Picklefinger was on his front porch, mopping up blood. Chop's blood mostly. That deputy had given me a hard time, but I could hardly blame him. Especially after feeling his final thoughts. In a place like this, where an outlaw would sooner sling hot lead than spend a night in the clinker, these lawmen had to be hardened.

I slid down from Timp’s back and lightly hitched her.

"Quite a mess,” I said.

Picklefinger turned at the sound of my voice but went right back to work with a monosyllabic, "Yep."

He showed his back to me momentarily and I thought I heard a sniffle.

It was okay. He deserved to be upset. Even being mad at me was totally acceptable. Someone had to take the blame. As a matter of fact, I’d spoken to Sheriff Gutierrez about just that thing. Apparently, after the whole ordeal up the hill, Dufaux vanished like a ghost. The coward couldn’t even face his own judgment.

However, this town wouldn’t be content without someone taking the fall.

Enter, Ace Ryker.

The bastard hadn’t been responsible for everything, but no one needed to know that. Ahusaka could go free, and the Frozen Trio could be dismissed as disciples of the notorious outlaw Ace Ryker.

"Just thought I'd apologize about the window,” I said. “Windows, I guess.”

After all, it had been my idea to hide out at his place during the gunfight.

Picklefinger turned back to me now. He stopped and leaned on his mop. His eyes were glassy. “Already did that. It’s me who owes you a debt.”

I thought I’d be getting the cold shoulder or worse from him, but a debt?

“Doubt that,” I said.

“No, I do. This whole town does,” he said. “Received this in the post this morning,” He produced a letter folded three times, business-like, and handed it to me.

I read it out loud.

“The infamous murderer Ace Ryker has been apprehended and given full responsibility for being behind the Frozen Trio attacks and the direct murder of Sheriff Culpepper of Elkhart. The Hero of Revelation Springs has chosen to remain anonymous and has generously donated the many bounty rewards on Mr. Ryker’s head to be used toward citywide reparations.”

“Sounds a mighty fool thing to do,” I said, handing it back. “Had I been that ‘hero,’ I’d have already been settling down in an estate with some cows and a fence.”

Picklefinger nodded and offered a knowing smile. “Right. Braindead son of bitch, that one.”

“Glad to hear it, though. This place took quite the hammering.”

“Safe now,” he said. “Thanks to you,” Then, his demeanor changed, and his head dipped. “Heard about your friend. The deputy.”

“Dale,” I said.

“Dale,” he repeated. “Seemed fine a man.”

“Lots of good men died here. A damn shame.”

Picklefinger nodded. I moved toward Timp, ready to get on with the day’s morbid events.

“Oh!” Picklefinger exclaimed. “I got something for you.”

“You don’t have to—” I started saying when he pushed his mop into my hand. He disappeared inside. I followed.

“James!” came a call from my right.

Rosa Massey was looking radiant in a pale yellow dress as she sat inside at a table, nursing a Sazerac. She wore a leather corset and a belt to match, her five-shooter hanging at her hip. No one was gonna mistake her for some fancy mogul’s wife under that wide-brimmed white hat.

After everything, we turned Ace in to the Sheriff and then spent the night at camp where nobody would be a bother. I’d slept in. No visions to shake me, just pure, relaxing silence in the dark. By the time my weary self awoke, Rosa and the others had apparently already made their way into town. Should’ve guessed where I’d find her.

“You finally got that drink,” I said to her.

She smirked, tapping a ring against the glass. “I did.”

“Was it all you’ve been waiting for?”

“A bit of a light pour.”

“What did I hear?” Picklefinger asked as he came shuffling back out. Rosa snickered but stayed silent. Then I noticed what was in his hands.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I said. Picklefinger was holding my Stetson.

“Here you go,” he said, dusting it off.

I examined it, spotting a couple of new holes. I’d totally forgotten about how I’d used it to distract the shooter atop the Town Hall. I’d considered it a loss.

“I almost forgot about that,” I said. “Got this hat—”

“From John B. Stetson himself,” Picklefinger said at the same time.

“Oh, you’d heard?”

“Only every time you’ve come through,” Picklefinger commented. He reached over the bar—which was a feat in itself with his belly—and grabbed a bottle of absinthe. He tipped his own hat to Rosa and poured a bit more in her glass. “Strong enough for you, Ma’am?”

She took a sip and coughed. “Plenty.”

Picklefinger gave me a look that conveyed something two men understood without words.

Yes, Rosa was beautiful, but more than that, she was a friend. As a Black Badge, I didn’t have the luxury of following such whims. But I knew a good woman when I spotted one, and Rosa was that and more.

She downed her Sazerac, then placed a hand on my arm and said, “Bram’s waiting for me. You coming?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I told her. “Be just a minute.”

She nodded and hurried off to meet up with Mr. Stoker and his crew.

I donned my hat and stood there in the shot-up saloon, looking around. It wouldn’t have been a bad life, tending bar at a place like this. Bringing people good times and the occasional fight. It wouldn’t be long before my next mission from the White Throne came. And in those brief periods of respite, I liked to imagine how things could've been.

“Hey Crowley, one more thing,” Picklefinger said.

I blinked, and the daydream vanished as quickly as it came.

“What’s that?” I asked.

He once again reached into his pocket. When he pulled it out, he held a small, flat box made of gold.

“Do yourself a favor,” he said, handing it to me. It verily shook when my hand grasped it. “Shave for the lady, will you? You look like hell.”

He smiled and I did my best to do the same. Once again, I was holding a mirror and Shar’s presence inside practically guffawed at my failed attempt to be rid of her. At least it was gold this time.

Nothing’s ever easy.

“I’ll do that,” I said. “Thanks.”

I headed back outside.

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Picklefinger moved to the door. “You ever find out who that generous bounty hunter was, you tell him Picklefinger and the whole city of Revelation Springs thanks him, you hear?”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

“And you’ve got yourself a room here anytime you need it.”

"I know," I joked. "Nicest one too, I expect." We shared a laugh. I waved over my shoulder. “See you around.”

“Stay out of trouble.”

The sound of his mop started up again and I felt that infernal itch that was Shargrafein demanding to speak with me.

So, I slipped down between Picklefinger’s and the Miners Guild, in that same alley where Dale and I had been arrested. Nobody had refilled the trough he’d flopped around in yet.

Checking from side to side, sure no one was gonna pop out and start gabbing, I opened the mirror and was met by the swirling, smokey visage of my angelic handler.

“Are you sending mirrors to my acquaintances now?” I asked, eager to get the first word in.

“Don’t trouble yourself with trivialities,” she replied.

“Yeah, yeah. You see everything, except for the things you don’t.”

She ignored my jab.

“The White Throne is pleased that you uncovered the Fallen One behind these transgressions. But Chekoketh grows bold. He does not act without purpose.”

“You heard his purpose. He wanted the Piasa.”

“Perhaps… But his motives are always unclear. Misdirection, deceit… such are the tools of his master.”

I sighed. “If he’s already in your head, he’s already won. Just like Ace.”

“Do not compare him to that rotten Child,” Shar admonished. “I sense darkness coming. All this movement. I fear the scions of Lucifer will soon attempt once more to open a Hellmouth.”

“And I suppose you have no idea when?”

“Do not patronize me. Or do you forget our last conversation. You’ve done well here, Crowley. Let us focus on what is to come, and not what has come to pass.”

Yeah, I remembered. Her making me feel the decades of pain I’d missed. To watch, with open eyes, as my body rotted away to how it should appear. As I was reminded of the "gift" Shar and the White Throne had bestowed upon me by making me a Hand of God. A Black Badge.

“We will root out this evil,” Shar said. “Never forget who you serve.”

“As if you’d let me?” I sucked through my teeth. “So where to next, my glorious and incorruptible boss?”

“The marshlands in the southeast call. A terror rises there that will put all the Children of the Crescent City in danger.”

Great. The Crescent City. Nothing was ever uncomplicated in that place. On the gulf, crowded with sinners and practitioners of dark arts, where it was easy to blend in because the city was filled with so many people who didn’t.

“That’s all you got for me?” I asked.

“For now,” Shar said. Then she added, “Leave fast. Spare not a moment,” as her face started to swirl away.

“Sure thing.” I snapped the mirror shut and stuffed it into my satchel.

I headed out of the alley with every intention of taking my time to leave. Like I’d told Rosa, I wouldn’t miss what was happening next for all the tea in China. I’d suffer eternity in Hell not to miss it.

I retrieved Timperina because she deserved to see too, and walked her to where Rosa, Bram, and Irish stood at the outskirts of the town square which was still an awful mess.

“Where’s Harker?” I asked.

“Oi, the fecker cou—”

“Mr. Harker doesn’t have the stomach for such affairs,” Bram said, cutting Irish off. “Says the public square is no place for a man to die, no matter his crimes.”

“Easy to say when it's not you whose been wronged,” Rosa argued.

She approached Timp, who gave a soft snort. Timp nuzzled right up to Rosa and damn near begged for a pat. This lady must've been some kind of magician.

“You’re a good girl,” Rosa said.

“It seems she’s come to like you,” I said.

“I’m hoping she’s not the only one?”

I smiled but was gratefully spared the need to respond when the gathered crowd began booing and hissing. What did she mean by that? Dammit, Rosa, don’t make things harder.

“Here he comes,” I said out loud, eager to focus elsewhere.

A slow processional led Ace Ryker from the jailhouse. He cursed up a storm while folks spit at him, kicked dirt, and worse. Most times, the deputies would’ve stepped in to put some kind of space between the condemned and the congregants, but not now. They welcomed it like Christmas morning.

The harmonica was in his pocket. Left there as a last of rites, upon my personal request to Gutierrez. Ace would die with the instrument of a monster on his possession and then be buried with it. That Hellish thing, able to compel others to act against their will, would be lost to the world.

I’d waited a long time for this justice and, apparently, so had Rosa. Just wish it hadn’t been at the expense of so many more lives, and that a certain Reginald Dufaux had the gumption to take the fall with Ace instead of running like a coward.

Dale deserved a crowd this size for a celebration of his life. Hell, even Chops deserved something. I suppose taking joy in a worthless clump of mud like Ace Ryker finally getting his dues would need to suffice.

Ace stumbled and fell. They had his legs chained without much slack. He was a runner and Sheriff Gutierrez wisely wasn’t taking any chances after already losing him once—an issue I cleared for Rosa when we turned Ace in. Not surprisingly, the sheriff understood why a man like him could be so easy to hate. Plus, Rosa turned her charm on and that was a weapon as powerful as the White Throne sometimes.

A couple men jerked Ace upright and gave him a shove toward the gallows, then helped him up the steps, though I think most of us would’ve been fine watching him try on his own.

All in all, the short walk from the jail to the gallows set up in front of Town Hall took far longer than necessary. But that’s how these things were done. People usually traveled from far and wide to be entertained by capital punishment like this, but with the mass departure Revelation Springs had experienced, there might’ve been a hundred people there. Locals only. The people who’d hate him most for messing up their town.

Part of me was glad Ace didn’t get a better audience. Had he been caught right after murdering that Vanderbilt woman on the train, there'd have been a mass crowd. He’d have loved it.

But legends fade as time ticks on, and this was all he deserved.

Gutierrez dragged him to the center of the stage and raised a hand. Everyone watching took a while to hush, but they managed. Mayor Stinson stood off to the side, scowling, wringing his hat as if he wanted to be the one to pull the lever that’d send Ace to dance at the end of the rope. The town reverend was beside him, looking somber.

“I wish they’d burn him alive,” Rosa said.

I glanced at her sidelong. Her eyes glinted with anticipation. “Remind me never to cross you.”

Mayor Stinson stepped forward and addressed us all. It was good to see him up there, like a changing of the guard. With Dufaux out of the picture, perhaps this man would rise up to bring Revelation Springs into a new era of greatness. Or maybe he’d become equally corrupt. Who knows?

“This man, known as Ace Ryker, is accused and convicted of armed robbery, evading the law, murder, and, the murder of a lawman. He is also convicted for the murder of Beatrice Vanderbilt, and likely hundreds of others over the course of his career as an outlaw. For these many crimes, and many only God will know, He will hang at the end of a rope until dead. Reverend Peters will now address you as God’s mouthpiece.”

“In the second book,” the Reverend started, “Moses ascended the mount and communed with our Lord. Upon that holy peak, he was given ten rules. Ten simple rules by which all mankind should live. Ten rules that any decent human being ought to be able to follow without even a thought elsewise. However, today, we’ve gathered to watch a man die who couldn’t manage to skirt by with a single one left unbroken.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“However, all men were created as sons and daughters,” Reverend Peters went on. The next words came out like they hurt. “Each one of us deserves an opportunity for forgiveness.”

The crowd hissed again. Someone threw their shoe at Ace and the heel drew blood.

Ace swore, but Sheriff Gutierrez shut him up with a heavy right hook.

“That’s enough!” the Mayor ordered. “We will have civility!”

“You ain’t Dufaux!” someone yelled. A couple of locals laughed.

“No, I’m not. But where is he? All this wreckage, and he’s nowhere to be found. He abandoned all of you, but I’m still here.”

That got people to start whispering.

The reverend looked at Ace and shook his head. Can’t imagine what it would be like to have such closeness to the Maker that anyone could pity Ace, but this man surely found that grace somewhere in his heart.

“Thank you, Mayor Stinson,” he said. “May God reward your kindness.”

Sheriff Gutierrez was in the midst of lowering the hangman’s noose around Ace’s neck. Ace bit at his hand.

“Mr. Ryker,” the Reverend said, “these are your last moments on this side. Now, I won’t presume to speak for our Lord, but the Good Book tells us that repentance is the key to salvation. When upon the cross, our Savior promised the condemned that—should he make right the things on this earth—he would be given passage into the Kingdom beyond. Yes, that he would be in paradise, even in that very hour!”

The crowd booed at the thought of Ace receiving anything other than Hell’s wrath. Ace laughed too. Son of a bitch was gonna do that all the way to the gates. To his credit, Reverend Peters kept his composure through it all.

“If that thief on the cross, sentenced to death, could find forgiveness in those final moments, you too have a chance to receive Heaven’s free gift. With your last words, Mr. Ryker, will you confess your sins before God and this crowd? Will you repent and find God’s forgiveness?”

Ace sucked in through his teeth. He watched the Reverend, then looked out over the crowd and spotted me. Oh, if looks could kill.

“Yeah, I’d like to pray,” Ace said. “If you’ll allow it.”

People booed again.

“We will have respect for our Lord!” Reverend Peters shouted. “Now quiet!”

The crowd eventually listened.

Reverend Peters smiled at Ace, nodded, and stepped backward.

Ace rolled his neck and closed his eyes. His hands were tied behind his back, ankles chained, noose in place. He took a deep breath. Others may’ve bowed their heads and closed their eyes, but I watched him.

“Dear God,” he said. Silence hung in the air. Then he opened his eyes, looked right at me with his cold blue eyes, and said, “Fuck James Crowley and the horse he rode in on.”

The crowd gasped while Ace laughed like the maniacal piece of shit he was. Sheriff Gutierrez threw the lever, the floor fell out, and Ace Ryker dangled from that rope, neck snapped, face twisted in that evil grin I’d come to know too well.

And that was how two decades of nightmares ended.

I looked to Rosa. She stared quietly as the body swung, rope creaking and straining the wood it was tied to. Eventually, Bram took her shoulder and said, “Time to head on, Lassie. You’ve seen what you needed to see.”

He wasn’t alone. Eager as the crowd was to watch this affair, they dispersed just as quickly. That’s the thing about hangings. It’s exciting to anticipate a wicked man leaving this Earth, but once they’re gone, it’s just a helpless body, swinging. It feels wrong to keep jeering and carrying on. Death, no matter what, becomes a solemn affair.

“Feel any better?” I asked Rosa.

She pursed her lips. “Not really.”

“Me neither.” I sighed. “But what’s done is done, and the world will be a better place for it. It doesn’t change the past. Nothing can.”

She looked up at me. There were no tears in her eyes, but there was sadness there all the same. “What now, James?”

“Now, we press onward down the path laid before us. But first, I got a friend that deserves to be buried back in Lonely Hill, right beside a sheriff he made proud in the end.”

I’d promised that to Dale, and I felt like keeping it. Besides, I’d stopped a Yeti and uncovered Chekoketh’s role in everything. That would buy me some leeway with Shar, at least for a bit.

Angels… what a pain in my ass.