His guests, as he sometimes called them, never stayed very long, so the cells weren’t as bad as they could be, he supposed.
His newest arrival came in with a bandaged stomach. The bullet had missed everything important. The Sheriff demanded an early release from the doctors, agreeing to call on them if there were any changes in the prisoner’s condition.
Once the prisoner was safely locked away, the Sheriff dismissed his deputies for the afternoon, opting for some alone time with his prisoners. He used to share these moments with Judge Lowry, but they were drifting apart and hadn’t spoken to one another since last Saturday.
He had never before thought of planning an execution without the Judge’s ruling, but now things were different. This time he wouldn’t even ask permission.
He felt good, with a new sense of power over his people and a confidence in the bedroom he had never known before.
“Let’s talk, gentlemen,” he said, standing between the three cells so all could hear.
“You,” he called out, pointing to the new prisoner. “I don’t know you, so I don’t think you know how this goes. But you two, former Councilman and Richard, have been around long enough to know nobody under my watch walks out of here alive.
“The problem, gentlemen, is that I’m getting bored with the traditional hangings. I know they were a staple of times long gone—and don’t get me wrong, they were exciting and served their purpose for the rest of my citizens—but they just don’t excite me anymore. Does that make any sense?”
There was no response from any of the men.
“Before the lights went out, we had electric chairs, lethal injections, gas chambers, and not too long ago, firing squads.”
He made a pistol motion with his right hand, pretending to shoot each man.
“Way, way back, they had guillotines and that thing they did with the horses or with trees, where they pulled the limbs off, but that’s too brutal for sure. Gladiators…I forgot about that. Like that movie with the Australian guy. I can’t remember his name right now.”
“Russell Crowe,” said the former councilman without thinking.
“That’s the one,” replied the Sheriff.
“I was just thinking that maybe you three should have a say in it. Think on it for me, and have a good night.”
He slid three full dinner plates across the floor, one into each of the cells, and locked up for the night, walking the short half-mile home.
Judge Lowry watched the Sheriff walk within thirty feet of the now-abandoned liquor store. The Judge hid inside, peering out a broken side window. He took a deep breath, held it, and pointed the loaded pistol at the Sheriff.
“Pow!” he whispered, as the Sheriff continued down the sidewalk towards home.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Three
Weston, Colorado
Judge Lowry walked back to the courthouse, a confident man. He would not have to confront the Sheriff, man to man, as he had restlessly dreamed about for the last few nights. His surprise would be unexpected, and hopefully quick to end.
All that was left was for him to gain the favor of those who would serve under him in the highest levels of city government and law enforcement.
He sought daily to recruit those men and women needed to fulfill his destiny, to forever fill the post as the leader of Weston.
Sheriff Johnson was home early, relaxing on his front porch with his black crocodile cowboy boots propped up on his workbench. With all the changes after the power went down, he made a note to sift through his old books and magazines. This afternoon he was handed one of his favorite old schoolbooks by his girlfriend. She was slowly inching her way into his daily decision-making on official town matters.
He smiled, reading the cover of the Guinness World Records. He had collected many of these books over the years. This edition was 1975, and he read about his favorite motorcycle jumping hero growing up, Evel Knievel.
“Did you know that in 1975 he held the Guinness record for most bones fractured? He broke 433 bones in more than 20 crashes. And he earned almost $6 million for his Snake River Canyon rocket-crossing attempt.”
“You really like that daredevil stuff, don’t you?” asked his girlfriend.
“More than anything. Wait a minute, that’s it!” he exclaimed. “That’s what I’ve been missing all along! I’ll be back in an hour,” he added excitedly, running off the porch and back through town.
He reached his station out of breath, and he paused outside for a minute, calming his excitement. He thought for a minute about what he was considering and almost backed out to head home.
“Is this what you really want?” he asked himself, knowing it would take some of his power away if it went sideways. Deciding he could live with the worst-case scenario, he pressed on.
“Gentlemen,” he yelled, swinging open the front door. He heard plates clanging in one cell, and a toilet flushing in another.
“You boys weren’t expecting me back until tomorrow, I know, but here I am. What did each of you decide?”
“Gladiator-style, Richard? What about you, former councilman? Maybe a firing squad or guillotine?”
There were no responses from the men, who up until just minutes ago were talking of quick and painless ways to die and the more remote possibility of a jailbreak.
“Sir,” spoke the wounded man, still laying on his cot. “We were hoping there was another way. Like kicking all of us out of town for good, never to return.” He got eager nods from the other two prisoners.
“That’s an interesting thought, considering it’s never happened before. Isn’t that right, gentlemen?” he said, gesturing towards the other two.
“My lady friend reminded me that I like watching death-defying
