A Lady Like Sarah (34 page)

"Who's there?" a male voice shouted and, after that, all she heard was the sound of running feet.

The
sun rode high in the sky, and the air shimmered with oppressive heat. Only two women had been hanged in all of Texas, both convicted of murder. Sarah would be the first woman to hang in Rocky Creek.

Folks traveled from miles around to witness history in the making. They came on horseback and on foot. They came in buckboards, shays, and surreys. A long line of vehicles extended far beyond the town limits, blocking Main Street in both directions.

Merchants closed their shops. Even the Chinese railroad workers abandoned their sledgehammers and walked the five miles to town to gather around the rough wood gallows erected next to the livery stables.

One man left the barbershop half-shaved, the right side of his face still covered with shaving cream.

Justin stared at the faces in the crowd. Some he recogÂnized, but most he didn't. He spotted Barrel, the singing barÂber; Jake the saloon owner; Dr. Myers.

The feathers
on Mrs.
Hitchcock's hat bobbed up and down like a washday plunger as she fought her way through the crowd. Even Hank Applegate thought the occasion momenÂtous enough to leave his rocking chair.

Justin wondered if he would have the heart to minister to these people after today.

He craned his neck looking for Sarah's brothers.
Where were they
Ì
At first, he'd hoped they would do what was right to save their sister and turn
themselves
in. Now, he just wanted them to save her however they saw fit.

Justin was horrified to spot Ma in the crowd, Elizabeth in her arms. He'd given her explicit instructions to stay away. Heart pounding, he waved in an effort to catch her attention with no success. Shouldering his way through the mob of people, he reached her side.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Ma didn't look the least bit apologetic. "Now, Reverend, this could be the last time that poor mama can see her baby."

"It's dangerous," Justin said. "You must leave."

Ma's eyes widened.
"Dangerous how?"

A buzz among the spectators signaled Sarah's appearance. Justin glanced in the direction of the jailhouse,
then
turned back to
Ma.
"I don't have time to explain. Just go."

"But—"

The marshal could be heard above the loud clamors. "Step aside! Step aside!"

The mob crowded the boardwalk and pressed closer to the buildings to leave an opening down the center of Main Street for the marshal and his men to pass. Sarah walked in the middle of the group, her hands shackled behind her back, her face pale.

The ladies of the Rocky Creek Quilting Bee had provided Sarah with a clean frock and fixed her hair. The paisley striped linen dress was trimmed in brown velvet and gathered in back
with a just a hint of a bustle. The brown and beige dress offered a startling, though no less pleasing, contrast to Sarah's red hair and boots. In Justin's eyes, she looked beautiful as always.

Justin made his way through the crowd and stepped in front of her. Briggs shielded his prisoner with a protective arm.

Sarah smiled at Justin. Her eyes were filled with such complete trust, his own lack of faith felt like a heavy weight on his shoulders.
What if George fails to help her escape? What if something goes wrong? God, please don't let anyone get hurt.

Marshal Briggs glared at him. "Move out of the way, Reverend."

"The prisoner has the right to spiritual counsel."

Briggs hesitated. "All right, then. But make it quick." He motioned to his men to step away from the prisoner.

Justin moved to Sarah's side. Her face was pale, but her eyes were as wide and blue as the noontime sky.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

She rolled her eyes upward. "You don't suppose God forÂgot about me, do you?"

The question pained him. Last night, her faith had been the guarding light that kept him going. Now even she was having doubts.

"Not a chance," he said with a confidence that belied his own misgivings.

Her face lit up. "I've been praying hard."

"That's good."

"I even prayed a long-winded one for good measure."

"I'm impressed."

Justin glanced at the mob of people surrounding them, but there was still no sign of Sarah's brothers.

"Hurry it up, Preacher," Briggs called, scanning the crowd, one hand on the gun at his side.

Justin raised his hand to indicate he needed another minute or two. "Close your eyes, Sarah."

"What?"

"Close
your eyes and look like you're praying."

"I am
prayin
'," she said. "Like I told you, I've been
prayin
' up a storm."

Justin lowered his head. "Now listen to me. Everything's going to be okay. When the time comes, you'll know what to do."

Her lashes flew up. "That must be some kind of miracle you're
expecdn
'." She eyed him with a suspicious gleam. "It ain't
gonna
be locusts, is it?" she asked with an anxious glance at the sky. "You know I can't stand those things."

"
Shh
. Close your eyes." He glanced at Briggs, who was busy giving orders to the hangman marshal. The marshal was a youth of no more than seventeen or eighteen. Face drawn, he appeared to be almost as scared as Justin felt. Obviously, this was his first official duty.

"I'm sure it won't be locusts," Justin said.

The hangman lifted the hinged trapdoor, checked the iron lock, and then let the door fall with a bang.

Sarah jumped and her eyes flew open.

"It's okay," Justin whispered.

Marshal Briggs moved to her side. "Okay, that's enough praying for one day." He pulled a watch from the pocket of his waistcoat and signaled for the hangman to escort Sarah up the steps leading to the platform.

Sarah sought Justin's eyes, her trusting gaze ludicrous in light of her situation. "I'm not all that fond of snakes either," she shouted to be heard over the crowd.

"I'll pass on the message," he called back.

He turned
and
scanned the throng of people. What was taking so long for George to make his move? As much as he hated violence, he couldn't think of any other way to save her. None of
his own
efforts had worked. Now it was up to George. He prayed a silent prayer.

"
Psst
."

Justin turned and spotted Sarah's brother Jed frantiÂcally gesturing with his hand. Feeling a sense of dread, Justin pushed his way through the mob of people to join him.

"We have a problem," Jed whispered. "We can't get our horses through. The road in and out of town is blocked with wagons. We need more time."

"We don't have more time," Justin said sharply.

"Think of
somethin
'," Jed said. "And hurry!" With that, he turned and disappeared through the crowd.

Justin spun around and frantically pushed his way toward the gallows.

A hush fell over the spectators as the hanging marshal positioned Sarah directly below the gibbet and pulled a black hood out of a wooden box.

Marshal Briggs walked up the steps and stood in front of Sarah. He unrolled a parchment death warrant and read it aloud. She was charged as an accessory to the killing of one Matthew Jenkins, an innocent passenger on a Wells Fargo stage. After reading the warrant, he rolled it up again and handed it to one of the men by his side.

Justin moved forward. "Marshal, the prisoner has made one last request."

Briggs faced Justin, his expression dark with impatience. "This is a hanging, Reverend, not a general store. Request denied."

"She's entitled to one last request!" someone shouted, and Justin thought he recognized Jed's voice.

The crowd began to hiss and boo, and Briggs quickly relented. "All right, but make it quick."

Justin looked around for Ma, thinking he could buy time by having Sarah hold Elizabeth. Apparently, she'd done what he'd told her to and taken the baby home.

Now what? Then he spotted Barrel a short distance away and an idea clicked in his mind.

"Miss Prescott has an affinity for the hymn 'Amazing Grace,'" he said. "And Mr. Barrel has graciously agreed to sing for her."

Barrel's face turned a shocking red. He shook his head, both chins trembling, and backed away. "No, no, no," he protested. He moved away, his arms
windmilling
as he fought his way through the crowd.

Before he could escape, Timber Joe stopped him. "Hold it right there, mister." His rifle pointed at the big man's chest. "We can't have ourselves a hanging till the fat man sings," he drawled. "If you know what's good for you, you'll start howling like a lovesick hound."

Ignoring Barrel's pleas, Timber Joe nudged him with his rifle and forced him to walk toward the gallows. All eyes folÂlowed the two men up the steps. The stairs sagged and creaked beneath Barrel's considerable weight. The barber stood next to Sarah sweating bullets. A passing stranger might easily misÂtake Barrel for the one to be hung instead of Sarah, who looked remarkably calm by comparison.

Barrel pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead.

"Sing!" Timber Joe ordered, thrusting the muzzle into Barrel's back.

Barrel opened his mouth, emitting an awful screeching sound. Somewhere in the distance a dog protested with a wailing howl.

Sarah's mouth dropped open, her eyes wide in disbelief. Briggs fell back as if shot, his hands clamped firmly over his ears. Men and women alike scrambled about in an effort to escape. Horses nickered and pawed the ground.

A look of pure agony crossed Timber Joe's face, but he stubbornly kept his rifle in place.

Looking sorry for the man, Sarah glanced at Justin, then back at Barrel. She then surprised Justin by joining Barrel in song, her voice sweet and clear. Justin was so touched that she remembered the words to his favorite
hymn,
it took him awhile to notice Barrel had stopped screeching. The tenor's tone was now strong and vibrant, each note resonating with depth and power. Barrel couldn't sing solo in front of a crowd, but he could sing a glorious duet.

Slowly, the spectators began to move in closer, and even Marshal Briggs seemed affected by what he heard, a wistful look having replaced his usual scowl.

Justin couldn't resist lifting his voice in song, too, and soon others joined in. Even Timber Joe lowered his rifle and began to sing.

At the end of the hymn, a waiting silence hung in the air.

All too soon, the marshal raised a megaphone to his mouth. "The Prescott brothers have exactly sixty seconds to turn themselves in. If they fail to do so, Sarah Prescott will meet her Maker. May her soul rest in
peace.
"

Justin glanced around but the street was still blocked, and there was no sign of Sarah's brothers.

Once again, Briggs reached for his pocket watch. "The countdown begins . . . now!"

Forty-six, forty-five, forty-four—"

Sarah kept her eyes focused on Justin. The man looked as nervous as a gunslinger without his weapons.
She
forced a smile, hoping to relieve his mind.
God performs miracles. Isn't that what Justin always says?

"Thirty-five, thirty-four, thirty-three—" Her faith got her through the night, but it was hard to hold on to God's hand with a rope hanging over your head. A chilling reality hit her: time was running out. With nothing left to hold on to, she began to panic.

Her mouth dry, her body trembled so hard that her handÂcuffs rattled. What if she'd run out of miracles? Like her papa. Like her ma.

"Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen—"

Her mind muddled with fear, the last bit of hope faded away.
She
glanced up at the sky.
God, I plumb hope
You
know what You're
doin
!'

"Zero!"
Briggs shouted, and a hushed silence followed.

The only sound that Sarah could hear was the pounding of her own heart.

The marshal held up his hand, and no one moved. "This is the last chance to save Sarah Prescott. If her brothers are here, now is the time to step forward."

She stared hard at Justin and mouthed the words,
"I love you.
" Never again would she be able to feel his arms around her.

Briggs signaled with his hand, and the hanging marshal moved toward her, slowly, refusing to look at her. He lifted the hood upward. Sarah closed her eyes.

"No!" Justin cried.