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    Mister D'Eath and the Judge
    Mister D'Eath and the Judge
    Mister D'Eath and the Judge
    Ebook171 pages3 hours

    Mister D'Eath and the Judge

    By Tony Masero

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    1870 Nebraska.
    Sam D’Eath and Judge Aldermire make an unlikely team.
    Their task is to dispense tough frontier justice and the Judge likes to keep things simple in his circuit court, which means that most cases end in a terminal way. But bad news travels fast and when it reaches Sam he has to leave off stretching necks to take time out for some personal justice.
    The trail he and the Judge follow takes them to Capable Springs and a crime that cuts Sam to the heart. As they seek out the perpetrators there are a few distractions along the way, there’s a vicious cannibal on the loose and a sensual half-breed girl that catches Sam’s eye. With a professional gunman and a wealthy rancher waiting in the sidelines, it takes more than a length of hemp rope and a noose to settle the score.
    Solving the case and finding the perpetrators takes Sam and the Judge deeper into a devious scheme that unexpectedly reaches far beyond the sleepy town. As a result the townsfolk of Capable Springs face a vengeful band of gunmen eager to stop the news from ever getting out and if it means the town’s total destruction, well, that’s just too bad.
    The town soon discovers that wherever they go, things are never the same after Mister D’Eath and The Judge come calling.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTony Masero
    Release dateNov 6, 2013
    ISBN9781310877759
    Mister D'Eath and the Judge
    Author

    Tony Masero

    It’s not such a big step from pictures to writing.And that’s how it started out for me. I’ve illustrated more Western book covers than I care to mention and been doing it for a long time. No hardship, I hasten to add, I love the genre and have since a kid, although originally I made my name painting the cover art for other people, now at least, I manage to create covers for my own books.A long-term closet writer, only comparatively recently, with a family grown and the availability of self-publishing have I managed to be able to write and get my stories out there.As I did when illustrating, research counts a lot and has inspired many of my Westerns and Thrillers to have a basis in historical fact or at least weave their tale around the seeds of factual content.Having such a visual background, mostly it’s a matter of describing the pictures I see in my head and translating them to the written page. I guess that’s why one of my early four-star reviewers described the book like a ‘Western movie, fast paced and full of action.’I enjoy writing them; I hope folks enjoy reading the results.

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      Book preview

      Mister D'Eath and the Judge - Tony Masero

      MISTER D’EATH and THE JUDGE

      Tony Masero

      Cover Illustration: Tony Masero

      A Hand Painted Western

      ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

      Publishers Note: This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events other than historical are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real person, places, or events is coincidental.

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2012 © Tony Masero

      'It is not the severity of punishment but rather the certainty of punishment that deters crime'

      Isaac Charles Parker – The Hanging Judge (1838 – 1896)

      Prologue

      At around the same time a riotous confrontation was starting the American Revolution in faraway Boston, a lone snow goose flew south. It was a late arrival, coming down from the Artic breeding grounds in the far north and the exhausted emigrant winged its way tiredly across long miles of, as yet, unnamed prairie.

      On its way down the goose had nourished itself where it might, on seeds, leaves and roots, whatever was available in the bleak countryside it crossed on its journey. The bird was searching for its own kind amongst the wetlands that remembered instincts told it occupied the stream-laced countryside somewhere below. The seventy-seven thousand square miles of prairie it traversed in this epic journey were only later to become the great farming state of Nebraska.

      Finally, overcome with relief at finding its destination the tired goose deposited a small treasure on the grasslands. Within the pallid dropping was the seedling start of a tree.

      The fertile seed rooted itself in a sloping hollow of boggy ground that eventually became the boundary mark of a small homestead. Over the intervening years the shoot grew into a mighty bur oak with lush branches that spread broad and wide. So singular was the tree's presence on the otherwise treeless plains that early sodbusters, themselves emigrants across the Great Plains on their way to the gold mines in California noted the potential of the land and decided to stay. Soon a town had arisen to stand alongside the remarkable oak.

      So sturdy were the limbs of this solitary landmark that they could easily take the weight of a number of people and the tree became a popular playground for the township's children who would scale and swing in the branches.

      A hundred years after the arrival of that air-born gift, on a windy day in the March of 1870 a different kind of game was about to be played on the impressive tree.

      There were three of them to go.

      That was how the Judge wanted it and that was how it would be.

      The townsfolk had set up a rocking chair for him on the porch of the hardware store at the end of Main Street that he might bear witness to the results of his sentencing. He sat there, moodily rocking gently as the final preparations were made. Dressed in a long black drape jacket and ribbon tie, the Judge looked to be the complete embodiment of a solemn adjudicator. Frowning somberly from under the brim of his tall stovepipe hat he watched all with a studied sternness that embodied both righteous justice and the cold dispassionate eye of the law.

      A fair-sized crowd had gathered, as was to be expected. Word had spread fast through the surrounding countryside and the outlying farming families had come in especially to see the show. Despite the fact that the tail end of a chinook was blowing in from the Rockies they were determined to make a day of it. They came with picnics packed in hampers and laid them out on spread tablecloths weighed down against the wind on the sloping hillside at the edge of town. There was a carnival atmosphere to the congregation and children ran freely through the gathering, wild with excitement at having escaped a day away from the schoolroom.

      Despite the Judge's critical eye, jugs of home brewed liquor were passed amongst the gathered menfolk, who stood apart in groups, laughing and joking together whilst their women chattered and chided the over-excited children.

      A few townsfolk had been temporarily deputized to bring out the condemned, that were being kept in a fruit cellar beneath the blacksmith's forge. A silence descended over the watching crowd as the three men came up into the bright sunlight. They were dazzled after being held for a fortnight in darkness whilst awaiting the judge's arrival and all raised their manacled hands plaintively to shade their eyes as they staggered up from the cellar.

      Two of the three were tall and dour. Both solidly built men, similar in outlook, with dark stony faces sporting full beards. One of them, standing only slightly shorter that the other in height strutted as best he could in a cocky show of bravado. The third was a younger, fair-haired man of slender build and more tender disposition and he looked around nervously at the gathered audience.

      Armed men, full of self-importance at their temporary status as law officers, urged the three on with tentative prods from their rifle barrels. It was a long walk down to the tree at the edge of town, that same giant bur oak that stood at the base of the sloping hill. A couple of widely spread and strong branches had been selected to do the work and two ropes hung ready from the lower of the two. A solitary third noose hung from the other, set on a somewhat higher branch growing from the opposite side of the trunk.

      The wind whipped up trails of dust that blew around the legs of the condemned men. Each of them hobbled by chains at the ankles and they hop-stepped awkwardly along the main street towards their fate amidst the swirling dust clouds. As they passed by the watching locals, a gasping ripple ran through the expectant crowd. The noise grew in volume until at last angry shouts were offered, soon jeering and abuse followed after the three staggering men. There was an air of collective outrage engendered by the security of numbers and its infectious self-righteousness soon spread amongst both young and old alike on the hillside. Doubtless, there was a real sense of justification that excused the mob mentality, as the crime had been particularly brutal and all the community empathized with the murdered victims who had been farmers like themselves.

      The three men glanced furtively around at the angry shouts and they dragged their feet, slowing their pace at the ominous noise before being shoved on forcefully by their guardians. They were gradually brought along the street at a limping rate until they stood in a disconsolate file in front of the Judge.

      He stared down at them and shrugged on his best glowering outlook before addressing the three; a hush fell over the crowd as he did so.

      'You boys know what you done. The trial was fair and you all had your say,' intoned the Judge. 'Justice was seen to be done and now you got to pay the piper. Time has come this country learns that the law won't abide the kind of mayhem and disorder your reprehensible behavior embodies.'

      The younger man began sniveling, his face crumbling at the words, but his two companions stared back at the judge coldly with a brazen show of indifference.

      'I see no remorse in you two brothers and your cousin,' the Judge went on. 'It was a heinous crime, a bloody murder committed against your neighbors and whatever the cause it don't bare considering. A man, his wife and small children chopped down by a wood ax without mercy and their homestead set afire. Best you all try and make your peace with the Lord Almighty right now because you're bound to stand before His throne this very day. It may just be He's a darn sight more charitable than me, although I doubt that.'

      The fair-haired man fell to his knees and wailed pitifully. 'Spare me, Judge,' he cried. 'I done nothing, I swear it. It was all my kin's doing. I'm too young for this, Judge. I got a life to lead.'

      'Should have thought of that before you used that tree stump to cut the heads of those young 'uns as if they were chickens got ready for the pot,' the Judge answered coldly.

      'No, no!' cried the young man. 'I never did that.'

      'You fellows have any last words?' the Judge asked, turning to the brothers.

      One of them, the brasher short one of the pair, squinted against the brush of particle-filled wind and spat in the dust then sneered at the Judge darkly. 'Shut your yap and get on with it,' he growled.

      The Judge nodded placidly at the deputies, 'Do like the man says.'

      They hauled the fair-haired cousin up but he would not stand on his feet and only hung limp between two of the deputies.

      'Ain't you got no shame? Get up and walk like a man,' whispered one of the policing deputies with a look of disdain at the boy.

      'It wasn't me,' whined the boy. 'It ain't right, I tell you.'

      'You're going, son,' advised the Judge. 'One way or the other, you're going. Best face it as best you can.'

      'No!' screamed the boy but his cry was lost in the roar of the crowd as his elder cousins stepped out towards the tree.

      A high, twenty-foot hayloft ladder had been set up under the solitary rope and it was to this that the younger boy was carried. He begged and pleaded; kicking and writhing in the grip of the deputies but his cries were lost amongst the noise of the watching mob as he was pushed up the ladder.

      Swiftly, the hangman was upon him. Rising up, it seemed as if from nowhere, suddenly he was there beside the boy on the ladder and with practiced ease the rope was slipped over the young man's head and tightened to one side of his jaw. The hangman, a sturdy block of a man, spoke intensely into the boy's ear and for a second the young man froze. Distracted from his fear, he twisted his head and looked intently at the hangman with a questioning look. Then before he could consider further what had been said, his executioner pushed him free and the boy tumbled the long distance down. The well-placed rope did its job and with a sharp jerk the vertebrae were separated and the neck was broken instantly. Within the space of a few seconds the young man was dead.

      It was not to be so quick for his cousins who stood waiting, grim faced and despite their earlier show of fearlessness now trembling like willow wands under the tree's lower branch. For them there was a haul up on long ropes dragged by a matching team of plow horses and the two wriggled at the end of the ropes, gagging and gasping a few feet from the ground. The farmer controlling the team looked away and twisted his face in disgust as the two men voided themselves and the stink washed over him. They hung there, necks stretched out by their own weight and their panting faces turning an awful crimson color as they stared pop-eyed and kicked their feet in desperation trying to toe the earth that was just out of reach. It was a death by slow strangulation rather than the swift end of their younger cousin.

      A hush settled over the watchers as the two men toiled with their end. It was shocking to see and people began to turn away and take their leave, the earlier festive mood suddenly sunken beneath the reality of these ugly deaths in such a ghastly and protracted form.

      It took twenty minutes before the hanging men were still, their bodies twisting slowly in the unrelenting wind. Even then the hangman commanded that they should stay there for another hour until it was sure that all signs of life had been truly extinguished.

      ‘What did you say to the boy?’ the Judge asked the hangman later.

      ‘I told him his ma was watching.’

      ‘That was a lie, his mother passed over ten years since.’

      ‘Where he was going, he'd be seeing her soon enough.’

      Chapter One

      Hundred-and-forty miles west of those executions, on the night of the same day, another dark deed was about to take place that was to impact on the Judge and his companion.

      At that time the hour had gone midnight and it was a cool night, the temperature being unseasonably chilled for the time of year.

      The rest of the town of Capable Springs slept snug in their beds on this moonless night and the unlit street was in darkness except for the one solitary light shining from the storefront window of The Capable Gazette newspaper office. The lamplight stretched out across Main Street in a long yellow panel that shone out starkly against the

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