September 20, 1900

So…it did get a little worse.

Apparently dey's gonna hang me for da crime.

Tommorrow.

I gotta get a way outta hea'. Gotta find a way. Da old coot wid da spoon has even given up on me. Sez I'm doomed.

Da trial is a rigged deck. Dey's lookin' fer a scapegoat ter protect dis one Cowboy Andrews or somethin'. He's a big guy out hea', big as in he's got da money to buy off every official in town and den some. He owns some ranch out by da hills and practically owns all da town. So why did he steal some horse? 'Twas one a dem racing Arabian horses brought in special for some other rich fat cat and he had an eye for it. So in any case, dey's blamin' me. No evidence or nuttin', 'cept I was in town dat day. Me and 100 other people.

Maybe we was beat when we was born.

But I won't take dis lyin' down. Dey want me, dey are gonna get da soakin' of their lives before dey lay dere hands on me.

At least it feels betta' to say so.

Nah…I'll figure out a way, I will.

Wait—dere's someone at da bars. I can't who it is in dis dark.

Gotta go.

Jack

---

Thanks to all those that reviewed the previous chapter.