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Part V
When he woke, sunlight filled the room, and he heard a lark singing. He had slept through to the next morning. The girls were still out, so he got up and found the washroom on his own. Then he came back to the bedroom and clapped his paws sharply. His seven brides began to stir. "Rise and shine, everybody," he said. "I want you to clean up and put on new panties. You'll keep the white dresses and heels. Then, as soon as you've fixed us all some breakfast, we'll head out." After they had come to full consciousness, they started to cry all over again. "Weep all you want, ladies, but get ready," he commanded.
Coyote sat at the kitchen table and read the Tumbleweed Gazette. After about half an hour, his brides came in, red-eyed and trembling. He had them make a bacon and egg breakfast, big enough for everyone. He ate first, while they stood waiting behind his chair. Then he let them eat. When everybody was finished, he made them line up and then marched them outside.
"Oh, husband," said Sassy, "m-may I speak?"
"I think you already have, but go on."
"Have we been g-good wives, so far?"
"Yes."
"M-might that not . . . count for something?"
"It might, and it does, but you have to understand one thing. I made a commitment to my good friend Marshal Basterson: to bring you to justice . . . or die trying. A predator's word is his bond; he doesn't need a magic oath to do what he says he'll do. So yes, you're all good wives, marvelous wives; but you're still going to hang. Hmm, I have an idea. You have a good cry, while I go back in and get something." He left them weeping there and ran back into the Mission.
A few minutes later, he returned with their bridal veils. "Put these on again," he said. "I want you to wear them when you drop."
"But wh-why, husband?" said Sukie through her tears.
"So everyone will know you're my wives," said Coyote, "and that even so, I brought you to justice. Come on, let's go." So he set out, and they followed, sobbing, in a line behind him.
When they came into Tumbleweed, a crowd of onlookers quickly formed. Someone ran to tell Marshal Basterson. He made a few calls, then hurried out to meet them. "Glory be, Coyote! You did it: you bagged all seven! But you married 'em first, just like you said you would!"
"So I did," said Coyote. "Is the Courthouse open?"
"Yup. Judge Hinrichter's already in session."
"Let's go in, then." Before they entered, the brides got a good look at the waiting crowd, and at the gallows. Workmen were already putting seven nooses in place. The doomed girls shuddered, and some involuntarily touched their throats with their hands. Then Sandra started to scream: "Oh God, God, God, I don't wanna die! Please don't make us die! Please, please, please, please! Oh God! Oh God oh God!" The others soon took up the cry. Coyote strode over to Sandra, lifted her, and slung her, bottom up, over his shoulder. He then smacked her sharply on the behind and said: "As I said before: Let's . . . go . . . in." The others piped down and meekly followed him into the Courthouse.
The trial lasted ten minutes. After finding them all guilty, Judge Hinrichter proceeded to sentencing. "Young ladies," he said, "you stand convicted of two hundred and twenty-four separate offenses, every one of them capital. I see from your veils, however, that you're all either married or about to be married. Who're the lucky fellas?"
Coyote stood up and said: "I am, Your Honor. I married all seven of them yesterday."
"Hmmm. In that case, my furry friend, you have the right to deny consent to their execution. Do you choose to do so?"
"No, Your Honor, I do not."
"Are you sure? I mean: you can get conjugal visits . . . ."
"I understand that, Your Honor. But yesterday morning, I made certain commitments to Marshal Basterson here. I won't go back on them now."
"Very well then," said the Judge, licking his lips. "Let's have a hangin'!"
"Oh, one other thing, Your Honor."
"Yes?"
"I assert my right as husband to be the executioner in this matter."
"You indeed have that right," said the Judge, "but are you, uh, sure you wish to exercise it? We do have . . . highly trained personnel, after all, who can send these lovely ladies off without a hitch." (It was well known in Tumbleweed that when the condemned were pretty, the Judge liked to put on a hood and carry out the hanging himself.)
"With all due respect, Your Honor, I'll exercise my right."
"Hmph; very well," said the Judge. He brought down his gavel. "Recess for hangin'!"
As he took them into the Courthouse lobby, Sassy stopped crying long enough to ask: "Why, husband, why?"
"It's just too good," said Coyote.
He brought them all into the square, right in front of the gallows. The crowd had gotten even bigger in the meantime. "Take down your panties and hold them out in front of you," he told the girls. Whimpering, they obeyed. He used these to bind their wrists behind them. Then he repeated a trick from yesterday: he lifted each girl's hem and tucked it into her belt. Their groins were now fully exposed, as the law required whenever fays–female or male–were executed. Coyote drew in his breath sharply when he once again saw those full black muffs, set off by alabaster skin. The musk of seven caught fay pussies tickled his nose. He'd have to be very strong now. "It's time to go up," he said."
He led them to the top of the gallows. Then he took them out onto the collapsible platform from which they would drop. Being careful not to disturb their veils, he tightened a noose around each neck. Next he went from fay to fay and lifted the veils, as he had the day before. After he raised each veil, he kissed its owner on the lips.
When he had kissed Sassy, she spoke to him in a quiet voice–almost a whisper. "I been a good wife, honey. I could grow to love you, in time. P-please don't kill me. Please."
Coyote answered in an equally quiet voice: "What did you say when you first met me? You'd heard that I would show up on the scene, and within two or three days, some poor fays were saying goodbye to their panties forever. Well, your information was accurate. Wife or not, you're no different from all those others. You've got to buck up, dear. Dying isn't that bad for fairies; you'll get through it just fine."
Now it was time for a public announcement. "Sultry Sisters!" Coyote said in a voice that the crowd would have little trouble hearing. "You have been found guilty of over two hundred capital offenses–too many to enumerate here. You have been sentenced to hang by your pretty necks until you are dead. I, your husband, will now execute that sentence."
Then he went over to a big lever and pulled it back. The platform dropped away, leaving the Sisters kicking and writhing in mid-air. Their faces contorted in agony; they uttered little choking, coughing, whimpering sounds; their tongues protruded; and their bladders emptied. Then their cunts began to spurt the clear honey that a captured fairy always secretes when her time is near. As they spurted, their kicking grew more frantic, more violent. It took several minutes, but the fairy throes finally passed; and then the seven outlaws kicked no more. The crowd clapped and whistled appreciatively; it had been a good hanging.
"How about that thirty dollars?" Coyote said to Marshal Basterson.
"I don't recall agreein' to that wager," said the Marshal. Then he grinned: "But what the heck! You said: noosed and kickin' in less than two days, and you pulled it off. You've earned it." He took thirty dollars from his wallet and handed it over. "I guess it's true what they say, little pardner: you always get your gal."
"Yup," said Coyote. "I always do."
THE END
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