“Yes, they killed three here as well,” Judge Norton said. “I was just signing the warrant authorizing the execution.”
“Is Parnell in the back?”
“Yes, you can go on back there to talk to him if you want.”
Smoke started toward the door that led into the back, then stopped, pulled his pistol from the holster, and walked over to lay it down on the corner of the desk. “You forgot to ask me for that.”
“Yeah, I, uh—wasn’t sure how you would handle it,” the sheriff said.
When Smoke went into the back of the building he saw that, though there were four cells, only one was occupied. The occupant of that cell was sitting on a cot, holding his head in his hands.
“Parnell?”
He looked up. “Who wants to know?”
“My name is Jensen. Smoke Jensen.”
“I’ll be damned. You’re the husband of the woman Dinkins shot, ain’t you?”
“Dinkins is the one who shot her?”
“Yeah, Dinkins shot her. He also shot the man that said he owned the bank.”
“What about Mr. Deckert? And the sheriff? Who shot them?”
“Truth to tell, there ain’t no way of knowin’ who it was shot them, seein’ as we was all shootin’ while we was leavin’ the bank.”
“Where are they now, Parnell?”
“You think you can come in here and just ask me to tell you where my friends are and expect me to tell you?”
“Your friends?”
“Damn right, they are my friends.”
“I understand that as you were riding away after the bank robbery here, your horse got shot.”
“Yeah. You think I would be here iffen I had had me a horse to ride?”
“Did any of your friends come back for you?”
“No.”
“Do you think any of them care now, that you are about to be hanged?”
“I-I don’t know,” Parnell admitted.
“Parnell, you don’t owe them anything,” Smoke said. “And in another hour or so it won’t make any difference to you one way or another. As a matter of fact, nothing will make any difference to you. So, as one of your last acts, you may as well do the right thing and tell me where they are.”
Parnell was quiet for a moment. “To tell the truth, Jensen, I don’t exactly know where they are. But I know that Dinkins was plannin’ on hittin’ just about ever’ bank he could. The plan was to get a lot of money, then we was goin’ to divide it up an’ we was all to go off on our own. All except the Slater brothers, that is. I figure they’ll probably still stay together.”
“I was told that five men robbed the bank here. But Putnam was killed back in Gothic, so that left only four,” Smoke said.
“Yeah, that’s right. And four is how many of us there was until Harley joined us.”
“Harley? Would that be Wesley Harley?”
“Yeah, do you know him?”
“I know of him.”
“I bet you didn’t know that he is Bill Dinkins’ brother, though.”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“I figure most people don’t know that, seein’ as they got different last names and all. Harley is the one who kilt all three of the people in this bank holdup.”
“Why did he shoot them?”
“One of them took a shot at us as we was leavin’ the bank, and Harley, he just spun around and shot all three of them. He’s fast with a gun.”
“So I’ve been told,” Smoke said.
“He’s damn fast. He may even be faster ’n you.”
The door to the front of the building opened then, and Sheriff Dennis came through. “It’s time, Parnell.”
“Yeah.”
“Turn your back to the bars, then put your hands behind you.”
Parnell did as he was directed. “Is there a crowd of folks to see my send off ?”
“It’s going to be a show, all right,” the sheriff said.
“Jensen?” Parnell called. “I’m sorry your woman got shot. Was she kilt?”
“No. She’s going to be all right.”
“I’m glad about that. Listen, I’ll tell you somethin’ else. You think you are just goin’ after Dinkins, Harley, and the Slater brothers, don’t you?”
“You mean there are others in the gang?”
“No, not exactly. But, ever since that newspaper article come out, saying that you was comin’ after us? Well, it spooked Dinkins somethin’ fierce. So, what he has done is, he has put up a thousand dollar reward to anyone who kills you.”
“How has he done that?”
“How? He’s just let it be known, that’s all. Folks like us, we got our own way of spreadin’ the news around. I’ll guarantee you there ain’t an outlaw in Colorado, Wyoming, or Arizona that don’t know it’s worth a thousand dollars to kill you. They’ll be comin’ after you from ever’where.”
“Thanks for telling me that,” Smoke said.
“So, seein’ as I told you that, I want you to do me a favor, will you? Sort of like a last wish from a dyin’ man?”
“What?”
“I want you to stick around and watch me hang.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lamp of our feet, whereby we trace
our path when wont to stray;
stream from the fount of heavenly grace,
brook by the traveler’s way.
The members of the First Methodist Church Choir had formed four half circles just in front of the gallows, and they were already singing when Smoke went back outside. The crowd of spectators filled the street from side to side, so Smoke found a place across the street from the gallows in front of Haussler’s Apothecary. Standing on the front porch and leaning against a roof support post, he had a pretty good view of the gallows, which, for the moment, was empty.
The choir finished their song and Smoke checked the program he had bought from the boy. He saw that the choir was singing, which meant the mayor had already spoken, and he was thankful for small pleasures. He had already missed the mayor’s speech.
“Here he comes!” someone shouted, and a buzz of excitement passed through the crowd.
“Hey, Parnell!” someone shouted. “How does it feel to know you’re going to have supper in hell tonight?”
“It will probably be better than the supper I had in jail last night,” Parnell responded.
Some, but not all, of the crowd laughed at the remark.
“You think gettin’ hung is funny, do you boy? We’ll see who is laughin’ half an hour from now.”
Parnell did not respond to the taunt. His face was without expression of any kind.
He was led up the thirteen steps to the gallows, and carefully positioned over the trap door. His arms were then tied to his sides, and his legs were tied together. Sheriff Daniels stepped to the front of the gallows, cleared his throat, and read the warrant which stated that Cole Parnell, having been found guilty in a legally constituted court of law, was hereby sentenced to death by means of hanging.
“You’ve got it coming to you, you horrid person!” a woman shouted. “My husband was a good man, a father of three children, and you took him away from us!” She broke down in racking sobs.
There were a few other taunts, jibes, and sneering verbal attacks, but they quieted when a tall, very thin man, dressed all in black but with a bright white collar, started up the thirteen steps to the platform. He stepped over and whispered something to the prisoner. Parnell shook his head, and the priest spoke a second time. Parnell nodded in the affirmative.
With that, the priest walked away from Parnell, and opening the little black book he was carrying, began reading the prayer Prayers for Persons under Sentence of Death from the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer.
“Dearly beloved, it hath pleased Almighty God, in his justice to bring you under the sentence and condemnation of the law. You are shortly to suffer death in such a manner, that others, warned by your example, may be the more afraid to offend; and we pray God, that you may make such use of your punishments in this world, that your soul may be saved in the world to come.”