Lucky (Pt 4 - the end)

So Tipton was kind a famous for a spell. Everybody wanted to get a look at him. Women carried him food over to the jail. Men went to talk to him about the meanin’ of life and death, him being so intimate with both. It made him a expert, I suppose. He held the hand of the Reaper and come back to tell about it. He seemed happy and content. And he begun to talk a lot. He said he was lookin’ forward to the next hangin’, wantin’ to get it over with.

“Boys!” I remember him sayin’, “I done what I had to do, ya’ll know I did.” He had the look of a wise man. “And Heaven seen the debt was paid.” He took a deep breath and looked at us with a deepness in his eyes. “What’s right is right. They ain’t none of us can fight it, you know we cain’t.”

It was hard to argue with the boy. He was lucky.

So the clock moved on and it come time for the hangin’. The townspeople marched along beside Tipton as he made his way to the scaffold. They was singin’ hymns and laughin’ and cheerin’. Tipton smiled so sweet you hardly noticed those missin’ teeth a his. He seemed happier than he been his whole life.

Tipton Lange stepped up to the noose and the Sheriff slipped it ‘round his neck.

“We should count it down!” Someone yelled this from the crowd. It may a been Pete Conroy again. Tipton nodded his head, givin’ his approval.

“Five!” screamed the crowd, clappin’ their hands, whistlin’ and shoutin’.

“Four-Three-Two!” they bellowed, a strong wind beginnin’ to rise up and lift their hair from their foreheads. Clouds filled the sky, blottin’ out the sun. A feelin’ of revelation was in the air.

“One!” screamed the crowd, with wild and joyful abandon. Women begun to faint and men stared wild eyed, upward, at Tipton Lange, sweat pourin’ down their faces, as the Sheriff pulled the lever that released the trapdoor.

Tipton fell without a trace a fear on his face and stopped, a course, halfway to the ground. His body twitched a few times, then it begun to spin slowly in a circle. The crowd was shocked quiet. You could hear the wind blowin’ through the town.

He looked like a old broken watch hangin’ from a chain.

The people drifted on home, whisperin’ quietly, walkin’ softly. I helped the Sheriff take the boy down. There was only us two beside the Preacher.

Anyways. ‘Twas my job. Somebody had to lift him into the ground.


THE END



Peace to you.



© LW Publishing 2010

Lucky (pt3)

At the trial, that prosecutor said a lot a things like: “The law is the law,” and, “With clear premeditation, Tipton Lange murdered Thomas Bradshaw in cold blood,” and, “The jury must remember that their personal feelings must not get in the way of what they know the truth to be! The jury must remain impartial and remember that a life has been taken against every law known to mankind!”

They knowed Tipton killed Bradshaw anyways. They didn’ need nobody to tell ‘em. And that’s the way it come out in court. Sure, they felt sorry for the boy, but they couldn’ deny Tipton killed Bradshaw.

Tipton’s lawyer was ‘pointed by the court. He didn’ have much to say ‘cause there wasn’ much to say. No one blamed him.

So Tipton had to hang.

They built up the scaffold and sent the preacher in to talk with the boy. Tipton repented of his sins and walked with the Sheriff, quietly, to be “hung by the neck until dead.” But when they tried to hang ‘im, the rope broke, just like I already told you. So the Sheriff sent the deputy to the store to get another’n, and they set the boy up to be hanged all over again.

You wouldn’ believe it, but it’s true: The second rope broke too.

Everybody was stunned into silence for a moment or two. Then somebody shouted out, “It’s a miracle!” The crowd begun to yell and clap their hands. They started chantin’, “Innocent! Innocent! Innocent!” The Sheriff just scratched his head. He was rightly dumbfounded. But he got everybody to quiet down and said he was goin’ to have a talk with the Judge. So everybody went home and Tipton went back to jail, a hero of sorts.

The Sheriff talked it over with the Judge and the lawyers and, from what I heard, the Judge was goin’ to let Tipton off. They sentenced him to hang and they done it. Twice. So he served his sentence. But the prosecutin’ lawyer was proud of his conviction and he pointed out how Tipton was to hang “until dead.” He argued and quoted the laws, left and right, ‘til the Judge went along. I imagine he was tired of listenin’ to the windbag.

But the Judge made that lawyer agree that if somehow Tipton wasn’t killed in the next hangin’, they was to let him go free.



TO BE CONTINUED...



© LW Publishing 2010