Chapter Twenty-Six

"Don't do this, Brantley. Me and you have been trough a lot together. It ain't right you turning me in to hang."

Brantley growled as he kept his revolver in Hoff's back and led the shackled man down the boardwalk in town. "I never took you for a man to beg."

"I ain't begging," Hoff countered, his dark eyes shining with unshed tears. "Hell, yes I am! Dammit Brantley, you've made me pay for what I did to that woman. I'm sorry. I won't hurt her again, just let me go."

"I know you won't hurt her again," Brantley agreed. "You'll be dead." He hit Hoff in the back of the head causing the man to stumble several steps before righting himself. "Now shut the hell up."

Brantley would be lying if he said that his gut wasn't feeling a bit uneasy. Sure, he'd been fully prepared to kill Hoff not to long ago and a part of him would still happily do it—but his blood lust was wearing off. He'd been traveling for two weeks with Hoff to bring the man to Judge Wilson. Two weeks was a long time to hold on to rage when the man you were angry at kept throwing up all the history the two of you had.

Brantley was no murderer—or hadn't been. And for most of his life, Hoff had been his only family.

But that wasn't the way things were anymore. Hoff had to die—it was the only way to ensure Rebecca's safety. It was the only way that Brantley might stand a chance at a life with that woman.

Stepping into the courthouse, Brantley was joined by Marshall Graves. "How's our prisoner this morning?"

"Crying like a babe," Brantley informed him.

"Fuck you, Brantley," Hoff sniffed.

With a chuckle Brantley led Hoff up the large carpeted staircase that led to the judges office. This was almost over. Damn it had been nearly ten months since he'd seen Rebecca's face. He was more than ready to lay his eyes on it again.

Marshall Graves knocked on the heavy door to the judges room and the man quickly called for them to enter.

Rising from his desk, Judge Wilson had a jovial smile on his face as he clapped his hands together once and came to stand in front of Brantley and Hoff.

"Well damn, you did it! I had my doubts that you'd bring him back alive but here he is..." Judge Wilson frowned a bit. "It's clear you had a bit of fun roughing him up along the way..."

"You're only requirement was breathing," Brantley reminded him.

"I would say it's nice to meet you, Hoff, but it's not. I'm glad you're here. You'll have your day in court in one week and then you'll be hanged if the jury finds you guilty."

Brantley stiffened. "You never said anything about court."

Judge Wilson shrugged. "It's just a formality. Don't worry, Brantley, with his record he won't be found innocent."

"And my pardon?"

"Will be yours as soon as that guilty verdict is cast."

Brantley wasn't happy. The judge had made it sound as if Hoff's hanging was a sure thing when they'd made their deal. Now it seemed there was a chance the man would walk free and then what would happen to Brantley? Would that mean the judge would settle for hanging him instead?

Judge Wilson turned away from them and returned to his desk. "Now, take that prisoner to the jail and get him settled in. I've got some correspondence to send. I want everyone to know we've got this outlaw here."

When they stepped back into the cold, it was Hoff's turn to chuckle. "What is it, Brantley? Realizing maybe you shouldn't have trusted a lawman?"

Brantley chose to remain silent. If that damn judge tried to double cross him, Brantley would make sure he put a bullet in the backstabber right after he put a bullet between Hoff's eyes.

"I see where your thoughts are going, Brantley," Marshall Graves said as they walked toward the jail on the outskirts of the bustling city. "Don't worry. Judge Wilson has to follow the rule of law and that states that any man brought in alive has to stand trial before he hangs. Plus, he wants the attention it will gain. He likes beating his chest and hearing congratulations. But Hoff will hang and you will have your pardon."

Brantley pulled his hat down lower and pressed the revolver just a bit tighter into Hoff's back. "I better."

***

Sitting in that courtroom, Brantley felt as awkward as a well-paid whore in church on Sunday. But he didn't let that discomfort show. Weakness was death—he'd learned that at a young age and it wasn't something he ever figured he'd forget.

They'd taken his weapons before letting him enter. He was still technically a wanted outlaw, after all. Brantley sat in the back and never took his eyes off Hoff as the lawyers talked to witnessess and conversed and all around just wasted the fucking day away.

Why did Hoff need to be found guilty? Hell, didn't a dead or alive bounty already prove a man's guilt?

Hoff would meet Brantley's gaze now and then, obviously feeling Brantley's eyes boring holes in him. When their eyes did meet, Hoff would smile. It was cold and it was humorless and Brantley would simply sit there as still as stone with no expression. He just wanted this to be over.

At the end of the day, Brantley felt as if he were crawling out of skin in this crowded courtroom. They'd been waiting nearly an hour for the jury to deliberate. Finally that door opened and the jury filed back into the courtroom, taking their seats once again.

The bailiff took the paper from the lead juror and walked it over to Judge Wilson who looked at it and nodded, his expression giving away nothing.

"Jury, have you reached a decision?" Judge Wilson asked.

Brantley knew his life hung in the balance. The next words would decide whether he'd become a free man or whether he'd be murdering a judge and Hoff before meeting his own end.

The lead juror cleared his throat. "We the jury find the defendant.....guilty."

***

The next morning Brantley found himself knocking on the Judge's office door. "Come in."

"When is he hanging?" Brantley asked, stepping into the office.

"I waned to speak to you about that," Judge Wilson motioned to the chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

"I'd rather not waste time. I want my pardon and I want to know when I can watch that bastard go swinging."

"Sit Brantley."

Brantley bristled at being given a command but he knew the Judge had control in this situation so he did as he was told. Judge Wilson shuffled some papers on his desk and sighed. "I have had a change of mind in the case of Hoff. The man was found guilty and will be punished for his crimes but I no longer want to hang him."

"And why not?" Brantley asked, his calm demeanor betrayed by the twitching of the muscle in his cheek.

Judge Wilson didn't seem happy about the situation. He didn't seem to like the words he was saying any more than Brantley did. "I was approached by some powerful men who feel that there is another way to punish Hoff."

Brantley said nothing. He simply sat there waiting on the Judge to speak further. Judge Wilson rubbed his neck. "Hoff will never walk free. Your woman is safe. He's going to spend the rest of his life in Fresco Prison."

Brantley sat there a moment and then threw his head back and laughed. It had been nearly a year since he'd truly laughed—he hadn't done it since he and Rebecca had been sharing that little shack.

Judge Wilson seemed surprised. "Well you're taking the news better than I thought you would."

Brantley nodded. "Truth is, I wanted the man dead, but as far as suffering go, he'll suffer a hell of a lot more living the rest of his life in a cage than he would have with a quick death at the gallows."

Brantley could only imagine how horrible a life that would be for a man like Hoff. A man used to being in charge and answering to no one. A man used to living on horseback and riding free.... Hell, Brantley himself would rather die than live a life in prison.

"I guess that's one way to look at it," Judge Wilson agreed. He pulled an envelope from his desk drawer and reached it across the desk. "Here's your pardon, Brantley Mitchel. I've sent word to every lawman in this state and the surrounding ones. You're a free man."

Brantley took the envelope and pulled the paper out. He read it over and then quickly put it away before the Judge would see his shaking hands. "Thank you."

Judge Wilson shook his head. "No, thank you. Because of you, twelve dangerous men are no longer a threat to the citizens of this nation. Just remember that although you've been pardoned, we'll still be keeping an eye on you. If you step over the line, that pardon will be revoked."

Brantley rose to his feet and nodded. "Understood."

Judge Wilson stood as well. He held out his hand and Brantley shook it firmly. "It was good working with you, Brantley. Have a good life."

Brantley practically ran from the courthouse and through the crowded streets to the livery. He didn't stop for traffic, he nudged people out of his way and he probably left quite a few grumbling people in his wake. He didn't care.

He had his freedom. The gang was no longer a threat. Life was his to live. And only one thing kept repeating itself over and over in his mind.

Rebecca.