Chapter 603: Death Sentence and Repentance

Chapter 603 Death Sentence and Repentance

"Twelve... Twelve good people who are so different from you have put you on trial, saying you are guilty. Look at the crimes that you have committed. You..." The drunk sheriff on the wooden stand pointed at the man with his hands and ankles tied with a rope.

"You fought against a man for a horse, stabbed the owner with a knife, made a mother lose her son, a wife to lose her husband, and an innocent child to lose her father! Do you any last words?"

"Yes, I didn't control my temper at the time. I killed him by mistake, and it got to where I am today. Now, it's too late to say anything about it." The shorty obviously knew that his death was imminent. He then took a deep breath and said, "I just hope I can apologize to the family of the man I killed. Although I know they won't forgive me, so be it."

After he spoke, he nodded at the sheriff and closed his mouth.

The next moment, a black cloth was put on his head.

Meanwhile, the drunk sheriff walked toward the other person, a strong-looking hunk of a man. When the sheriff saw him, undisguised disgust flashed across the sheriff's eyes.

"You raped your sister-in-law when your brother was selling the cattle elsewhere. After you were exposed, you killed your brother. Such evil acts that happen on this land are blatant to the judicial system and human morality! I should have killed you when you attempted to run away. I shouldn't have let you live for so many days and waste our food. Say your last words."

"No, you've got the wrong man. You shouldn't believe that (BEEP). It is not me who killed my brother! The adulterer is someone else! They've banded together and framed me! The moment my brother and I both die, the ranch will fell into the hands of that whore and her lover!"

Compared with the previous shorty, the second man's emotions were obviously more aggressive. Yelling and struggling in panicked desperation, the executioner had to pat his back, signaling him to keep his voice down. The drunk sheriff snorted coldly, "Your trial is over, and the jury has decided. If you have any objections, you can tell your grievances to God directly when you see him. Oh... sorry, I almost forgot, an evil man like you can't see God. Go to hell, bastard, next one."

Once again, the sheriff pulled out his bottle, took a sip of whiskey, and walked towards the one-armed man. "You..." The drunk sheriff was stuck after saying only one word. He then pointed at him, stared at him for some time before squeezing another word from his mouth, "What have you done?"

The man named Jameson standing under the wooden pedestal smacked his forehead, unable to bear the scene. At the same time, the crowd became increasingly agitated.

"Quiet and quiet!" the sheriff bellowed. He then took out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and read it.

"Oh, damn, you are from Cook's gang. You've robbed the trains countless times and ransacked two towns, killing unarmed civilians. The laws you violated are enough to fill up a piece of paper. To be honest, sentencing you to death has to be too merciful. You should be glad you weren't born in the Middle Ages. Otherwise, I would have nailed you to the wall and let you die slowly! Then, perhaps I can hear your wailing from below every day."

The one-armed man was the calmest of the three. He shook his head when he heard that. "You are wrong," he retorted boldly. "I have robbed trains and caravans, but that was before I lost my arm. After that, I left the Cook Gang and decided to reside here. Town looting has nothing to do with me." "It doesn't matter. Anyway, the deeds you have done are enough for you to be sentenced to death," the sheriff barked impatiently, "If you want to confess, hurry up! I'm about to finish my whiskey."

"I won't repent. It's you who should be the one to repent," the one-armed man said lightly, his gaze sweeping over the crowd under the wooden stage. For some reason, no one dared to look him in the eye when he scanned them. The once judgemental eyes of the folk looked away in silence.

This scene was one of stark absurdity. The one-armed man was the one who committed those crimes, yet he made it looked like the townsfolk were the ones on trial.

"Now that you know my true identity, you should also know how the Cook treats their enemies," the one-armed man smiled. "If you hang me today, the news will spread tomorrow, and the Cook will know very soon. It won't be long before my brothers come to avenge me, and what happened in those two towns will repeat here. They will turn every inch of this land into scorched earth. Those whom you care and love will die before your very eyes. Their tormented screams and wails will resonate in your ears. Then it will be your turn to die... My trial here is over, but yours has just begun! I'm done talking. Just do it." After speaking his last words, he, too, nodded at the sheriff.

The words of the one-armed man caused the entire square to descend into silence. An atmosphere of anxiety and angst continued to spread among the crowd. With more than 50 members, the Cook Gang was the largest in New Mexico. Ruthless and brutal men, not only did they slaughter civilians, but they also dared to fight head-on with a brigade of marshals. Their notoriety was infamous, and the moment the people heard that they might provoke these evil beings, those who knew better began to fear for their lives.

Some even hoped that the drunk sheriff would just let him go and call it a day.

Only

However, the lawman simply smiled contemptuously, "Put away your nonsense. People that live in this land will not be intimidated by you. As long as I am here, if Jeremy Cook and his minions dare step in my town, they will not leave here alive!"

"Let's just wait and see."

A black cloth was put on his head as well.

As the executioner pulled the lever, the wooden board under the three people's feet opened, and they fell into the hole. After a few minutes' struggle, the accused men breathed their last.

The crowd screamed and gasped in shock, where many ladies covered their mouths, not knowing how to react. Zhang Heng was watching the execution outside the police station, but he did not respond. After all, probably no one in this world was more familiar with the gallows than a pirate. Zhang Heng had even led someone to save a pirate about to be executed, the reason why he did not take one-armed man's words too seriously.

Unlike the myriad of small hamlets of the wild West, Lincoln County was a distance from Santa Fe, the political center of New Mexico. It was densely populated for its time, and although it faced a shortage of law enforcement officers like other towns, there were many ranches in the county. That meant that there were many cowboys, ones equipped with the necessary skills to fight off the invaders. Hence, it wasn't going to be so easy for Cook and his fifty-odd minions to ransack this place.

At the same time, Zhang Heng's sixth sense told him that something wasn't right. After he went into conflict with the two cowboys earlier, he always felt that someone kept an eye on him. The feeling was still there after he walked out of the bar. Even when everyone was watching the execution, he could sense that the person was always watching him.

Could the person be the accomplice of those two cowboys? Zhang Heng thought to himself that even though the drunk sheriff had just warned him, he would have to do something about it if he felt that his life was in danger.