Trail of the Hanged Man (11 page)

The next morning, after a breakfast neither felt like eating, they rode double into Santa Rosa. The streets were empty. But an angry crowd was gathered outside the old clapboard courthouse. Most of them were shouting and brandishing their fists at Sheriff Forbes and his four deputies who stood on the steps in front of the entrance, refusing to let any more people inside.

Lawless reined up beside a man at the rear of the crowd and asked him what was going on. Judge Kragen was holding an emergency hearing, the man said, to determine who shot Sven Bjorkman. Of course everyone in town knew it was either Slade Stadtlander or one of the Iversons and wanted the culprit hanged for it. But Mr Stadtlander’s lawyer insisted that since no one could prove conclusively who had fired the actual bullet that killed Sven that meant there was a ‘reasonable doubt’ about the shooter’s identity. Therefore, by law, his clients must be
considered
innocent and should not be charged with a crime.

Lawless bit back his anger and asked how the judge had responded. The man looked surprised that Lawless would ask such an absurd question. Judge Kragen, he said, naturally agreed with the lawyer and said it would definitely influence his
decision
. That infuriated all the folks who wanted Slade and the Iversons brought to justice and several of them jumped up and accused the judge of playing favorites. Outraged, Judge Kragen banged his gavel on the desk and yelled ‘Order in the court,
order in the court!’ Then he threatened to clear the courtroom if they didn’t quiet down. But that only made everyone angrier and later, after several more outbursts, the judge finally ordered the deputies to escort the unruly mob out.

‘What about Momma?’ Raven said. ‘The judge didn’t make her leave, did he?’

‘No, no, she had nothing to do with it. Fact is, other than when she told the judge her side of what happened during the shooting, your ma never said two words. She just sat there in a sort of daze, twisting her handkerchief around her fingers and looking mighty sad.’

‘How about old man Stadtlander,’ Lawless said, ‘was he in the courtroom?’

‘Sure. Sitting right in the front row behind his lawyer. Had himself a fair piece to say, too.’

‘About what?’

‘Mostly, how folks in town were jealous of what he’d
accomplished
and were taking their hatred for him out on his son. People began booing him. But he ignored them and said that the citizens of Santa Rosa were treating his boy unfairly … always accusing him of being drunk and causing trouble … when in fact Slade was just high-spirited and, like any young man, only trying to have a little harmless fun. ’Course, that got everyone even more riled up. They called Mr Stadtlander a bunch of names you can’t say in church and when the judge ordered them to pipe down, they turned on him, calling him corrupt and saying he was nothing but a puppet dancing to Mr Stadtlander’s tune and, and that’s when he kicked ’em all out.’

‘Then what happened?’ Lawless said.

‘I don’t know,’ the man said. ‘I’m proud to say I was one of the folks the judge kicked out.’ Turning to Raven, he added: ‘I’m mighty sorry ’bout your pa, little lady. There wasn’t a kinder or more giving man in the whole territory. I mean, heck, last year right afore the big snow come, if he hadn’t helped me put a new roof on my cabin when Ellie was with child, we would have surely
froze to death.’ Respectfully tipping his hat, he rejoined his friends.

Hitching their horse to a tie-rail, Lawless led Raven through the crowd and up to the courthouse entrance. Immediately the deputies barred their way and the sheriff ordered them to get off the steps.

Lawless refused to move. ‘Raven has a right to be in the
courtroom
,’ he insisted. ‘She’s Mrs Bjorkman’s daughter.’

‘I know who she is,’ the sheriff said.

‘Then let us through.’

‘I can’t. No one’s allowed in till the hearing’s over. Judge Kragen’s orders. I’m sorry about your pa,’ he added to Raven. ‘He was a fine man. We’re all going to miss him.’

‘Then why don’t you hang the weasels who killed him?’ she said.

Sheriff Lonnie Forbes, a tall, big-bellied man, solemnly stroked his gray waxed mustache. ‘Who gets hanged and who don’t ain’t up to me, missy. That’s Judge Kragen’s decision. And right now, His Honor is trying to establish exactly what
happened
.’

‘Everybody already knows what happened,’ Raven said angrily. ‘If you don’t believe me, ask them.’ She thumbed at the crowd. ‘They all saw Slade and the Iversons riding around,
shooting
at everything.’

‘She’s right,’ shouted a man. ‘I was in Sam’s getting a shave when the three of ’em rode past, lead flying everywhere.’

‘Drunken bastards!’ yelled another. ‘They ought to be hanged!’

‘Somebody get a rope!’ said a third man.

‘All right, that’s enough!’ Sheriff Forbes swung his shotgun down off his shoulder, thumbed the hammers back and aimed at the crowd. ‘Next one of you jaspers says anything ’bout ropes or lynching, he’ll cool off in jail. As for you two,’ he said to Lawless and Raven, ‘get off these steps. Now!’

Grudgingly, Lawless and Raven obeyed.

They didn’t have long to wait. The sun had barely cleared the cross atop the old mission-style church when the courthouse doors swung open and the townspeople who’d been listening to the hearing came pouring out. They were quickly surrounded by the crowd, all anxious to hear the outcome of the hearing.

Everyone tried to speak at once. Finally one man quieted the crowd and explained what had happened. The judge had declared Slade and the Iverson brothers innocent! All charges had been dropped due to insufficient evidence! Despite killing an innocent bystander, a man loved by everybody, the three drunken shooters were free as jay birds!

The crowd erupted. Everyone surged forward, some of them angrily pumping their fists and others hurling clods of dirt at the courthouse, all demanding that Judge Kragen reconsider.

The deputies held their ground, but hesitated to open fire on their friends and neighbors.

Sheriff Forbes quickly stepped forward and fired his shotgun into the air.

The thundering blast jarred the crowd back to reality. Everyone immediately stopped shouting and fell back.

‘All right, that’s enough,’ the sheriff said. ‘It’s all over. Go home! All of you! Go on!’ he added when a few people lingered. ‘You got no business here anymore. Unless you want to be arrested, get moving.
Pronto
!’

Reluctantly, everyone dispersed.

Everyone but Lawless and Raven.

‘You heard me, mister,’ Sheriff Forbes said. ‘Git.’

Lawless didn’t move. Below the brim of his black hat his eyes were two yellow slits. ‘Don’t press me, Sheriff,’ he warned.

Sheriff Forbes glared at the tall, implacable man standing before him. ‘Is that a threat?’

‘Call it what you want,’ Lawless said. ‘But we’re not moving till her mother comes out.’

The sheriff frowned, surprised by the stranger’s defiance. There were five shotguns pointed at him and yet he appeared unfazed by them. He just stood there, inflexible, his calm,
fearless
confidence making the sheriff feel uneasy. The lawman sweated it out for a few moments, then wilted and said to the nearest deputy, ‘Utley, go tell Mrs Bjorkman her daughter’s waiting for her.’

The deputy hurried inside.

The sheriff, trying to regain his swagger, turned back to Lawless. ‘You took a mighty big risk, mister. Hadn’t been for young Raven standing next to you, you would’ve eaten a load of buckshot.’

Lawless smiled, a thin smile that never reached his eyes. ‘Then I reckon you can consider yourself a lucky man.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘You wouldn’t have lived to see it.’

Sheriff Forbes reddened and his jaw muscles bulged as he gritted his teeth. His finger tightened on the trigger of his shotgun. A shootout seemed inevitable. Then caution overrode his anger and lowering the gun, he said to Lawless. ‘I’m a patient man, mister. But if I ever see you in Santa Rosa again, so help me God, I’ll find a reason to arrest you.’ Motioning for his deputies to follow, he stormed down the steps.

Raven watched the lawmen march across the street to the sheriff’s office, then turned to Lawless. ‘You sure don’t go out of your way to make friends, do you?’

Lawless smiled and playfully tousled her hair. ‘Just taking a page out of your book, sprout.’

The courthouse door swung open and Ingrid stepped out. Swathed in black, she looked haggard and puffy-eyed from crying. But on seeing Raven she sagged with relief and quickly embraced her. ‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m so glad to see you. Are you all right?’

Raven nodded, and sullenly pulled away from her mother.

‘You shouldn’t have run off like that,’ Ingrid scolded. ‘I was
worried sick about you.’

‘No reason to be. I was at home.’

‘How was I supposed to know that? My God, you could have been dead for all I knew.’

‘Wish I was,’ Raven said.

‘Raven!’ Ingrid recoiled as if struck. ‘That’s a dreadful thing to say.’

‘It’s true. Then I’d be with Pa.’

‘Oh, child, how can you be so hurtful?’

‘’Cause I hate—’

‘That’s enough!’ Lawless stepped between them, grasped Raven’s arm and forced her to look at him. ‘Your wagon – where is it?’

‘Hoffman’s livery stable.’

‘Then do me a favor: take your horse there; have the hostler hitch him and your other horse to the wagon. Then wait for us.’

‘Why, where’re you and Momma going?’

‘We’ll be along.’

‘When?’

‘When we’ve a mind to. Now go.’

Raven didn’t move.

‘Trust,’ Lawless reminded her. ‘It’s a notion you can live by.’

‘Tell that to Pa,’ she snapped. ‘He trusted everybody and look what happened to him.’ Turning, she hurried away.

Ingrid watched as her daughter mounted and rode off up the street. Then, too exhausted to cry, she wearily shook her head. ‘What
am
I going to with her, Ben?’

‘Be patient.’

‘Now you sound like Sven.’

‘She’ll come around.’

‘I used to think so,’ Ingrid said dejectedly. ‘Now I’m not so sure.’

‘She will. Believe me.’

She looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. ‘I do believe you, Ben. I believe you and I believe
in
you. I want you to
know that. I’d also like you to know how grateful I am for all you’ve done for us. Without you, I—’

He pressed his finger against her lips, silencing her.

Ingrid smiled, almost shyly, her blue eyes shiny with tears.

Behind them, on the street, riders clip-clopped past, wagons went creaking by … a rinky-dink saloon piano could be heard playing farther up the block.

Ingrid gazed wistfully after Raven, now dismounting outside the livery stable. ‘I know at times it doesn’t seem like it,’ she said, ‘but I love her so very much.’

Lawless, sensing she was thinking aloud, kept silent.

‘That’s what makes it so difficult, so painful … I love her but I can’t seem to reach her … understand her … God knows I try, I really do. But she’s so unpredictable. Most of the time, I don’t even know what she’s thinking. I mean, she can be so sweet one second, so hateful the next. And there doesn’t seem to be any way of pinpointing what triggered the change. Not even her father, whom she adored and confided in, could always predict when it was going to happen. Difference is – was – he was so good-natured he was able to handle her mood swings better than me – which saved a lot of arguments.’ She sighed, frustrated, then added, ‘But now, with Sven gone, there’ll be no buffer between Raven and me … no peacemaker … and without him there to pull us apart, heaven only knows what it’ll come to.’

Sensing her despair, Lawless said, ‘If it’ll help, I don’t need to push on right away.’

She turned, face uplifted to him. ‘You don’t?’

‘No, ma’am.’

‘But I thought … I mean, what about Arizona?’

‘It’ll always be there.’

‘So will Stadtlander,’ she reminded. ‘He’s not likely to quit trying to drive us out … especially after the way you treated him.’

‘Let me worry about Stadtlander,’ Lawless said. ‘Just tell me if you want me to stay or not.’

‘’Course I want you to stay. My goodness, having you around – even for a little while – would be an enormous help.’

‘Reckon it’s settled then.’ Taking her arm, he led her down the courthouse steps.

At the bottom, she stopped and looked at him questioningly.

‘What?’ he said.

‘I was just thinking.’

‘About what?’

‘It’s a terrible thing to say, I know, but—’

‘Tell me.’

‘I was thinking how lucky I am that Joey shot your horse.’

The next morning Sven was buried in a plain pinewood coffin on a low rise behind the barn. Ingrid chose the burial site. She’d often seen her husband standing there at sunset, silhouetted against the flaming sky as he stared across the flat open
scrubland
at the hills and, beyond, the distant mountains. Her husband loved mountains, she said, because they reminded him of his childhood home in Norway.

The funeral was a worthy tribute to Sven’s way of life. Everyone from miles around showed up to pay their last respects. Among the grievers were several Mescaleros whom Sven had befriended over the years. Almighty Sky was not with them. But the old shaman had given one of his braves a feather from the wing of a golden eagle that Lolotea had blessed, saying it would help Sven’s soul fly into the arms of the Great Spirit. ‘He say to tell you,’ the brave told Lawless, ‘that you alone must place the feather on his coffin.’

‘This I will do,’ Lawless said. ‘And when you next see Almighty Sky, tell him I am honored by this privilege.’

It was a simple ceremony. Father Blevins, an old, passionate, almost-blind minister at the Presbyterian Church in Santa Rosa, read a passage from Genesis and spoke of Sven’s honesty, integrity and gentle, compassionate ways. ‘This is a good man, Lord. He did not steal. He did not lie. He did not cheat. He led life as life should be led – as the Good Book instructed. And
though he will be sadly missed by his beloved family and his friends, we must comfort ourselves with the knowledge that Our Lord has welcomed Sven Bjorkman into the Kingdom of Heaven where he will always smile down upon us. Amen.’

‘Amen.…’ everyone murmured.

Father Blevins now beckoned to Lawless who stepped forward, knelt beside the open grave and placed the eagle feather atop Sven’s coffin. ‘Fly well, my friend,’ he said. He then moved back so Ingrid and Raven could each throw a handful of dirt on the coffin and offer up their prayers. Both were still numb with grief and could barely get the words out.

Violet and Joey were equally devastated. They had known Sven for years. He and their father had often played chess together. And after their father was killed, they occasionally rode over to the ranch to spend the day with the Bjorkman family. It was good medicine. Though neither of them ever mentioned it, not even to each other, they found great comfort in being close to Sven.

But now Sven was gone, killed by a bullet like their father, and as Joey stood between his sister and Lawless, listening to
everyone
singing ‘Rock of Ages’, he cried his heart out.

After the funeral, some of their neighbors stayed on and ate a pot-luck lunch on the picnic table in front of the house. In hushed, emotional voices they praised Sven for his kindness and generosity. In some way, large or small, he had touched all of them. And now that he was dead, they assured Ingrid that if she or Raven or Violet and Joey ever needed help, all they had to do was ask and their needs would be taken care of immediately.

Grateful, Ingrid thanked everyone. She then explained that Violet and Joey had decided not to fight Stadtlander for their ranch but were going to telegraph their aunt and uncle in Denver, asking if they could live with them.

None of the neighbors wanted them to go; especially their closest neighbors, the Bartletts. ‘You two leave now,’ Mr Bartlett
said, ‘and it’ll only fuel Stadtlander’s greed. It’s always been his dream to own all the land ’tween the Rio Grande and Deming. And now, having chased you and Joey off, he’ll only try harder to gobble up our spreads as well.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Violet said. ‘I hate to let you down, Mr Bartlett, but there’s no reason for us to stay now. We’ve lost our home and, according to Mr Lawless, Mr Stadtlander’s got all the lawyers in Deming spooked … and most likely everywhere else, too. On top of that he controls all the judges, so what chance would we have in court?’

‘Reckon it would be too late even if you did hire a lawyer,’ Mr McNally said glumly. ‘I hear Stadtlander’s already got geologists and miners digging for copper in Greenwater Canyon.’

A pall settled over the picnic table. No one even bothered to flick the flies away from the food.

Then suddenly Mr Bartlett banged his fist on the table,
rattling
plates and silverware. ‘Dammit, quit acting like a bunch of quitters,’ he yelled. ‘We ain’t sodbusters or squatters. We bought our land fair and legal.’

‘And we may lose it the same way,’ Mr Idlebauch said.

‘Not me,’ said Mr Bartlett. ‘I’ll die afore I let anyone steal our ranch.’

‘That’s mighty brave talk, Roy,’ Mrs Deutsch said. ‘But just how are you and your sons going to fight off twenty or thirty armed men?’

‘Same way we fought off Apaches ten years ago – with lead.’ He turned to Lawless, who hadn’t spoken since lunch began, and said, ‘Joey says you’re the best he’s ever seen with a gun. You willing to throw in with us against Stadtlander?’

‘You’ve no right to involve Ben in our problems,’ Ingrid said before Lawless could answer. ‘This isn’t his fight. He doesn’t live here. Doesn’t even have a stake in what’s happened. Why should he risk his life for us? His future’s in Arizona.’

‘Maybe so,’ Mr Bartlett said stubbornly. ‘But I’m asking him just the same. And I’d like your answer,’ he added to Lawless.

Lawless looked at the hardy, weathered faces looking
expectantly
at him around the table. They were the faces of pioneers, settlers, men and woman who had faced savage Indians, death, and ungodly conditions in wagon trains rolling through untamed country without complaint. They had survived against impossible odds and Lawless admired their courage and resourcefulness. He knew that without them most of the
Southwest
would be nothing but wasteland and lawlessness. But he, too, was a survivor and he had no intention of fighting for them. Turning to Mr Bartlett, he said: ‘I don’t know what else Joey told you about me, but if he gave you the impression that my gun’s for hire, he misled you. I’m a wrangler, not a shootist.’

‘Then you won’t help us?’

‘No.’

Mr Bartlett sighed, resigned to his fate, and turned to his wife. ‘It’s getting late, Mother,’ he said. ‘Time we headed home.’