Edge 02 - Ten Grand by George G. Gilman

Author:George G. Gilman
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Lobo publications (A High Plains Wesrern)
Published: 2011-11-21T00:00:00+00:00

“Doesn’t Luis get a last request?”

Alfaro smiled. “He could ask for nothing better than to be shot.”

Edge believed him.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THEY tied the limp body of Luis Aviles to the right-hand pole, with a rope at the ankles, waist and chest, fastening his hands behind his back. His unconscious head sagged forward so that his chin rested on his chest. The soldiers were brought down from the wall surrounding the town and while a firing squad of six was being selected Luis’ two guards amused themselves by attempting to scale the old man’s hat on to the top of the pole to which the condemned prisoner was bound. Those soldiers, not actively engaged in the execution formed into a group on one side of the plaza, opposite the crowd of civilians who continued to watch in quiet acceptance of anything the captain decreed.

Edge stood between and slightly in front of his two guards, watching through narrowed lids as Alfaro strutted among his men, directing operations with little regard for formality. The spluttering torches were visibly losing their power as the pale grey of dawn streaked the sky.

The sombrero finally hitched on to the top of the pole and spun around several times to a huge cheer from the watching soldiers, and one of the two participants in the game tossed some coins to the other in settlement of a bet. The sudden burst of noise brought Luis back to consciousness and he shook his head several times to clear it, raised his eyes to look about him. Then his face contorted into a mask of fear as he realized his predicament.

“I am innocent!” he yelled, looking about wildly, his eyes stopping for a moment on the disinterested captain, then moving on to fasten on the impassive face of Edge. “He lied. I am not a bandit. You will suffer the flames of hell for eternity if you kill an innocent man.”

Alfaro had lined up the firing squad, went through a parody of an inspection of the six men, halting to flick a speck of dust from the shoulder of one, to fasten the button on the uniform of another. Then he stepped back, set fire to another cigar and spun on his heels to march over to where Edge stood.

“You are silent, señor,” he said. “It will not be long before you are screaming like the old one. But you will be demanding death, not pleading for life.”

“In America,” Edge replied, “we have a saying. Where there’s life, there’s hope. I have a little more hope than Luis.”

“Attention!” Captain Alfaro ordered and the firing squad dragged their feet together, straightened their shoulders.

“Captain!” Luis screamed as tears began to overflow his eyes. “I have money. Much money. I can buy my life.”

“You are poor and honest,” Alfaro flung at the condemned man. “Such people never have money.”

Luis shook his head in desperation. “I am honest,” he screamed. “Poor only because the money is not on me. But I can take you to it, captain.

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