Three o’clock Monday morning and David was ready. The hanging would take place at eight, but people would begin arriving by five to get a good place. He wanted to be there and ready to move without being hampered by an enormous crowd. He wasn’t a praying man, had long since given up on the notion of a benevolent God, but the temptation was there to send up a few words.
He hadn’t shaved, so his jaw was stubbled and dark, and the clothes he wore were unwashed and crumpled. He rammed a cap on his head and pulled it down low over his eyes, then rubbed dirt gathered from the garden into his hands and onto his face. A tap at the door made him start.
Jo came in, similarly dressed in ordinary male clothing. “Kendrick is here,” she said. “Says the crowd for the hanging is gathering already. We ne
