don’t forget that.”
“What about Dexter Bell’s life?” Joel asked.
“He deserved to die, Joel. You’ll never understand it, and I suppose you’ll learn one day that life is filled with things we can never understand. There’s no guarantee that you are allowed to live with the full knowledge of everything. There are a lot of mysteries out there. Accept them and move on.”
Pete wiped his mouth and shoved his plate away.
“I have a question,” Stella said. “You’ll be remembered for a long time around here, and not for the right reasons. In fact, your death will probably become a legend. My question is this: How do you want us to remember you?”
Pete smiled and replied, “As a good man who created two beautiful children. Let the world say what it wants, it cannot say anything bad about the two of you. I’ll die a proud man because of you and your brother.”
Stella covered her face with her napkin and began sobbing. Pete slowly stood and said, “I need to be going. The sheriff has had a long day.”
Joel stood with tears running down his cheeks and hugged his father, who said, “Be strong.”
Stella had dissolved into a mess of tears and couldn’t stand. Pete bent over, kissed her on the top of her head, and said, “Enough crying now. Be strong for your mother. She’ll be back here one day.”
He looked at Florry and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded as he left the dining room. They listened as the front door closed, then all three had a good cry. Joel walked to the front porch and watched the sheriff’s car disappear on the highway.
Chapter 19
Thursday, July 10, the date on the second death warrant signed by Judge Rafe Oswalt, Pete Banning awoke at dawn and lit a cigarette. Roy Lester brought him a cup of coffee and asked if he wanted breakfast. He did not. Roy asked if he’d slept well and he replied that he had. No, there was nothing Roy could do for him at the moment, but thanks anyway. Leon Colliver called out from across the hallway and suggested one last game of cribbage. Pete liked that idea and they arranged their game board between their cells. Pete reminded Leon that he owed him $2.35 in winnings, and Leon reminded Pete that he had not paid him for all the illegal liquor they had consumed in the past nine months. They had a laugh, shook hands, and called it even.
“Hard to believe this is really gonna happen, Pete,” Leon said as he shuffled the deck.
“The law is the law. Sometimes it works for you; sometimes it doesn’t.”
“It just don’t seem fair.”
“Who said life is fair?”
After a few hands, Leon pulled out his flask and said, “You may not need this but I do.”
“I’ll pass,” Pete said.
The door opened and Nix Gridley approached them. He appeared fidgety and tired. “Can I do anything for you, Pete?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Okay. At some point we need to walk through the schedule, just so we’ll know what to expect.”
“Later, Nix, if you don’t mind. I’m busy right now.”
“I see. Look, there’s a bunch of reporters hanging around outside the jail, all wanting to know if you’ll have anything to say.”
“Why would I talk to them now?”
“That’s what I figured. And John Wilbanks has already called. He wants to come over.”
“I’ve had enough of John Wilbanks. There’s nothing left to say. Tell him I’m busy.”
Nix rolled his eyes at Leon, turned, and left.
* * *
—
The soldiers began arriving before noon. They came from nearby counties, easy trips of two and three hours. They came from other states, after driving all night. They came alone in pickup trucks, and they came in carloads. They came in the uniforms they once proudly wore, and they came in overalls, khakis, and suits with ties. They came unarmed with no plans to cause trouble, but one word from their hero and they would be ready to fight. They came to honor him, to be there when he died because he had been there for them. They came to say farewell.
They parked around the courthouse and then around the square, and when there was no place to park they lined the streets of the downtown neighborhoods. They milled about, greeting each other, staring grimly at the townsfolk, people they really didn’t like, because it was them, the locals, who had sentenced him to die. They roamed the halls of the courthouse and stared at