A COMPROMISE
MURDER in the first-degree.
Not a muscle of the prisoner’s face moved as the clerk of the court read
the verdict. He gave no sign whatever of emotion. Since Silcott’s
testimony he had expected nothing less. Now his grave eyes rested on the
face of the clerk with steady composure.
The reporters, watching him for copy, would have been disappointed if
they had had to depend upon him for it. But into the dead silence of the
courtroom was lifted the low, sobbing wail of a woman. Ruth had
collapsed into the ample bosom of Mrs. Flanders.
The face of the convicted man twitched, but he did not look around.
Without the evidence of his eyes he knew who had broken down under the
strain, whose game will had weakened at the blow. In that moment he
thought wholly of her, not at all of himself.
A grizzled old cattleman pushed his broad shoulders through the crowd
toward the condemned raider. “This ain’t the end, boy. We’ll work like
sixty to get you a new trial. This will never go through—never in the
world!” His strong arm fell with frank affection across the shoulders of
his friend. “It don’t matter what names they call you, son. You’re the
same old Mac to all of us.”
“This is when a fellow finds out who his friends are, Roswell,” answered
Rowan simply.
He had many of them. They rallied to him by scores—long, loose-jointed,
capable men with leathery brown faces, men who had fought with him
against Wyoming blizzards for the lives of driven cattle, men who had
slept beside him under the same tarp by many a campfire. From Rawlins
and Casper and Cheyenne, and even far-away Denver, came words of good
cheer. They stressed the point that the fight for his life was just
beginning and that the verdict of the jury would not be accepted as
final.
A telegram from Pendleton, Oregon, touched him deeply. It was signed by
four bronco busters whom he had beaten for the championship at Bad Ax:
Stick to the saddle, Mac. Don’t you pull leather, old scout.
We’re here hollering our heads off for the best rider that ever
slapped a saddle on an outlaw. Clamp your knees and hang on
tight. Say, Mac, we got a little pile of chips to shove into the
game any time you’re shy of blues.
ROADY DUNN.
J. C. MORGAN.
SLATS HOFFMAN.
TEX GREEN.
Mrs. Stovall, who had been a very unwilling witness for the prosecution,
brought a cake and a cherry pie to the jail for him. Incidentally, she
delivered a message with which she had been commissioned.
“Norma says for me to tell you that this trial doesn’t fool her any. She
knows you’re being punished for some of the other boys. She wanted I
should tell you that she knows you didn’t intend to kill Joe.”
This was an opinion becoming every day more widespread. Men began to say
that McCoy was the victim of evil chance. Shoshone County was still
determined to see justice done the murderers of Dan Gilroy, but it hoped
Rowan would escape the gallows. He had been so game throughout the
trial, so careful to bring out nothing to the prejudice of his fellow
prisoners that the hearts of men turned toward him.
The financial side of the affair was troubling the officials of the
county. The trial had been a long and expensive one. It had cost many
thousand dollars, and there was talk of grounds for an appeal. With four
other trials yet to come, it became apparent that Shoshone County would
be bankrupt long before the finish.
Roswell, acting for a group of friends, went to the prosecuting
attorney.
“Look here, Haight. You’re up against it. Maybe you’ve got evidence to
convict these boys. Maybe you haven’t.”
“There’s no maybe about that—I have,” Haight broke in grimly.
“Well, say you have. That ain’t the point. The county can’t stand the
expense of all those trials. You know that. What are you going to do
about it?”
“Going right ahead with the trials. We begin with Brad Rogers
to-morrow.”
“Oh, well! We got to be reasonable—all of us. Now here’s my
proposition: Let me talk with the boys and their lawyers. If I could get
them to plead guilty it would save a heap of trouble all around.”
Haight had looked at the matter from this angle before. He nodded. “All
right. See what you can do, Mr. Roswell. If they will save us the
expense of trying them, I think I can arrange for life imprisonment.”
“For all of them?” demanded the cattleman shrewdly.
“For all the rest of them.”
“How about Rowan?”
“He’s not included. We’ve got to make an example of him. He led the
raid.”
Roswell fought it out with the lawyer for an hour, but on this point
Haight stood firm. McCoy had to pay the extreme penalty for his crime.
That was not even open to argument.
The old cattleman called at once upon the leading lawyer for the
defense, and with him visited the cell of Yerby. The Texan was greatly
depressed at the issue of the trial. He could not get over his
bitterness at the part Silcott had played.
“I reckon he’s up at the ho-tel eating fried chicken and watermelon.
Well, he’s welcome. I wouldn’t swap places with him. Neither would Mac.
We all had our chance to do like he done.”
“No, Silcott’s still in jail. He asked Matson to keep him there till the
trials are over and he can light out. I expect he don’t like to trust
himself outside. Some of the boys are a mite vexed at him.” Roswell came
abruptly to the object of his call. “Sam, we got to face facts. Haight
has the goods on you boys. He’ll sure convict you.”
“Looks like,” agreed the Texan dejectedly.
“We’ll have to fix up a compromise. If you’ll all plead guilty Haight is
willing to call it life imprisonment.”
“What do the other boys say?”
“They are willing, I reckon, to take the best terms they can get.”
“I’d as lief be dead as locked up in jail for the rest of my life.”
“We’ll get you out on parole in two or three years. The worst of it is
that Mac ain’t included in the arrangement. Haight swears he has got to
hang.” Eyes narrowed to slits, Roswell watched the Texan while he fired
his next shot. “Mac was the leader. There wouldn’t ’a’ been any killing
except for him. He’s the responsible party. So Haight says that——”
“Got it all figured out, have you? Mac did the killing. Mac was to
blame. I’ll tell you this: If Mac had had his way there wouldn’t have
been any killing. Just because he shuts his mouth and stands the
gaff—— Dog-gone it, you and Haight can take yore compromise plumb to
hell!” decided the Texan, his anger rising.
Roswell gave a low whoop and fell upon him. “That’s the way to talk,
old-timer. We’ve got Haight on the hip. The county’s busted high and
dry. Folks are beginning to holler already about the expense of the
trials. If Haight were to come up for reëlection along with a special
tax levy to pay for the trials the dear pee-pul wouldn’t do a thing to
him. He’s ready to talk turkey. If you lads will stand pat, it’s an even
bet that he’ll have to crawfish about Mac.”
“I ’low we’ll stay hitched—all of us that haven’t a big yellow streak
up our backs. Why-for should we let Mac get the worst of the deal? You
go tell Haight he can’t stack the cards that-a-way.”
Rogers, coming up for trial next day, was anxious to get the matter
settled. But he, too, declined the terms.
“I’ll take my chance before a jury unless Haight agrees to lump Mac in
with the rest of us. Mac would see Haight in blazes before he would
agree to any such raw deal if he were in my place. You can let Mr.
Prosecuting Attorney start the fireworks soon as he’s a mind to. I’m
willing to go as far as I can. I reckon all the boys are. But I’m too
old and tough and stubborn to whine out of it like Larry Silcott. What’s
sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. When I see Mac’s name at
the head of the list, I’ll sign a compromise.”
Cole and Falkner in turn were visited. The former refused flatly to
consider any arrangement which did not include McCoy.
In the interest of psychology or to satisfy his own curiosity Roswell
ventured on debatable ground with Falkner.
“Course you don’t owe Mac anything. He led you into this trouble. The
whole thing is his fault. Silcott as good as admitted that Rowan did the
actual killing himself. Naturally you would be sore on him. Now by
accepting Haight’s proposition Mac will be hanged and you other
lads——”
“Mac will be hanged, will he?” growled Falkner.
“Sure thing. Nothing can save him if you accept Haight’s terms. But,
after all——”
The prisoner looked at the old cattleman blackly. Whatever faults he
had, Falkner was not a sneak. McCoy had kept quiet when he might have
told the others who had done the killing. McCoy had stood pat from start
to finish. He had taken his share of blame when he might fairly enough
have shifted it to other shoulders. If Mac had given the word, it would
have been Falkner who would have been hanged while the others got off
with prison sentences. The young cow-puncher knew he was to blame for
the predicament in which they all stood. His ungovernable rage at Tait
was responsible for the killings. Hard citizen though he was, the man
was game to the core.
“Who in Mexico wants to accept Haight’s offer?” he snarled. “I’ve lived
a wolf, by some folks’ way of it. I reckon I’ll die one. But I’m no
coyote. Make another crack like that and there’ll be trouble right here
in Cell Fifteen.”
Roswell grinned. To the prosecuting attorney he carried back word that
his proffer had been rejected. No compromise would be considered which
did not include McCoy.
The hotel where Roswell and his friends stayed became active as a hive
of bees. From it cow-punchers and cattlemen issued to make a quiet
canvass of the leading citizens of Shoshone County. The result was that
Haight and his political friends were besieged for twelve hours by
taxpayers who insisted on a compromise being arranged. The long-distance
telephone called him up three times that night to carry protests against
his policy.
“What’s the idea, Haight?” asked a prominent irrigation engineer in
charge of a project under construction. “We stand for the law. We want
to see every man punished that was in the sheep raid. But there’s no
object in starting trouble with the cattlemen, and that’s what it will
amount to if you hang Rowan McCoy. Tait and Gilroy weren’t blameless.
They knew what they were going up against. They didn’t have to cross the
dead line and ruin the ranchmen on the Fryingpan. A prison sentence all
around hits me as about right. I’ve talked with lots of people, and
that’s the general sentiment.”
Just before Rogers was to be brought into the courtroom for trial Haight
gave way. He had a long conference with the lawyers for the defense and
the presiding judge. As a result of this it was announced that the
prisoners would plead guilty.
Before sunset each of the five had been sentenced to life imprisonment.