Verdict

The two cowboys drank from their flasks in the shade of the apple tree. There was no other shade around for miles; the only thing of note nearby was the burnt remnants of a small cabin, which they used to hitch their horses. Eventually, a third cowboy rode up from the east, a wriggling parcel slung behind him on his horse.

"James, George," said the newcomer casually. "I don't believe any of us will be welcome in town after today. They're no doubt putting up 'No Negroes Allowed' signs right now as the sheriff rallies a militia. But we got our man." He dismounted, dragging the protesting bundle off with him. Jimmy and George's eyes lit up, and they rushed forward to eagerly shake the man's hand.

"Well, shit! Looks like that East Coast learning worked out for you, Franklin!" said Jimmy. "You gotta tell us how you pulled it off after we're done." As Jimmy kept chatting with Franklin, George unwrapped the bundle, just enough to reveal the man's face.

"Howdy do, Mayor Oswell. Or is that 'Grand Wizard' Oswell?" George spat in the klansman's face as he swore through his gag. "No need to get upset, sir. We just need you here for the trial. Someone burned down my brother's cabin, and hung him by the neck. So we're going to hold a trial, and someone's going to reap what they sowed." George grinned coldly before pulling some rope from his pack and preparing the noose.