The Best Bad Luck I Ever Had (26 page)

“Yeah. Me neither.”

“Well,” said Uncle Wiggens, “I’d best get on home before I wake up.”

“Yeah.”

“Being out without my leg and all.”

“That would be embarrassing.”

“Sure would. Sure would.” Uncle Wiggens mumbled to himself as he wandered off. “General Lee always said, if you ain’t got all your supplies, don’t ride into battle. Course he meant bullets, but he wouldn’t have liked us going off without our legs neither. Course most of us have our legs buttoned on, but . . .”

When he was finally gone, Emma stepped out from behind the tree. “You could have helped me,” I said, heart pounding.

“I thought you did pretty well on your own.” She giggled, and for a moment, I forgot what we were doing and giggled too.

54

 

 

 

ONE BY ONE, WE LUGGED THE BAGS DOWN the stairs and lifted them into the open coffin. I got the rabbit skin from the other room and threw it in the coffin as well. Then Emma put in a hammer and a handful of nails we had stolen from my pa’s toolshed and closed the lid.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Emma asked.

“Course it will.” But even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.

We made our way up the stairs and out of city hall. “What time is it?” Emma wondered.

I looked up at the stars. “About three, I think.”

“I better get home.”

“Yeah,” I said. I handed her the basket with the dead rabbit and reminded her to throw it to our dogs on the way home. I could see the silver key clutched in her left hand. She played with it absently, sliding it between one finger after another.

“Sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” she asked.

“Emma.” I sighed. “If someone finds me here, I can make up a lie and they might believe me. But if you’re here too, we don’t have a chance.”

She nodded. We’d been over this a million times. But the truth was, I didn’t want her to leave. We stood next to each other in the starlight, and I felt her rest her head on my shoulder. I put an arm around her waist. She didn’t pull away. We stood like that for a long time.

“Dit?” Emma said softly.

“Yes?”

“Whatever happens, we did the best we could.”

I nodded.

She kissed my cheek. I turned to see her face, but she wriggled away and hurried down Main Street.

I went back inside the jail and lay down on the floor in the room with the coffin. It was cold, lying on the hard stone floor. I could hear little claws clattering over the old stones—the rats Chip and Buster had promised would eat my bones. Poor Buster was dead now.

Right now, Emma was taking the key back to Mrs. Pooley. We had promised to leave it under the mat to her back door. But what if someone saw Emma slipping into Mrs. Pooley’s yard? Or if Mrs. Pooley changed her mind and told on us? All I could do was sit and wait.

Dr. Griffith was coming first thing in the morning to get Doc Haley ready for the execution. It was really the job of the sheriff, but we didn’t have one no more, and no one wanted to hire another. ’Cept for Jim Dang-It, Dr. Griffith was the only grown-up who knew about our plan.

And even though Dr. Griffith had agreed to help us, I couldn’t help worrying as I lay on the floor under the table, beneath the coffin filled with dirt. The darkness was thick as pea soup. It pressed on me. My stub of a candle had long since burned out. I began to imagine I was Doc Haley, going to be hung in the morning. A cold panic crept up my throat. What if Dr. Griffith didn’t show up? I forced the thought away.

 

I must have fallen asleep ’cause suddenly there was sunlight streaming in through the small window near the ceiling. I heard voices and jumped to my feet.

Dr. Griffith was supposed to get the key from Mayor Davidson and come alone. He would “discover” the body, then I would just happen to come along on a morning walk and help him cut Doc Haley down. Least that was the story we were gonna tell everyone. By the time anyone else arrived, the “body” would be safely in the coffin, closed and nailed shut, so that no one would have to see the horrible sight. So why did I hear voices? Something had gone wrong. I climbed onto the table next to the coffin and peeked out the tiny window.

Mayor Davidson was standing with Dr. Griffith at the top of the stairs that led down to the jail. Dr. Griffith was real pale. “You really don’t have to come down with me,” I heard him say. “I can get Doc ready alone.”

“Nonsense,” Mayor Davidson replied. “I’m up, excited and looking forward to the hanging. I don’t mind coming down to give you a hand.” He moved toward the stairs. Dr. Griffith put a hand out to block him.

“Larry,” Dr. Griffith said firmly. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but . . .”

“What?”

“Doc Haley don’t like you too much.”

Mayor Davidson laughed. “I don’t like him neither.”

“He’s a little unbalanced, what with the hanging today and all. Yesterday, I promised him I’d come get him ready alone.”

“A promise to a murderer don’t mean nothing.”

“I know. I just want to go down first to warn him that you’re coming. We’ve got to put on the cuffs and the ankle chains so he can walk up to the hanging. That could be difficult if he’s agitated. And if you show up unexpected, he’s going to get agitated.”

“All right,” Mayor Davidson snapped. “You go down and put the chains on, then come up and get me. Don’t want no trouble. Though I don’t know when you became so soft-hearted.”

“Thank you, Larry.”

“Five minutes,” Mayor Davidson said. He took a large silver key out of his pocket and handed it to Dr. Griffith. “Then I’m coming down.”

Dr. Griffith hurried down the stairs.

55

 

 

 

I MET DR. GRIFFITH AT THE BOTTOM OF the stairs. He was staring at the empty cell. “You did a good job,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d really hung himself.” He paused and sniffed the air. “The urine was a nice touch.”

“Emma’s idea,” I said.

Dr. Griffith turned and went back up the stairs. I ran back to my perch on the table to listen.

“Doc’s dead,” Dr. Griffith panted, as if he had run up the stairs two at a time.

“What?” Mayor Davidson turned white.

“Looks like he slit his wrists with an old nail, and when that didn’t work, he stripped the sheet from the bed and hung himself.”

“Oh my God!” Rivulets of sweat began to stream down Mayor Davidson’s fleshy face.

“Is there blood?”

Dr. Griffith nodded. “Lots.”

“Oh.” Mayor Davidson looked like he was gonna be sick.

“Would you go get Mrs. Walker?” asked Dr. Griffith. “I need someone to help me cut Doc down and put him in the coffin.”

“I can do it,” said Mayor Davidson, clearly hoping Dr. Griffith would say no.

Dr. Griffith shook his head. “It’s a messy job. You’ll ruin your suit. There’s no need for that. Best get Mrs. Walker. She’s a nurse and used to this kind of thing.”

Mayor Davidson quickly agreed and ran off.

A minute later, Dr. Griffith joined me in the room with the coffin. I took out the rabbit skin. Some of the blood was still wet, and I helped Dr. Griffith rub it all over his hands and clothes. Finally, we threw the rabbit skin into the coffin, took out the nails and hammer, and Dr. Griffith started to nail the coffin shut.

He was just putting in the last nail when Mrs. Walker, Emma and Mayor Davidson came running. They saw the bloody noose and the open cell and gasped. Mayor Davidson bent over, put his hands on his knees and began to gag.

“How’d you get the body down?” asked Mrs. Walker. “Thought you needed my help.”

“Dit came by early to say goodbye to Doc Haley. He helped me.”

Mrs. Walker took a deep breath. “Has anybody told Elbert?” she asked.

“No,” said Dr. Griffith.

“I’ll go.” Mrs. Walker glanced at the cell once more, then turned and left the room.

Soon as she was gone, a voice cried out from the stairwell. “Why I keep seeing these people running back and forth? I thought the hanging wasn’t scheduled till ten.” Uncle Wiggens hobbled down the steps and caught a glimpse of the cell. “I guess someone decided to have the fun a little early.”

“It was suicide,” said Dr. Griffith grimly.

Uncle Wiggens saw me then and broke into a big grin. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and gray bristles were popping up all over his face. “Dit!” he cried. “You’ll never believe it. I had the funniest dream about you last night.”

Oh, no.

“I fell asleep and dreamt that I was walking around town without my leg.”

“Without your leg?” asked Mayor Davidson.

“Yes,” said Uncle Wiggens, “in my dreams I never have my peg leg, though I never have my whole leg neither. I just sort of hop around. Wonder why that is? Think I could at least dream about having both legs again. Anyway, I dreamt I ran into Dit, and guess what he was doing?”

“What?” asked Mayor Davidson.

“He was walking around in the dark pushing a—”

At that moment Elbert burst into the room. “Is it true? Is it true?” He glanced in the cell and fell to his knees. Mrs. Walker hurried down the stairs, finally catching up with him. She put a hand on his shoulder.

“Where is he? Where’s my pa?” Elbert wailed.

“We put him in the coffin,” said Dr. Griffith.

Elbert scrambled to his feet. “I want to see him.”

“He’s in no condition to be seen, Elbert,” Dr. Griffith said in the kind, quiet voice he used with patients. “Hanging does terrible things to a man’s body.”

“I don’t care. I want to see him.”

“We’ve already put the nails in the coffin,” I said, cursing myself for not telling him.

“Yes,” Dr. Griffith added. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“What are you fools talking about?” Mrs. Walker cried. “If the boy wants to see his daddy’s body, let him see it!”

Dr. Griffith slowly began to pull out the nails, one by one. I thought desperately. What were we gonna do? I looked at Emma. She shook her head. Then I had an idea.

“Wait a second, Elbert,” I said. Dr. Griffith stopped pulling out the nails. “Why you think your pa killed himself?”

“I don’t know,” said Elbert, his face a stone mask.

“’Cause he didn’t want the whole town to see him dead, hanging at the end of a rope. He didn’t want to die publicly. If you open up his coffin right here letting everybody see, you’re disrespecting his last wishes.”

Elbert thought for a moment. “Dit’s got a point. You all turn around and face the other way. I’ll open the coffin myself. I’m family. I got a right to see.”

Mayor Davidson looked slightly disappointed but also slightly relieved. Dr. Griffith handed Elbert the hammer and we all turned around. I held my breath, praying he would catch on. We should have written him a note or something.

It seemed like it took forever for Elbert to pry up the nails, but it was probably only a couple of minutes. Finally, I heard the last one tinkle to the ground and heard the squeak of the lid as it was lifted up.

“Where’s my pa?” Elbert asked.

I spun around and slammed the lid shut.

“Where’s my pa?” Elbert repeated.

Emma started crying, loud as a baby with colic.

Dr. Griffith shook his head. “This often happens when the body is so badly mutilated. It’s why I didn’t want him to look.”

Elbert was pale as a corpse himself. “Where’s my pa?”

“Your daddy’s moved on to a better place,” said Mrs. Walker kindly. She moved over to embrace him.

“He was a suicide,” said Uncle Wiggens. “Don’t they go to hell?”

Mrs. Walker shot Uncle Wiggens a look.

“It’s a shame he had to endure seeing the body,” Dr. Griffith added.

Emma wailed even louder. Elbert just looked confused. “But where is—” I kicked him in the shins. He gave me a funny look, and then everything clicked into place. “Ohhhhhhh,” he said loudly. “He’s dead.”