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Slaughter At Stringybark Creek

Chapter Twenty – Finale -

1. Cederwyn Whitefurr

13th September, 2017,

All Rights Reserved.

After killing the Sargent, Ironclad turned away and unbound Kelsie, then cradled her weak, broken body close before he made his way down the staircase and fronted the crowd, before gently laying Kelsie on the ground and starting at the shocked and horrified townsfolk.

“I am Ironclad, many of you know me as such - “ He began, then knelt down and gently caressed Kelsie's cheeks, until she awoke and weakly stood, Ironclad holding her until she stood unassisted, then walked away from him as someone handed her her stolen revolver and belt, which she buckled about her waist and turned to look at Ironclad, before she swallowed and un-holstered her pistol, before pointing it between his eyes and pulling the hammer back. “I am Ironclad, murderer, thief, bushranger and...as many of you know...I've done appalling crimes, as of this moment, in front of witnesses, I hereby surrender myself, to suffer the fullest extent of the law of this state..."

Cries and moans rippled through the Anthropomorphic people, as the news of Ironclad surrendering sunk in.

“My decision is final, I make it of my own free will, I, Lachlan Silvermane, have avenged the death of my mother, by the hands of the Sargent MacGoven! I hereby relinquish my rights, and my holdings, such as they are, to the law here in Stringybark, and I beg the law to show mercy on those who aided and abetted me, for I can never atone for what I have done, I only ask the law be fair, just, and lenient to those who helped me..."

Slowly, feeling Kelsie's pistol pointed at him, Ironclad carefully unbuckled his belt, then rolled it up and placed it on the ground, before he knelt and slipped his heavy helmet off and let it fall to the ground, as he placed his paws behind his head. Kelsie swallowed, then retrieved the holstered pistol and stepped behind him, before she took each paw in turn and affixed the iron handcuffs tight.

“He saved us!" Someone yelled.

“He's a hero, how many people suffered and died at that bastards hands – he murdered dozens, maybe hundreds of us - “ Another called.

“Enough!" Ironclad snapped, his voice ringing like the hammer on a blacksmith's forge. “No more shall our people live in fear and sufferance under the Sargent's cruel yoke! You all heard him, he confessed – and has implicated the true power behind his cruelty and depravity! It is he who is deserving of his fate, and I only ask, humbly, that he be treated as I ask to be treated – given a fair trial, by an outside Magistrate, who will hear the charges and the evidence brought before him – and judge us both fairly and accordingly!"

Some wept, as Ironclad was lead away, before Kelsie returned shortly, and deputised ten men, who marched on Patterson's grand farm stead. They kicked open the door, and Patterson screamed and begged, but the evidence that was found as he was trying to destroy it, convicted him more than his own words ever could.

“You can't judge me!" Patterson snarled, defiant and angry as the crowd became increasingly hostile. “I made this little backwater into what it is today! I did what I did, for our future, the Railway is coming, it'd link us to Melbourne and bring prosperity and wealth - “

“For who?" Kelsie sighed. “For rich, wealthy landowners like you, who used murder and violence to get your own way? What benefits would the struggling farmers receive from this? Will it bring back the dead, who were murdered in cold blood – at your orders, because they were, as you once said to me, mindless, godless beasts? No, nothing you say will ease your conscience Patterson – you used lies, deception, murder and intimidation to get what you wanted – you had no thought for how the innocent's suffered at your whims! You cared nothing for them, only your own, petty, selfish and greedy goals – indeed – I would hang you myself, but for the eloquent words of that Bushranger – no, you will face justice, by an outside Magistrate, one your power and influence hasn't corrupted for years..and may the Gods judge your soul..."

As Kelsie waved her paw, Patterson was dragged away to the stockade...and alone, the tears came to Kelsie, as she crumpled to her knees, her strong, dominant demeanour a mask that was torn away, as she fell onto her side and began to cry heart brokenly, the tears running down her muzzle as she wept for the first and only love her heart had known, the Bushranger, Ironclad...

*

Almost eight months, Ironclad remained in the stockade, a prisoner, until one day, Kelsie came to his cell, her uniform wet with her tears as she clutched the cap in her trembling paws, her uniform straining as she turned, her belly heavy with child. With a sniffle, she gestured to a severely dressed man, wearing black suit and imposing hat, come and stood before her, before Clanton himself stood beside the man, all of them staring at Ironclad, whose body retained its musculature, but without his imposing armour and helmet – he looked nothing like the Bushranger who had brought both terror and hope to Stringybark.

“Ironclad, I have heard the charges brought against you," Spoke the man in a deep baritone voice. “I am Magistrate Geoffrey, I am here to adjudicate on the circumstances and commit you to trial this day, may whatever God's you worship, grant you strength of character and peace in your heart. First, Constable Kelsie has something she wishes to say, before we commence the proceedings..."

“I, Kelsie the Roan, do hereby relinquish my role as Police Horse of Stringybark Creek, as of this moment, and forever more, I surrender all rights, titles and privileges according to such...as Clanton was the Senior Constable, I relinquish the title to him, and as Magistrate Geoffrey is as witness." Kelsie sobbed, before she unbuckled her belt and handed it to Clanton, who tried bravely, to keep the tears from forming in his eyes, but he gravely accepted Kelsie's resignation, then watched as she walked away, her sobbing cries echoing off the stockade walls.

“Accepted and noted, will be written into the logs," Senior Constable Clanton whispered, his voice bordering on choking up with emotion.

“Witnessed and noted," Spoke the Magistrate, before he gestured at the cell door.

Clanton swallowed, then he reached for the ring of keys on his belt, and unfastened the heavy iron door, throwing it open, before he removed the thick iron collar around Ironclad's neck and began marching him out to where he would face judgement – before the Magistrate...

*

As promised, the Magistrate listened to the evidence compiled, listened as Ironclad defended himself, telling the Magistrate all he had done, was not out of selfishness, pride or vindictiveness, but out of his desire for revenge, and as Clanton watched on, the kangaroo felt his heart crushed in his chest and his blood run cold, as Ironclad, calmly and formally, indicted himself of his own free will, never telling a mistruth, or begging for leniency or mercy from the Magistrate.

“You swear, Ironclad, the testimony you have delivered in your own time and words, is the truth, the whole truth and as you know it, without compulsion or force, your own words and feelings?"

“I solemnly swear, this is the truth, your Honour - “ Ironclad whispered, as he clasped his paws before him, staring straight ahead and irresolute in his iron-like stance, his gaze steady and straight, his posture rigid and formal, his paws manacled with thick iron handcuffs.

“Having heard the testimony you spoke, I feel compelled to exonerate you on grounds of compassion and justified manslaughter..." Magistrate Geoffrey began, as he delivered the sentencing.

Cheers and applause broke out from some humans, and all of the Anthropomorphic people, who sat quietly in the galley, watching the trial.

“Your words, your honesty and your motivation for murder of the Sargent – have moved me ironclad, I can not lie, your eloquent words touched me, and on these charges..."

A breathless hush fell over the crowd, some leaning forwards, their muzzles showing their joy and happiness at the expected dismissal of the charges.

“On these charges...you're declared innocent!" Spoke the Magistrate.

Anthropomorphic people rose, cheering and shouting, slapping each other on the back and so on, but the smacking of the gavel silenced them, and a hush fell like a blanket over the crowd.

“On the charges of theft, murder and being a Bushranger..." He intoned, whilst Ironclad remained impassive in the dock, standing at attention.

Whispered murmurs rippled through the crowd, many smiling and some laughing quietly, their spirits buoyed by the Magistrate's words...

“On those charges, I find you...guilty! Crimes of this nature, can not be absolved, even if your intentions were pure and honourable, as the law does not..."

“NO!" Shrieked Angelica, as she rose and moved towards the Magistrate, her muzzle stricken with rage and grief, but two men restrained her and held the irrational Whitetail Doe back.

Smacking his gavel to restore order, there was cries of disbelief and moans from the anthropomorphic people, as the words sunk in – many began standing and screaming in frustration and some in anger, at what they felt was a travesty of justice against one of their kind.

Ironclad blinked then nodded his head in aquiescence as the sentence was passed, before he turned his head towards the judge and raised an eyebrow.

“May I address the crowd, if it please the court?" Ironclad whispered.

With a gesture, the Magistrate nodded, then slammed his gavel on the timber, until they silenced.

“My crimes are inexcusable, unforgivable and of my own accord. I accept my punishment, with grace and humility, for I knew there was only one end to the life I chose..."

His words hit the crowd like lightning from the heavens, some cursed and swore, some openly cried and pleaded for mercy, one or two of the humans laughed, but Ironclad held up a pale furred paw, before he nodded once to the Magistrate.

“There is but one punishment for Bushranger's - “ Spoke the Magistrate calmly, but everyone present heard the emotion in his voice, before he passed the final sentence. “Ironclad, you stand guilty of these charges, you presented an eloquent defence – but you admitted your guilt before man and God's – for these charges, you are hereby sentenced to death by hanging, to be carried out immediately..."

Ironclad nodded once, his face betraying no hint of the emotions that he must be feeling, before he turned to look at the Magistrate and spoke quietly, but sincerely.

“I thank you, for hearing my case, impartially, and without bias – I accept my fate, willingly, and without begging for mercy, such is what I deserve..."

With that, Ironclad was released from the dock and two guards each took a forearm, and led the proud, noble Stallion towards the gallows. People in the crowd cried and wept unashamedly, but ironclad remained true to his character, his back straight and eyes staring straight ahead, as he willingly let himself be led to his execution.

Senior Constable Clanton stood to one side, immaculate in his uniform, his muzzle and eyes betraying nothing, as he watched Ironclad led in chains to the gallows; yet inside, he was crying for his friend, despairing it had lead to this. As the noose was put around Ironclad's pale furred neck, Clanton shed a single tear - before the constable stepped forwards on the gallows.

"Any last words - Ironclad?" Asked a new human Constable, who double checked the noose and stepped before Ironclad.

Ironclad remained silent, his eyes staring straight ahead in defiance, his proud stance visible for all too see.

"So be it - " Snarled the Constable, as he stepped to one side and gestured.

As the trapdoor dropped open, and Ironclad plummeted to the ground, the unmistakable snap of his neck echoing off the stone walls, Clanton fought to keep back the tears...

*

Two weeks later, Patterson stood before the Magistrate, his own trial an open and shut case, as the evidence he had in his own homestead, convicted him beyond any chance of appeal. It was a short trial, Patterson pleading innocence and promising dire retribution, but nobody believed him, and as the sentence was passed – death by hanging – many of the humans and anthropomorphic people jeered and screamed abuse, as Clanton viewed with a calm and clear gaze Patterson, who ascended the steps to the platform with uncanny grace for an old man.

No doubt how he'd held the reigns of power for so long. He was disheveled, his fine clothes matted with the sweat and grime of his prison stay. The man's looks, gaunt to begin with, hadn't fared well, dark spots under his eyes, and his flesh a shade paler. Clanton strode over to him, taking the bound man's arm, and leading him over to the noose that swayed softly in the small breeze. A judge, new to the seat and appointed not by corruption, but by the public opinion, started rambling to the crowd.

Clanton heard little of it, his voice soft. "This rope has hung three so far. I watched when his mother was cruelly strung up. I watched as he dropped the fat Sergeant from the balcony of the whore house..."

His grip squeezed against Patterson's arm, his gaze shifting over towards the old man. "And I watched as he swung from the hemp. Fitting, don't you think? You had this beam built so that the necks of those who crossed you and your bid for land and wealth could be snapped upon it. Your lackey hung an innocent mare from the rope I'm about to put over your head. And the floor you stand on will drop you, as it did him."

The judge had concluded, walking over towards Patterson and asking if he had any final words. The old man shook his head, and Clanton released his arm, reaching behind him to draw the length of hemp over his head.

"Do you want to know the difference, Patterson?" The noose was drawn tight. The Kangaroo turning to clasp his arms behind his back, as he turned, faced the crowd then walked back down the stairs, his voice trailing back to Patterson, before the trap door sprung open beneath him. “Yours is the only one I'm not going to watch..."

END