They’re gonna hang an innocent man from the gallows in Central Square. The town has made up its mind that Jim Ford raped and killed the banker’s daughter, and only I can prove his innocence. I’ll be lucky as a three-sided wheat penny if I can get the horse saddled and into town before they kick the stool out from under ‘em.

         I saddled the horse and rode fast, stirrin’ up dust as I followed the trail into town. The horse ran strong for a long while before slowin’ from thirst. I pulled into the shade of a tree and let the horse drink, all the while shufflin’ my feet and pacin’ like a crazy man. The horse drinks its fill, and I hurry to mount it, continuin’ down the trail.

         I ride into town before sundown, findin’ bunches of folks stirrin’ with life. They were chatterin’ and skippin’ through town, all headed for Central Square. You’d think the circus was in town. It’s a terrible truth, but a hangin’ in Pleasant Veil is the closest thing to a circus these folks will ever get. 

         The sheriff spotted me ridin’ in.

         “Why, Bobby Reins, what brings you to Pleasant Veil this fine evening?”

         I looked toward Central Square, then back at the sheriff.

         “You need to stop that hangin’.”

         “What are you talking about, Bobby? Have you been drinkin’ again?” Him and his deputy share a laugh.

         “Jim Ford is an innocent man!” I said. “I can prove it to ya.”

         The sheriff’s face went bitter, lookin’ at me like I’d eaten the last pork chop.

         “Listen to me, Bobby! I am tired of you drinking like a two-bit whore and stirrin’ up trouble ‘round town! I want ya to take your horse and move on, or I’ll be forced to lock you up.”

         “Not until I clear his name,” I said.

         I took off, like lightning, to Central Square, hopin’ the sheriff didn’t shoot me dead before I cleared his sight. The crowd was so thick, I had to force my way through. A man was just finishin’ readin’ Jim’s charges as I reached the front of the crowd. I looked up just as another man started to push the stool out from under ‘em.

         “Stop!” I said.

         Jim nearly slipped, but was caught and balanced back on the stool.

         “What is the meaning of this?!” one man said.

         I stepped from my horse.

         “Cut him loose! Jim Ford is an innocent man.”

         “He has been convicted of crimes against Rosemary Brandt by the town of Pleasant Veil and a jury of his own peers. His glove was found at the scene of the crime. This man is guilty!”

         The crowd whipped into a frenzy, screamin’, “Monster” and “Murderer," throwin’ bunches of rotten fruit and vegetables.

         “The gloves were stolen,” Jim said.

         “A likely story,” scoffed the man.

         “Wasn’t there only one glove at the crime scene?” I said.

         The man nodded his head. “Yes, only one glove was recovered. But what matter does that make? It was his glove we found, so he is guilty.”

         “Why wasn’t there another glove when you searched his house?”

         The man froze for a minute, lookin’ at me like a fly that just landed in his soup.

         “I assume he hid it somewhere.”

         I reached into my jacket and pulled out the other glove, still stained with Ms. Brandt’s blood. I showed it off to the crowd, and all went quiet. With all eyes on me, I cried out, “Jim Ford is an innocent man.”