Children and a few adults watched as men put a sandbag on the trap door of the gallows to test that it sprang open correctly. They clapped and cheered as the lever was pulled and door flew open, dropping the weight with a thud to the dusty ground. There had not been a hanging in over three years in Santa Maria, so it was something that would bring a crowd. And as the time for the hanging approached, more and more people gathered around the gallows. Even Wilmar and Rosa had ridden into town, though they left the children, including Oscar, with Rosa’s mother.
Finally, Alcalda Sanchez rode up on his fine black stallion, his wife and his family in a wagon following close behind. The crowd parted, watching the young man they had recently voted into office and his family pull in front of the wooden structure. Ignacio easily played the part, wearing a charro outfit only he could afford – elaborately embroidered white pants, short jacket and vest, a dark blue shirt underneath tied with a silk scarf and a large white sombrero on his head. He looked as if he were going to a festival not a hanging. It took some effort for him to jump off his horse as he had gained a bit of weight since he had taken over the office six months earlier. The alcalda went to the wagon and helped his new wife, Patricia, get down. She wore a matching charro skirt and jacket, her long black hair falling almost to her waist. They truly were a stunning couple, and there was much murmuring in the crowd.
Ignacio escorted his wife and their entourage to the hotel porch where the ladies sat in chairs brought out for the occasion, away from the heat of the direct sun. Then he made his way to the gallows steps, taking his place above the crowd. Hector, in a clean shirt and pants, stood one step below him.
“Ladies and gentleman, today is a day to celebrate. Justice will be done for those innocent women and children, taken from this world by no fault of their own.”
Cheers and applause erupted from the crowd until Ignacio lifted his hands for quiet.
“My deputy and I have labored long and hard to discover who could do this despicable act.”
There was a hum in the crowd as they anxiously waited for the verdict.
“I give you the Galvez murderer!” Sanchez shouted and motioned toward the open stable doors, guarded by two men with guns resting on their chest.
Every eye turned to the stable as Roberto led a thin stranger – the drifter – out into the light of day, his hands tied with a rope, his feet bare, and bits of straw sticking out of his scraggly beard and his dirt-covered clothes.
Voices rose as the man was lead through the crowd, jeers, boos, and condemnations thrown at him, as well as small stones and spit. The man lifted his hands to try and protect his face as he was pulled forward and up the gallows’ steps.
“I am innocent. I did not do this terrible thing,” he repeated over and over as he was lead along.
As the crowd persecuted the man, Mario stepped out from the open stable doors and leaned on the building to watch.
Ignacio had moved to stand by his wife, while Hector stood next to the village priest on top of the gallows, waiting for the drifter to join them.
The priest stepped up to the man and made the sign of the cross. “May the Lord have mercy on your soul.”
He stepped back, and Hector put a burlap bag over the drifter’s head, then the rope, synching it tight around the man’s neck.
Only Hector heard the man’s last words before he stomped his foot on the boards for the men below to open the trap door. “As God is my witness. I am innocent.”
No comments:
Post a Comment