“Come on up to the front, tough guy. I don’t want to shoot you from behind. Where’s the sport in that?”
“It’s okay, Kate,” said Ken calmly. “It’s over. This is done.”
She slowly lowered the pistol towards the ground and started back towards the office.
“Eat up, boys,” she called back behind her. “I’m picking up trays in fifteen minutes.”
Kate breathed deeply, wiping the tears from her eyes. She would never let them see her cry. “Focus,” she told herself, pulling a sheet of blank typing paper out of the top desk drawer.
“Option #2,” she wrote across the top. Then underneath, she wrote this note:
Tonight, after midnight, when all are asleep, you will take these keys and open your cell door, Judge Lowry’s, and then the front door.
The Judge will need to keep the keys, locking you back in your cell before leaving. We don’t need the keys back, so tell him to keep them.
If he refuses to leave, tell him he will be the third man in the gladiator contest this Saturday.
He is to leave town this night, never to return. He must stay off the main roads out of town. If he’s picked up tomorrow, I won’t be able to help him.
Last, eat this note, every bit of it.
Love, Kate
She hadn’t yet figured out how to get the note and keys to Ken without being seen by the others.
Think! Think! she told herself. This is too important to screw up.
“Trays down in five,” she called out.
Kate still hadn’t figured out how to pull off the next step and briefly considered pulling Ken out of his cell quickly for the exchange.
Glancing up at the old poster she had seen hundreds of times before, hanging above the front door, she had an idea. Not a great one, or even a good one, but one that could possibly work.
The poster showed a man from behind, cuffed and turned away from the photographer. The slogan didn’t matter, and she had her idea.
“Trays on the floor,” she called down the hall. “Push them outside of your cells and turn around facing the back wall of your cells. Anyone turns around or looks at me, and I’ll risk letting a bullet bounce around this jailhouse. Understand, boys?”
She only got a couple of responses, but it didn’t matter. They were all faced away, with trays shoved into the hall. She made a clanking of the trays intentionally to cover the sound of the paper with keys wrapped inside sliding across the floor of Ken’s cell. He was quick to recover the package and stuff it under his mattress.
“All right, gentlemen. It’s been interesting, for sure,” she said, with her confidence back. “And I’m just as excited as you are for Saturday’s entertainment. Sleep tight,” she called out as she locked the front door behind her.
Ken made a point of crouching in the corner to read the note before the light outside faded to dark. Reading the note over three times in a row, one thing stuck—“Love, Kate.”
* * * *
“How did it go, honey?” asked her fiancé. “Did the guests behave themselves?”
“They are fed and still alive. Now relax, and I’ll get started on your favorite dinner,” she said with a smile.
“What did I do to deserve all of this?” he asked.
“Everything,” she replied. “Everything you do for us and this town, day-in and day-out.”
“Well, I do try, and thanks for saying that.”
* * * * * * *
Chapter Four
Weston, Colorado
Ken was worried that he would fall asleep and miss his opportunity to complete “the mission,” as he called it.
A bright and nearly full moon filled the windows of each cell with enough light to navigate basic objects.
He sat with his back to the bars and front door of his cell, listening intently. It had been totally dark for about three hours, near as he could tell, and he could separate the loud snoring from Richard and the heavy breathing, with occasional fearful outbursts from his soon-to-be rival. It’s now or never, he thought, wishing he only had to worry about his jump tomorrow. He vowed to get this over with and try to get some sleep for the big day.
There were three keys on the ring. He guessed one was the front door; one was universal for the cells…and the third? Maybe the office, he thought, although it didn’t really matter, he decided. Reaching out through the front bars, he used the skeleton-type key he had seen every time his door had been opened. His hand shook and cramped as he fumbled to insert the key from the outside.
“Let me go!” screamed James’ shooter, startling Ken enough to drop the keys.
A clang echoed through the halls as they fell on the hard cement floor… Ken froze, holding his breath and straining his ears like a big buck on the first day of hunting season. Richard was still snoring, so that was good, and only minutes later he heard the other one breathing hard once again.
“The second time is a charm,” he mumbled, reaching through the bars for the keys. Streaks of light through the window distorted his perception.
“No, no, no!” he whispered, realizing he was six inches short of reaching the keys. Trying again, pressing his body against the bars and exhaling deeply, he gained three more inches in reach, but it wasn’t enough.
This isn’t good, he thought. Tomorrow morning they are going to know it’s me! He scanned the room, looking for the broomstick or coat hanger he knew wasn’t there. Sitting on his cot, he wondered if he could take it apart, cut a wire maybe and make some fashion of a hook. With his head in his hands, he nearly laughed out loud.
Laces, he heard, as if someone were standing next to him. With this having been his first-ever stint in the big house, he thought he might not have them in a larger jail. But this was Weston, and things were
