Wanted: A Western Story Collection

by Robert J. Thomas

  The sheriff led out, and we rode back to the spot where they had climbed up.

  The sheriff grunted as we started our descent.

  “It just took us several hours to get up here,” he complained.

  “Whatever comes up, must come down,” I replied wryly.

  Chapter twenty-five

  Brian and I brought up the rear as we rode back to town.

  Brian wasn’t very talkative. His face was all scrunched up, and it looked like he was thinking hard.

  “You all right?” I finally asked.

  “The sheriff,” Brian said, his voice low.

  “What about him?”

  “He doesn’t know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Know who I am,” Brian explained. “Maggie must have left that part out.”

  “Sounded like it,” I agreed, and then I asked, “You gonna tell him?”

  “No, don’t think I should,” he said. “If Maggie had wanted him to know, she would have told him. She must have her reasons.”

  “Are you all right with that?”

  Brian nodded somberly.

  “I’ve often wondered how he turned out, and now I know.”

  “And that’s good enough for you?” I asked.

  “It’s for the best.”

  I nodded, and we trotted on.

  ***

  The sheriff pulled up when we reached the outskirts of town.

  “You’d best wait here,” he told us. “I’ll hitch up your wagon and bring it out to you.”

  “What for?” I asked, confused.

  “Maggie,” he explained. “I didn’t mention it, but she’s my mother. She’s mighty upset with you two. Something to do with broken dishes.”

  “Oh,” I said as I ignored Brian’s cold stare. “That.”

  “These horses don’t belong to us,” Brian pointed out.

  “I know,” the sheriff said wryly. “They’re mine.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” Brian said sincerely.

  “Don’t be. I know how you got them,” the sheriff said, and he grinned and kicked up his horse while Brian and I looked at each other.

  ***

  Half an hour later, the sheriff brought us our wagon.

  “I put a few supplies in your wagon,” he told us. “After what we put you through, I figured that was the least we could do.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said.

  The sheriff nodded and glanced at Brian. Several seconds passed while they looked at each other.

  “Sorry for the misunderstanding,” he finally said.

  “That’s all right,” Brian said, and his voice was suddenly husky.

  “Have we met?” The sheriff asked. “You look sorta familiar.”

  A wistful look crossed Brian’s face, but it disappeared just as fast.

  “Talk to your mother,” he said. “If you ever need to reach me, I’ll be at Empty-lake.”

  The sheriff nodded.

  “I’ll do that,” he said, and he grabbed the reins to his horses and took out.

  Brian and I stood there and watched him leave. Then, Brian cleared his throat, coughed, and looked at me.

  “You ready?” He asked.

  “Sure am,” I said.

  Before we left, I climbed into the back of our wagon and checked our mirror. To our relief it was untouched, so we climbed onto the wagon seat and encouraged our horses forward.

  Never before had I been so happy to ride in a wagon.

  “Well, we’ll be in Empty-lake in a few days,” I commented.

  “Sounds about right,” Brian agreed.

  “The future looks bright,” I grinned. “Nothing can go wrong now. The hotel’s almost finished, and soon we’ll be open for business.”

  Brian grunted at that, and it was silent for a while.

  “You gonna miss her?” I asked suddenly.

  “Miss who?”

  “Your wife.”

  “Ex-wife.”

  “Whatever,” I smiled.

  Brian started to deny it, but then he shrugged and nodded.

  “I might.”

  “You could always visit,” I suggested.

  “Mebbe I will, one of these days,” Brian said. “Probably be best if I waited a while.”

  “What for?”

  “You know. Let her calm down some.”

  “She’s had twenty years,” I protested. “How much time does she need?”

  “You don’t know Maggie.”

  “I reckon I don’t,” I said. I chuckled, and added, “After all, you’re the one with all the fond memories.”

  Brian looked at me and scowled.

  “You ain’t going to stop talking about this, are you.”

  “I have no plans to,” I said.

  Brian sighed his displeasure, and I grinned wolfishly as we bounced along.

  The End

  A note from the Author

  This short story takes place during a small lapse of time in the sixth novel of The Landon Saga. To find out more about the hotel, Lee Mattingly, and Brian Clark, pick up a copy of LEE, book #6 in The Landon Saga.

  http://www.amazon.com/Tell-Cotten/e/B00BTNWC4Y/ref=dp_byline_cont_pop_ebooks_1

  About the Author

  Born in West Texas, Tell Cotten is a seventh generation Texan. He comes from a family with a ranching heritage and is a member of the Sons of the Republic of Texas. Besides writing, he is also in the cattle business, and he resides in West Texas with his wife, Andi, and their two children.

  Tell is the award-winning author of The Landon Saga. His novels have won Gold, Silver, and Bronze in the Readers’ Favorite Awards, and Tell also won Best New Western in the Laramie Awards and Bronze in the Global ebook Awards for CONFESSIONS OF A GUNFIGHTER.

  For announcements of new releases and all other information, please like The Landon Saga Page on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/TheLandonSaga

  Or, you can join The Landon Saga Fan Group https://www.facebook.com/groups/784798154926122/

  You can also visit Tell Cotten’s website http://tellcotten.wordpress.com/

  THE SHEPHERD

  A Jess Williams Western

  A Short Story

  By

  Robert J. Thomas

  Chapter one

  Hansard ducked as the slug punched a hole in the weathered board on the wagon sitting behind the general store. He popped his head up and fired another shot at the corner of the shed. Jess ducked back behind it, looking at the smoke filtering out of the barrel of his unique pistol. He knew he only had two bullets left in the cylinder, so he quickly replaced the spent shells and moved to the other side of the shed.

  “I’m getting tired of chasing you around town, Hansard,” Jess hollered out.

  “So, what do you want me to do, step out in the open so you can plug me?”

  “That’d be just fine with me.”

  “Well, if you want me, come and get me,” Hansard said as he bolted from the wagon, heading for the next building, which happened to be a tonsorial parlor. He ran into the back of the small building and sat in the chair. The barber, who had been hiding behind a wall during the shooting, stood there looking fearfully at him.

  “Get over here and put one of them capes on me and lather up my face,” Hansard told the barber.

  “But…”

  “Don’t make me shoot you,” threatened Hansard as he waved his pistol around. “Now do it and lather me up real good all the way up around my nose.”

  The barber used a brush and soaped up Hansard’s face until all that showed were his forehead and dark beady eyes. He ran the razor back and forth on a strop and stood behind him. Just as he began to move the razor under his chin, Hansard grabbed the barber’s hand and jerked it away from him.

  “I don’t need a shave, you idiot,” he said as he moved his pistol under the cape. “Just stand there like you’re gonna shave me.”

  “All right, but…”

  “Just keep quiet before I shoot you,” he warned
the barber, who simply stood behind him holding the razor.

  Jess moved quickly to another storage shed and got a good look at the wagon Hansard had been shooting from and saw he was gone. He kept as low as he could and made his way over to it. He scanned the entire area until he saw a man sticking his head out of a window and pointing to the tonsorial parlor. Jess nodded and moved to the side of the building. He walked to the front of the parlor and quietly stepped up on the boardwalk, putting pressure on his boot slowly, making sure there were no squeaks coming from the wood.

  He doffed his hat, setting it on the walk, and edged a look around the window to see Hansard sitting in the chair watching the back door. Jess could see the tip of a gun barrel sticking out from under the cape. The barber saw Jess, raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. Jess put his finger to his lips and quietly tiptoed into the parlor, all the while keeping his pistol aimed at Hansard. He got behind him and gently touched his head with the end of the gun barrel.

  “I don’t need a haircut either,” whispered Hansard.

  “No, you surely don’t,” Jess told him as he pushed the barrel against his head a little harder.

  “I don’t suppose that’s the barber, is it?”

  Jess motioned for the barber to walk to where Hansard could see him.

  “No, it sure ain’t the barber holding a gun to your thick skull, but I’d be happy to part your hair for you,” said Jess. “Now, drop that leg cannon before I paint this man’s parlor with your brains.” The gun thudded against the floor and Hansard let out a frustrated moan.

  “Aw crap,” he wailed. “I can’t go back to the penitentiary again.”

  “How many times have you been there?”

  “Twice, not counting the time that ornery sheriff kept me locked up in his jail cell for two years,” he moaned. “He fed me every other day and treated me rotten until I finally broke out of there.”

  “Maybe that had something to do with you raping his wife and beating her until she was nearly dead.”

  “Maybe, but I paid him back that day when my friend dropped a pistol through the bars. I made him give me the keys and put a slug through his heart before I rode out of there.”

  “Which is why I’m here pointing a gun to your head. I think you already know how this will end.”

  “Why the hell does it have to be you coming after me?”

  “Because I only hunt the worst of men and you’re…well…one of the worst.”

  “You gonna just shoot me?”

  “No, I’m going to give you one chance to go up against me.”

  “I just knew you were going to say that,” he whined. “All right, I’ll let you send me to the hoosegow again.”

  “The law has tried that three times now and yet here you are running free again and killing people. Someone has got to stop you, which is why I’m here.”

  “Dang my bad luck.”

  Jess smiled at the barber.

  “Pick his gun up and hold onto it,” he told him. The barber picked up the pistol. Jess tapped the barrel of his gun on Hansard’s head.

  “Pull that cape off and don’t try anything stupid.” Hansard removed the cape and threw it onto the floor. Jess walked around in front of him and motioned for him to stand up.

  “Let’s go,” he told him. Hansard walked out into the street with Jess and the barber behind him. His face was still lathered with foam. Jess moved about ten feet from him and holstered his pistol, keeping his right hand near the butt of it.

  “Put his pistol back in the holster,” Jess told the barber.

  “Why don’t you just shoot him?” he asked.

  “I’m getting to that,” replied Jess. The barber huffed, walked over to Hansard and shoved the pistol back into his holster hard.

  “That’s not right,” complained Hansard. “He shoved my gun down tight in my holster. It’ll be harder to pull it out.”

  “Then reach down and loosen it up,” suggested Jess.

  Hansard’s beady eyes darted back and forth between Jess and the barber. Jess couldn’t see his facial features under the foam, but the eyes told him what he needed to know. Hansard reached down and wiggled the pistol back and forth, slowly pulling it up to loosen it in the holster. He shifted his body slightly to the right and when he had the pistol far enough out of the holster and partially out of sight from Jess, he coughed loudly as he thumbed the hammer back. The barber started to point to it when Hansard jerked his pistol out.

  Hansard jerk-fired the pistol and his slug dug a hole in the ground as the slug from Jess’s pistol screamed through his left shoulder. He twisted to the left and stumbled sideways as he dropped his gun in the dirt. Jess moved with purpose toward him as he continued to stumble until his legs gave way and he fell onto his back. He looked up at the sky with his beady eyes until he saw Jess coming toward him. He stood over him with his cocked pistol in his hand.

  “I guess I’m on the train to hell,” he stammered. “I knew my ways would catch up to me one day.” Hansard heard footsteps coming his way and looked sideways to see Sheriff Clifford Burke walking up holding a rifle.

  “How come you let this man shoot me?” he demanded of the sheriff as he grimaced from the pain.

  “Because you deserved it, you ass,” the sheriff replied angrily. “If he hadn’t done it, I would have plugged you with this rifle.”

  “But you’re wearing that tin star and you’re supposed to arrest me, not let me get shot by this one here,” he said as he nodded at Jess standing over him.

  “And you’re not supposed to be killing a sheriff and raping his wife,” said Burke.

  “That woman was asking for it,” he said mockingly.

  “That sheriff was my brother-in-law,” hissed Burke through clenched teeth.

  “Really?” asked Hansard as his eyes darted back and forth nervously.

  “Yeah,” answered Burke. “Do you know what that means?”

  Hansard thought for a few seconds before shaking his head.

  “I killed your brother-in-law?”

  Burke leaned down lower and glared at him.

  “It means his wife was my younger sister, you idiot.”

  Hansard thought about it for a few seconds and then his eyes went wide as Burke stuck the rifle barrel against his forehead and fired one slug. Hansard’s head bounced once and then slowly tilted to the side as his eyes glazed over in death. Jess replaced the spent shell in his pistol and holstered it as the sheriff stood there looking at the dead body. He broke his gaze and stood back up, forcing a smile at Jess.

  “Ain’t no one gonna miss this one,” said Burke.

  “I don’t suppose so,” agreed Jess as he pulled out the wanted poster on Hansard and handed it to him.

  “I’ll have your money in a few hours. I’ll need you to sign the form in my office.”

  “I’ll be there shortly. Keep two hundred for yourself. After all, I may have tracked him and put him down, but you put the final slug in him. I have to get my horses down to the livery to get them fed and watered.”

  Burke nodded and waved to the undertaker, who was already making his way over to them. He was a tall muscular man and he turned around, bent down and picked up Hansard’s ankles. He began dragging him to his parlor, leaving a bloody streak in the dirt.

  Jess headed for his horses. He had left them outside of town after spotting Hansard riding in earlier. He picked the reins to Gray up off the ground and led him to the livery. His packhorse, Sharps, followed faithfully behind Gray as he always did. The two horses were inseparable.

  His thoughts turned to Wildcat again. He had split up from her in Oberon in New Mexico Territory a few weeks ago. She had headed north and he had headed east to Texas. He smiled as he recalled her bright blue eyes and short black hair. His smile widened as he recalled the days he had spent with her in Oberon after helping her kill Reverend and his gang of thugs. He reached the livery and a heavyset man walked out to greet him.

  “Whatcha need?” he asked.


  “Feed and water them, but leave them saddled for now,” Jess told him as he pitched him a silver dollar. “Best place to get some grub?”

  “Café in the hotel is the best food in town. And I’m not sayin’ it just ‘cause my wife Juanita runs the place.”

  “Thanks.” Jess headed out and toward the hotel, habitually glancing up at rooftops and between buildings.

  “Seems like a quiet town now,” he whispered to himself as he watched two men dismount and walk into the hotel.

  Chapter two

  When he walked in, all heads swiveled his way. The men were looking at all the guns he wore, especially the very unique pistol that rode on his right leg, tied down with a heavy leather strap. His keen eyes scanned the room in less than two seconds. He smiled inwardly as his eyes settled for a split second on one of two men sitting at a table eating. The waiter walked over and offered him a table. Jess nodded to the one in a corner with a full view of the room. He motioned for him to go ahead and sit there. He handed the waiter a silver dollar, sat down and removed his hat, well aware of the inquisitive eyes of one man. A waitress delivered a hot cup of coffee and set it in front of him. Shade Reid and Halsey Blair sat at a table by the window. Blair looked across the table at Reid.

  “What the hell do you keep lookin’ at?” he asked. Reid slowly turned his head to his partner.

  “Didn’t you see who just walked in?” asked Reid as he turned his head back toward Jess. Blair turned to see who he was talking about. He grunted and frowned.

  “Looks like a damn bounty hunter to me.”

  “I know that, but do you know who it is?”

  “They all look alike.”

  “Maybe, but that’s Jess Williams in the flesh. He’s the best bounty hunter and man killer in the business.”

  “You could take him,” announced Blair as he forked another piece of his meatloaf and shoved it between his teeth.

  “I’d hate to have to find out,” muttered Reid. Blair stopped chewing and looked over at Jess again. He swallowed and frowned deeper.