Free Here by the Bloods by Brandon Boyce

a swift admonishment for silence from His Honor.
    As for the accused, LaForge appeared bored and inexplicably disinterested throughout the presentation of evidence and the scant cross-examination. Heavily shackled by wrist and ankle, with another chain around his waist that never left the grip of Captain Gerald Mulgrew of the Pinkertons, LaForge’s only notable reactions were the occasional smirk and a single, vocal outburst during the testimony of the second and final witness, for which Haggerty threatened to remove him from the proceedings altogether.
    Only two witnesses were called in the trial. The first, providing the cornerstone of the prosecution’s case, was Francis Wallace, the duty clerk at the Loan and Trust and a man believed to be the only survivor of a “Snow-job.” Mr. Wallace, severely injured in the crime, entered the courtroom courtesy of four broad-backed Pinkertons, who carried him in his bed, complete with quilts and linens, and deposited him before the judge. Despite being bed-bound, even in court, Mr. Wallace wore a Sunday topcoat and gave his harrowing account of the crimes with a stoic dignity—laudable for a man who lost an arm in the demolition of the bank vault.
    Mr. W. Boone commended his star witness for his detailed account and then thanked God that Providence had allowed Mr. Wallace to speak in his own, well-timbered voice, now that his hearing had returned. Some ladies in attendance wept as Wallace recounted the brutal slaying of the Widow Daubman.
    The second witness, Harlan Two-Trees, a nineteen-year-old (“or thereabouts”) of Navajo descent, is credited with the daring, if not impulsive, capture of LaForge days earlier in the rugged, inhospitable foothills of the Sangre de Cristo—the Blood of Christ—mountain range. The reckless exuberance that inspired the late-night confrontation bears testament not to the young man’s savage bloodstock, but rather to the respectable Christian upbringing afforded him by his benefactors—and his admirable loyalty toward them. The late Sheriff Pardell and his wife, also deceased, raised Mr. Two-Trees after his mother passed, leaving him orphaned at age twelve. “An understandable, blinding quest for justice,” said Mr. W. Boone of the young man’s actions. Before the one true God, the soft-spoken Two-Trees testified that the accused provided an ominous, unequivocal warning that his gang of outlaw associates would bust him (LaForge) from his cell imminently and raze the town in a siege befitting the Book of Revelation.
    Closing arguments concluded just before four, with Judge Haggerty sending the jury into deliberation with the solemn task of deciding whether a fellow being shall face the mightiest penalty of all at the gallows.
    Well! The gentleman of the gallery had hardly enough time to stretch their legs—indeed the accused had not even been prepared for transport back to his cell—when word came from the foreman that the twelve had reached a verdict. With the spectators hastily returned to their seats (if not still standing in the aisles) and an anxious, humid hush over the courtroom, jury foreman Bennett Whitlock read the four fateful words aloud: “Guilty on all counts.”
    Then for a brief moment, the makeshift courtroom transformed into a sort of pirates’ den as robust cheers and more than a few unprintable expletives erupted from the exultant crowd. Fierce gaveling from His Honor brought some semblance of order, while several men, clearly already at the whiskey, were escorted out, courtesy of the Pinkertons.
    The prosecution asked that the punishment be meted out at the next day’s dawn, while the defense asked for the customary delays in hope of a pardon from the governor’s office. In the end, it was suggested by none other than Mayor Boone that a compromise be made—the hanging shall take place in three days’ time, at noon this coming Friday. A