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The
execution
went
well
--
if
there
was
ever
such
a
thing
as
"
a
good
one
"
(
a
proposition
I
strongly
doubt
)
,
then
the
execution
of
Arlen
Bitterbuck
,
council
elder
of
the
Washita
Cherokee
,
was
it
.
He
got
his
braids
wrong
--
his
hands
were
shaking
too
badly
to
make
a
good
job
of
it
--
and
his
eldest
daughter
,
a
woman
of
thirty-odd
,
was
allowed
to
plait
them
nice
and
even
.
She
wanted
to
weave
feathers
in
at
the
tips
,
the
pinfeathers
of
a
hawk
,
his
bird
,
but
I
could
n't
allow
it
.
They
might
catch
fire
and
burn
.
I
did
n't
tell
her
that
,
of
course
,
just
said
it
was
against
regulations
.
She
made
no
protest
,
only
bowed
her
head
and
put
her
hands
to
her
temples
to
show
her
disappointment
and
her
disapproval
.
She
conducted
herself
with
great
dignity
,
that
woman
,
and
by
doing
so
practically
guaranteed
that
her
father
would
do
the
same
.
The
Chief
left
his
cell
with
no
protest
or
holding
back
when
the
time
came
.
Sometimes
we
had
to
pry
their
fingers
off
the
bars
--
I
broke
one
or
two
in
my
time
and
have
never
forgotten
the
muffled
snapping
sound
--
but
The
Chief
was
n't
one
of
those
,
thank
God
.
He
walked
strong
up
the
Green
Mile
to
my
office
,
and
there
he
dropped
to
his
knees
to
pray
with
Brother
Schuster
,
who
had
driven
down
from
the
Heavenly
Light
Baptist
Church
in
his
flivver
.
Schuster
gave
The
Chief
a
few
psalms
,
and
The
Chief
started
to
cry
when
Schuster
got
to
the
one
about
lying
down
beside
the
still
waters
.
It
was
n't
bad
,
though
,
no
hysteria
,
nothing
like
that
.
I
had
an
idea
he
was
thinking
about
still
water
so
pure
and
so
cold
it
felt
like
it
was
cutting
your
mouth
every
time
you
drank
some
.
Actually
,
I
like
to
see
them
cry
a
little
.
It
's
when
they
do
n't
that
I
get
worried
.
A
lot
of
men
ca
n't
get
up
from
their
knees
again
without
help
,
but
The
Chief
did
okay
in
that
department
.
He
swayed
a
little
at
first
,
like
he
was
lightheaded
,
and
Dean
put
out
a
hand
to
steady
him
,
but
Bitterbuck
had
already
found
his
balance
again
on
his
own
,
so
out
we
went
.
Almost
all
the
chairs
were
occupied
,
with
the
people
in
them
murmuring
quietly
among
themselves
,
like
folks
do
when
they
're
waiting
for
a
wedding
or
a
funeral
to
get
started
.
That
was
the
only
time
Bitterbuck
faltered
.
I
do
n't
know
if
it
was
any
one
person
in
particular
that
bothered
him
,
or
all
of
them
together
,
but
I
could
hear
a
low
moaning
start
up
in
his
throat
,
and
all
at
once
the
arm
I
was
holding
had
a
drag
in
it
that
had
n't
been
there
before
.
Out
of
the
corner
of
my
eye
I
could
see
Harry
Terwilliger
moving
up
to
cut
off
The
Chief
's
retreat
if
Bitterbuck
all
at
once
decided
he
wanted
to
go
hard
.
I
tightened
my
grip
on
his
elbow
and
tapped
the
inside
of
his
arm
with
one
finger
.
"
Steady
,
Chief
,
"
I
said
out
of
the
corner
of
my
mouth
,
not
moving
my
lips
.
"
The
only
thing
most
of
these
people
will
remember
about
you
is
how
you
go
out
,
so
give
them
something
good
--
show
them
how
a
Washita
does
it
.
"
He
glanced
at
me
sideways
and
gave
a
little
nod
.
Then
he
took
one
of
the
braids
his
daughter
had
made
and
kissed
it
.
I
looked
to
Brutal
,
standing
at
parade
rest
behind
the
chair
,
resplendent
in
his
best
blue
uniform
,
all
the
buttons
on
the
tunic
polished
and
gleaming
,
his
hat
sitting
square-john
perfect
on
his
big
head
.
I
gave
him
a
little
nod
and
he
shot
it
right
back
,
stepping
forward
to
help
Bitterbuck
mount
the
platform
if
he
needed
help
.
Turned
out
he
did
n't
.
It
was
less
than
a
minute
from
the
time
Bitterbuck
sat
down
in
the
chair
to
the
moment
when
Brutal
,
called
"
Roll
on
two
!
"
softly
back
over
his
shoulder
.
The
lights
dimmed
down
again
,
but
only
a
little
;
you
would
n't
have
noticed
it
if
you
had
n't
been
looking
for
it
.
That
meant
Van
Hay
had
pulled
the
switch
some
wit
had
labeled
MABEL
'S
HAIR
DRIER
.
There
was
a
low
humming
from
the
cap
,
and
Bitterbuck
surged
forward
against
the
clamps
and
the
restraining
belt
across
his
chest
.
Over
against
the
wall
,
the
prison
doctor
watched
expressionlessly
,
lips
thinned
until
his
mouth
looked
like
a
single
white
stitch
.
There
was
no
flopping
and
flailing
,
such
as
Old
Toot-Toot
had
done
at
rehearsal
,
only
that
powerful
forward
surge
,
as
a
man
may
surge
forward
from
the
hips
while
in
the
grip
of
a
powerful
orgasm
.
The
Chief
's
blue
shirt
pulled
tight
at
the
buttons
,
creating
little
strained
smiles
of
flesh
between
them
.
