Posted by Morbidia on March 30, 1999 at 15:05:14:
A Hanging in Deadwood. Part I: Horizon.
Horizon is a small village, maybe 20 houses including an all-purpose
general store saloon barber shop. Our ranch was about 5 miles out.
Between the harsh large ranchers and harsher weather, life is tough for
small ranchers, but we were making a go of it. We had a few horses,
maybe 30 head, but they were the best quality horses in a 100 mile
radius. Everything would have been just fine if that idiot Sam Noxton
hadn't gone and got himself bit by a rattler.
Normally a rattler won't kill a grownup, however, Sam's ankle got all
infected. He lasted through most of a month before the fever took him
clean into the next world. That left his widow, Kathleen, alone on
their property. And Kathleen was a pretty woman about my age, 24 -
slender where I was plump, tall where I was short. My Jacob took to
sparking her when he was riding the far end of our property.
As I said, Horizon is a small village so everyone knows pretty much
everything that's going on with the other folks around. It wasn't long
before the sideways looks I was getting when I went to town in the
buckboard made me suspicious. Since nobody would tell me what it was
all about, I took matters into my own hands.
One morning before setting out for supplies, I whipped up a batch of my
mother's joint medicine to take to Old Lady Pell. Once in town, I
bought the supplies on account at the Store, and decided that a tin of
that fine China tea on the shelf would be just the treat for me. Oh,
and by the way, maybe a pint of that Ol' Redeye whisky - just for
medicinal purposes.
After putting the supplies in the wagon bed, I placed the tin of tea
and the pint of whiskey in the basket with the joint medicine and
went to see the Old Lady. Poor thing, her hands were all knotted up
with the arthritis. She greeted me warmly when I showed her the
contents of the basket. With a gap-toothed grin, she invited me inside
to set a spell.
It wasn't very long before the old woman was cooing merrily at the
comfort that the salve gave her tortured knuckles. We chatted about the
weather and recipes as I put the kettle on to boil. When I suggested
that we fortify the tea with a little something to relax us on the
inside, she readily agreed. After three cups of fortified tea, she
leaned over conspiratorially to warn me about what that "Noxton Hussy"
was up to.
Now I knew. What was I to do about it? I remembered the sideways
glances, all the whispers when I walked past people, and worst of all
the suppressed snickers. I had been played for a fool. My anger began
to boil far hotter than the water for the tea ever did. Cutting the tea
and conversation short, I ran from Old Lady Pell's house to head for
home. Once there, I put the supplies in the pantry and made supper for
Jacob. When he came riding in, I didn't speak a word to him. I just
plopped the dish of beans and bacon in front of him while I stood by
the sink with my arms crossed over my chest.
Once Jacob had finished eating, he looked at me standing there, arms
crossed and toes tapping on the puncheon floor, and knew that I knew.
He gave me a guilty grin as he started to explain. I just stood there
watching. He was still babbling nonsense excuses when his eyes went
wide. He knocked the chair over as he struggled to his feet. I looked
at him impassively as his knees started to wobble. Suddenly he was on
the floor convulsing. Strychnine will do that.
The jerks and kicks went on for what must have been a full ten minutes
before Jacob finally lay still. Every few moments the convulsions would
let up. He would lie there panting and giving me accusing looks. I
wanted to stop it. I wanted to kneel down and make him well. I wished
that I had not put that powder in the beans when I put them up to boil.
But it was too late. And a different part of me watched dispassionately
as he died taking my love with him.
When it was over, I dragged him out of the house. It was no mean feat
to manipulate his body into the back of the buckboard, but I managed. I
walked over to the corral and shooed the horses out to roam on the
range. Then I hitched the team to the wagon and threw a lit lamp into
the kitchen. By the time I was well on the road, the house was engulfed
in flames.
Two hours of travel on the rutted road took me to Kathleen Noxton's
place. Scattering chickens as I hopped off the wagon in front of her
door, I shouted out her name. When she came to see what was going on, I
said, "Look what I brought in the wagon for you, Kathleen! Just come
and look!"
Kathleen must have known that I knew. She must have suspected that I
was more than slightly mad. She reached behind the door and brought up
a shotgun. It was of no use to her. I already had Jacob's .44 Navy Colt
that I had hidden in the folds of my dress pointed straight at her
face. As she desperately tried to pull the hammers back on the shotgun,
I shot her right between the eyes. She looked at me for a moment,
surprise registering on her face. She opened her mouth as though to
speak. Then a gush of blood flew out of the hole in her forehead, and
she collapsed on the porch.
I lowered the gun. All the mad was gone from me now. As I stared at
Kathleen's corpse, the full impact of what I had done hit me. I was a
murderess. The Lord said that vengeance was His, not mine. I was
hopelessly damned. I raised the gun once more, this time to my own
temple, and cocked the hammer. This was it! One less stupid ranch woman
in the world. My knees shaking and my heart hammering I stood in the
yard pressing the barrel of the gun against my head.
As my finger began to caress the trigger, I heard the cow in Kathleen's
barn start to low in pain. Clearly she hadn't been milked. I had killed
her mistress, so it would be cruel to kill myself before she had gained
her relief. I uncocked the gun as I walked to the barn. Sitting on the
milk stool, I knew that I had to pay for my crime. But no other
innocent creature should pay with me. When I was finished with the
milking, I roped the cow and tied her to the back of the buckboard. I
went behind the house and released the horses in Kathleen's corral as I
had done for ours, mine... oh God what had I done?
I stopped by Sam's grave out behind the barn and apologized to him. I
also cursed him for being an unlucky fool. Then, I loaded Kathleen's
body into the wagon alongside Jacob. She was lighter and therefore
easier than Jacob had been. I covered them with a blanket and set out
for Horizon to turn myself in.
I arrived back in Horizon just after the sun had set. I called out for
Turkey Pete, the town constable, as I sat on the buckboard bench. When
he came out of the store - shop - saloon, I explained the presence of
the grisly cargo. After he had pulled back the blanket to be greeted by
the sight of Jacob's grinning corpse and Kathleen's blank stare, I had
neglected to close her eyes in my own semi stupor, he clumsily pulled
out his gun and said, "Annie! I arrest you on a charge of murder. Put
yer hands up!"
By now most of the people had come into the street to see what was
going on. Turkey Pete took Jacob's gun off the buckboard seat and
marched me, hands still raised, to the one-cell jail as the townsfolk
followed behind.
It wasn't much of a jail. I think I could have kicked a hole in the
wall and escaped had I been so inclined, but I was resigned to whatever
would happen next. When the cell door slammed shut, the townsfolk
paraded by just to see the sight of a locked-up woman, no matter that
they all knew me, sitting behind the bars. The nonsense would have gone
on all night if Turkey Pete hadn't shoved them all out and barred the
door behind them. The straw in the mattress itched, but I fell asleep
in seconds.
The next morning, Turkey Pete woke me to tell me that Kathleen would be
taken back to her farm for burial while Jacob would be buried in the
small graveyard at the far end of the village. Pete also informed me
that I had a visitor. It was Aaron Gardner, the owner of the shop-
saloon-store. He was worried about our account with him. Not wanting to
have any loose ends to bother about, I signed over our ranch and horses
to him. I just asked him to put any extra money beyond our debts into
an account for me. I didn't know if I'd need anything, but it never
hurts to have some money available.
Around mid morning, Pete, carrying a rusty pair of manacles, came back
to the cell. He told me that Horizon was too small and too far off the
beaten track to have the circuit judge come for my trial. Besides, all
the people knew me too well to be part of a jury. He hammered the
manacles closed around my wrists as he told me that I was being
transferred to a bigger town, Deadwood, for trial. Two days later, I
was in the custody of the sheriff of Deadwood to await the arrival of
His Honor Justice Eric Flambeau in a week or so.