State of Rebellion

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Had the gallows knot been properly placed to the side, behind the ear, Richard McFarland’s neck would have snapped, delivering a swift death. As it was, the young California National Guard lieutenant twisted and convulsed for a long, agonizing two minutes before he died.

In the predawn hours, the light was barely sufficient to see, but Otto Krueger, First Sergeant of the Shasta Brigade, a northern California militia unit of dubious intent, kept his eyes riveted to the gruesome scene. Otto’s younger companions had less stomach for the sight of Lieutenant McFarland slowly swinging in the stillness of a purple dawn.

Killing the two California Superior Court justices with a quick bullet in the back of the head had been easy compared to this assignment, but Commander Shaw had been adamant: “Make it plain that the brigade will not tolerate traitors or spies.”

“Can’t we just get the hell out of here, First Sergeant?” one of the two men with Krueger pleaded.

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