To gain a better vantage point, Stanley and Roy worked their way through the crowd, toward the front. The murmuring people returned to their hushed chatter in anticipation of the upcoming event. When Sheriff Dawson and the two deputies escorted the prisoner from the sheriff's office, all the crowd noises ceased again. Two-gun Smitty had his hands shackled behind his back. Both feet were bound in steel cuffs with just enough chain for him to shuffle walk. Everyone watched each movement as Two-gun Smitty was ushered to the gallows. Like the Red Sea parting for Moses, the people stepped back making a path for the prisoner and his bodyguards.
"He doesn't look that old Roy. He's younger than Papa," whispered Stanley.
The two boys were close enough that the stench from Two-gun Smitty caused their noses to wrinkle. Roy nodded to Stanley's comment, but his eyes followed the procession up the wooden steps. Deputies on either side of Two-gun Smitty assisted the prisoner up the steps of the gallows. Unshaven and dirty, the condemned man smirked at the crowd awaiting his death. Pastor James's hands shook as he read a passage from the Bible. When he had finished, he closed his book and bowed his head, mumbling a soft prayer. When Pastor James uttered, "Amen," Smitty yelled to the top of his lungs.
"Y'ALL CAN GO STRAIGHT TO HELL YOU BASTA-"
Sheriff Dawson cut Smitty's rant short by driving his fist into the prisoner's gut. Smitty doubled over coughing.
Squinting and catching his breath, the prisoner looked up at the sheriff. "How 'bout you take these shackles off Sheriff so I can fight you like a man."
In a flash, Sheriff Dawson swiped a bandana from his back pocket and stuffed it into Smitty's disgusting mouth. Instantly, Smitty's verbal assault was reduced to muffled verbiage.
When one of the deputies showed up with a hood for the prisoner's head, Sheriff Dawson waved him off.
"That's right Smitty; you want to kill like a man; you can die like one."
Slipping the noose over Smitty's neck, the deputy cinched it tight. Immediately Smitty's eyes opened wide as he struggled to eject Sheriff Dawson's bandana.
"May God have mercy on your soul," said Pastor James.
Everyone stepped backward away from the prisoner on the gallows.
"For your malicious acts of murder, you are hereby sentenced to hang till you are dead. May your soul burn in hell," said Sheriff Dawson. "Pull!"
The deputy grasped the handle with both hands and yanked hard. Just as the trap door slammed open, Smitty managed to spit the bandana out of his mouth. The red handkerchief fluttered to the ground beneath the gallows. Everyone in the crowd gasped when the condemned man dropped. His eyes were open in terror, but a primordial scream proceeded from Smitty's mouth. He quickly plummeted straight down with the rope yanking Smitty to an abrupt stop. A distinctive cracking sound reverberated through the condemned man's body. Dangling a mere foot above the ground, the chains of the prisoner's shackles clanged together, as his body twisted and violently jerked. A raspy hissing sound emitted from Smitty's open mouth.