Slocum's Breakout - Jake Logan [44]
“Now what else would we do with a gallows?” The guard glowered at him.
“What’s his name? Atencio? The one getting his neck stretched today?”
“Don’t know what they call him. Don’t matter none to me.”
“I used to be an executioner,” Slocum said, an idea popping into his head. “Think anybody’d mind if I looked it over? For old times’ sake?”
The guard’s eyes went wide.
“You hung men? How many?”
Slocum sneered just a little as he said, “Not more ’n four. I got tired of riding a circuit, waiting for guilty verdicts. Then some towns did their own hanging. And vigilance committees? They always carry their own nooses, so that took away from my business. Thought it would pay better being a guard.”
“Can. Depends on what you got to sell the cons. I—” The guard clamped his mouth shut when a whistle blew. “Damnation, exercise time’s over already. Let’s get them snakes back into their holes.”
He went off to use his truncheon on the slower-moving prisoners, leaving Slocum alone in the yard. Taking advantage of the lull, Slocum walked to the gallows, trying not to draw unwanted attention. He kept his pace steady, not running and not moving too slow either. The gallows loomed high over him as he leaned against it. His heart hammered in his chest because he knew Atencio would be moved out here mighty soon and do a death jig unless something was done to save him.
Slocum had no idea how to do that. He was surrounded by guards willing to beat anyone to death that crossed them. If Sergeant Wilkinson spotted him, he would have the blue uniform ripped off and the prisoner’s canvas with broad stripes substituted. He turned slowly to see any potential problems. He was alone.
Slipping around the side of the gallows, he ducked beneath the structure and looked up, hunting for some way to gimmick the trapdoor. As he stared up, slivers of blue California sky showing between the poorly fitted planks in the platform above, he knew this wouldn’t accomplish anything. Any guard could come and fix the simple mechanism if he jammed it. Even nailing it shut wouldn’t give him the result he wanted—Atencio’s escape.
Getting the prisoner away from the gallows alive was only the first step in a long walk. They had to get outside San Quentin’s walls to where Murrieta waited with the horses. And if Slocum couldn’t get Atencio free, he had to escape himself. The task suddenly turned impossible.
He went up the thirteen steps to the platform and looked out on the empty yard. He doubted Warden Harriman would assemble the other prisoners to watch the execution. Only a handful of guards would join the warden as he sprung the trap and sent Atencio to the promised land.
Slocum caught the swaying noose and ran his callused fingers over it. The rough hemp was sturdy enough to support several men. It wasn’t likely to break unless . . .
Slocum whipped out the knife sheathed along his forearm and began carefully picking away at the strands, leaving enough so that the rope appeared untouched while cutting much of the interior. Sweating from exertion, he finally released the rope and let it swing away like a pendulum. As it swung back, he saw two guards emerge from the main cell block, a shackled prisoner between them. Immediately behind came four others, including two guards and a well-dressed man Slocum took to be the warden. The fourth was a priest, working hard at his profession of saving a damned soul by muttering a constant prayer.
Not wasting any time, Slocum dropped down beside the gallows and waited. He worried that Wilkinson might be in the party, but the sergeant was nowhere to be seen. Counting slowly, gauging distances, Slocum waited until the proper moment to step out and fall in behind the guards immediately behind the warden. The two on either side of Atencio marched the condemned man to the platform.
The warden looked