairie. But none of them stirred his gut like that little blonde spit of a girl who'd faced off against the stern sheriff and the

hard
-bitten criminal. When he'd tried to stare her down, she'd held onto his disdain like it was a rope.

             
Walking to the opposite side of the room, Cole stepped up on the cot and stood beneath the only window in the cell. It was a small opening, and if he craned his neck he could just make out a patch of blue sky and a few scattering of clouds. What should have been the last dismal day of his life shone
bright.
It was as if even the weather mocked him. At the very least, it might have rained.

             
In the front office of the jail, the Sheriff introduced his plans
to the town leaders. "I tell you," Doc Evans called out above the others, "it's not humane what you're proposing! You should have just hung the boy, and let it go at that. The man's got a right to choose for himself."

             
"Not by the law, he doesn't. He gave up all his rights when he committed a crime. That's enough in my book," Sheriff Watkins countered.

             
Preacher Augustus Dean's voice rose above the others. "What you're proposing is that he becomes in essence a slave. Slavery's been abolished. I don't think what you're doing is at all legal."

             
The lawman shook his head. "The law says that a condemned man can be mitigated into a legal and binding marriage if he accepts the terms of the stay of execution. Hell, he can even own property, eventually."

             
"But, Cole
Remmington
hasn't accepted anything," Doc Evans admonished. "Even if he does, who's to say he'll sit still after the ink dries on the marriage license?"

             
The sheriff stood his ground. "Judge Cummings will be here in a minute. In the end, he'll decide. As it is, we have a punishment to give out. That boy in there needs to be tamed, just like a wild colt. The man he killed wasn't
nothing
but waterhole scum. His two friends lit out of town after the trial like their tails were on fire, and their
asses
was
catchin
'. I heard they might have been members of a gang that's wanted for robbery in Texas. I say maybe Cole
Remmington
has done us all a favor."

             
The front door to the jailhouse slammed open. In a moment, Judge Cummings joined them in the back room.

             
"Hello, boys." He nodded, carefully examining the men gathered before him. "What's so damned important that you've got to pull me outta my bath to discuss? Has Johnny French been
pissin
' in the town well again?"

             
"
Naw
, sir," Watkins laughed. "Nothing so serious as that." In a few words, he told the entire story of the day's events.

             
The Judge hesitated a moment. "Well, I hate to think of Natty and
ol
' Dermott struggling through another winter. It's a shame about her parents. That damn mine of theirs killed them both."

             
"I know what you mean, Judge," said the preacher, "I'd go out to the place myself more often, but with that rocky trail and two creeks to cross, it's near to impossible half the time."

             
"So, what do you think?" Evans pressed him.

Judge scratched his chin. "I think the idea has merit. There's something about that boy. I just didn't feel right sentencing him to hang, but he left me little choice. He never defended himself, and damn near almost begged me to string him up. In all my years on the bench, that's never happened. He just doesn't seem the type to have killed a man without a reason."

             
"I agree," the sheriff said. "All week he's been nothing but polite. Quiet, not at all like some of the dirt
-
water scum we get in here."

             
Judge nodded. "I also think that hobbling the young outlaw won't be enough. He'll end up hurting himself or the girl, or both. It looks to me like Bill's way is the best.
A damn unpleasant thing, but a necessary one.
Also, it gives us a chance to keep up after both of them. Doc, you'll have to make weekly visits for a while. Bill, you and Gus can ride shotgun. God knows
,
if this scheme works, they'll definitely need a lot of prayer."

             
All three men spoke at once. "This is crazy, Judge!" Evans argued.

             
"Not right at all," the minister agreed, "most irregular." "You want me to ride out to that mine every week? What, with winter coming on?"

             
The sheriff stepped forward. "Hold on a minute, all of you. Bill, you kept the boy from hanging, so he's your responsibility. Doc, he's going to need careful watching if he's going to stay healthy. As a man of God, Augustus, you know both of them are going to need your counseling. That and keeping these old fools from shooting each other. Consider it a mission of mercy."

             
The sheriff nodded. "All right. Let's get this thing over with.
Natty's
coming back after supper, and I don't want her to see us getting the gunslinger ready. It
ain't
fit for a lady's eyes or for
Natty's
,
either."

             
All of the men murmured their agreement. Watkins smiled.

             
"I sent Hobart down to fetch the smithy and a length of rope. You think we'll need anything else?"

             
The five men entering the jail cell shattered the afternoon
quiet. The town blacksmith, Stephan Geary, accompanied Preacher Dean, Judge Cummings, Doc Evans, and Sheriff Watkins quickly crowding into the close quarters.

             
"We best get him into another room. One with a table, I think," the Judge said, carefully surveying the cell.

             
"How about the storeroom in the back?" Sheriff Watkins offered. "We used to play cards back there until the roof started leaking."

Cole rose slowly from the cot, his eyes na
rrowing,
his
expression wary.