Code of the Mountain Man by William W. Johnstone Page A

give a damn for the rights of those women he kidnapped and raped. Augie didn’t have anybody’s rights in mind when he tortured a man to death.” Smoke held up several wire replies. “It’s all right there. Deputies will be coming for Lebert and Augie. Royal Canadian Mounted Police will be here for Greeny. And I’m going to hang the punk back yonder in the cell.”
    â€œI ain’t done nothin’!” the kid squalled. “You ain’t gonna hang me!”
    â€œOh, yes, I am, kid. I say you were the one who killed that poor man back up the trail. I say you was the one who raped and killed those poor little girls. And that’s what I got you charged with. You’re gonna hang, punk.”
    Winston started to protest. Smoke held up his hand. The cell area was behind and to the right of the main office, and the kid could not see what was going on, only hear, exactly how Smoke had planned it.
    â€œEver seen a hanging, kid?” Smoke called.
    â€œNo!”
    â€œIt’s a sight to behold, boy. Sometimes the neck don’t break, and the victim just dangles there while he chokes to death. Eyes bug out, tongue pooches out and turns black ...”
    â€œShut up, damn you!”
    â€œ... Fellow just twists there in the breeze. Sometimes it takes five minutes for him to die ...”
    â€œDamn you, shut up!” the kid screamed.
    â€œAwful ugly sight to see. Plumb disgusting. And smelly, too. Victim usually looses all control of himself . . .”
    The kid rattled the barred door. “Let me out of here!” he yelled.
    â€œ... Terrible sight to see. Just awful. Sometimes they put a hood on the victim – I’ll be sure and request one for you – and when they take that hood off – once the man’s dead – his face is all swole up and black as a piece of coal.”
    â€œJensen?” the kid called, in a voice choked with tears.
    â€œWhat do you want, kid?”
    â€œI’ll make a deal with you.”
    Smoke winked at Mills and the others. “What kind of a deal, kid?”
    â€œI know lots of things.”
    â€œWhat things?”
    â€œWe got to deal first.”
    â€œYou don’t have much of a position to deal from, boy. Your trial is coming up in a couple of days. The jury’s already picked. And they’re eager to convict. Folks around here haven’t seen a good hanging in a year or more. Gonna be dinner on the grounds on the day you swing. Did you hear that hammering a while ago?”
    â€œYeah.” The kid blew his nose on a dirty rag. “What was all that racket?”
    â€œFellows building a gallows, boy. That’s where you’re going to swing.”
    â€œI told you I’d deal!” His voice was very shaky.
    â€œStart dealing, boy. You don’t have long.”
    â€œDon’t let Greeny and Lebert and Augie know nothin’ about his, Marshal.”
    â€œYou have my word on that.”
    â€œI’m ready when you are.”
    Smoke looked at Mills. “He’s all yours, Mills. You wanted it legal, you got it legal.” He smiled. “This time.”
    â€œNeedless to say, we won’t tell the kid that hammering and sawing was a man building a new outhouse.”
    â€œHe might not see the humor in it.”
    â€œGet your pad and pen, Winston,” Mills said. “Let’s see what the kid has to say.”
    * * *
    In exchange for escaping the hangman’s noose and that short drop that culminated in an abrupt and fatal halt, the kid – his name was Walter Parsons – had quite a lot to say. He said he didn’t know nothin’ about Lee Slater and Luttie Charles bein’ related, but they was close friends . . . or so Lee had said. But the gang was hidin’ out on Seven Slash range. East of the ranch house and south of the Alamosa River. Wild country. They was plannin’ to rob the miners and the stages carryin’ gold and