Moontrap - Don Berry Page 15

  "Hell, Webb," Monday said sincerely. "I ain't tryin' t' spoil nothin'. I love t' wake up laughin', honest."

  "Thing about when y' wake up laughin'," Webb said thoughtfully, "y' can't take nothin' serious the rest o' the day. It's funny as hell."

  "Me, I like to wake up laughing, too," Devaux said, friendly, "but I don't think I ever did."

  ***

  It was the kind of day everything could happen. The sun, climbing toward noon, remained three times its normal size. The heat, strangely, was not great, but there was a radiance over the land that transformed it, as though a shabby skin had been washed away in the flood of light.

  Everything was new, everything was freshened and reborn, as clean and untouched as had been on the morning of creation.

  The body of a man reached out and spread itself on a day like this, Monday thought. He felt a foot taller, and there was a sensation of incomparable fullness and tone to all his muscles. The others felt it too, and they rode in to Oregon City without much talk, simply enjoying in their bellies the radiance that touched them. Webb did not even reminisce about the old days; today the present was too real for that.

  The old man chuckled occasionally, but Monday knew it was because of the laughing dream, and not something that had happened a thousand miles away and a thousand years ago. Even the raw, new gallows behind the courthouse glistened in the sun. Monday and the others tied their horses in front and walked around to stare curiously at the yellowish-white structure; none of them had ever seen a gallows before.

  "Wagh!" Webb said. "That's some, now. Just like one o' y'r goddam houses, it is."

  The carpenters had only finished in the morning, and there was still the clean odor of freshly cut wood, and tiny piles of sawdust stood like anthills at several places beneath the platform. On the ground below one edge there was a long trail of yellowish powder, where the planking had been trimmed off even.

  "Didn't think they looked like that," Monday said, walking over to peer underneath.

  The carpenters had built a high, raised platform perhaps fifteen feet long and eight wide, standing seven feet above the level of the ground. At the right end a flight of stairs led up to the platform. Two posts, one at either end, supported the crossbeam, a roughly hewn timber nearly a foot square.

  "I had it in my mind different, " Monday said, straightening up. "You know, just one post, like a upside-down L."

  "Hell," Webb snorted. "Y'iggerant dunghead! They got five o' these niggers t' hang. Take 'em all day, one at a time like that."

  "I expect. I ain't criticizing, I'm just sayin' how I had it in my mind, is all. I never thought much about it."

  The center section of the platform was hinged at the back edge. From under the platform, Monday could see that the front edge was not supported at all, except by the rope. Tied to a ring at either end of the center trap, the rope passed over the crossbeam and down again at the back of the structure. Passing through two more rings in the frame, it ran low along the back edge. Near the center of the back it passed over a large block of wood.

  "Must be five, six dollars worth o' line right there," Monday said. "Not even countin' the nooses."

  Devaux shrugged. "Friend of me, is why they want we should pay taxes, to buy rope to hang Indians."

  The three had not been the first to arrive. Scattered around were small knots of people chatting, and more were arriving all the time. Most of them glanced only covertly at the gallows. Monday was surprised to see so many women, dressed in bright and festive clothing that shone brilliantly in the sun. The men wore their Sunday clothes, except for a few farmers who had put in the morning in the fields and had come directly to the hanging from work.

  Monday noticed them glancing apprehensively at the clusters of well-dressed Oregon City people, and realized they were a little ashamed to be here in their work clothes.

  "I wonder if I got time t' go see Mary," Monday said.

  "Better you wait, " Devaux said. "Me, I think they going to start any minute."

  "I expect," Monday said. Looking around at the crowd he noticed that there were no Indians at all, not even the tame ones. It appeared that Webb had been right after all, and he was glad he had not figured on bringing Mary; it would have made him tense.

  The crowd grew rapidly, and the yard behind the courthouse was soon almost full.

  "What the hell's holdin' things up," Webb said, craning his neck toward the building itself. There was a steady low murmur from the assembled people, and it was making him nervous, like the insistent buzzing of a mosquito.

  At last there was a flurry of movement in the crowd near the door, and it separated to let a man pass through.

  "Here they come," somebody said from the other side of the crowd.

  "No, hell, it's just the nooses."

  One of the carpenters pushed his way through the crowd. Embarrassed by all the attention, he walked awkwardly up the steps and stood on the platform with the long pieces of rope dangling from under his arm. He peered up at the crossbeam suspiciously.

  "Hoist y'rself up with one o' the nooses," someone shouted, and the crowd laughed.

  The carpenter turned around and came back down the steps, muttering something to himself. He disappeared into the crowd again, and there was a murmur of disappointment.

  The man next to Monday turned and said angrily, "What the hell's the matter with these people? Don't think ahead, don't plan." Frowning, he picked his watch out of his vest and stared at it. "I ain't got all day," he muttered. Monday didn't answer.

  After a minute the carpenter came back, still with the nooses under his arm, and a ladder under the other. He climbed the steps again and dropped the heavy Manila line in a pile. He propped the ladder up against the crossbeam and jiggled it into a secure position. He kicked the base to make sure it was solidly seated, then turned to pick up the ropes, and started up.

  When he reached the crossbeam he threw the ropes over and straddled the square timber. Somebody started to clap, and there was a little burst of applause. The carpenter looked up and grinned self-consciously, then hastily took one of the nooses and began to fix it to the crossbeam.

  "Hey, Bill," someone shouted. "Take a good holt on that rope, 'cause I'm going to borrow the ladder." The crowd laughed obediently, though the man was not on the ladder at all.

  The carpenter shinnied along the beam, tying each noose carefully and yanking the dangling ropes to test for security of the knot. The same annoying voice called, "Hey, Bill. You better test 'em better than that. Whyn't y' call for volunteers?"

  There was a faint answering laughter, but someone else called out sharply, "Why don't you shut your goddamn mouth?"

  "N one o' y'r business."

  "By god I c'n make it my business fast enough." The man started to shove his way through the crowd, but his friends stopped him.

  "C'mon, cut it out, you guys."

  "We ain't here t' see no rasslin' match."

  "Hell," the first voice said, but lower now. "I ain't hurtin' anything."

  Monday glanced at Webb, who was staring impassively at the throng of people. "Wee mite nervy," he said. Webb turned and spat on the ground.

  Finally the carpenter had finished securing the nooses. He shinnied back along the beam to the ladder and descended. He pulled the ladder away and took it with him down the steps. There was a little more applause, but it was clear that game was over for the time being. A friend slapped the carpenter on the back as he moved through the crowd, and he grinned nervously without turning to see who it was.

  Most of the people had their attention on the gallows, looking at the asymmetrical hang of the nooses silhouetted against the sky, trying to imagine what they would look like with men suspended from them.

  There was another long wait. The novelty of the empty nooses wore off quickly and the crowd began to fidget and shift around. The murmur of conversations began again, and there was much turning of heads toward the courthouse, and much complaining in low voices.
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  After what seemed an hour, there was another stirring in the crowd by the courthouse door. An Indian woman pushed through silently, paying no attention to the objections, and went to stand directly in front of the platform, staring up at the hanging nooses without expression.

  "Tamahas's woman," Monday told Webb, and the old man nodded.

  Monday watched for the other friends and relatives of the Cayuse chieftains, who had come down with the wagon. None came. Tamahas's woman, dumpy and disheveled, stood alone before the gallows.

  Gradually the crowd moved a little away from her, until she stood alone in a tiny clear circle.

  "What the hell smells so funny?" a voice said, but there was no reaction from the rest.

  Suddenly, at the courthouse door, there was a shout. "Here they come!"

  This time it was real. The crowd shifted suddenly away, forming an aisle, and the five Cayuse chiefs walked toward the gallows, not looking to either side. Tamahas was first, his face set in contempt, not caring.

  He did not glance at his woman as he mounted the steps, his wrists tied behind him with light cord. The man behind Tamahas, unfamiliar to Monday, hesitated at the steps, looking up at the gallows, then at the crowd. He was obviously very frightened, and whimpered. Meek came up from behind and poked him, and slowly the man mounted to the platform. At the top he hesitated again, looking around, and then was pushed by the man behind.

  Of the five, Tamahas and old man Kiami were impassiye. The other three were in different stages of panic and fear. Meek came behind, herding-them silently. The trap swayed and sagged as the five marched across it, bouncing like a plank between ship and shore.

  One of the men in the center turned to Meek and began pleading with him. Meek simply shook his head all the way through the argument without saying anything.

  "Askin' Meek t' take a knife to 'im instead," Webb said.

  "All Indians, they are afraid to hang," Devaux said, his eyes fixed on the figures atop the platform.

  "That woman o' Tamahas, she got a lot o' guts," Monday said. "All the rest of 'em scared off."

  Meek put his hand on the man's chest and pushed him lightly away. The Indian turned back toward the front and began to cry. whimpering helplessly. Tamahas glanced over at him contemptuously.

  Meek began to move behind them down the line, dropping the nooses over their heads and lightly tightening the knots. The blubbering chief in the center could no longer support himself and dropped to his knees. Meek lifted him, with both hands under the Indian's armpits, and hoisted him upright. The trap bounced slowly with the motion, the slack ropes stretching and tightening, stretching and tightening. Meek supported the man with one arm while he dropped the noose over his head. With the feel of the rope around his neck the Indian seemed to be able to stay upright, though he continued to make small noises like a wounded animal and kept his head down, looking at the planks beneath his feet.

  Tamahas stared straight out over the crowd and did not flinch when Meek touched him with the rope. Old man Kiami stretched his neck under the noose, like a white man settling his collar more comfortably.

  Near the front a man muttered, "Hang the bastards."

  Meek stood beside Tamahas with his hands hanging relaxed at his sides. He stared down at the man who had spoken and said quietly, "I'm figurin' to, mister." After he had spoken he continued to stare until the man dropped his gaze to the ground.

  Meek started back along the platform. His first steps made the trap sway again, and he stepped off to the solid rear portion. There was no sound from the crowd now, and his boots rang loudly on the raw wood. He went halfway down the steps and stopped. Taking a piece of paper from his shirt he went back to the platform and cleared his throat.

  "This here's the warrant," he said, waving the paper. Then he started to read. "By order of General Joseph Lane, governor of the Territory of Oregon . . ."

  The crowd listened to the document in silence. The sun's radiance streamed across the yard, warming and lighting each detail with incredible precision.

  ". . . five chieftains of the Cayuse tribe of Indians, to wit: Tamahas, known as Little Chief, Kiamisumpkin, Telouikite, Isaiah Chalakis, and Klokamas, having been convicted by a duly constituted jury of their peers . . ."

  "What's 'peers' mean?" Webb whispered to Monday.

  "Somebody better'n you, I expect," Monday whispered back. "Who else could do it?"

  "Them carpenters?" Webb said incredulously.

  Monday shrugged, watching.

  ". . . by the neck until dead. Signed, Joseph Lane, Governor of the Territory of Oregon by appointment of President Polk."

  Meek folded up the paper and went down the steps, around to the back of the platform where the rope ran near the edge over the block of wood. Some of the crowd stood on tiptoe to see what he was doing. Meek reached up, but the platform was too high.

  Angrily he came back to the steps, drawing his hatchet as he walked. His boots clumped heavily on the steps and he strode across the platform. Without pausing he swung the hatchet as he took the last step, and there was a solid chunk as the blade buried itself in the wood. The ends of the rope whipped wildly through the rings as the trap dropped and banged against the supports of the underside and the five Cayuse plummeted.

  There was an incredible, inhuman sound as the knots tightened.

  Three twitched wildly once or twice as their necks broke with the drop.

  Tamahas and one other began to thrash uncontrollably about, gasping and strangling as the poorly tied knots choked them. Blood poured from Tamahas' nose as he twisted about in great spasms like the convulsions of a dying bird. A rotten smell suddenly filled the air as the sphincter muscles of the three already dead relaxed and allowed their bowels to drain.

  His face set, Meek stepped up behind Tamahas, putting both his hands on the Indian's shoulders. He threw all his weight down and there was a tiny dull sound and the neck was broken. Tamahas writhed again in a jerking spasm that sent his legs thrashing briefly.

  There was a long, gasping sigh of release from the crowd. Monday looked up at the sky, where the indifferent sun poured joy and energy into the world below.

  No, he thought. No, not on a day like this.

  He was suddenly aware of an insistent tugging at his side.

  Unconsciously he jerked his arm away, staring without belief at the brilliant radiance that swept across the yard and the gallows and the crowd and the spasmically jerking bundles that had been men.

  The tugging continued persistently and Monday looked down, his eyes unfocused. A small brown girl was pulling on his sleeve, her great dark Indian eyes looking up at him.

  "The baby," the girl said. "The baby."

  Chapter Ten

  1

  It seemed a long time he stood there, staring down at the half-breed Indian girl, trying to puzzle it out. At last he recognized the girl as one of Meek's children. "The baby? " he said. When he finally realized, something rose in his throat. "Oh god," he said, "Mary."

  He wheeled suddenly and began to push through the crowd, frantic with haste. Behind him the little girl came silently, making her way unobtrusively through the unseeing mass of people with their eyes still fixed on the quivering flesh that dangled from the gallows crossbeam. Monday broke clear of the mass and ran to the front of the courthouse. He cursed his clumsy fingers as he unhitched the animal and swung up, kicking viciously with his heels as he hit the saddle. His horse bolted up into a gallop, almost running down the small dark figure that rounded the corner just as they passed.

  The little girl ran a few steps after the galloping horse, then stopped still and watched it go. She looked down at the ground for a moment, and then went to the saddleless horse tied at the raft. She climbed up on the rail and coaxed the horse over, so she could mount. Then she walked him slowly down the center of the deserted street in the gleaming sun.

  There was another horse tied in front of Meek's house when Monday reined up brutally, and the animal shied and
danced nervously away from his plunging halt. He ran up to the door and rushed into total blindness. After the brilliant clarity of the outside, the dim room was black to him, and he stopped just inside, blinking. "Mary?" he said hesitantly.

  "She's in back. Don't worry."

  After a second he made out the speaker. It was Dr. Beth, sitting relaxed at the table, with her bag of instruments beside her.

  "What's happening? What's happening?" Monday started for the door that separated the back sleeping room from the main room.

  "Your wife is having a baby," Dr. Beth said dryly

  The door was locked, and Monday rattled the handle. "Mary? Mary?" From inside the room Virginia said, "You wait." There was a murmur of low conversation he could not distinguish. Finally Virginia's voice came again. "You wait."

  Monday paced back away from the door. "What's wrong? W'hat's happening?"

  Beth stood up and went to the cupboard, saying, "There's nothing wrong. Now sit down here and relax your mind." She brought back a tin cup from the cupboard and put it on the table. From her bag she took a quart bottle of watery liquid and poured the cup half full. "Here," she said to Monday. "Relax your nerves."

  "I don't need relaxin'," Monday said. He sniffed the cup and it was just whisky after all, so he gulped it down. The burning choked him and made his eyes water, but it felt good in his belly. Beth quietly filled the cup again. "You best sit down," she said. "There's nothin' you can do now."

  Monday sat down and ran his hand across the top of his head. From the closed room there was a faint sound that might have been a moan. He started half up again and Beth's strong hand pressed him down.

  "It's all right, " she said. "It's all right. She's in labor."

  "Why the hell didn't somebody call me?"

  "You're here, aren't you? I sent the little girl soon as I got here."

  "Who told you?"

  "Nobody. I just dropped by to see."

  "You mean they were—those two were going to—" Monday stopped. "Oh, god," he muttered. "If anything goes wrong—"