Moontrap - Don Berry (22 page)

Monday noticed them glancing apprehensively at the
clusters of well-dressed Oregon City people, and realized they were a
little ashamed to be here in their work clothes.

"I wonder if I got time t' go see Mary,"
Monday said.

"Better you wait, " Devaux said. "Me,
I think they going to start any minute."

"I expect," Monday said. Looking around at
the crowd he noticed that there were no Indians at all, not even the
tame ones. It appeared that Webb had been right after all, and he was
glad he had not figured on bringing Mary; it would have made him
tense.

The crowd grew rapidly, and the yard behind the
courthouse was soon almost full.

"What the hell's holdin' things up," Webb
said, craning his neck toward the building itself. There was a steady
low murmur from the assembled people, and it was making him nervous,
like the insistent buzzing of a mosquito.

At last there was a flurry of movement in the crowd
near the door, and it separated to let a man pass through.

"Here they come," somebody said from the
other side of the crowd.

"No, hell, it's just the nooses."

One of the carpenters pushed his way through the
crowd. Embarrassed by all the attention, he walked awkwardly up the
steps and stood on the platform with the long pieces of rope dangling
from under his arm. He peered up at the crossbeam suspiciously.

"Hoist y'rself up with one o' the nooses,"
someone shouted, and the crowd laughed.

The carpenter turned around and came back down the
steps, muttering something to himself. He disappeared into the crowd
again, and there was a murmur of disappointment.

The man next to Monday turned and said angrily, "What
the hell's the matter with these people? Don't think ahead, don't
plan." Frowning, he picked his watch out of his vest and stared
at it. "I ain't got all day," he muttered. Monday didn't
answer.

After a minute the carpenter came back, still with
the nooses under his arm, and a ladder under the other. He climbed
the steps again and dropped the heavy Manila line in a pile. He
propped the ladder up against the crossbeam and jiggled it into a
secure position. He kicked the base to make sure it was solidly
seated, then turned to pick up the ropes, and started up.

When he reached the crossbeam he threw the ropes over
and straddled the square timber. Somebody started to clap, and there
was a little burst of applause. The carpenter looked up and grinned
self-consciously, then hastily took one of the nooses and began to
fix it to the crossbeam.

"Hey, Bill," someone shouted. "Take a
good holt on that rope, 'cause I'm going to borrow the ladder."
The crowd laughed obediently, though the man was not on the ladder at
all.

The carpenter shinnied along the beam, tying each
noose carefully and yanking the dangling ropes to test for security
of the knot. The same annoying voice called, "Hey, Bill. You
better test 'em better than that. Whyn't y' call for volunteers?"

There was a faint answering laughter, but someone
else called out sharply, "Why don't you shut your goddamn
mouth?"

"N one o' y'r business."

"By god I c'n make it my business fast enough."
The man started to shove his way through the crowd, but his friends
stopped him.

"
C'mon, cut it out, you guys."

"
We ain't here t' see no rasslin' match."

"Hell," the first voice said, but lower
now. "I ain't hurtin' anything."

Monday glanced at Webb, who was staring impassively
at the throng of people. "Wee mite nervy," he said. Webb
turned and spat on the ground.

Finally the carpenter had finished securing the
nooses. He shinnied back along the beam to the ladder and descended.
He pulled the ladder away and took it with him down the steps. There
was a little more applause, but it was clear that game was over for
the time being. A friend slapped the carpenter on the back as he
moved through the crowd, and he grinned nervously without turning to
see who it was.

Most of the people had their attention on the
gallows, looking at the asymmetrical hang of the nooses silhouetted
against the sky, trying to imagine what they would look like with men
suspended from them.

There was another long wait. The novelty of the empty
nooses wore off quickly and the crowd began to fidget and shift
around. The murmur of conversations began again, and there was much
turning of heads toward the courthouse, and much complaining in low
voices.

After what seemed an hour, there was another stirring
in the crowd by the courthouse door. An Indian woman pushed through
silently, paying no attention to the objections, and went to stand
directly in front of the platform, staring up at the hanging nooses
without expression.

"Tamahas's woman," Monday told Webb, and
the old man nodded.

Monday watched for the other friends and relatives of
the Cayuse chieftains, who had come down with the wagon. None came.
Tamahas's woman, dumpy and disheveled, stood alone before the
gallows.

Gradually the crowd moved a little away from her,
until she stood alone in a tiny clear circle.

"What the hell smells so funny?" a voice
said, but there was no reaction from the rest.

Suddenly, at the courthouse door, there was a shout.
"Here they come!"

This time it was real. The crowd shifted suddenly
away, forming an aisle, and the five Cayuse chiefs walked toward the
gallows, not looking to either side. Tamahas was first, his face set
in contempt, not caring.

He did not glance at his woman as he mounted the
steps, his wrists tied behind him with light cord. The man behind
Tamahas, unfamiliar to Monday, hesitated at the steps, looking up at
the gallows, then at the crowd. He was obviously very frightened, and
whimpered. Meek came up from behind and poked him, and slowly the man
mounted to the platform. At the top he hesitated again, looking
around, and then was pushed by the man behind.

Of the five, Tamahas and old man Kiami were
impassiye. The other three were in different stages of panic and
fear. Meek came behind, herding-them silently. The trap swayed and
sagged as the five marched across it, bouncing like a plank between
ship and shore.

One of the men in the center turned to Meek and began
pleading with him. Meek simply shook his head all the way through the
argument without saying anything.

"Askin' Meek t' take a knife to 'im instead,"
Webb said.

"All Indians, they are afraid to hang,"
Devaux said, his eyes fixed on the figures atop the platform.

"That woman o' Tamahas, she got a lot o' guts,"
Monday said. "All the rest of 'em scared off."

Meek put his hand on the man's chest and pushed him
lightly away. The Indian turned back toward the front and began to
cry. whimpering helplessly. Tamahas glanced over at him
contemptuously.

Meek began to move behind them down the line,
dropping the nooses over their heads and lightly tightening the
knots. The blubbering chief in the center could no longer support
himself and dropped to his knees. Meek lifted him, with both hands
under the Indian's armpits, and hoisted him upright. The trap bounced
slowly with the motion, the slack ropes stretching and tightening,
stretching and tightening. Meek supported the man with one arm while
he dropped the noose over his head. With the feel of the rope around
his neck the Indian seemed to be able to stay upright, though he
continued to make small noises like a wounded animal and kept his
head down, looking at the planks beneath his feet.

Tamahas stared straight out over the crowd and did
not flinch when Meek touched him with the rope. Old man Kiami
stretched his neck under the noose, like a white man settling his
collar more comfortably.

Near the front a man muttered, "Hang the
bastards."

Meek stood beside Tamahas with his hands hanging
relaxed at his sides. He stared down at the man who had spoken and
said quietly, "I'm figurin' to, mister." After he had
spoken he continued to stare until the man dropped his gaze to the
ground.

Meek started back along the platform. His first steps
made the trap sway again, and he stepped off to the solid rear
portion. There was no sound from the crowd now, and his boots rang
loudly on the raw wood. He went halfway down the steps and stopped.
Taking a piece of paper from his shirt he went back to the platform
and cleared his throat.

"This here's the warrant," he said, waving
the paper. Then he started to read. "By order of General Joseph
Lane, governor of the Territory of Oregon . . ."

The crowd listened to the document in silence. The
sun's radiance streamed across the yard, warming and lighting each
detail with incredible precision.

". . . five chieftains of the Cayuse tribe of
Indians, to wit: Tamahas, known as Little Chief, Kiamisumpkin,
Telouikite, Isaiah Chalakis, and Klokamas, having been convicted by a
duly constituted jury of their peers . . ."

"What's 'peers' mean?" Webb whispered to
Monday.

"Somebody better'n you, I expect," Monday
whispered back. "Who else could do it?"

"
Them carpenters?" Webb said incredulously.

Monday shrugged, watching.

". . . by the neck until dead. Signed, Joseph
Lane, Governor of the Territory of Oregon by appointment of President
Polk."

Meek folded up the paper and went down the steps,
around to the back of the platform where the rope ran near the edge
over the block of wood. Some of the crowd stood on tiptoe to see what
he was doing. Meek reached up, but the platform was too high.

Angrily he came back to the steps, drawing his
hatchet as he walked. His boots clumped heavily on the steps and he
strode across the platform. Without pausing he swung the hatchet as
he took the last step, and there was a solid chunk as the blade
buried itself in the wood. The ends of the rope whipped wildly
through the rings as the trap dropped and banged against the supports
of the underside and the five Cayuse plummeted.

There was an incredible, inhuman sound as the knots
tightened.

Three twitched wildly once or twice as their necks
broke with the drop.

Tamahas and one other began to thrash uncontrollably
about, gasping and strangling as the poorly tied knots choked them.
Blood poured from Tamahas' nose as he twisted about in great spasms
like the convulsions of a dying bird. A rotten smell suddenly filled
the air as the sphincter muscles of the three already dead relaxed
and allowed their bowels to drain.

His face set, Meek stepped up behind Tamahas, putting
both his hands on the Indian's shoulders. He threw all his weight
down and there was a tiny dull sound and the neck was broken. Tamahas
writhed again in a jerking spasm that sent his legs thrashing
briefly.

There was a long, gasping sigh of release from the
crowd. Monday looked up at the sky, where the indifferent sun poured
joy and energy into the world below.

No, he thought. No, not on a day like this.

He was suddenly aware of an insistent tugging at his
side.

Unconsciously he jerked his arm away, staring without
belief at the brilliant radiance that swept across the yard and the
gallows and the crowd and the spasmically jerking bundles that had
been men.

The tugging continued persistently and Monday looked
down, his eyes unfocused. A small brown girl was pulling on his
sleeve, her great dark Indian eyes looking up at him.

"The baby," the girl said. "The baby."
 

Chapter Ten

1

It seemed a long time he stood there, staring down at
the half-breed Indian girl, trying to puzzle it out. At last he
recognized the girl as one of Meek's children. "The baby? "
he said. When he finally realized, something rose in his throat. "Oh
god," he said, "Mary."

He wheeled suddenly and began to push through the
crowd, frantic with haste. Behind him the little girl came silently,
making her way unobtrusively through the unseeing mass of people with
their eyes still fixed on the quivering flesh that dangled from the
gallows crossbeam. Monday broke clear of the mass and ran to the
front of the courthouse. He cursed his clumsy fingers as he unhitched
the animal and swung up, kicking viciously with his heels as he hit
the saddle. His horse bolted up into a gallop, almost running down
the small dark figure that rounded the corner just as they passed.

The little girl ran a few steps after the galloping
horse, then stopped still and watched it go. She looked down at the
ground for a moment, and then went to the saddleless horse tied at
the raft. She climbed up on the rail and coaxed the horse over, so
she could mount. Then she walked him slowly down the center of the
deserted street in the gleaming sun.

There was another horse tied in front of Meek's house
when Monday reined up brutally, and the animal shied and danced
nervously away from his plunging halt. He ran up to the door and
rushed into total blindness. After the brilliant clarity of the
outside, the dim room was black to him, and he stopped just inside,
blinking. "Mary?" he said hesitantly.