Lawless

Lawless
He watched as the last sun he would ever see crept up over the dust and sand of the Texas dessert. He noted every individual color that made up the beautiful blood red orb. He stood up and basked in the warmth it gave as it shined down through the dark iron bars of his cell. It was fairly standard cell for the time, a single wooden bench and bucket sitting on a straw covered dirt floor with iron bars at the front and a sturdy log wall at the back. He watched the deputy who had been on the night shift sitting at his desk fighting sleep as his head drooped again and again desperately trying to come to rest in his hands. Just as a rooster began to crow hoof beats could be heard approaching the small town jail.
The sheriff came barging in with a bedraggled looking man in irons beside him. The man beside the sheriff was mumbling to himself and the liquor on his breath could be smelled all the way from inside the cell.
“Good morning Mr. Carter,” The sheriff said rather loudly to his deputy. “Old man Weiser here has found himself stooped in drink again, we will have to keep him here until he sobers I should think.”
“Ha,” Laughed the deputy, “That’s the third time this month, I say you throw him in there for a good scare so as he don’t want to come back.”
The deputy motioned to the already occupied cell with the man gazing at the sun. The man in the cell just smiled behind his scraggly beard to show his teeth, oddly white for a man in such rough country.
“I suppose that’s not a half bad idea,” The sheriff turned to the drunken man “How do you like that Mr. Weiser? What say we throw you in the cell with the murderer aye? See how you like those accommodations.”
Mr. Weiser was so drunk he could do nothing but smile and try to mumble a response as he was put into the cell. It was not a minute after the bars slammed shut that Mr. Weiser was sound asleep in the hay. The man in the cell just turned back to his cell window to admire everything he could about the world. It was almost two hours before the man on the floor got up, he immediately grabbed his head and began to moan.
“Sheriff Conway!” Weiser shouted “Sheriff I demand to be set free I’ve broken no laws.”
“No but there you will sit all the same, get comfortable too maybe you will learn if I start keeping you in there longer each time I have to scrape you off of the saloon floor in the morning.”
         Weiser looked as though he was going to argue the matter further but his headache must have gotten the best of him as he sat on the bench and began to pick the wax from his ears.
“So,” Weiser said between picks as he looked up at the man in the cell with him. “ What laws did you not break to land yourself in this cell?”
The man just grinned and snickered.
“Oh come now,” Said Weiser “We are going to be locked in this small God forsaken room together for the rest of the day, seems to me we should at least learn something about each other. My name is Benjamin Weiser, a farmer and professional town drunk. ”
“I deserve to be in here, that’s all you need know.” The man’s voice was gravely from a lack of use.
“Come on,” Said Weiser. “Entertain an old boozed up man.”
“See them gallows outside?” The man said pointing out the front of the cell and out the jail door. “They’re being built for me.”
“My God, your him.” Weiser’s joking manner disappeared. “Go on then tell your tale one last time.”
“No, I think not,” The man chuckled. “Let me be in peace with the few hours I have left.”
“Oh come now you’re a real live legend!” Weiser complained. “What have you got to loose?”
The man supposed he was right, he could not believe he was doing this but he supposed any human interaction was better than none in his last hours.
…
I suppose it all started with that damned poster, I really should have just walked away soon as I laid eyes on it but my ego just would not let me. I had wandered into Odessa, Texas chasing down some nobody I had partnered with once, Jessup Wilms I think his name was, when I saw it. The thing was posted up on the brand new pool house like it was staring me down at high noon. Five thousand dollars it read in big bold numbers. A reward set for a man named Hayes, Coke Hayes. There was no picture on it, just a name.
…
         “But wait that’s…” Weiser began to interrupt
         “Hey now,” The man said cutting him off. “Are you going to let me tell my story or am I going to go back to staring out this window?”
         “Sorry sorry, please continue.” Weiser said rather sheepishly.
…
Now I wasn’t ever much for pool halls; usually got my information from the local boarding house, but that poster had sparked every bit of my interest. I tied up my horse and headed in like I owned the place. You see, I had been bounty hunting so long in those days I fancied myself some kind of law, but the only law I carried was the five pounds at my hip.
         When the door closed behind me I remembered why I hated pool halls. The whole place was full of men dressed head to toe in fancy suits, looking much more important than they probably were. Not a woman in sight either on a count of them not being allowed in pool halls. There was a constant stench of gin as well, now mind you I can handle my whiskey but whoever invented gin should be hung from the highest tree. On top of all this the room was blanketed in a thick blue smoke. I hate the smell of tobacco and at least in a saloon it’s mostly chewed and don’t stink the whole place up.
         I sat down at the nearest card table and took off my hat. Immediately all the important looking men stopped what they were doing to stare at me. I could see I was the only one not wearing some kind of suit but I never had time to deal with such foolishness.
         “Deal me in partner,” I stated to the man behind the table.
         “Hey boy can you read?!” The man snapped back. He had a long chicken gizzard neck and a pointy face covered in grey unkempt whiskers. He was wearing a white pinstriped shirt, a grey vest and a visor.
         “I said can you read?”
         “Yes fella I’m a learned man, what’s it to you?”
         “You some type of law then?”
         “Just a humble traveler passing through.”
         “Then you had better get deputized right quick or take that pretty colt off your hip. Sign clearly reads that you cannot have a piece, even one nice as that, in the White Pool House.”
         I turned around and sure enough a sign read in plain English that guns were to be checked at the door. I stood up somewhat sheepishly and walked over to the man checking guns by the entrance. It almost hurt to take off my gun belt; my Colt Peacemaker was my most prized possession. It had been passed from my father to me and though it was a little old I had not seen anywhere a piece so well balanced or beautiful. It was gunmetal grey with a cherry wood grip and one solitary golden stamp of an eagle feather on each side of the handle. It was the perfect length to provide accuracy without sticking in my holster and the weight sat directly on top of my fingers.
…
         “It sure is a beauty,” The sheriff stated as he pulled the colt from his drawer. “It should make a great addition to my collection.”
         The man in the cells eyes turned cold and dark, for a moment it seemed he would break through the iron bars and kill the sheriff with his bare hands. After some time however he seemed to calm himself.
         “So long as you will use it to uphold the law my father could be proud.” He said as a strange smile crossed his face.
         “Well anyhow as interesting as your story is its time for you all to take on your lunch.” The Sherriff said as he pulled an old loaf of rye bread and a chunk of salted ham from the cupboard.
         “There you are,” The sheriff said as he set the food in the cell.
         Weiser attacked his half of the bread loaf hungrily at first but slowed after a few bites.
         “This bread is dryer than death valley fire trails sheriff! Ain’t ya got nothing a little fresher.”
         “Ha that’s a laugh, you’re in jail Weiser be happy I’m feeding you at all.”
         “Well anyhow what happened after you put up that nice piece?” Weiser inquired through a mouthful of bread and ham.
…
         Well, once it was checked I turned around and immediately felt somewhat naked. I was used to much rougher country and smaller towns than the boom town of Odessa. I had not had my gun off my hip in nearly a year. If I had not had my knife in my boot I probably would have gone insane.
         As I sat back down at the card table I apologized but the thin man dealing did not seem any happier to see me. The men in suites actually seemed more annoyed that I had bothered to come back, probably hoping I would have just left them alone for good. I put my money down on the table and was dealt in for blackjack. I just sat there for a while and listened to the conversation until I got my opportunity. Two of the guys were talking about some cattle rustlers that had been shot just west of Odessa two days ago. My first instinct was once again to leave but that big ego of mine planted my boots firmly on the floor, it was going to get me into big trouble one day.
         “Any of you fellas heard of Jessup Wilms?” As I said it the conversation stopped dead in its tracks.
         “Ya I heard of him, ain’t a cattle rustler though. Way I heard it he is wanted for murder. And…” The man began to whisper. “I even heard tell that he might have run with Coke Hayes for a short stint.”
         My eyes darted across the room in a quick panicked look but no one had moved.
“Well, any of ya’ll know where I might find him?” I said.
         “Maybe but what’s it to you?”
         “Two hundred dollars if I get him to Waco alive.”
         “I should think my memory would be loosened by, say, ten dollars.”
         “Ya and maybe it would be loosened by my fist to.” I instantly regretted each word as it came out of my mouth but it was too late. The man picked up his bowler hat and walked away from the table obviously disgruntled. The other men just laughed and went back to playing cards. I knew I had blown what little chance I had had of getting any information from that damned pool hall and so I cashed in and took my leave.
         It felt good to have my pistol belt on once again as I untied my horse. The sun had just fallen below the horizon and the street lighters were out lighting the gas lamps that lined the main street. I knew I had to find a place to sleep soon or I would be pitching my tent.
         “Say fella!” I called out to the nearest man craning his neck to see where exactly the wick of his gas lamp was.
         “What can I do ya for?” The man responded as he hopped down from his ladder and wiped the soot from his face with a grey bandanna.
         “Was wondering which way I could find the nearest boarding house.”
         “Well that’s a hard thing to weigh from where we are, there’s about three that’s not far from here.”
         “Well which of them is cheapest?”
         “Huh, that leaves us two. Do you mean that which is less kept up or one where they count on you to pay to do something more exciting than sleep while in bed?”
         I did not approve of the strange smile that had crept across the man’s face but I could not argue the usefulness of his information.
         “I guess I would choose the later, best place to find information.” This sounded like just the place Wilms would take to hiding in.
         “Ha, don’t worry I won’t tell no one.” The man snorted through an ear to ear grin. “It’s called Ms. Heidi’s Room and Board and it’s just out of town up the road by the dry riverbed on account of such business being frowned upon by the sheriff. Thing has a red gas lamp out front burning from dusk to dawn, you shall not fail to see it I think.”
         I thanked the man briskly and kicked my horse into a trot out of town.  As I headed out on the trail my mind began to clear and I thought perhaps I would just give up on Jessup as it had been nearly two days since my last solid lead. I decided to quit thinking for the day and enjoy the scenery. This part of Texas really was pretty country. Brick red mesas rose up skyward in the far western horizons and the land between here and there was spotted with lush green cactuses and yellow sage brush. Down along the trail there were all kinds of rocks and swirls of red and yellow sand. All the wildlife seemed to be in a frenzy to find a place to weather the cold desert night the same as me. At one intersection there were two rotting lizards with a buzzard happily munching away at their gooey innards. From the tracks around them it looked as though they had both killed one another in some scuffle over territory, this was the country I was in.
         At that moment something about my surroundings struck my mind as odd. There was a noise far too regular for the scuffling of the lizards and bugs that inhabited these sands. I stopped my horse and sure enough the telltale beats of another horse could be heard far in the distance back toward the town. I stopped my horse such that it was blocking the path, I found it odd that someone else was heading out on the trail so late and so I waited with my duster thrown aside and my hand on my hip.
I knew I would have the advantage in any funny business with the sun at my back but even so the seconds crept by slowly for what seemed like ages. I began to fiddle with my holster in angst and without noticing removed the small leather strap from the hammer of my gun. Finally out of the ever thickening shroud of the night came trotting a young boy on a pony. I relaxed my stance and replaced the leather strap over the hammer of my colt.
“You there!” I shouted into the evening. “What business has a young boy out on the trail so late at night?”
“I have come seeking your aid,” The boys face had betrayed him for much younger than his voice revealed him to be. “I hear tell that you are a bounty hunter and I have a score to settle with a man that has a bounty on him.”
“I am no bounty hunter, simply a traveler seeking refuge for the night.”
“I may be young but I am no nave, no simple traveler roams about asking questions about criminals. If you are not a bounty hunter you are an outlaw yourself.” The boy said this as he fumbled around clumsily in his tote bag. After sometime he pulled out an old cap and ball revolver.
“Alright” I sighed “And who might this bounty be on?”
“Coke Hayes, he killed my brother and I am looking to see the same be done for him.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.
…
“Alright Weiser that will be all for you, your free to go.” The sheriff interrupted once again.
“Oh not a chance thanks anyhow but I have me a story to see through.”
“Even if I was inclined to let you stay on account of a story, your friend there hasn’t got the time. His appointment with the gallows is coming up shortly.”
The sheriff opened the cell and let Weiser out.
“You really know how to kill a good time there sheriff!” Weiser shouted on his way out the door.
“All right prisoner you know the drill, put your hands through the bars for me to shackle.” The sheriff said as he took the irons off his belt and began to wrap them around the mans wrists. “Well I hope you are ready.”
The man shrugged, he supposed he was. He knew that he deserved this punishment and more for what he had done.
“Yehaw!” Weiser had come sprinting back in the front door. “There is something wrong with the drop door on the gallows Sherriff! There fixing to move the hanging to tomorrow!”
Weiser grabbed a stool and dragged it right in front of the cell he had just occupied.
“Well go on!” Weiser urged.
“Hold on just a tick, I’m going to go check this out myself don’t ya’ll get to comfortable.” The sheriff stated as he unshackled the man in the cell and walked out the front door.
Weiser sat on his stool tapping his foot and waiting patiently for the sheriffs return.
“Damn!” The sheriff shook his head as he walked back into the jail. “Weiser is right, fine ya’ll keep this story going quiet like you here?”
Weiser smiled and gestured for the man in the cell to continue talking.
              …
         As we approached Ms. Heidi’s Room and Board the sun had just gone down below the horizon. It was a strange building; it was a little slumped over and was built on a platform that jutted out over the riverbed on tree trunk size poles. It must have been built as an old riverboat station before the river it was on had dried up.
         The rest of the ride over had revealed a lot about my newly found companion. His name was Frank Atwood and was a ranch hand on a ranch a day’s ride out of town. His brother Tom Atwood had supposedly road into town about a week ago to settle a bill of sale for the ranch owner and had never returned. When Frank road in looking for his brother he found that he had been murdered by a man named Coke Hayes. The boy claimed to have a lead on Jessup Wilms which he would give me if I agreed to help him hunt down Hayes. I knew this to be a sticky situation but I could not pass up an opportunity at Wilms, not after being without a lead so long.
         “Fine,” I agreed as I hoped off my horse and tied it up. “But I hunt down Wilms first and you will be no part in the search for Hayes.”
         “Agreed, once you capture him I will take Wilms to Waco for a simple fifty dollar transfer fee while you begin your search for Hayes.”
         “That’s no good, how am I to know that you will return with the money? I will take Wilms to Waco myself and then begin my search for Hayes.”
         “To thin, Hayes could be long gone before you return. I want to see Hayes brought to justice for my brother more than anything. You have my word on my brother’s soul that I shall return.”
…
         Well anyhow I cringed but once again my ego made me stay. I should have given up then but I was so close to having Wilms.
         “Fine you have my word.” I replied. “Now where is Wilms?”
         The boy smiled and stuck out his hand. I shook my head but reached out and shook it all the same.
         “Right there, I followed him here last night while looking for Hayes. It is said they might have thrown in together at some point or another.”
         “Ya I heard it similar.” I said through a glare, I felt that this boy was yanking me around some and it bothered me. But still I had Wilms cornered and it was time to finish things. I took off my duster and began to head into the boarding house.
         “All right go get him mister ah, you never did tell me your name.”
         “Oh don’t bother with my name son,” I said just short of the boarding house door, “it ain’t one worth knowing.”
         I could tell the boy was about to protest further so I opened the door to the boarding house and strode in. Immediately I was surrounded by scantily clad women trying to get me to spend my money on anything and everything you could imagine. I ignored them and walked straight over to the bottom of the stairs. The kid had tried to follow me in but had been quickly ushered out on a count of not being a grown man yet.
         “Jessup Wilms I am calling you out!” I yelled while pulling my bandanna up over my mouth and drawing my pistol.
         The room was filed with screams for a brief moment and then quickly cleared out. Silence hung in the air some time until the distinct sound of steps on wood could be heard up above the ceiling of the lower floor. The silhouette of a woman with her hands up could be seen coming down the steps. She stepped around the corner with her face as pale as the clouds at noon on an overcast day.
         “Mr. Wilms said someone might come for him,” She said in a shaky tone. “He lit out for the boarder as soon as he heard you riding up through our window.”
         There was a tone to her voice that made me wonder if she was telling the truth and I have little patience for games so I drew my pistol up toward her.
         “I don’t know what Wilms told you and frankly I don’t care,” I tried to conjure up the most menacing and fearsome look I could. “I see he scared you, but I rode with Wilms and know him to be a yellow and cowardly man. I have been hunting Wilms across the counties and I ask you to look into my eyes and ask yourself if it is really worth it to hide anything from me!”
         What I did worked better than I ever could have figured. The girl on the stairs told me every detail of Wilm’s plans to run north through tears streaming down her face. She said that he had left some two hours ago leaving a large sum of money to convince her to mislead any that followed him and that he had sealed the deal with a promise of death and ruin if he was to be double crossed. I guess my promise had been more sincere.
         I lowered my gun and walked out of the brothel. As I opened the door Frank was staring at me with hopeful eyes.
         “So,” The boy said beaming “We ride north together!”
         “Oh I should think not,” I mounted my horse and turned it back east toward Odessa. “I have been chasing Wilms for long enough, his bounty is not worth this.”
         As I rode off the boy began to follow me with his head drooping almost to his saddle horn. The trail had begun to get mighty dark and I decided that I would just ride a few miles and set up a camp instead of heading all the way back to town at this late hour. As we rode I was impressed that Frank did not beg or even mention the issue of hunting Wilms further. To say it true I had become fond of this boy, he seemed grown from a different stalk than most. In full truth he had begun to remind me of myself when I was his age.
         As I began to make my camp Frank asked if he could camp with me. I figured there would be no harm to it so I allowed him to stay. We laid out our bedrolls and made a small fire, as it burned Frank began to tell stories of his dead brother. It cut deep to hear the stories, I had to try hard not to show it.
         We talked late into the night touching on just about every subject at least once. It turned out that Frank had lost his father to cholera just three seasons prior and a distant relative had taken him and his brother on at his ranch. Frank told me that his brother had been very close with their father and that he had taken it especially hard. This hit me hard and so I called it an evening and laid down in my bedroll.
         I was dog tired but the knots in my stomach kept me awake long into the evening. I finally got to sleep and it seemed not a moment later I was thrown awake again by the sound of a pistol. I hoped to my feet with my own piece drawn and my head on a swivel.
         “Don’t worry mister I got it!” Frank said pointing with his smoking cap and ball revolver at the carcass of a rattle snake just feet from where I had been sleeping.
         I tried to laugh it off but I knew what this meant, this kid and I would be in it for the long haul. It was not that I minded Frank’s company specifically, I had just learned better than to ride with any company at all in my line of work. I wondered what I would tell him once we caught Wilms. Perhaps I would be able to lead him on a trail for Hayes long enough for his lust for vengeance to subside, but for now we would ride together.
         When I told him I had reconsidered I thought he was going to kiss me full on the mouth. He knew he had taken his show of emotion just a little too far and the rest of our ride that day was fairly quiet. After a short stop back into Odessa to resupply I tried one last time to convince Frank that this was a bad idea with the whole bit of how we would be riding hard and packing light but it phased him less than that rattle snake had the night before, I should have expected nothing different.
         And so it was that we began our ride north. At first I honestly had no idea how we were going to find Wilms but Frank turned out to be one of the best trackers I had ever laid eyes on. About midway through our first day north we came across a trail that led up from the brothel and we began our pursuit. Frank was amazing, he failed to lose the trail even after Wilms had cut back across a river to try to hide it. I could not help but think what a team the two of us could make, Frank could track and I could talk and shoot and between us there wouldn’t be an outlaw left in the states. Then reality hit home and I knew that this could never be true.
         About a half week into our tracking of Wilms I was ready to call it once more until we came across a small town that claimed he had continued his track north not twelve hours ago. I wanted to continue on account of us being so close but Frank insisted the trail would wait and that he could find it in the morning. So we stayed at the inn that night and had our first real meal in three days, the way Frank ate I immediately understood why he had wanted to stay.
The next morning we set out in a hurry, the sky was steely grey and I knew what was coming. We made it about eight hours out of town before the rain began to pour. Frank kept his eyes glued to the trail for about half an hour into the rain before he looked up at me. His face said it all but he began to talk anyway.
“I’m sorry,” Frank said with his lip shaking in anger and sadness. “You were right I’m not cut out for this business we should have rode on last night.”
Any other partner I would have agreed with and let them feel like a fool but Franks face cut down to my core.
“Sure you are,” I said patting him on the shoulder. “You’re the best tracker I have ever met in person. Now we just need to work on that appetite of yours.”
Franks smile did me some good and I decided we would ride just a little further, after all we were already soaked.
“I’m sorry,” Frank said a few minutes later. “The trail is truly gone.”
“Ah well,” I said “Let’s find some shelter from this rain.”
I had seen a dugout cabin about a half mile back down the trail and hoped that it was abandoned or filled with agreeable company. As we rode back I could tell Frank was still a little upset with himself and I tried to cheer him up with some jokes I had learned long ago. I never was much at being funny though and I think I just made it worse so we rode on some time in silence.
As we approached the cabin I could see smoke curling out from the stone chimney. I knew better than to just barge in to an occupied cabin, especially one along such an infrequently traveled road and so I gave a shout.
“Hello in there! We are weary travelers, is there any chance we could take shelter from the storm in the safety of your cabin?”
“Ride on,” The disembodied voice from the cabin had a familiarity to it.
“Oh come now we are but two men looking for a place to weather this storm you must allow us some hospitality.”
“I said ride on! There is no room here!”
Those words confirmed it for me. I knew exactly who was in the cabin and why he wanted no company.
“Jessup Wilms!” As I shouted it Franks face lit up and a grin split his face from ear to ear. “I have here a writ of bounty from Judge Parker in Waco Texas for your capture that I mean to make good on!”
         “That you Corcoran? Must be, you’re the only man I’ve run with as would sell me out that quick! How did you stalk me here?”
         “I did no such thing, a boy did the job, best tracker I have ever ridden with. I did no selling out either Jessup, we agreed where we would draw the line while laying down our law. I told you we did not steel from anyone, even after the fact. You got to sloppy Jessie so now I am here tying up loose ends one way or the other. Will you come civily or no?”
         “Slop or no slop here is how it’s gonna run. You let me slip on by when I come out or I tell that boy who you really are!”
         The door creaked and I could see the shadow of a gun totting Wilms appear in the far window of the cabin just behind the door. To my relief it seemed he had no one with him.
         “Go ahead!” I shouted back. “No one here is a bounty hunter nor has the proof to put me away. Unlike me your poster has a face Wilms! Come out or I will have to assume you are resisting.”
         “Resisting? Ha! I will show you resisting!”
Wilms popped out from the cabin to try to pull a bead on me but he was just too slow. Like many before him I fired my gun and down he went like so much coal stuffed in a potato sack. I holstered my gun and turned around.
         I shook my head, his bounty was alive only so there was no more money to be had. I turned toward Frank and was met by the barrel of a familiar old cap and ball revolver. I could see Frank’s face behind it twisted with anger.
         “I told you I was no nave,” The boy said almost crying. “I should have known you were Hayes!”
         “Now son let’s not do anything rash, I can explain myself.”
         “You killed my brother! There is nothing to explain.”
         “He had thrown in with a cattle rustler when he headed into town to settle that bill. We tried to take them honestly but they resisted. It was all self-defense.”
         I started walking my horse away with my head hung low.
         “I don’t care, it was my brother! Stop where you are or I will shoot.”
         “Look son,” I said stopping my horse. “I am sorry it had to go down like that but your brother had stepped outside the law and had to be brought to justice.”
         “And who said you get to decide what is just?!”
         “I did, when I realized no one else would.”
         “Not good enough!”
         The boy fired and I felt hot metal rip a hole through my left shoulder. I tried to stop it but the reflexes were too well ingrained in my mind. Before I knew what happened my smoking gun was pointing at the limp body of the boy falling from his horse. I immediately dismounted and ran over to him but it was too late, my shot had been true. I picked up his body and felt hot tears begin to run down my face. I looked up and saw a bolt of lightning streak the sky.
         I rode the whole night in no particular direction until I came to a general goods trading post some ninety miles from that damned cabin as the sun began to rise. I strode in and collapsed. By the time I had reached the store my shoulder had swollen up to the size of an eight pound cannon shot. The next forty eight hours where a might hazy as the ball was removed from my arm and I lay resting in a cot in the back of the store.
         When I awoke from it all I immediately concluded that it had all been a bad dream. I thanked the store owner and paid him for the doctor visit and some random supplies. As I walked out of the store I checked my gun and to my horror found only four bullets remained in their chambers. I could no longer deny that the events of that terrible night were true.
…
         Weiser and the Sheriff were both staring at Hayes in disbelief.
         “But, that’s not what you are being hung for,” Weiser said after a considerable silence. “It’s on account of that bank you robbed.”
         Hayes laughed from inside the cell and looked out with a menacing gaze.
         “I robbed thank bank just to get caught,” Hayes said in a voice dripping with malice. “I knew that both of those killings were in self-defense and I couldn’t get myself hung for them. Tomorrow you all are going to hang me for that bank robbery. But me, I am going to face my maker for what I done to Frank, that boy had more spirit in him than I do in my little finger and I washed it all away in the blink of an eye. I should have known better than to try to bring law to a lawless country.”