Chapter 13 - The Gallows at Noon
The town square was crowded by noon. A heavy wooden gallows had been erected in front of the county courthouse.
Corvin stood upon the trapdoor, his hands bound tightly behind his back with hemp rope. A thick noose hung around his neck, rough and smelling of tar. His lip was split, his left eye swollen shut from the beating in the marshal's jail.
Marshal Vance stood on the platform beside him, smiling with vicious satisfaction.
"Citizens of Dry Creek!" Vance bellowed to the gathered crowd of frightened townsfolk. "Today we execute the traitor Corvin Torne! A man who sold firearms to savage renegades, murdered our deputies, and betrayed his own blood!"
Colonel Bradley stood below on the courthouse steps, his pristine blue uniform adorned with brass buttons, watching with cold indifference.
"Any last words, Torne?" Vance whispered, leaning close so only Corvin could hear. "Your precious Apache bitch won't save you now. She's probably halfway to Mexico."
Corvin lifted his battered head. He looked past the jeering faces in the crowd, straight toward the eastern ridge rising behind the town water tower.
The sun reached its zenith.
"I have only one thing to say, Vance," Corvin rasped, a bloody smile touching his lips.
"What's that?"
"Look up."
A solitary, terrifying war cry pierced the midday sky.
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High atop the water tower, Tazhi stood with a heavy Sharps buffalo rifle. Before anyone could shout, the thunder of her rifle echoed through the street.
The heavy .50-caliber slug severed the hanging rope three inches above Corvin's head.
