A COMPROMISE
MURDER in the first-degree.
Not a muscle of the prisoner’s face moved as the clerk of the court read the verdict. He gave no sign whatever of emotion. Since Silcott’s testimony he had expected nothing less. Now his grave eyes rested on the face of the clerk with steady composure.
The reporters, watching him for copy, would have been disappointed if they had had to depend upon him for it. But into the dead silence of the courtroom was lifted the low, sobbing wail of a woman. Ruth had collapsed into the ample bosom of Mrs. Flanders.
The face of the convicted man twitched, but he did not look around. Without the evidence of his eyes he knew who had broken down under the strain, whose game will had weakened at the blow. In that moment he thought wholly of her, not at all of himself.
A grizzled old cattleman pushed his broad shoulders through the crowd toward the condemned raider. “This ain’t the end, boy. We’ll work like sixty to get you a new trial. This will never go through—never in the world!” His strong arm fell with frank affection across the shoulders of his friend. “It don’t matter what names they call you, son. You’re the same old Mac to all of us.”
“This is when a fellow finds out who his friends are, Roswell,” answered Rowan simply.
He had many of them. They rallied to him by scores—long, loose-jointed, capable men with leathery brown faces, men who had fought with him against Wyoming blizzards for the lives of driven cattle, men who had slept beside him under the same tarp by many a campfire. From Rawlins and Casper and Cheyenne, and even far-away Denver, came words of good cheer. They stressed the point that the fight for his life was just beginning and that the verdict of the jury would not be accepted as final.
A telegram from Pendleton, Oregon, touched him deeply. It was signed by four bronco busters whom he had beaten for the championship at Bad Ax:
Stick to the saddle, Mac. Don’t you pull leather, old scout. We’re here hollering our heads off for the best rider that ever slapped a saddle on an outlaw. Clamp your knees and hang on tight. Say, Mac, we got a little pile of chips to shove into the game any time you’re shy of blues.
Roady Dunn.
J. C. Morgan.
Slats Hoffman.
Tex Green.
Mrs. Stovall, who had been a very unwilling witness for the prosecution, brought a cake and a cherry pie to the jail for him. Incidentally, she delivered a message with which she had been commissioned.
“Norma says for me to tell you that this trial doesn’t fool her any. She knows you’re being punished for some of the other boys. She wanted I should tell you that she knows you didn’t intend to kill Joe.”
This was an opinion becoming every day more widespread. Men began to say that McCoy was the victim of evil chance. Shoshone County was still determined to see justice done the murderers of Dan Gilroy, but it hoped Rowan would escape the gallows. He had been so game throughout the trial, so careful to bring out nothing to the prejudice of his fellow prisoners that the hearts of men turned toward him.
The financial side of the affair was troubling the officials of the county. The trial had been a long and expensive one. It had cost many thousand dollars, and there was talk of grounds for an appeal. With four other trials yet to come, it became apparent that Shoshone County would be bankrupt long before the finish.
Roswell, acting for a group of friends, went to the prosecuting attorney.
“Look here, Haight. You’re up against it. Maybe you’ve got evidence to convict these boys. Maybe you haven’t.”
“There’s no maybe about that—I have,” Haight broke in grimly.
“Well, say you have. That ain’t the point. The county can’t stand the expense of all those trials. You know that. What are you going to do about it?”
“Going right ahead with the trials. We begin with Brad Rogers to-morrow.”
“Oh, well! We got to be reasonable—all of us. Now here’s my proposition: Let me talk with the boys and their lawyers. If I could get them to plead guilty it would save a heap of trouble all around.”
Haight had looked at the matter from this angle before. He nodded. “All right. See what you can do, Mr. Roswell. If they will save us the expense of trying them, I think I can arrange for life imprisonment.”
“For all of them?” demanded the cattleman shrewdly.
“For all the rest of them.”
“How about Rowan?”
“He’s not included. We’ve got to make an example of him. He led the raid.”
Roswell fought it out with the lawyer for an hour, but on this point Haight stood firm. McCoy had to pay the extreme penalty for his crime. That was not even open to argument.
The old cattleman called at once upon the leading lawyer for the defense, and with him visited the cell of Yerby. The Texan was greatly depressed at the issue of the trial. He could not get over his bitterness at the part Silcott had played.
“I reckon he’s up at the ho-tel eating fried chicken and watermelon. Well, he’s welcome. I wouldn’t swap places with him. Neither would Mac. We all had our chance to do like he done.”
“No, Silcott’s still in jail. He asked Matson to keep him there till the trials are over and he can light out. I expect he don’t like to trust himself outside. Some of the boys are a mite vexed at him.” Roswell came abruptly to the object of his call. “Sam, we got to face facts. Haight has the goods on you boys. He’ll sure convict you.”
“Looks like,” agreed the Texan dejectedly.
“We’ll have to fix up a compromise. If you’ll all plead guilty Haight is willing to call it life imprisonment.”
“What do the other boys say?”
“They are willing, I reckon, to take the best terms they can get.”
“I’d as lief be dead as locked up in jail for the rest of my life.”
“We’ll get you out on parole in two or three years. The worst of it is that Mac ain’t included in the arrangement. Haight swears he has got to hang.” Eyes narrowed to slits, Roswell watched the Texan while he fired his next shot. “Mac was the leader. There wouldn’t ’a’ been any killing except for him. He’s the responsible party. So Haight says that——”
“Got it all figured out, have you? Mac did the killing. Mac was to blame. I’ll tell you this: If Mac had had his way there wouldn’t have been any killing. Just because he shuts his mouth and stands the gaff—— Dog-gone it, you and Haight can take yore compromise plumb to hell!” decided the Texan, his anger rising.
Roswell gave a low whoop and fell upon him. “That’s the way to talk, old-timer. We’ve got Haight on the hip. The county’s busted high and dry. Folks are beginning to holler already about the expense of the trials. If Haight were to come up for reëlection along with a special tax levy to pay for the trials the dear pee-pul wouldn’t do a thing to him. He’s ready to talk turkey. If you lads will stand pat, it’s an even bet that he’ll have to crawfish about Mac.”
“I ’low we’ll stay hitched—all of us that haven’t a big yellow streak up our backs. Why-for should we let Mac get the worst of the deal? You go tell Haight he can’t stack the cards that-a-way.”
Rogers, coming up for trial next day, was anxious to get the matter settled. But he, too, declined the terms.
“I’ll take my chance before a jury unless Haight agrees to lump Mac in with the rest of us. Mac would see Haight in blazes before he would agree to any such raw deal if he were in my place. You can let Mr. Prosecuting Attorney start the fireworks soon as he’s a mind to. I’m willing to go as far as I can. I reckon all the boys are. But I’m too old and tough and stubborn to whine out of it like Larry Silcott. What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. When I see Mac’s name at the head of the list, I’ll sign a compromise.”
Cole and Falkner in turn were visited. The former refused flatly to consider any arrangement which did not include McCoy.
In the interest of psychology or to satisfy his own curiosity Roswell ventured on debatable ground with Falkner.
“Course you don’t owe Mac anything. He led you into this trouble. The whole thing is his fault. Silcott as good as admitted that Rowan did the actual killing himself. Naturally you would be sore on him. Now by accepting Haight’s proposition Mac will be hanged and you other lads——”
“Mac will be hanged, will he?” growled Falkner.
“Sure thing. Nothing can save him if you accept Haight’s terms. But, after all——”
The prisoner looked at the old cattleman blackly. Whatever faults he had, Falkner was not a sneak. McCoy had kept quiet when he might have told the others who had done the killing. McCoy had stood pat from start to finish. He had taken his share of blame when he might fairly enough have shifted it to other shoulders. If Mac had given the word, it would have been Falkner who would have been hanged while the others got off with prison sentences. The young cow-puncher knew he was to blame for the predicament in which they all stood. His ungovernable rage at Tait was responsible for the killings. Hard citizen though he was, the man was game to the core.
“Who in Mexico wants to accept Haight’s offer?” he snarled. “I’ve lived a wolf, by some folks’ way of it. I reckon I’ll die one. But I’m no coyote. Make another crack like that and there’ll be trouble right here in Cell Fifteen.”
Roswell grinned. To the prosecuting attorney he carried back word that his proffer had been rejected. No compromise would be considered which did not include McCoy.
The hotel where Roswell and his friends stayed became active as a hive of bees. From it cow-punchers and cattlemen issued to make a quiet canvass of the leading citizens of Shoshone County. The result was that Haight and his political friends were besieged for twelve hours by taxpayers who insisted on a compromise being arranged. The long-distance telephone called him up three times that night to carry protests against his policy.
“What’s the idea, Haight?” asked a prominent irrigation engineer in charge of a project under construction. “We stand for the law. We want to see every man punished that was in the sheep raid. But there’s no object in starting trouble with the cattlemen, and that’s what it will amount to if you hang Rowan McCoy. Tait and Gilroy weren’t blameless. They knew what they were going up against. They didn’t have to cross the dead line and ruin the ranchmen on the Fryingpan. A prison sentence all around hits me as about right. I’ve talked with lots of people, and that’s the general sentiment.”
Just before Rogers was to be brought into the courtroom for trial Haight gave way. He had a long conference with the lawyers for the defense and the presiding judge. As a result of this it was announced that the prisoners would plead guilty.
Before sunset each of the five had been sentenced to life imprisonment.