Give My Love to Rose (39 page)

With a heavy sigh, Marston put the sharp
point of the pencil against the thick paper.

Rose,

I hope this letter finds you well, love. My
thoughts have never been far from you during this time we’ve been
apart. I’ve lost track of the days since they no longer seem to
matter. Today is my last morning upon this earth and I must say
it’s a peaceful one.

I can hear the birds singing outside my
window and there’s a heavy mist in the air blanketing the land and
buildings. God, how I wish I could touch you one last time… I want
nothing more than to hear your voice and feel your lips against
mine.

Words can’t express how bad I miss you,
Rose. I hope you’re taking care of yourself. I know you’re taking
care of the children because you’re an amazing woman and mother,
but don’t forget about yourself.

Tell Langley I love him and that I’m sure
he’s gonna grow up to be a man that any pa would be proud of. Tell
Kaitlyn I love her too and I’m glad she joined our family. Make
sure the nugget knows, when it’s born, that I loved it very much
and I’m sorry I couldn’t stick around to get to know him or
her.

I want to tell you that I did something that
I’d never done before last night. I prayed for God to forgive me
for every wrong thing I’ve ever done in my life. It made me feel a
little better though apparently he didn’t appreciate the apology
enough to figure up a way for me to get out of here without putting
you all in danger.

When you see Duke and Jeremiah tell those
bastards to rot in hell. I don’t have any sappy words for them. If
you don’t mind though could you give my rifle to Jeremiah. The
brain-addled man doesn’t realize that it’s actually his rifle and I
stole it from him after I lost mine in a card game. And you could
tell Duke that I don’t blame him for any of this—that might be
something he needs to hear.

Well Rose, I can hear the Marshall moving
around in the office so it’s time to end this letter. There’s a
deputy here that seems to be an alright man and he’s promised to
get this letter to you.

I love you more than you’ll ever know and
I’ll see you again someday. I’m not stepping foot inside those
gates ‘til you get there.

Marston

Marston folded up the letter, wiped his
tears on the back of his dirty hand and walked to the bars. He
tapped them three times and Pete came back to the hall.

“
Thanks,” Marston mumbled
gruffly as he handed the paper to the young deputy.

Pete stuffed it deep in his pocket. “It’s
been an honor to meet you, Marston Jacobs,” Pete said, holding out
his hand.

Marston grinned. “Of course it has.”

***

“
Tick-tock. Tick-tock,”
Marshall Montgomery called as he made his way down the hall to
Marston’s cell at nearly one that afternoon.

“
That’s an impressive
clock impersonation,” Marston noted dryly without looking away from
the window. “Your mother must be proud.”

“
And so must yours,”
Marshall Montgomery countered with a cold laugh.

“
I guess your visit means
it’s getting to be that time,” Marston noted. From his cell, he
could see the festivities already starting near the gallows and all
the families gathered with blankets and picnic baskets.

“
Yes it is,” the Marshall
replied. “You seem awfully calm for a man who’s about to
die.”

Marston laughed at the man’s pouting. “Don’t
be so disappointed, Marshall,” he said, stepping to the bars and
gripping them loosely. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m not
real happy about dying.”

“
I’m going to let you out
and cuff you, Marston, but you better not try anything. You know
exactly what’s at risk if you do.”

Marston’s temper flared. His jaw clenched.
“Yes sir,” he growled.

And so, Marston was led from the jail,
cuffed with three deputies and the Marshall standing guard over
him. Marston blinked in the harsh sunlight and nearly stumbled down
the steps when his weak legs buckled.

“
You alright there,
Marston?” the Marshall asked in an amused voice that lacked any
real concern.

“
Just fine and dandy,”
Marston replied even as a cold sweat slicked his clammy skin.
Despite his fatigue, Marston managed to keep his head high and his
shoulders back as he stumbled through the crowd toward the
gallows.

Things were thrown at him from among the
crowd. Rocks and other items pelted his red, seeping back, but
Marston didn’t mutter a single grunt of pain.

“
Murderer!”

“
Thief!”

“
Sinner!”

“
God hates men like
you!”

Those were only a few of the words that
Marston heard being screamed at him as he walked. He climbed the
steps of the gallows, hating that he had to lean some of his weight
on the deputies in order to make the three steps.

Such fine folks called Millerton home. It
was a wonder, Marston had never settled down here with the warm,
welcoming atmosphere the town possessed.

Marston stepped onto the trap door and
didn’t blink as the executioner placed the noose on his neck.
Marston smiled at the man. “Thank you,” he said with a tip of his
head, deciding that there was no reason to be rude to the man, even
if he was going to pull the lever that killed him.

The executioner was clearly uncomfortable
with the gesture and he quickly grabbed the tiny burlap sack that
was meant to cover Marston’s head.

The Marshall held up his hand. “Don’t cover
his face. I want to see the face of my brother’s murderer as he
dies.”

With a hesitant nod, the executioner walked
over to the lever and reached out his hand. “Don’t I get a preacher
here to beg the Lord for my forgiveness?” Marston asked with a
grin.

Marshall Montgomery shook his head. “There’s
no hope for a man like you.”

Marston winked. “The way I got it figured
you and I ain’t a whole hell of a lot different so you better be
praying there is hope for men like me.”

“
Any last words?” the
executioner asked.

Marston nodded. “Yes sir.” The jeering crowd
fell silent. Marston cleared his throat. “First off, I want to
thank you fine folks for paying the taxes that made building such a
fine jailing facility possible. Second, I want to thank all of you
for coming to my special day. I don’t think I actually wronged any
of you that are here and that just makes it all the more special
that you’re here to watch me die. And to know you cared enough to
even bring your children means that much more. You know, I have
children of my own. Three of them—well one of them isn’t due for a
while yet. It sure would have been nice to see them all grow up.
Anyway, that’s not important anymore. Thanks for being here and
I’ll see you al on the other side.”

Marston stopped speaking and the crowd
remained silent. Most of them now appeared just as uncomfortable as
the executioner. Marston heard the executioner take a deep breath
and time seemed to stand still.

Marston closed his eyes and drew up a
picture that would combat the fear curling in his gut.

A ramshackle cabin with a skinny mare pacing
the corral. A skinny red haired boy whistling tunes as he went
about his long list of chores and a quiet girl dutifully scrubbing
clothes on a washboard. And then there was Rose. She was soft and
warm and glowing as she hung wet clothes on the line. Her blue
dress, his favorite on her, was dancing around her legs in the
gentle breeze and her red curls were dancing. She smiled at
him.

Home.

Marston kept his eyes closed as he heard the
scrape of the lever being pulled. The trapdoor beneath Marston
disappeared and he dropped several feet. The rope tightened around
his neck and all the breath became trapped in his lungs. Marston
said a million different curses inside his head. His neck had not
broken—now he got to choke to death.

Marston could hear the crowd cheering, the
Marshall laughing and the executioner cursing the fact that his
knot hadn’t worked. Marston’s lungs began to burn. The panic and
pain were intense within him. Working hard to fight them off, he
focused all his attention on that picture of home in his mind.

Then the vision began to falter. At first
Marston wondered if he was losing consciousness but he was a man
who could hold his breath underwater for nearly four minutes so he
knew it couldn’t be that.

He frowned when he began to recognize the
new scene entering his head. He was beside a set of railroad tracks
and up ahead, beneath a shade tree was Langston’s body just where
Marston had left it so long ago. However, the old outlaw was no
longer dead. Instead, he was sitting up, leaned against the rough
bark and he waved Marston over.

Marston had never experienced anything so
detailed or strange in his mind before but he figured the fever and
lack of oxygen were probably to blame and he might as well go with
it. Hell, he didn’t mind being entertained for the last few moments
he had alive.

Marston approached Langston and the outlaw
smiled. “Hello Marston.” His voice sounded younger and stronger
than it had in life.

“
I did what you wanted,
sir,” Marston assured him. “I gave them the money.”

“
Yes you did,” Langston
agreed. “And you gave them much more.”

Marston frowned. “More?”

“
You loved
them.”

“
Yes I did sir,” Marston
replied without shame. “And it was one hell of a ride.”

Langston grinned and Marston recognized the
glint in his eyes. It was a glint that all outlaws knew. “Well open
your eyes then, son, cuz the ride ain’t over yet.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Marston’s eyes flew open when the sound of
thundering hooves reached his ears over the noise of the cheering
crowd. His lungs were burning at this point and his vision was
blurry, but there was no mistaking the large black bodies barreling
his direction.

A stampede of cattle heading straight for
the gallows and the crowd gathered around them.

Panicked cries replaced the cheering. The
onlookers began to flee in all directions. Those on the gallows not
attached to a rope, leaped down and ran for their lives.

Stupid cows.

Now Marston five minutes of fame were going
to be forgotten and no one was going to even see him strangle to
death—or maybe he wouldn’t strangle. Maybe a cattle horn would
finish him off before lack of oxygen did. They were getting closer
and within the next twenty or thirty seconds he was going to be
gouged to death or trampled when they barreled over the
gallows.

It seemed that old Langston had a sense of
humor. The ride wasn’t over yet. It was going to end when a
two-foot horn went up his ass.

Marston began fighting against the ropes at
his neck and wrists with all his might, but it was useless. He was
stuck fast and his consciousness was beginning to fade.

“
How about we get you down
from there?” Marston heard a familiar voice behind him say. He
turned to see Duke standing there with a grin on his weather worn
face as he cut the rope Marston was hanging from.

Duke’s arms instantly wrapped around Marston
went the rope broke free to keep the man from crashing to the
ground. Marston cried out with pain as Duke’s fingers dug into his
festering back. The gulps of air suddenly entering his lungs made
him dizzy and Marston was too weak to offer much help but somehow
managed to find himself atop Duke’s horse.

“
Hang on to me,” Duke
warned, as he slid in front of Marston.

Marston clung to Duke and they managed to
get away from the gallows and the chaos just before thousands of
pounds of cattle went careening into them, shattering the rickety
structure and turning it to nothing but splinters.

“
Duke.. I can’t escape,”
Marston warned, barely holding onto consciousness as he held on
tight to his friend. His lungs were aching and his head was
spinning.

“
Why the hell not?” Duke
demanded. “I went through a lot of trouble to get you
free.”

“
He’ll come after…Rose..”
Marston’s head drooped lower as his shoulders sagged.

“
I already took care of
that, old friend,” Duke assured him. “Marston Jacobs is a dead man.
Now quit your bitchin’ and stay on the horse. I’m gonna take you to
old Snelly and she’ll fix you right up.”

Marston grunted. Old Snelly was a bent and
crooked old woman who was frank and harsh and looked worse than she
smelled. She’d been patching up outlaws for years—probably since
the Mayflower had landed on the shores of the New World.

“
I’ll probably die before
we get there,” Marston warned.

Duke chuckled. “Probably will. But I’ll try
to get you there just the same.”

***

Marston’s dreams of Rose were unpleasantly
interrupted by the strong scent of rotten eggs. What the hell was
that smell?

He was lying on his side and he shifted
slightly before opening his eyes and letting out a yell that nearly
shook the thin glass windows.

The face that was an inch from his own was
what little children’s nightmares were made of. The old woman’s
wrinkles had wrinkles and they cut through her sun-leathered skin
like scars. Her blue eyes were yellowed with age and they sunk deep
back into her head. Her nose was large, bulbous and covered in age
spots. A toothless grin revealed blackened gums and a bit of drool
hanging off a paper-thin lip.

“
Well that explains the
smell,” Marston muttered.

Old Snelly cackled loudly and stood to her
full height which was about four and a half feet with that hump on
her back. The ends of her gray hair dragged the dirty floor as she
walked around the bed. “You’re finally back in the land of the
living. I was getting worried about you after nearly ten days.”