Saturday, in the early evening, when the afternoon show was finished, they gathered in the county main courtroom.  The judge sat in his usual seat behind the bench, without his formal robes over his white suit.

Sue, the county prosecutor, stood between the bench and the accused.  It was easy to know how to approach her, generally.  As a working woman she wore well tailored pants suits, and had to be approached with the deference due her position.  As a free wanton woman, she wore as little as possible, usually with plenty of leather.

Dan, the public defender, stood beside the accused.  He was wearing his nineteenth century costume of frock coat, embroidered vest, and an 1861 Colt Army rebuilt for cartridges instead of cap and ball in a Hickock style cross draw.

The sheriff stood on the other side, also in his costume of vest, chaps and riding boots, with a Remington 44/40 like that carried by Billy the kid.  But then, he carried that all year round not just during the local Wild West Festival.  (His three full time deputies carried modern automatics, of course; at least when not in costume.)

Edith, the court recorder, sat by the bench.  Her nineteenth century gingham not very different than the bright flowery prints she preferred to wear the rest of the year.  She was also the prosecutor’s submissive toy, and would obediently wear whatever her mistress told her to, occasionally with surprising results.

Celeste, the judges legal clerk, sat in the first row of the gallery, still dressed in business casual.  At the back of the room stood two deputies, a full timer in conventional uniform, and a reservist in costume.

Standing before the bench, were six college girls, their coach and a school guidance counselor.   The girls and coach wore various sweats and shorts decorated with the colors and logos of a well known university.  The counselor was wearing blouse and slacks.  They all had their hands cuffed behind their backs.

The judge looked at the sheriff.  “Well, what's the story?”

“My deputy saw a short bus with the university markings miss a traffic light on State road and Main.  He also observed a damaged fender with the headlight and turn signal out of order.  The passengers seemed nervous to him, but not enough to justify more than a warning citation.  He let them go before he called it in; then my dispatcher found a BOLO issued by the state police late last night, for that bus.  He searched to relocate the bus, and we were able to apprehend these suspects.”

“Why didn't he call it in while he had them stopped?”

“He and I will be having words about that.”

“BOLO for what?”

“Apparently, these girls robbed the office at the football game last night, and ran off with the gate.  Observed by a security officer, they beat him severely.  He's in hospital in critical condition.  Fleeing the scene in the school bus, they struck a homeless man and left him.  He died at the scene.”

“How sure are you these are the right suspects?”

“Pursuant to the arrest, my deputy and I searched the bus.  There is a blood stain on the dented fender.  Inside the bus we found a large quantity of cash and a crescent wrench with a blood stain on it.”

The judge nodded.  Turning to the suspects, the judge asked: “anything to say?”

The coach and counselor looked at each other, and seemed to be trying to decide what to do.  Before they could make a decision, a short blond cheerleader asked: “did you really hang that woman?”  Everyone turned to stare at her.  “Well, I mean, I didn't see any way to put wires on her ‘cause she was naked and everything.  Uh-”

The judge turned back to the sheriff.  “Where did you apprehend the suspects?”

“Fairground parking lot,” replied the sheriff, miserably.  The prosecutor and the defender exchanged a look, then he lowered his eyes and shook his head.

“Have you spoken to the state police yet?”

“After we saw the BOLO.  But they don't know we’ve made an arrest.”

The judge nodded and picked up his gavel.  He looked at the eight women and said: “On the charges of armed robbery, battery with intent to commit murder, and vehicular homicide, hit and run, I find you all guilty.  Sentence is death by hanging.  Sentence to be executed within twenty four hours.”  The gavel slammed down on the bench.

The accused stared at the judge with various degrees of shock and disbelief.  Then the counselor cried: “you can't do that!”

The judge replied: “I think you'll find we can.”

“I don't understand,” exclaimed a brunette cheerleader, her voice quivering with fear.

“I do,” said the coach.  She looked up at the judge.  “You did hang some woman as part of your wild west show.  And now you're going to hang us to cover it up.”

The judge nodded.

One of the girls started bawling.  Another looked defiant, as if seeking to start a fight; hard to do in handcuffs.  “I can't die,” wailed a Hispanic looking girl, “I'm still a virgin!  I want to get laid before I die!”

The judge laughed.  “Now, that is a last request I can get behind!”. He looked to the sheriff.  “You think we can find a way to show these ladies some hospitality?”

The sheriff frowned.  “In my jail?  Kind a' crowded, but I suppose -”

“Too crowded,” agreed the public defender.  “How about our street scene?  Isn't there, like, a second floor?”

“It's unfinished,” responded the prosecutor.  “But, there is space above the fake hotel where the original plan had been to put in some rooms.”

“Ah, well,” said the sheriff, “I'll have t’ take a look, but I reckon we can work something out.”

The judge raised his gavel.  “Good!  Court is adjourned.”  The gavel banged down.  “Now I need to speak to my butcher about some special cuts of meat.”

It was about three hours later that the judge let himself into the fairground with his master key to the jail. He walked down the false front hollywood western street to the hotel.  Inside he found a deputy and a member of the festival committee.  

“Howzit goin’?”

“Very well,” replied the committee member.  “People in town are flocking here to get in on the action.  Donations to the festival fund are through the roof!  You'll have more than enough money to rebuild that rickety old gallows.  And, we're well on the way to having enough money to actually finish these second floor rooms.”

“Oh, really?”

“A lot of people have said they like the idea of running some kind of theme cat house during the festival.  Heh heh.  A couple of woman have already said they would work it!”

“Well, alright!”

Upstairs, the judge found the unfinished space festooned with blankets from the jail laundry, hung by a variety of clips, and arranged like walls to provide some small privacy.  He could hear rhythmical creaking wood, one woman sobbing, another moaning in ecstacy, and a man angrily muttering.  One of the cheerleaders and the guidance counselor were sitting on a wooden bench, probably from a picnic table set.  They were naked of course, and their hands were behind their backs in a manner that implied handcuffs.  One of the female reserve deputies stood nearby; her cartridge belt and Colt Peacemaker looking odd draped over the bustle and skirts of her period costume.

The counselor looked at the judge, and chuckled with a rueful shake of her head.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she replied.  “I just wondered if you were going to come by and sample the wares.”

“You have a problem with that?”

“Oh, no.  You set up this rape fest.  It's only right you take part.  So what's your fancy?  My friend, the coach is giving blow jobs to every man who goes with her.  I'm not sure if she's trying to prevent any man from having her normally, or if she's trying to see how much man seed she can swallow.  One of my girls is specializing in anal.  They've already had to replace her tube of lube once.  And one of my girls has fought every man who took her, so if you want to brutalize the woman you rape, there's that.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” She smiled sadly.  “I think I'd like that.  I'll do anything you want.”

The judge looked at the deputy and waved an arm toward the counselor.  The deputy nodded and stepped behind the bench.  She bent over and freed the cuff from one of the counselors wrists, slipping it through the chain nailed to the back of the bench.  The deputy then took the counselor by the arm and led her past some of the blankets.  The judge followed.

A single wooden cot was the only thing in the barren space.  The deputy snapped the counselors loose cuff to the frame of the cot at one end.  She nodded briefly to the judge and let herself out.

The judge began undressing.  With no place to put his clothes he dropped it all on the floor near the blanket wall.  While she waited, she put her free hand between her legs, and began to arouse herself.  As he began pushing down his trousers, she grinned from her seat on the cot.

“Sorry I can't help,” and she tugged at her hand, cuffed to the cot.  Then he moved closer as he pushed his briefs down and she was able to take his erection in her free hand.  She began to gently stroke it.

He stepped to the cot.  “Strange -” she murmured as she swung around to spread her legs.

“Hmm?”  He crawled on the cot up between her legs.

“I don't want to die,” she raised her knees out of his way, “but the idea of being killed - murdered - is exciting me terribly.”

He moved closer, his age softened belly sliding up over hers.  “Really?”

“Never fantasized about it before.  Can't stop fantasizing about it now.”  She reached down with her free hand and guided his weapon to her sheath.  Stroking herself had lubricated her lower lips enough that it took little trouble for him to plunge in.  She groaned.  He began a rhythmic pumping, and she pulled her hand out of the way.

“Have you - have you hanged many women?”

“We've been doing this for years.  Always had a few volunteers.”

“V-volunteers?” She was panting, squeezing her sphincter in time with his thrusts.

“Oh, yes,” he breathed.  “They did not all want to die.  But they all wanted to hang!”

She groaned.  “The only way - this could be better - you tell me I - my flesh wh-will be cannibalised - after -”

“Mmm!  I can guarantee that!”

“Ah!  You -!”

He dragged one hand to her hip and grabbed her buttock.  “Looking forward to munching on this plump rump roast!”

“Aahhh!!” Her back arched, her entire body seemed to cramp up, and her pelvis seized his sex so hard it almost pushed him out.  He thrust in against it until he slammed his tip against her uterus.  To his surprise, her orgasm triggered his, shuddering, pumping, spewing his seed into her.

They lay together gasping for breath for a moment.  Then the judge heaved up, with his bulk off of her chest she took a deep breath, and he swung around to sit on the edge of the cot.  She lightly punched him in the arm.  “You brute, you came too fast.”

“That's kind o’ your fault.”

“Well, you'll just have to fix it.”

“Huh?”

“Go get yourself a drink, maybe something to eat, rest up a bit, and in a couple hours you can come back so we can do this again.”  She caressed his back.  “I want you to tell me about some of the women you've hanged.”

He did return, a little over an hour later, after a whiskey, a snack and a chance to rest.  When he arrived, she was just cleaning up after ‘entertaining’ a ranch hand.  The judge and the counselor fucked, rested together, and fucked again.  He stayed with her, telling her stories of women who had hanged on the county gallows, until they fell asleep together, exhausted, in the wee hours of the morning.

*

About breakfast time, the sheriff and a few of his deputies collected the eight condemned women and took them back to the fairgrounds jail.  The women were allowed a little toast and coffee to help settle their stomachs.  The fairgrounds jail sat on the edge of the fairgrounds, and its back door opened onto the parking lot of the regular county jail.  Two at a time, they were taken out the back door and across the parking lot to the real jail, where they were allowed to shower and clean up.  Mid morning, two women from one of the local beauty salons came by to help the condemned fix up their hair and apply make up.

There was one exception.  One cheerleader had fought every man who came to her cot in the night, and she had been badly roughed up as a result.  When she was taken out to the jail, she tried to run away in the parking lot, and she attacked the deputies when she was uncuffed to shower.  And she attacked the hairdresser.  There was no shower, no hair do, and no make up for her.

Finally, at noon the sheriff led the eight naked women, cuffed and shackled, out onto the wild west street.   The eight doomed women were led to a place at the foot of the stairs leading up onto the scaffold.  A sign there read: ‘please wait here until your name is called.’

The coach turned to the judge.  “Sir, may I make a last request?”

The judge frowned.  “What?”

“This is all my fault,” she said, in a sad voice.  “I want - I need to see what - when they - ”

“See when they -” prompted the judge.

“S-see when they hang!”  Tears welled in her eyes, spoiling her make up and running down her cheeks.

The judge grunted without committing to an answer.  Instead he turned to the counselor.  “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well, I think you might fit in around here.  I could remit your sentence to life imprisonment.  Put you on parole.”

“Really?” A bright hope lit up in her eyes.

“You'd probably need to whore for a while ‘till the town folk accept you.  But I imagine the school system could find its way to hire a counselor in time.  You might even find some local fellow to marry up with.  Gallows will still be there if you change your mind later.”

The counselor turned and looked up at the gallows, where the sheriff was just putting up a noose over one of the two trap doors.  She stared for a moment; but whatever she was looking for, she didn't find it.  The light in her eyes faded.  “No. Let's finish what we started.”

The judge pulled out a pocket watch and glanced at it.  Without another word, he turned and climbed the steps to the scaffold.  As he approached the side facing the audience, the western street facade was at his back.  The grassy field sloped up slightly in all other directions creating an amphitheater like feel.  He paused to speak to the sheriff for a moment, then turned and waved the crowd to silence.

“Over a hundred years ago, four strangers came to this town.  Two men and two women.  Criminals.  Rustlers who tried to steal horses.  When they were caught, the judge told ‘em horse thieves had to hang. The two women claimed they were the real thieves, and their men folk innocent.  The judge figured they were just trying to save their men, so he tried to trick ‘em into telling the truth by telling ‘em they'd hang naked.  The women stuck to their guns.  The men were let go and fled town.  And a couple days later the two women were stripped naked, and hanged from a gallows like this one.  Today we are here to string up another bunch of thieves!  Let justice be done!”

Two deputies grabbed the cheerleader standing closest to the gallows steps, a slender, brunette with a small bust.  They quickly unlocked her cuffs and shackles, and tied her hands behind her back with rope.  She didn't resist as they marched her up the steps, and placed her on one of the traps.  The sheriff promptly draped the noose over her head and around her neck, and snuggled it down.

The judge asked: “any last words?”

She seemed to be losing her grasp on what was happening, and only managed to murmer: “what?”

A moment later, the sheriff pulled the lever.  The young woman dropped. The audience roared approval.  The leaves of the trapdoor banged against their stops.  The rope jerked tight into the woman's throat, but did not break her neck.  A look of intense agony twisted her face.  For several long minutes, she squirmed and twitched, and flopped about.   Eventually, her struggles slowed to a stop.  Swaying gently on the end of the rope, her body dangled limp.

The other doomed women were disconcerted when nothing else seemed to happen for a while.  Town folk walked about.  Some came to the gallows to look at the body.  Some walked by to gawk at the remaining seven naked prisoners.  A few went across the street to the bars built into the false front, and came back with drinks.

After a half an hour had passed, suddenly two deputies grabbed the Hispanic woman.  Her last request to get laid had led to all them spending most of the night being repeatedly raped.  The deputies briskly unlocked her chains and tied her hands behind her back with rope.  One of the deputies guided her reluctant steps up the stairs.  As they steered her across the scaffold to the nearer trap, she began to pray.  She closed her eyes and continued praying while the sheriff put the noose around her neck and slid the knot snug to her neck.  The judge tried to ask her if she had any last word, but she ignored him.  The sheriff pulled the lever, the trap banged open, and she dropped.  Her brief shriek was abruptly cut off when she hit the end of the rope.  Her eyes were open now, looking wildly at the audience.  Her stomach heaved, perhaps trying to force a breath past the grip of the rope.  It only caused her legs to flop back and forth, rotating her to her left.  After a few moments her body relaxed, tho her eyes still flit around madly.  A few more moments and her eyes also relaxed, staring blankly until finally they began to glaze over.

And again, while the crowd's attention had been drawn to the prisoners, things had seemed exciting.  But once the hanged woman died, the festivities seemed to settle down.  After fifteen or twenty minutes, the sheriff and deputies released the anchor end of the ropes, allowing the bodies to flop down on the grass.  The rope around the woman's neck was cut just above the knot.  Two deputies picked up one body and carried it to the two horse draught wagon in the street, where it was dumped ungracefully in the bed.  A moment later they did the same with the other.  Meanwhile, the sheriff pulled up the ends of the ropes and expertly tied new seven turn nooses on each.

Two deputies came over and grabbed the cheerleader who fought.  They made the mistake of removing both her cuffs and shackles before taking a piece of rope for her hands.  She suddenly kicked one in the groin and tried to shoulder butt the other.  For a moment the wrestled, and it looked like she might break free.  But, a third deputy ran up to punch her in the side of the head.  She collapsed; all three of them jumped on her.  Two held her down while one tied her hands.  She fought them while they dragged her up the steps.  She fought them when they tried to place her on the trap.  The sheriff opened the noose wide do he could get it over her, and she still almost managed to avoid it; and she kicked his thigh while he tightened it.  He tried pulling slack out of the rope to force her onto the trap, and still she struggled.  Finally, the sheriff barked at his deputies to get back, and he pulled the lever that dropped the trap from under the cheerleader.  For a moment it looked as if she would be able to get a foot onto the scaffold floor, but no, she fell into the grip of the rope around her neck. The hastily placed knot slipped forward, and caught on the side of her jaw; possibly the worst placement, since it reduced, but did eliminate, the pressure on her throat and arteries.  Even then she kept fighting.  She tried to kick or swing out to get her feet onto the scaffold, without more than brushing her toes on the edge two or three times.  Finally, she panicked and her struggle turned into a frantic thrashing, aimlessly throwing her body about.  She jerked and heaved for a long time, before she suddenly went limp.

It was no longer a surprise that they had to wait.  The condemned women now understood that the hangings were paced at half hour intervals.  Presumably to stretch out the show across the afternoon.

Right on time, the deputies returned.  This time they grabbed the counselor.  She did not resist as they removed her handcuffs, and tied her hands behind her back with rope.  She did not resist as the removed the ankle shackles and led her up the steps.  She did not resist as they positioned her on the trap.

The judge turned to her.   “Any last words?”

She managed a weak smile.  “Well, last night was fun anyway.”

He did not respond.  It seemed as if he wasn't seeing the woman he had fucked last night; rather he was looking at some object about to be thrown away.

The trap opened.  She plunged to the end of the rope.  There was an audible pop when her neck broke.  She had a surprised look on her face, which faded somewhat as the muscles relaxed.

And then the wait.  The crowd moved about.  The dangling bodies, and the remaining prisoners were examined.  Alcohol was consumed, and crass jokes were made.  Finally, the sheriff released the ropes, dropping the bodies.  Again, the deputies cut the ropes just above the knots, and the bodies were carried to the wagon.

This time the deputies grabbed the only black woman among the cheerleaders.  She tried to pull back, so they threw her to the ground before removing her chains, and tying her hands behind her back with rope.  They dragged her up the steps and across to the trap. The sheriff dropped the halter over her head, and tightened it around her neck.  The judge asked her if she had any last words.

“Is this ‘cause I'm black?”

“What?”

“You lynching me ‘cause I'm black?”

“No!”  The judge looked slightly horrified.  “I am a sadist and a sexual predator, but I am not a racist!”

The woman snorted as if she were not entirely convinced.  Then she turned to the audience and seemed to be trying to prepare herself for what was to come.

The sheriff pulled the lever, and she dropped.  She grimaced when the rope grabbed her by the neck.  At first her whole body stiffened, but then, she seemed to relax.  Tears welled in her eyes, and ran down her cheeks.  Her movements were gentle, her body squirming slowly, in a subtle, almost sensual motion.  It seemed as if she were not fighting what was happening to her, but her body could not resist moving slightly.  This went on for several minutes, before her body went limp.  Her eyes widened as she stared at the sky.  It was another few minutes before it was apparent her eyes were glazing over.

Again, the half hour wait.  Again the spectators walking by.  Staring.  Leering.  An occasional rude comment.

This time the deputies seized the other Hispanic woman.  She immediately began shrieking.  She was shorter and rounder than the other women, with a body that would go to weight in middle age.  She screamed as they unlocked her chains, and tied her hands. She continued to scream as they dragged her up the stairs.  She was still screaming, in short panting noises, as they dragged her to the trap and the sheriff draped the noose around her neck.  The judge turned to her as if to ask her for her last words, but her frantic shrieking stopped him.  The judge turned helplessly to the sheriff.  The sheriff pulled the lever.  The woman dropped to the end of the rope, where her scream covered any sound of her neck breaking.  The body shivered briefly, then went still.

Some in the audience seemed sorry she had such an easy death.  Just as many were glad the noise ended.

When the necessary time had passed, the ropes were released to drop the bodies to the ground.  The knots were cut off, and the bodies carried to the wagon.  New knots were tied in the ropes.

The deputies came to the last cheerleader, the blonde whose witness to yesterday's hangings had condemned them all.  She did not react when the deputies unchained her, or when they tied her hands behind her back.  She remained unresisting as they led her up the steps, moving like a sleepwalker.  She was unresponsive when they placed her on the trap and the sheriff dropped the noose around her neck.  When the judge tried to speak to her she seemed not to hear.  It was obvious that her mind was completely withdrawn, in an effort to protect herself from the horror.  The judge looked helplessly to the sheriff.  The sheriff shrugged his eyebrows, and pulled the lever.

She hit the end of the rope with a thump.  And, remarkably, she went limp.  After a moment she began to cry.  Her sobbing caused her chest to shake, giving a quiver to her erect nipples.  Tears poured from her eyes, running her mascara in dark streaks down her cheeks.  But her lower body and legs dangled, unmoving.  Perhaps she was so far gone she didn't understand what was happening.  Perhaps she simply didn't panic as most women did in the grip of the noose.  She suffered in silence, slowly strangling.

Now, four hours after the first trap fell open, the coach sat alone on the grass, waiting for the last half hour of her life to run out.  Waiting for them to bring her to the noose that she could see waiting patiently for her neck.

When the deputies came for her, they noticed her sigh with relief, apparently glad the wait was over.  She did not resist when they stripped off her chains, and tied her hands with rope.  She cooperated when they led her up the stairs and placed her on the trap.  She closed her eyes momentarily when the sheriff dropped the rope over her head, her only overt sign of fear.

While the sheriff tightened the halter, the judge approached.  “Any last words?”

“You know, this is all my fault.”

“Hmm?”

“I tried desperately to convince them that being a woman was not a block to success.  They could be anything they were willing to work hard to become.  Unfortunately, they decided they wanted to try stealing.  I could have stopped them.  I didn't.  When the guard caught us I could have stopped them.  I didn't.  When they ran over that poor man in the street, I could have stopped them.  I didn't.”

“Yes, well, to a certain extent, I agree with you,” the judge replied.  She looked at him, puzzled.  He nodded.  “As much as I enjoy seeing a woman with a noose around her neck, and I do find that very arousing, in real life I agree a woman should have the same rights and opportunities as a man.”

“Really?”

“I am getting a sexual thrill from killing you.  I will enjoy watching you hang, and I hope you take a nice long time to strangle.  But if you were working for me, I would expect to pay you the same as I would pay a man for the same quality of work.”

“Really?  Shit.  That has to make you a world class hypocrite.”

“I don't think so.  Two entirely different things.”

“Oh, yeah?  Well, I don't hear about you hanging any naked men.”

“That's not - yeah, okay.”  He started to turn away.

“And I sincerely hope the next few minutes are a disappointment to you.”

The judge nodded to the sheriff.  The sheriff pulled the lever.  The leaves of the trap banged against their stops.

She dropped to the end of the rope, where the noose grabbed her by the throat, and jerked tight into her flesh.  The sheriff had judged the slack with his customary skill, so her neck did not break.  For a moment she dangled without moving, perhaps trying to avoid providing the show the audience wanted.  Her agony was visible in her grimace, and tears welled in her eyes.  She couldn't hold it; her arms began to twitch.  Then her back and hips started squirming, causing her legs to wave.  Before the end, she panicked, and began thrashing about wildly.  Her eyes lost focus as she slipped into unconsciousness; her kicking slowed.  With a few final spasms, her eyes began to glaze.

Staring down through the trap at the gently swaying naked body, the judge said: “not disappointing at all.”

“Eight in one day,” said the sheriff, as he stepped up.  “That's a record, ain't it?”

“Mm hmm.  But it's something I hope we don't do again.”

“Why not?”

“Well fer one thing we kind o’ saturated the audience.  You saw how the number of spectators dropped toward the end.”

“Heh!  Yeah, and the number o’ drunks went up.  Gonna be busy for me later.”

“And for another thing, spending all afternoon hanging sexy naked women, I'm so horny my hips are fit to bust!”