A woman near the back of the room has raised her hand, and now she stands up. She's gaunt, and it's impossible to judge her age. Her face is careworn, her hair gray, and her voice quavers when she starts to speak. "I'm Theodora Iverson, and I'm sorry ta interrupt ya, ma'am, uh Miz Standish, but I jist . . . I jist realized somethin'." She pauses, and I nod for her to go ahead. "Ya see, two years ago, I broke m' leg bad jist afore spring plowin' and plantin', and I jist didn't know what I was gonna do. I grows some wheat and corn fer m'self and sells some, along with some vegetables and fruit, and I was mighty worried. But that Vin Tanner, he jist shows up one day, says he's there ta help out. He plowed and planted and fixed a bunch a stuff that I couldn't. M' leg never did heal right, and I cain't do the work like I used ta, but Vin, he come back a coupla times ta help me with the harvestin' in the fall. Brung me some venison durin' the winter Come back this year, too, and brung yer boy with 'im. He never asked fer nuthin'. Couldn't of paid 'im much anyways, but he jist laughed when I offered and said m' lemonade was the best pay he'd had in a long time." There are tears on her cheeks now, and she raises a gnarled hand to wipe them away. "What am I gonna do now, Miz Standish? What am I gonna do?"She's one of the innocents whose life will be disrupted by what happened in this town, and my heart goes out to her. I shake my head and say that maybe someone else in town might be willing to help her. It's not a real answer, but it's the only one I have for her. I shake my head again and tell her I'm sorry. I hope someone will assist her, but I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for it to happen. Her shoulders slump in despair, and she sits down again, weeping quietly.
Now I look at Chris Larabee, the worst one of all. Oh no, Chris Larabee, your glare has no effect on me. You aimed it at me every time I've been in the saloon -- it didn't work then, and it won't work now. You and I know the truth, and it's time for the others to start thinking on it. It's going to be mighty uncomfortable for you around here when I get through, and I'm looking forward to wiping that look off your face. "Mr. Larabee, like your fellow peacekeepers, your life changed when you came to this town. You'd known great tragedy -- more than anyone should have to bear -- and it ate at you, ate at your soul. Vin Tanner pulled you back from the brink, healed you, restored your soul, and how did you repay him? You took his life and the life of another of your friends. Why? After all Vin did for you, why did you turn against him so completely?"
I have to stop, or I will be shrieking at him, and that I will not do -- I will maintain control. Josiah Sanchez is rising from his seat, and I turn towards him. From the corner of my eye, I see some of the tension leave Chris Larabee's body. He thinks he's gotten off lightly, but I'm not done with him yet.
"Maude . . . ," Josiah begins, but the look on my face convinces him I am not receptive to such familiarity, and he begins again. "Mrs. Standish, I understand -- we all understand -- your feelings of loss and sorrow, but you are attempting to place the blame for this unfortunate incident on the wrong people. Ezra and Vin violated God's law and man's law, and they had to pay the price. The Bible -- the Word of God -- tells us that if a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them must be put to death, and their blood will be on their own heads. They committed sodomy, and they were punished." His deep voice resonates with his indignation, and it sickens me. Since when did he care so much about the Word of God?
"Don't quote Scriptures to me, Mr. Sanchez!" I respond angrily. "If you're going to enforce God's laws, tell me this. How many married women in this community has Buck Wilmington seduced?" Buck looks startled, and I smile to myself. "When are you going to take him out and stone him to death? Isn't that the punishment prescribed for adultery? Why have you never carried out God's law when it comes to him? But Jesus forgave an adulteress, didn't he, saying 'let him who is without sin cast the first stone.' Are we to assume that you are without sin? You were certainly willing to cast stones when it came to Ezra and Vin," I declare angrily.
Josiah is at a loss for a response, and I force myself to calm down before continuing. "Mr. Sanchez, what happened to 'judge not, lest you be judged,' which I've heard you quote myself. Yet you were so quick to judge and punish my son and Vin."
Nettie Wells is getting restless, and I can tell she wants to speak, so I nod to her. She stands and turns to face the people she thought she knew.
"Cain't take no more o' this, but I aim ta have my say afore I go. Vin Tanner was like a son ta me, and ya murdered him, simple as that. If I'd of been there, you'd of been buryin' a few more afore it was all over, prob'ly me among 'em. Chris Larabee, ya killed the truest friend you'll ever have. . ." She wipes away a tear and shakes her head. "Without Vin's help, I cain't keep my place goin' no more, and I cain't stand ta come ta this town no more. Day afore yesterday, I sold up, and I'm gettin' out. Hope y'all rots in hell!" She looks at Casey, who shakes her head, and then, back ramrod-straight, she stalks out of the church.
I am waiting for the hubbub created by Nettie's words to die down when I see Orrin Travis is signaling to me, so I gesture for him to go ahead. He takes my place at the pulpit, facing the crowd, and quiet descends almost immediately. There's a chair by the pulpit, and I'm glad to be able to sit down for a few minutes. Gloria leans over to pat my hand, and I nod and smile to thank her for her support.
"I hardly know where to begin," he says. "There are so many things that must be said. Josiah, like you, I believe in the importance of God's laws, but the laws of the territorial legislature hold sway here, and they are what I have sworn to uphold."
"Well, hell, Judge," a voice from the crowd interrupts. I don't know the speaker, but Gloria has a disgusted look on her face. "Ya oughta be thankin' us fer handlin' the problem and savin' ya some time and paper shufflin'."
"Yeah!"
"You said it!"
Several voices are raised in agreement, and there's a smattering of applause. Obviously, there are still some in the crowd who see nothing wrong in what they did.
"Harlan, you have no idea how much wasted time and paperwork the problem, as you call it, is going to end up causing," Judge Travis says. "And you'll never know how much anguish," he adds sadly, "or how many lives are going to be changed." He falters for a moment but collects himself. "Right," he says firmly, "let's get on with it. JD, Mrs. Standish is correct. As sheriff, it was your job to uphold the law. You should have contacted me and held Vin and Ezra for trial."
"We tried, Judge!" JD exclaims, jumping up from his seat. "I sent ya a telegram, but some wires were down 'tween here and Santa Fe."
"Was that before or after you hanged them?" the judge asks sarcastically.
"Well, uh, it was, uh . . . it was after, but we wanted ya ta know right away. Besides, with the wires down, we couldn't of gotten in touch with ya anyways."
"Right away would have been as soon as you took them into custody. With the wires down, you should have kept on trying until you received instructions from me. Instead, you allowed your prisoners to be mistreated, and then you participated in their lynching. Surely you realize you were derelict in your duty, and there's no way you can continue as sheriff." Judge Travis holds out his hand. "I'll thank you to turn in your badge, son."
The stricken look on JD's young face says it all. He was so proud of being the sheriff of Four Corners and took the job very seriously. There are tears in his eyes as he slowly unpins the prized badge, passes it forward to the judge, and sinks back down onto his seat. Buck looks like he wants to cry, too -- he has always looked out for JD, but this was one time he failed him completely. Casey Wells has tears in her eyes also -- she's loved him for a long time. I wonder if she'll be there to help him pick up the pieces, even though she thought so highly of Vin Tanner.
The judge looks at the badge for a moment and then puts it in his pocket. He takes a deep breath and continues, "Buck, Josiah, Nathan, and Chris," -- a slight emphasis on the last name -- "you, along with Vin and Ezra, were hired to keep the peace in this part of the territory, and until last month, you all did an admirable job. Unfortunately, one act -- one tragic act -- is all it's going to take to wipe that out. I have no choice but to fire you as peacekeepers. You will be paid through the end of this week, while I sort things out, but after that, depending on what happens, you'll be on your own. I've requested a marshal, and he should arrive later this week."
Chris's expression is stony while Nathan is hunched over, staring at his clasped hands. Did they really think there would be no repercussions for their actions?
The judge is speaking again. "If you'd contacted me, I'd have told you to hold them the week to ten days it would've taken me to get here. Then I would . . ."
"Yeah, Judge, and the town'd have ta pay fer feedin' them freaks!" someone shouts.
"And the town would have been repaid," Judge Travis states emphatically. "As I started to say, I would have conducted a trial, and, with my daughter-in-law as an unimpeachable witness, I'm sure Vin and Ezra would have been found guilty of sodomy, and I would have sentenced them to . . ."
"You'd o' sentenced 'em ta hang. All we done was cut out all that folderol and waste o' money!" That Harlan again.
"You damned fools! Sodomy hasn't been a hanging offense in New Mexico since 1861!" the judge thunders. He pauses to calm himself. "I would have sentenced them to pay a fine of a thousand dollars apiece."
The room erupts, and I know exactly how they feel. When Orrin first told me what would have happened at our meeting in Santa Fe, I couldn't believe it. I'd thought that if he'd been here, he would have found some way to avoid hanging Vin and Ezra, found some way to sneak them out of town or something. When he told me he could have done it legally, I was rendered speechless -- and more determined than ever to make their killers pay.
The judge raises his hands and restores order. "Yes, I said a fine. Ten months ago, our legislature passed a new law that imposes a sentence of a year in jail and/or a fine of $1,000 for sodomy. JD," he points at that hapless young man, "if you'd taken the time to read the biannual digests of new laws sent out from Santa Fe, you would have known what laws you were supposed to be enforcing. I imagine, though, they weren't as exciting as those dime novels you love. Two good men -- your friends -- are dead, JD, because you couldn't be bothered with fine print and boring language."
While the judge has been speaking, I've been watching the audience, and my eyes are drawn to Chris Larabee. There's a strange look on his face, and it takes me a minute to understand what I'm seeing, but it suddenly hits me. You bastard! You murdering bastard! You knew -- you knew all the time! Chris loves to read and usually has some book with him. During long nights on watch at the jail, it would be only natural for him to look at any reading material that might be found there. It all falls into place -- I can see it so clearly now. Chris was consumed by rage when Vin and Ezra were discovered making love -- he wanted Ezra, but Vin had him; therefore, they both had to die. But he knew if the town waited for the judge and a formal trial, they wouldn't die, and he couldn't allow that. So he pushed and pushed and stirred people up until they forgot everything except the idea that sodomites had to die. Josiah unwittingly helped him there with his newfound belief in the God of the Old Testament. Oh yes, I can see it all.
"Judge," I begin.
"Please bear with me, Maude. I'm almost done," he says. "I'm afraid I can't do anything about the death of Vin Tanner. As a man wanted dead or alive, he was fair game for any bounty hunter who might come along, so his death is not a judicial issue. In the case of Ezra Standish, however, I believe his lynching is a clear case of murder. The questions to be answered, though, are who should be held responsible for his death and to what degree. At first glance, it appears that JD Dunne will be held most responsible and could face hanging if found guilty."
"No, Judge! Oh God, no!"
"The law is the law, Buck. It was JD's hand that struck Ezra's horse and directly caused his death. You all chose to ignore the law -- to take it into your own hands -- so you must be prepared to pay the price. You Buck, Chris, Nathan, Josiah, and Mary might be considered accessories before the fact or even accomplices, I don't know -- that will be something for an inquest to determine."
There is shock again on many faces, and people are having trouble looking at their neighbors. JD looks as if he is in a trance -- he's gone from proud sheriff to candidate for hanging in the space of a few minutes, and he can't take it all in. So, all of you finally recognize the enormity of what you did, and you see the payment that might be exacted from some of you. Those of you who did not have a direct role -- don't become too complacent -- there's more to come.
"Mary, your role in all of this is particularly abhorrent to me. You've set yourself up as the moral arbiter for this town -- what gave you that right? I acknowledge that Vin and Ezra were breaking the law, but Maude spoke correctly. How were they harming you? What did they ever do to hurt you? I've read that priggish, holier-than-thou flyer you wrote. Have you no shame, woman? How could you even suggest that Vin and Ezra might ever have done anything to harm Billy? They risked their lives to protect him and you. Yet you turned on them, killed them, and took great satisfaction in what you had done." His voice is rising, but Mary is looking back at him defiantly. The judge pulls a folded paper from his pocket. "You have no business raising my grandson, Mary, if these are the things you're teaching him. With your future in question, I have taken certain legal steps, and Judge Masters has granted Evie and me custody of Billy, as spelled out in this document." He hands the paper to Casey so it can be passed back to Mary.
"You can't do that, Orrin! He's my son!"
"Sit down!" the judge roars. "I can, and I have. He's my grandson, so I do have the right. When your legal situation is sorted out, you certainly will be free to petition to regain custody, but we will fight you. Tonight, we'll pack his things, and he will leave on tomorrow's stage with his grandmother. He's with her at the hotel right now, and you'll be able to say goodbye, but he won't spend another minute under your roof."
During this byplay, I see Clarissa Hillman and Eliza Nichols slip out the back of the church. Clarissa is a seamstress while Eliza makes hats. The day after I arrived in town, I received a note from them inviting me to afternoon tea. This was a surprise because I'd never met either of them. I asked Inez about them, and she told me they were cousins who arrived from Philadelphia about three months earlier. Intrigued, I went to their house at the time stated in the invitation.
Clarissa, red-haired and green-eyed, and Eliza, with brown hair and eyes, are in their mid-thirties. They are not conventionally pretty, but each is attractive in her own way. Clarissa is the shyer of the two, so Eliza does most of the talking. We chatted pleasantly, but I remained confused as to why I had been summoned.
We were on our second cups of tea when Clarissa told me that she had known and liked my son. She said he ordered a shirt from her and had been quite pleased with the finished product. When he saw some royal blue woolen fabric in Eagle Bend, he asked her if she could make a jacket for him. She laughed when she described the problems they had with the right sleeve, trying to make it fit right over that gun holder of his. I'd seen that jacket in Ezra's room -- what was left of it -- and I praised the fine job she had done.
I don't remember how it came up, but one of them asked me if I had been shocked to discover that Ezra had a male lover. I, of course, replied that, far from being shocked, I had known for a long time and approved. They looked at each other, and Eliza began to speak. They were not cousins, she said; in reality, they were followers of Sappho. I am a woman of the world and knew exactly what they were talking about. I asked them why they had revealed their secret to me, and Eliza replied that they were frightened because of what had happened to Ezra and Vin. They wanted to leave, but they felt trapped -- they'd spent all their money traveling to the West and buying their house, furniture, and the various accouterments they needed to go into business.
I gave them the best advice I could. If the dresses they were wearing and the hats on display were anything to go by, they are skilled practitioners of their arts and should be successful wherever they go. Now they've left this meeting, and soon they will be on their way out of Four Corners.
Judge Travis has finished speaking, and it's my turn again. Before I start, though, Gloria signals me that she would like to go next. She stands to face her neighbors, and I know what a sad day this is for her.
"I've known most of ya fer years and considered ya friends," she begins and then shakes her head. "But I feel like I never really knew most of ya at all. Nettie Wells said Vin Tanner was like a son ta her, and I feel pretty much the same way. From the very first day he come ta work in our store, my husband and me knew he was a good man, and I was so proud when he helped save Nathan Jackson's life. He was always meant ta do more'n sweep floors, and he sure was happy lookin' after this town with his six good friends. After my husband was killed, Vin'd come ta the store regular ta help out -- stockin' shelves, movin' crates, you name it. If'n he thought it was too much fer me ta do, he'd be doin' it." She wipes away a tear.
"Now, I didn't know nuthin' about him and Ezra, and I wouldn't of approved. I don't think it's right, but it sure wasn't nuthin' ta be hangin' anybody over or sendin' them ta jail neither. They weren't hurtin' nobody, so why'd ya hafta kill 'em? We owe all them peacekeepers an awful lot fer what they done over the last four years, but the judge said it right. Lynchin' Vin and Ezra wiped it all out. I watched ya and listened ta ya when they was bein' hung, and I never was so disgusted in my whole life. Cheerin', laughin', and carryin' on -- ya shoulda been ashamed of yerselves! Don't know how ya can sleep at night or face yerselves in the mirror in the mornin'. I've had enough, and I ain't stayin' here any longer'n I hafta. May God have mercy on all yer miserable souls, 'cept fer you, Chris Larabee, ya damned murderer!" Tears streaming down her face, she nods at me and is starting to go when Inez rises and offers Gloria her arm. Together, they walk down the aisle and leave the church.
I gaze around the church, and the expressions I see now are vastly different from when we started all of this. I am tired of this, tired of this town, of these people, but I have to see it through to the end.
"A mother should not outlive her son. I'll spend the rest of my life wondering what might have been, but you've all seen that I am not the only one who has suffered a loss. Nettie Wells has lost someone dear to her and has been forced to give up her farm; JD Dunne has lost his job and may lose his life; Mrs. Iverson might lose her farm; Mary Travis has lost custody of her son; Nathan Jackson, Josiah Sanchez, Buck Wilmington, and Chris Larabee have also lost their jobs and might go to jail; and Gloria Potter has lost a young man she cared about and will lose the life she once enjoyed in this town."
I pause a moment to look around again. "I can't say that JD, Buck, and the others have lost two friends because they didn't lose them -- they threw them away," I say disgustedly. "Since we're counting the costs, let me add a couple you don't know about. Is Miss Trent here?" A young woman raises her hand. "You teach school here, don't you?" She nods her head. "Miss Trent, is there anything out of the ordinary that happened the first week of this month?"
Miss Trent stands up and looks around nervously. "Well, I guess so," she says, and I smile at her encouragingly. "Every month, a . . . a crate is delivered to the school. It's always filled with things we need -- chalk, paper, ink, books, all kinds of things. The . . . the children call it our monthly Christmas, but this month, the crate never arrived," she frowns. "M . . . Miss Hargreaves, the teacher before me, told me about them when I first came here. She said they showed how committed the town was to educating the children. I've taught in other schools, and I . . . I know how hard it can be to get school supplies, so I've been very happy with the support this town has shown for its school. I . . . I was going to ask Mrs. Travis about the missing crate, but I never go around to it."
"Miss Trent, I'm sorry to disillusion you, but those supplies didn't come from the town. They came from Vin Tanner and my son." She sits down looking surprised. "A little over two years ago, Vin told Ezra he wanted to do something for the school. He was so appreciative when Mary taught him to read and write, and by then, he'd read a couple of books and discovered a whole new world. He wanted to make sure the children had what he'd missed for so many years. So Ezra regularly sent me money, and I set up a standing account with one of the stores in San Francisco. They were supposed to send twenty dollars worth of supplies every month -- no return labels, completely anonymous. Sometimes, Ezra wrote asking for something special -- like about five months ago when Vin told Ezra the school needed a globe."
"That's right," Miss Trent interrupts. "We got two crates this June -- the regular one and a second one with a lovely globe -- the children were so excited."
"I'm glad, Miss Trent, that the school benefited from those shipments, but I'm sure you understand there won't be any more." Surely I will be able to find a school somewhere that will prove worthy of Ezra and Vin's gift. "I know you had nothing to do with Vin and my son's deaths, but you and the children are going to be hurt nonetheless. I'm sorry."
And I truly am sorry. The teacher and the children didn't ask for any of this to happen, but there's no way I'm going to do anything that might help this town. I'd remembered earlier how I laughed when I first got Ezra's letter, trying to figure out what kind of scheme he had going, but then I realized he just wanted to do something worthwhile. My Ezra was spending his own money to do something for other people, and there was nothing in it for him -- except his own satisfaction and Vin's approval. He really was changing!
I remembered, too, when he sent extra money for that globe. Vin had been in Gloria's store and overheard Miss Trent saying the children were having trouble understanding about the earth being round and where countries were really located and how she wished the school had a globe. Vin asked Ezra what a globe was and then said they had to get one for the school. After it arrived, he made a point of visiting the school to see what it looked like, and Ezra said he was like a little kid with a new toy -- he was so pleased with it.
"How many hours did Vin spend helping you rebuild this church, Mr. Sanchez? Did you know that Ezra was planning to give you a new Bible for Christmas? Or that he was going to give you a stethoscope, Mr. Jackson? Inez found them hidden on top of the wardrobe in his room. There was a hat up there, too, and I believe it was meant for you, JD. Mary, . . . Mary," I repeat sharply and that stricken young woman raises dull eyes to my face. "You wanted to transform one of the empty buildings into a theatre and music hall, didn't you, and have traveling troupes of actors or singers and dancers come here to perform." She nods. "But you didn't have the money. Ezra planned to give you four hundred dollars in November to get the work done, but you didn't know that, did you?" She shakes her head and drops her eyes once more.
Ezra was thrilled with this idea and how it would improve what he once called a 'cultural wasteland,' but it wasn't just altruism on his part. Oh no, he thought such a place of entertainment would attract more people to the town, and that could only be to his benefit in the long run. After all, he might have changed, but he didn't ignore self-interest completely.
"I imagine there are others affected by these deaths who we'll never hear about -- others like Mrs. Iverson who received game animals from Vin to help them through a hard winter, people who found anonymous gifts or donations on their doorsteps, whatever. And we still don't know why, for a few hours at least, this town acted like it had gone crazy."
People are getting restless -- they want to get out of here. As do I, so it is time for the final push. I take a deep breath and grip the pulpit.
"And that brings me back, one last time, to you, Mr. Larabee." His body tenses -- you thought you were home free, didn't you? No glare now. Is that a hint of fear, of trepidation, I see in your eyes? I certainly hope so. "You killed the truest friend a man could ever have, didn't you? Why? Why did you fly into a towering rage at Mrs. Travis' announcement? Why was yours the most insistent voice calling for their deaths?" Buck, JD, Nathan, and even Josiah are frowning now. They're beginning to wonder, beginning to wonder if something else was going on they didn't know about.
"But death wasn't enough for you, was it? No, there was one more indignity, one last cruel act to perpetrate, wasn't there?" Anger is creeping into my voice again, but this time I let it remain. This is the man who killed my son and Vin, and I am determined not to let him get away with it. "Because when they were dead, I'm sure you were the one who decreed that Vin's body should be taken to Tascosa so the bounty could be collected and shared. Did you tell them what Vin told you years ago before the fight at the Seminole village? He told Ezra all about it a couple of years ago -- how he told you if anything happened to him, he wanted you to claim the bounty because having a friend do it would give him the last laugh. I don't think he anticipated, though, that it would be that very friend -- that brother -- who would kill him, do you? And why didn't you take Ezra's body with you so they could at least lie beside each other in death? Didn't anyone suggest that?"
Nathan stirs in his seat, and I suspect he did just that but was overridden. Yes, he would have been the one -- already feeling pangs of guilt.
"Do you ever think of Vin, ever think of the man who loved you like a brother and watched your back so faithfully for four years? Or has hatred obliterated everything you and he once shared -- hatred because he had what you wanted so badly? Do your friends know, Mr. Larabee, why you buried my son here in the town where you live while the man he loved -- your best friend -- lies so many miles away in Texas? Why did you kill them and separate them? I know the truth -- Vin told me during my last visit. He recognized what was happening, could read the signs -- after all, he was an excellent tracker, wasn't he?" Larabee squirms, and now Buck is leaning forward to stare across the room at him. "I asked Vin if he was going to do anything, but he said no. He said if you made a move -- if push came to shove -- he wouldn't face you on it. He couldn't -- you were too important to him, too much a part of his life. But you had no such qualms, did you? He would have taken Ezra away -- would have left this town where they'd tried so hard to build a good life."
Buck is standing now, staring across the room at his friend as if he's never seen him before. "Chris?" The quaver in his voice, the torment in his eyes, the hands that clench and unclench -- they all tell me that Buck is starting to understand what I'm hinting at, and it's tearing him apart. Mary, too, is staring at the man beside her and pulling away from him. She'd pursued him for so long, and now she was discovering why he showed so little interest in her.
Chris jumped up before I finished speaking, looking like a cornered animal, but Buck's use of his name is the last straw, and he slides over the edge. His life here is over, and he knows it. There's nothing left for him to do but run, and he does just that -- snarling and pushing his way past people to reach the aisle. He casts one final glance my way, then hurries to the door, grabs his gun, and rushes out. I imagine he wishes he could use that gun on me.
"Oh, God, Chris! What did we do?" Buck's cry is a howl of anguish. His hands come up to cover his eyes, and he collapses in his chair. He hunches over, and his shoulders shake with uncontrollable sobs. His many years of friendship with Chris Larabee have crumbled into dust.
JD has come out of his trance and looks like a lost little boy; Nathan's eyes are closed and tears stream down his cheeks; and Josiah's eyes are closed as well, and his lips are moving, praying for whom or for what, I could not say. Mary Travis is shattered -- she's lost her son, and any hopes she had for a life with Chris have been utterly smashed. Judge Travis is staring at me transfixed -- he hadn't known about Chris wanting Ezra. Others are staring at the door, at Mary, at the floor or the ceiling -- guilty consciences are rearing their heads all over the room.
Anything I say now will be anticlimactic, but there's still something I need to say, so I wait for them to calm down. I see Mr. and Mrs. Watson leave, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Lewis and Mr. Rowlandson, and finally, it is quiet enough for me to continue.
"Don't get me wrong. My son and Vin Tanner were not saints -- don't think for a minute that I'm suggesting they were. I do know, though, that neither of them ever did anything to warrant a death sentence, and now you all know that, too. They were committed to their friends and this town, but they would have ridden away with just the clothes on their backs if they had to because their love for each other was the biggest commitment of all."
"I'm leaving shortly to travel to Tascosa, where I will remove Vin Tanner's body from the cemetery. With Judge Travis' permission, my son has already been removed from the cemetery here. It is my intention to take them to a place where they can lie side-by-side for eternity, as I know they would have wanted. I am sure their immortal souls have been reunited already, and I want to do the same for their mortal bodies."
I step away from the pulpit and approach Judge Travis. He rises, takes my hand, and leans forward to kiss my cheek. He tells me he'll let me know what happens at the inquest, and I nod. Casey Wells has stayed to the bitter end, but now she takes my arm as I pass her, and we start down the aisle, staring straight ahead.
I hear JD say her name as we approach where he is standing. When we get closer, he calls her name again, an imploring note in his voice, and he reaches for her. We stop walking, and Casey looks down at JD's hand on her wrist.
"Ya best remove yer hand, JD," she says quietly. "There's blood on it."
JD snatches his hand back as if he's been burned, Casey nudges my arm, and we continue our walk out of the church. Poor Casey! She didn't know the whole story of what happened until today. Now she's made a decision she should never have had to and is walking away from the man she's loved for such a long time. I sincerely hope she never comes to regret it. And JD -- I can find it in my heart to feel sorry for the young former sheriff. He hero-worshipped Chris Larabee and followed him blindly -- followed him to the destruction of all his own hopes and dreams.
Tears filled my eyes, blinding me, when I heard what she said to JD, and as we walked down the steps in front of the church, I felt her begin to tremble, so Casey and I definitely need each other's support as we walk to the hotel. Inez and Nettie are waiting for us in the lobby, and I hand Casey over to her aunt who takes her in her arms and holds her. I collapse in a chair and close my eyes, only opening them when Inez holds a glass to my lips. Ah, brandy -- I am definitely in need of it. Casey too is sipping the restorative liquid, and color is returning to her cheeks.
I suggest that Nettie take Casey up to my suite so she can rest for a while, and she agrees. Inez and I sit quietly while I finish my drink, and then we leave the hotel for one last walk through the town. It's very quiet, quieter than usual -- I imagine everyone's at home now, or on their way there, and I hope they'll be thinking long and hard about what happened at the meeting.
As we pause outside the hotel, a man rides up and stops outside the saloon. He dismounts and walks to the door. There is a small notice posted there, and I know it says 'Closed for Memorial' because I wrote it, and Inez nailed it to the door last night. The man shakes his head, remounts, and rides away. He doesn't know it, but the doors will remain locked, the shutters closed -- the saloon will never open for business again -- all part of my plan.
You see, on my way here a few days ago, when the stage stopped in Silverwood to change the horses, I went to the saloon and talked to the owner. I told him the saloon in Four Corners would be closing, and I offered him anything he wanted from the supplies, fittings, and so on, for free, provided he followed my instructions. Needless to say, he jumped at the opportunity. He arrived late yesterday with two of his sons and a couple of other men, and Inez fixed them up with rooms, food, and drinks. They didn't leave their rooms until Inez closed the saloon, and then they set to work. I imagine they're working still, and sometime tonight, they'll load their wagons and leave. They've been instructed to destroy anything they don't take -- I want nothing left in there that anyone else might use.
We are passing Potter's Store, and I can hear faint noises inside. The shades are pulled, so there's nothing to see, but I know Gloria is in there directing some men I hired in Morgan's Crossing. They'll pack up the contents of the store and her personal belongings and drive them to Eagle Bend.
When I learned that Gloria wanted to leave this town but couldn't afford to, my plan for retribution began to take shape. It wasn't really much of a plan. I planned to close the saloon because I thought it would make life unpleasant for the people of Four Corners. I offered to buy Gloria's store and help her move so things would be even more uncomfortable for the town. People would have to go to Eagle Bend for many of their supplies, and that could be a real hardship. Then I arrived in town, and within a couple of days, I found out that the Watsons wanted to leave, and so did 'Tiny' Rowlandson, Clarissa Hillman, and Eliza Nichols.
Henry Lewis, the telegraph operator, told me he'd already accepted a new position in Lanford and was preparing to move his family. He'd decided before Ezra and Vin were killed, but he said their deaths convinced him he was doing the right thing. He said he felt so helpless when he realized Gloria's telegram wasn't going to get through to Judge Travis.
Mr. Rowlandson came to offer me his condolences shortly after I arrived in Four Corners -- I'd met him before on earlier visits. Gloria told me how he tried to prevent Buck and Josiah from taking Chaucer and Peso out of the livery for the hanging, but they'd threatened violence, and he had to back down. He hurt his back a few months ago when some bales of hay fell on him, and he wanted to let me know how Vin had helped him out. He also wanted to tell me about what a marvel Chaucer was and all the amazing things Ezra taught him.
He was most indignant, however, about what Chris did. Mr. Rowlandson was the one who explained to me about them not building a gallows, and it really made him mad that Chris nailed one end of the board to hold the ropes to his livery building. He said no one asked for his permission, which he wouldn't have given, and he kept repeating 'Can ya believe the nerve o' the man?' over and over.
Like Gloria, he too wanted to get out of Four Corners. He said Vin and Ezra should have just been run out of town, said he had a cousin who was one of 'them,' and while he couldn't see the attraction himself, his motto was 'Live and let live.' So I told him I'd purchase his stable and have my hired men help him any way they could. Two of them are on their way to Eagle Bend right now with a string of horses and a wagon full of Mr. Rowlandson's possessions. Tonight, a couple of the men working in Gloria's store, will turn the remaining horses in the livery stable out into the corral, put their saddles and other pieces of tack on the fence rails, nail the place firmly shut, and put a Closed sign on the door.
Aaron and Ellen Watson ran the hardware store for quite a few years, and they became angry because of their thirteen-year-old son Tommy. He's what some people call 'slow,' and they told me he didn't have many friends, but Vin used to take him fishing, and sometimes Billy Travis went along with them. The Watsons really appreciated it and said they didn't know how to explain to him about what had happened to Vin. You see, Mr. and Mrs. Watson were sick at home with fever those two days, and the store was closed, so they didn't know what was going on. Tommy . . . poor little Tommy saw Ezra and Vin being hanged and ran home crying hysterically. They finally got him calmed down, and Mr. Watson went out to find the truth and was horrified by what he learned. As for Tommy, that poor child's been terrified of the peacekeepers and others in the town ever since because of what he saw them do.
Mary Travis made Mr. and Mrs. Watson even more angry than they already were when she visited them a few days later and wanted to ask Tommy questions about whether or not Vin had ever 'bothered' him. They threw her out of their store and decided then and there to leave this town. I'm simply helping them leave sooner than they expected.
Inez and I heard raised voices when we passed the church -- it sounded like JD yelling 'What am I supposed ta do now?' -- but we didn't stay around to find out what was going on. Now we've made our way back to the hotel, and we go up to my suite. Casey is lying down, and Nettie is sitting by the window, lost in thought. When Gloria finishes at the store, she'll go to the livery stable to get Mr. Rowlandson, who will drive her, Inez, and me to Eagle Bend. Nettie and Casey will accompany us in their own wagon. We'll spend the night there, and then Mr. Rowlandson has insisted on accompanying Inez and me to Tascosa.
Tomorrow, the people of Four Corners will wake up to a very different town -- no sheriff and no peacekeepers . . . the saloon, closed . . . Gloria Potter's store, closed . . . Watson's Hardware, closed . . . the livery stable, closed . . . no telegraph operator . . . a popular seamstress and hat maker, gone . . . the newspaper editor disgraced. The core, the heart, of the town has been excised, and I don't think Four Corners will survive.