The Kid: A Novel by Ron Hansen

The Kid: A Novel by Ron Hansen

Author:Ron Hansen [Ron Hansen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781501129759
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 2016-10-04T04:00:00+00:00


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CLEMENCY

The governor would soon meet the Kid, for W. H. Bonney sent this letter to him at the Governor’s Palace in Santa Fe:

Dear Sir I have heard that You will give one thousand dollars for my person, which as I can understand means alive as a Witness against those that murdered Mr. Chapman. If it is required that I would appear at Court, I have indictments against me for things that happened in the late Lincoln County War and am afraid to give up because my Enemies would Kill me. If it is in your power to annul those indictments I hope you will do so, so as to give me a chance to explain myself. I have no Wish to fight any more, indeed I have not raised an arm since your November proclamation. Concerning my character, I refer You to any of the Citizens of Lincoln, for the majority of them are my Friends and have been helping me all they could. I am also called Kid Antrim, but Antrim is my stepfather’s name. Waiting for an answer, I remain your obedient servant.

The governor invited him to Santa Fe, and a gussied-up Kid got there at night on March 17, 1879, St. Patrick’s Day. An Irish festival in the plaza carried the noise of the kettles, pans, and horns of a shivaree as the Kid walked up to a one-story, 350-foot-wide, porticoed Spanish palace of whitewashed adobe that was constructed in the 1600s. He knocked many times on a rough door of sawn wood, and it was finally opened by an annoyed official in a frock suit, who flinched at seeing the Kid’s Winchester rifle and holstered six-shooter.

“You must be Kid Bonney.”

“Yes sir.”

“You’re late.”

“Had to ride forever to get here.”

“Hand over your weapons.” With some hesitation, the Kid did as instructed, and as the official carried them away he told the Kid, “The governor is still dining. Wait for him in his office.” He nodded his head. “End of the hallway.”

The floor of the hallway was earthen but softened by an ill-matched variety of English, Persian, and Navajo rugs. A faint stream of dirt was trickling through a cleft in the ceiling, and fronds of water stain slurred the walls. In the governor’s office, four hurricane lamps were lit, and a grand, ambassadorial desk was heaped with books such as Antiquities of the Jews by Flavius Josephus, The Lands of the Saracen by Bayard Taylor, Innocents Abroad by Mark Twain, and a King James Version of the Holy Bible that was bookmarked with many torn scraps of paper. Tacked to a wall was a map called Terra Sancta sive Palestina, whatever that was. Billy saw a cardboard stationery box that was labeled Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ, and a quill pen and jar of India ink were next to a half-filled page of handwriting. The Kid stooped over it to read: “Let the reader try to fancy it; let him first look down upon the



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