The Long Black Veil

"Sit down, Mr. Benson," the judge said. "You will get you chance to cross-examine the witness."

"It was dark that time of night," Barnes said. "How can you be so sure it was Mr. Benson?"

"The shootin' was under that new town hall light. Then the killer ran but when he did his hat fell off. That's when I knew it was him that done the shootin," Sterling pointed at Travis again.

"No further questions, Your Honor," Barnes said.

"Your witness, Mr. Benson." When Travis looked puzzled, the judge added, "You may cross-examine the witness."

Travis stood, looked at the witness and didn't say anything for about 30 seconds. Sterling fidgeted in his seat and looked anywhere but at Travis. "You're a liar. By 10, you're totally wasted and can barely see to walk. You couldn't have seen me."

"Objection Your Honor," Barnes said. "Mr. Benson is badgering the witness. Is there a question from the defendant somewhere in there?"

"Ask a question, Mr. Benson, or I'll excuse the witness."

"What's the use?" Travis said and sat down.

As Sterling left the stand, the judge told Barnes to call his next witness. "The State calls Steven Chilton."

The only reason that Steven Chilton didn't hold the title of "town drunk" was that dubious honor belonged to Jacob Sterling, but if the small town had been big enough for a second town drunk, it would have been Chilton. He had at least made an effort to clean up for court. Chilton wore a clean, if wrinkled, pair of slacks and a blue button down shirt, but he didn't wear a tie. He, too, was suffering from the effects of coming down from a year's long drunk.

Chilton was sweating as if he'd been working in the hot sun; his shirt was hanging on him and was wet in several places. His hands had a decided tremor and couldn't seem to stay still; he even staggered getting to the witness stand. Once there, he was all shakes and shudders and couldn't seem to sit still.

Barnes stood and began questioning his witness. "The reason you are here, Mr. Chilton, is because of what you told Sheriff Rawlings about what you saw on the night in question. What did you see?"

Chilton wiped his hand over his face and sat up straighter. He too was nervous at seeing Travis in the courtroom. "I seen Travis there, shoot Jimmy Dawson twice and then run away."

"And there's no doubt in your mind that it was Travis Benson who shot Mr. Dawson?" Barnes asked.

"No, it were him alright. His hat fell off when he run; that's how I knowed it was him."

"No more questions Your Honor," Barnes said and sat back down.

"Your witness, Mr. Benson," Judge Rawlings said. There was a bit of a smirk on his face and in his tone.

"Where were you when you saw me supposedly kill Dawson?" Travis didn't bother to get up.

"I was in my car parked on the north side of the town hall square."

"Why were you parked there at that time of night?"

"I stopped to have a drink fore goin' home." Chilton gave a small smile as he turned toward the jury. "The wife don't like me to drink at home."

"You do that a lot don't you, Chilton?" Chilton looked puzzled and didn't answer. "I heard that every night you park there with never less than a twelve pack of beer and a bottle of whiskey." Chilton looked even more nervous and didn't answer. Travis gave Chilton a disgusted look and said, "I got no more use for this drunk."

"Objection, Judge," Barnes said in a loud voice as he stood up.

"Sustained. Mr. Benson, you will refrain from insulting the witness."

"It can't be an insult if it's the truth,' Travis replied. "This man shouldn't be allowed to walk, much less drive. Same goes for Sterling." Travis' tone was angry. "If this wasn't a kangaroo court, I wouldn't have to do that."

Judge Rawlings sort of swelled up and said, "Mr. Benson, any more of that kind of talk and I'll hold you in contempt."

"You're right there, Judge. I got nothin but contempt for this trial. Sides, what are you gonna do to me? Put me in jail?" Travis slid down in the chair until his neck was on the back and his legs were stretched out under the table. "Do your damndest," he said to the judge.

Judge Rawlings stared at Travis for over a minute. He was obviously angry at Travis' outburst. Finally, he asked, "Any more on your side Charley? Barnes shook his head. "Then you can give your closing statement."

Barnes stood and stepped in front of the jury box. "Lady and gentlemen, the State has given evidence and proved that all of the factors necessary for this crime exist. Benson had the motivation; Dawson stole a hog from him. The defendant had the means; a .357 revolver, the same caliber weapon that killed Dawson, that the lab said had been fired recently. And he had the opportunity; he did the shooting late at night in a way he thought wouldn't be seen. He was wrong because the new night-light at the town hall allowed our two witnesses to see him. I ask for a finding of guilty Thank you." He nodded at the Judge and sat down.

Judge Rawlings looked at Travis. "Your turn for your closing argument."

This time Travis stood and faced the jury. "Y'all know this is a set up. Those two witnesses haven't had a sober day in the last five years. Even if they could see past their drunk, they didn't see me. I was at home when Dawson was killed." Travis sat back down.

"The jury will retire, consider the evidence and bring back a verdict," the judge ordered.

The jury filed out. Travis watched them go. 'Every one of those jurors was handpicked by Boyd and the Judge. Won't be much of a surprise at the verdict,' Travis thought. He was taken back to his cell, brought a bologna sandwich and weak coffee for lunch, and then was left alone until supper. Supper was another bologna sandwich but this time it had a slice of cheese and mustard on it, but the coffee was from that morning. 'Damn, I'm eatin high or the hog tonight.'

At 8:00 the next morning Travis was taken to the locker-room that the Sheriff and his deputy used. He was given a bar of soap, a disposable razor, a comb and a towel. The deputy watched him the whole time as he bathed and shaved.

"Y'all worried I'm gonna cut my throat or slice my wrists with this cheap-ass razor, Deputy?" Travis asked.

"Get done and get dressed. You're gonna see the Judge this morning."

Travis was handcuffed with both wrist and ankle shackles, again, and led into the courtroom. Judge Rawlings sort of frowned at him and pointed to the defendant's table. The jury was seated in the jury box, and some looked nervous.

"Do you have any evidence or witnesses to bring forth, Mr. Benson, before we hear the verdict?" The judge asked.

"What good would it do? Y'all gonna find me guilty when I'm not. Guess Boyd and you got it all figured out."

"Very well," Judge Rawlings replied. He turned toward the jury box. "Mr. Foreman, do you have a verdict? If so, stand and read it to the court."

A man stood, it was Curtis Mayfield, the owner of the only grocery store in town. Judge Rawlings was a not so silent partner in the store. Holding up a piece of legal size paper he read, "In the case of the State vs. Travis Benson on the charge of 1^st degree murder, we the jury find the defendant..." Mayfield paused and gulped before he continued. "We find him guilty of the charge." He sat down quickly and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"Thank you, lady and gentlemen of the jury," Rawlings said. "You are excused and may leave the courtroom. Will the defendant please rise?" Travis looked at the judge, flipped him the bird, knowing anything he said would be useless, and remained seated.

"Very well, Mr. Benson. You have been found guilty of murder in the first degree by a jury of your peers. I sentence you to hang to pay for your crime. The sentence will be carried out after the State's Attorney or one of his assistants comes here and reviews the case." Now Judge Rawlings gave Travis an evil grin. "Don't worry boy, it won't be more than a week."

Travis was taken back to his cell and the restraints were removed. This time for lunch the deputy brought him a large cheeseburger, fries and a soda. 'Guess the condemned man gets better food,' he thought. As he was eating, he thought about the State's Attorney coming to review the trail. 'Maybe I'll get to talk to him and tell him the truth.'

About 10 PM Travis had a visitor; it was Emmy. She had been beaten. Her left eye was swollen almost shut, her bottom lip was split and there were bruises on both of her arms.

"What happened, Emmy?" Travis asked.

"Boyd did it. Said he wanted you to see part of what would happen to me if you say we were together that night. Oh, Travis, he said he'd kill me." Emmy had tears running down her face when she added, "And Judge Rawlings told me if anything happened to Boyd that he'd take care of me. And I believe him. They'll kill me such as anything, and bury me somewhere. But how can I keep quite?"

Travis reached through the bars of his cell and pulled Emmy as close as possible. He put his head against hers through the bars and ran his hands up and down her back as she cried. Swallowing hard, he stood back but continued to hold her hands.

"Don't worry, Emmy. When that State's Attorney gets here and reviews the trial there's no way he'll let Boyd and the Judge hang me. I won't have to say nothing to him about us." Emmy looked at Travis with hope. "Your name will never come into it, trust me. I'll always take care of and protect you."

"Well, I see the love birds are saying goodbye," Boyd said as he came into the cell area. He came over and pulled Emmy into his arms. "Before they hang you Travis, I want you to think about who is going to be sleeping and living with your little playmate. Just so we're clear, if you use her as an alibi, I'll kill her." He pulled Emmy out of the cell ward and into the office.

Travis lay on his bunk all night, wondering if he was going to get through this trouble or would he hung like Boyd promised. Sometime just before dawn he finally fell into a troubled sleep. His last thought was, 'I'll just have to hope the review of the case will at least get me another trial. Best I can hope for.'

The guilty verdict for Travis Benson was pronounced on a Thursday. The Assistant State's Attorney, Robert Colwell, came on the following Monday to review the case. Using a small conference room, he took the next day to read the transcript, interview Judge Rawlings and Sheriff Boyd Rawlings, and even had the two witnesses come in to talk to him. After his review, he found that in his opinion, everything was on the up and up, if a little unorthodox. He went to the judge's chambers.

"When will you have the sentencing hearing, Judge Rawlings?" Colwell asked.

"We'll have the hearing tomorrow and carry out the sentence on Saturday. Got to have time to set up the gallows."

"I'd like to talk to Mr. Benson, if I may," Colwell requested.

"That's a little unorthodox isn't it, young man?"

"Maybe so, but it is legal. I want to talk to Benson before you carry out the sentence." Colwell was sure Benson was going to be executed; the whole trial pointed to it.

Rawlings stared at the attorney for almost a minute, trying to intimidate him. He saw a young man who was sure of himself and wouldn't let himself be swayed. "Very well, Mr. Colwell. You can have time with the defendant after sentence is passed."

Travis was led into the courtroom on Wednesday morning. This time, Boyd held onto his shirt and the back of his neck to make sure he remained standing as the judge walked to his seat behind the bench.

"Do you have anything to say, Mr. Benson, before I pass sentence?"

Knowing it wouldn't make any difference, Travis still had to try and get through to the jury, people in the court room and the State's Attorney.

"I didn't kill Dawson. Like I said before, he stole a hog from me but then he made it good, so we were quits. Boyd and the Judge have it in for me. The witnesses are a couple of drunks and I'm sure Boyd forced them to testify. They chose the jurors and didn't let me get my say. Don't let them kill me; I'm innocent." He jerked away from Boyd but remained standing. Travis was going to face his fate on his feet.

"Mr. Benson, you have been found guilty of the murder of James Dawson. You are sentenced to be hung by the neck until you are dead on Saturday next. May God have mercy on your soul. Sheriff, return the prisoner to his cell."

Travis was on his bunk leaning on the wall on Thursday evening when Colwell was allowed to see him. "Sheriff, I'd like to talk to Mr. Benson face to face. Please bring him out of the cell."

"I know you some high uppity up from the State Capitol, but Benson is a convicted murderer and my prisoner. He ain't coming out of that cell 'cept in shackles. And you ain't gonna be alone with him if he leaves that cell."

"Very well, open the door and I'll go into the cell and you can lock the door behind me."

"I told you, he is a murderer."

Colwell stepped in front of the sheriff and stared at him. "If he kills me, then you can hang him twice. Now, open the door."

Boyd wasn't used to people confronting him, but opened the cell door. After Colwell entered, Boyd locked the door and stood outside watching Colwell and Travis. Colwell waved him away, and Boyd left the cell area.

"My name is Robert Colwell, Mr. Benson," he said, and shook hands with Travis. "I'm the Assistant State's Attorney and I have reviewed the trial." Travis nodded and just looked at the attorney. "Is there anything you want to say about the trial and the way it was conducted?"

"Mr. Colwell, is it? Like I said before, I didn't kill Dawson. I was home when the shooting took place." Travis sort of laughed. "This whole thing is a set-up."

"How so, Mr. Benson?"

"There are only two lawyers in town and one is the Prosecutor, so I called the other one. At first, he said he'd take my case. The next day he said he had too much goin on to help me. I think Boyd, er Sheriff Rawlings, or the judge got to him and called him off. They wouldn't let me call a lawyer in Poplar Bluff; said I'd already had my phone call."

Travis paced a little and continued. "I didn't get to see the jury until the trial started. Ain't I supposed to meet them before? The two witnesses are drunks, and at the trial is the first time they've been sober in years."

"The brief of the trial said you didn't want to question the jurors and refused legal counsel."

"Not a damn word of truth to that. The Rawlings' are railroading me."

"Why would they do that?"

"I done something that Boyd didn't like, and my folks strongly opposed the Judge in every election. Between Boyd and the Judge, they're gonna hang me."

"What could you have done that would make the Sheriff want to execute you?"

Travis shook his head and finally said, "I can't tell you that, Mr. Colwell. If I do, someone I care about will be hurt."

Colwell tried to get Travis to explain, but the young man refused to say any more. "If you don't tell me more I can't stop this Mr. Benson. For your sake you better tell me what's going on."

"Can't, I just can't." Travis had a hang-dog expression and his voice sounded defeated.

Colwell waited for a few minutes, hoping Travis would change his mind. When he didn't, Colwell called for the Sheriff and left the cell.

Boyd waited until the attorney cleared the cell area and looked in at Travis. "That's good, Travis, remember what will happen if you say anything." He turned and left the area.

The gallows had been erected in the city square behind the courthouse. It was 10 feet tall, with a square platform 12 x 10 feet. Two opposing sides had a thick beam running vertically above the platform with a strong cross beam joining them at their tops. There was a trap door in the center of the platform, and a lever on one side that would spring the trap door.

Colwell stayed in town until the day of the hanging. He watched Judge Rawlings lead the way up the stairs of the gallows, followed by Travis, with his hands cuffed behind him. The Deputy crowded the prisoner up the stairs and positioned him under the noose hanging down from the cross beam. He put the noose around Travis' neck and stepped over to the release lever and put his hand on it. Judge Rawlings stood to one side of the platform.

The State's Attorney stepped closer to the gallows and looked up at Travis. "Travis, what's your alibi? If you were somewhere else or have someone to verify your claim of being at your home, you don't have to die," he said in an almost pleading voice. Travis shook his head and looked around at the few people who had come to watch.

Emmy was standing in the back of the crowd, and Boyd was next to her with his hand on her shoulder. Boyd tightened his grip when he saw Travis looking at her and smirked. Emmy had tears running down her face as she stared at Travis. He smiled at her and mouthed "I love you".

"Do you have any last words, Travis Benson, before we carry out your sentence?" Judge Rawlings asked. He had a bit of a smirk on his face as well.

"I didn't kill Dawson and you damn well know it. This is a frame up." Travis looked back over the crowd and said, "I'll be seeing you, Boyd." He turned and added "You too, Judge."

The Judge frowned and then grinned. "You'll be dead in a couple of minute's boy."

"Never the less, I'll be seeing both of you. I'm done talking; Do your worst." Judge Rawlings motioned to the Deputy who pulled the lever. The trap door opened and Travis fell through, snapping his neck when the rope pulled him up short.

Travis felt the trap door open, felt the fall and the felt the noose tighten around his neck. Then he was swinging back and forth. 'What's this? That didn't hurt at all. I can still see and hear what is going on. How's Emmy'?

Boyd held Emmy up as she screamed and almost fell. "Reckon that's done," Boyd said. He pulled Emmy forcibly along to his patrol car and left the courthouse square.

********************

Late that night, Emmy was at her parents' home, on her bed crying. She kept playing over in her mind Travis smiling at her and telling her he loved her. Then she would see the trap door open and Travis fall with the rope around his neck. Every time she thought of Travis swinging under the gallows she would start to cry again. The tension and stress of the day finally got to her and she dropped off to sleep.

Shortly afterward, a blue shimmering light appeared beside the bed. Its intensity ebbed and flowed from dim to very bright. In a few seconds a figure could be seen in the light. As the light intensified, the figure solidified and stepped out of the light.

The figure reached out and touched Emmy on the shoulder. She slowly woke up and looked around for a second and then saw the figure. "Travis," she said. Her tone was somewhere between scared and awe. "You can't be here. You're dead. I saw you hang." She had gotten over her fear and was sitting up in bed. "I must be dreaming."

"Does this feel like a dream?" Travis or his ghost asked as he sat down on the bed next to Emmy. He put his arm around her and pulled her to him. He gave her a gentle kiss and said.

"I told you I'd always take care of you, that I would always protect you. I came back to do that." The voice was deep and forceful. "Don't worry, Emmy, everything will be all right. You'll be free shortly."

The specter held her until she stopped shaking; then it kissed her again, smiled, stood and walked through the wall of the house. Emmy shook her head, thinking she had been dreaming, but could still feel the pressure of the kisses. For the first time in a month, she smiled.

It was the morning after the hanging, and Judge Rawlings was on the 18^th green lining up his putt. It wasn't a very long putt, just about four feet. His match with a Judge Wiley Reacher, from another county, was all even and he'd already made his putt for par. There was a thousand dollars riding on the outcome of Rawlings's shot.