This is an old one, written in 1994, with some reworking today. It's kind of unusual in that it relies on the possibility of ghosts, which I haven't seen much in other noose stories.
It was Dakota Territory, something like 1885. I had been leading a posse through the Badlands for about two weeks. A friend of mine had been killed back in Sioux Falls. I didn't do it, but when I heard they were looking for me I took off. That made me guilty in their eyes, and I knew what they were going to do if they caught me.
But two weeks of running had exhausted me and my horse. The posse finally caught me while we rested by a river, the only place for miles where there was any trees for shade. There was five of 'em, all big and mean with guns, and I couldn't fight back when they fell on me. They quickly had me down on the ground with my hands tied behind my back. While I was down they beat me up pretty bad, one of them getting in a few kicks to my stomach before they pulled me to my feet.
I got a short rest in the dirt while they discussed whether to take me back to Sioux Falls to stand trial and be hanged from the gallows there. But they decided to just get things over with here and now.