When they walked out of the hotel, Jane saw the grisly scene of Stockwell’s head stuck into the hole of the front wall of the hotel. She let out a little gasp and quickly turned her eyes away. They walked down to the livery and Jess kept glancing up at the rooftops and anywhere else an ambush could come from. They reached the livery and he looked at Jane and guessed her to be about a hundred and twenty pounds at the most. He looked at her horse and then at Sharps.
“Why don’t you ride my packhorse, Sharps,” he told her.
“What’s wrong with my horse?”
“Nothing, except Sharps can run faster and longer than just about any other horse around,” explained Jess. “If we have to make a run for it, you’ll be better off on him than that plow horse you have. We can leave your horse here and pick him up if we make it back.” Jane walked over to Sharps and rubbed his neck and he snorted and turned his head back toward her. Jane rubbed his forehead and Sharps nudged her softly with his head.
“He is a beautiful animal for sure,” submitted Jane. “Alright, I’ll ride him, but you have to make sure I’ll get my horse back later.”
Jess threw the stable man a twenty dollar gold piece and Jane tied her rifle and scabbard to Sharps and climbed up in the saddle. Sharps snorted and raised his head a few times as if he was glad to have someone riding him.
“I think he likes you,” said Jess as he climbed up in the saddle. “But take that rifle out and be ready as we ride out of town.” Jane slid her rifle out and the two of them rode out of the large door of the livery and Jess nudged Gray into a fast gallop straight out of Kendall and straight south again toward Jacksonville. Sharps was following behind and Jane was holding her oversized hat to keep it from flying off.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sheriff Jubal Burch sat in his chair behind his desk grumbling to himself about the latest ass-chewing he received at the hands of a very angry and impatient Walt Mercer regarding Jane Lacey. Mercer was growing increasingly angrier every time they met and Burch had to inform him that they still had not located her. He seriously thought about quitting every time Mercer chewed his ass out, but the truth was, he needed the money. And if he did quit, he’d have a hard time finding a job since Mercer pretty much owned the town and everything in it, except for the one livery where Burch had worked before. He reached down into his drawer and pulled out a small bottle of whiskey and was pouring himself a drink when he heard a rap on the door.
“Go away, I’m closed for the day,” he snapped. The door pushed open and Buster Sexton walked in with his hands up in the air. Sexton was carrying his sawed off along with two Colt Peacemakers, one tied down low on his right hip and one in a cross draw holster that rode just to the front of his left hip.
“I didn’t think the law ever closed,” drawled Buster. Burch looked up at him and frowned.
“I hope you’ve got some good news for me, ‘cause Mercer just reamed my ass out again,” groused Burch. “I swear, my asshole is so big, the next time I have to take a shit, I don’t even think I’ll need to wipe. It’ll just drop clean out without leaving any mess.”
“Rich people with money are used to getting whatever they want and when they don’t get it, they get angry,” said Buster, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of Burch’s desk. Buster eyed the shot glass of whiskey and licked his lips. Burch pulled out another glass and filled it and slid it across the desk toward Buster. Buster picked it up and threw it back in one gulp. He swallowed it and let out a long sigh.
“That’ll wash some of that trail dust down,” sighed Buster. Burch re-filled it and looked at Buster with an expectant look.
“Well, did you find anything out about Jane Lacey?” Buster quickly threw back the second whiskey and downed it and slammed the shot glass back down on Burch’s desk.
“Yeah, but you’re not gonna like it,” drawled Burch with a crooked smile forming on his thin lips.
“If you want another shot of this free whiskey, you’ll start talking,” said Burch, pushing the cork back in the bottle. Buster slid his glass back across the desk and Burch just looked at him with that same expectant look again.
“Well, I saw her down in a town called Kendall about six days ago,” explained Buster. “I gathered up three other men to help me take her into custody and bring her back here for the money, but when I found out who was with her, I had enough sense to ride out of there and leave her alone.”
“Why, who the hell was with her?”
“That Jess Williams fellow was holed up in a hotel room with her.” Burch leaned forward in his chair and scowled at Buster.
“You had three other men with you and you just walked away?” questioned Burch.
“Yeah, but not before I watched Williams kill all three of those other men in a shootout,” explained Buster. “I tried to warn them not to shoot it out with him, but the money drove them straight to hell. I’m tellin’ ya, that Williams fellow, he ain’t natural. A man who goes up against him always ends up dead.” Burch re-filled Buster’s glass again and then downed his whiskey.
“Mercer ain’t gonna like hearing this,” moaned Burch. “Williams came and visited Mercer at his house, and it didn’t exactly go well.”
“Williams met with Mercer?”
“Yeah, he wanted to know if Mercer would listen to Rubin Fisher’s version of what happened out at the Lacey home if he brought Rubin in to meet with him.”
“So Williams ain’t after the money?”
“I don’t think so,” offered Burch. “If he’s with Jane, my guess is he’s protecting her until he finds Rubin.”
“That sounds like something he’d do,” admitted Buster. “Hell, he’s already a rich man, so he don’t really need the money, not that I think he’d hunt her for the money anyway.”
“He already told me as much when he was here looking at some wanted posters a while back,” agreed Burch. “If they were in Kendall, they must be heading south then.”
“Where do you think they’re headed for, Mexico?”
“No, Mercer hired two bounty hunters to find Rubin, the only possible witness to the killing of Jethro the way I saw things,” explained Burch. “Fisher has an uncle who lives in Jacksonville, which is straight south of Kendall, and that’s where Lauter and Gilpin are headed.”
“Mercer hired those two gnarly sumbitches?”
“Yes he did.”
“So, they’re supposed to bring Fisher back here to testify?”
“Not exactly,” replied Burch, an apprehensive look on his face and Buster saw it.
“So they’re supposed to dispose of this Fisher so he can’t talk?”
“That’s exactly what they were hired to do,” complained Burch, downing another shot of the whiskey. Buster gave Burch a quizzical look.
“Sheriff, you don’t seem none too happy about all of this,” submitted Buster. Burch re-filled both of their glasses again and he downed his whiskey in one gulp and slammed the glass down on his desk, a troubled look on his face.
“Truth be told, I’m not,” snapped Burch. “I don’t think Jane is guilty of murder. I think Jethro went out to her home with Rubin and probably raped her and she killed him in self-defense. And now Mercer is having me orchestrate this whole nasty affair of hiring men to hunt Jane down and now he’s paying Lauter and Gilpin to kill the only possible witness. I swear the whole thing stinks like an overflowing privy.”
“Why don’t you quit?”
“Hell, I’ve thought about it, but I need the damn money,” he argued. “Besides, Mercer would probably have me killed if I did. I’m between a rock and a hard place with no way out.”
“I’m sure glad I’m not in your shoes,” offered Buster, downing his last whiskey. “Well, gotta go and get me a meal, bath and a hotel room.” Buster walked out and left Sheriff Burch drowning in his sorrows and the whiskey.
Burch poured another shot of whiskey and sat there staring into the glass, shaking his head and wondering how he had fallen so far into the abyss
he now found himself in. He was once a feared lawman; one who commanded respect and admiration; but now he was an overweight aging lawman on the take. He hated himself for what he had become.
He downed the whiskey and when the glass was empty, he threw it against the heavy door going to the cells in the back of the jail. The glass shattered and the pieces fell to the floor. He locked the jail door and walked back to the jail cells. He opened one of the cells and stretched out on the hard cot, even though he had a very comfortable room provided to him in the hotel courtesy of Walt Mercer.
***
Gilpin pushed the fire with a long stick, flaring the fire back to life again. Lauter threw a few more dry branches onto the fire and they quickly caught hold, lighting up their little camp area in the little arroyo they had found a few hours ago.
“How do you want to handle things tomorrow when we get into Jacksonville,” Gilpin asked.
“We’ll take a room and then start asking questions about the Fisher house.”
“And what if we don’t find Fisher out at his uncle’s place?”
“Well, we make the uncle tell us where he is.”
“And what if he won’t talk?”
“Well, hopefully there’s a Mrs. Fisher there,” said Lauter in an menacing tone.
“I like that idea,” smiled Gilpin.
“Well, let’s turn in, tomorrow might be our biggest payday yet,” drawled Lauter. Gilpin put another piece of wood on the fire and they both stretched out on their bedrolls and fell fast asleep.
The next morning found Lauter and Gilpin riding into Jacksonville. Jacksonville was a small town with only one street running north and south. As they rode along the main street, they noticed one saloon, one boarding house and a jail that was locked up tight. They rode to the south end of the street and found the livery and they climbed down from the saddle. An old skinny man with graying hair and a thin moustache walked out and took the reins to their horses.
“You two stayin’ long?” the man asked.
“Depends on whether or not we can find a man by the name of Rubin Fisher,” said Lauter. The skinny man’s eyes darted away nervously.
“Why are you lookin’ fer him?” the skinny man asked.
“Why is that any of your business?” demanded Gilpin, glaring at the skinny man, who let his eyes fall to the ground.
“Just asking,” the man said.
“Do you know this Rubin Fisher or not?” Lauter asked, leering at the man. The old man kept looking at the ground. Gilpin pulled out his .44 caliber Navy Colt and stuck it under the old man’s chin and sneered nastily at him.
“Man asks you a question, you answer, less I blow a hole from your chin to that thick skull of yours,” snapped Gilpin.
“He’s been stayin’ with his uncle out at his place,” the man offered in a broken voice, his eyes glued to the Navy Colt under his chin. Gilpin slowly cocked the hammer back and the old man’s eyes widened some more.
“See now, that wasn’t so hard,” growled Gilpin. “Now, tell the man where this uncle’s place is.” The old man started trembling visibly.
“Small sod house five miles south of here,” offered the old man. Gilpin released the hammer on his Navy Colt while still keeping the barrel pushed against the old man’s chin.
“I’m almost sorry you told us,” snarled Gilpin. “I kind of wanted to see if you had any brains in that thick skull of yours. Now you be sure to take good care of our horses.”
Lauter and Gilpin walked down to the only saloon in town called the Crazy Coyote. When they walked inside, they saw that there were only a few men in the place. The two of them sauntered up to the bar and ordered a bottle of whiskey to wash down the trail dust from their long ride.
“Well partner, how do you want to handle it?” Gilpin asked Lauter.
“Well, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout it and I think it can wait one more day,” responded Lauter as if he was deep in thought. “I think we should treat ourselves to a bed tonight and a good hot meal and go out there tomorrow morning just as the sun rises. Maybe we can catch Rubin and his uncle by surprise.” Gilpin took another drink of his whiskey and grinned mischievously.
“Alright, I just hope the uncle has a wife,” drawled Gilpin.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jess and Jane rode another two days, trying to stay off the main trail as much as possible. On the second day the sky broke open and it rained heavily for several hours. Jane hadn’t thought to pack a rain slicker, so Jess gave her his slicker and wrapped himself up in one of his blankets, mostly in an attempt to keep his weapons dry. It was a few hours before dark when the rain finally let up and they found a good place to camp and dry out.
They rode inside a heavy clump of trees and Jess took care of feeding and watering the horses, while she gathered up whatever dry branches she could find. Jess was shivering from the bone-chilling cold and he pulled out a bottle of rotgut whiskey from his saddlebags. He poured it onto the branches and struck a match and threw it onto the pile and it quickly flared up. Jane put the rest of the branches as well as some larger pieces of wood next to the fire to dry them out.
“Damn that feels good,” Jess sighed, rubbing his hands together.
“Sorry about not packing my rain slicker, but I had to leave my house so quickly, I didn’t think about it.”
“Well, as much as I hate to say it, we’ll have to ride into a town to get you one,” Jess said reluctantly.
“Can we stay in a hotel room again?” she asked.
“Not a chance of that. We can reach Jacksonville tomorrow afternoon and start our search for Rubin.”
Jess kept putting more wood on the fire until he had a pretty good fire going in an attempt to dry himself off. They both removed their boots and socks and dried them by sticking them on branches they stuck into the ground. When the fire died down into a huge bed of embers, she cooked up some grub for supper and put a pot of coffee on.
When they finished their meal, Jess piled some more wood on the fire and it quickly flared up again. The two of them finally dried out and warmed up. Jess made another pot of Arbuckle’s coffee and they finally retired for the night, but not before Jess strung his cans with strings around their perimeter. In the morning, after breakfast, they broke camp and headed along the trail going into Jacksonville.
They arrived at town a little after the noon hour. Jess stopped and scanned the town through his spyglass. Jacksonville was like most of the small towns in Texas; several businesses, including one general store, one saloon, one boarding house, a tonsorial parlor and a clothing store along with a livery. There were a dozen or so small houses scattered about the town in no particular fashion.
They rode in from the north end of town and along the only street, Jess with his rifle across his lap, his eyes probing the rooftops and between all the buildings. Jane also had her rifle across her lap, a nervous look on her face. They rode up to the livery and an old man with a moustache walked out to take the reins to their horses.
“Saddled or not,” the old man said knowingly, looking at all the guns Jess wore. Jess threw the old man a five dollar gold piece, which the man gladly accepted.
“Feed and water them, but keep them ready to ride,” Jess told him.
“I’ll take them inside and feed and water them and then bring them back outside for you,” the old man offered. “You one of them bounty hunters, too?” Jess had started to walk away, but he stopped and turned back to the old man.
“Are there some other bounty hunters in town?”
“Not now, they left before sun up,” the old man explained. “Mean sumbitches, too. Never paid their bill either.”
“Did they say who they were looking for?” asked Jess.
“They said they was lookin’ for Rubin Fisher.”
“Did you tell them where he was?”
“Yeah, but only ‘cause one of ‘em had a .44 stuck under my chin.”
“Where is Rubin staying?”
“He’s staying o
ut at his Uncle Harry’s house ‘bout five miles south of here.”
“How much did they owe you?”
“Three dollars.”
“Here, this ought to cover it,” said Jess, throwing the old man another five dollar gold piece.
“Why should you pay their bill?”
“I’ll get it back when I see them,” implied Jess, an odd smile on his face.
Jess spun around on his heels and started heading toward the only general store in town. When he walked in, he noticed a nervous clerk standing behind the counter. Jane picked out a new rain slicker and Jess picked up a few canned goods along with some more beef jerky. He paid the clerk and gave him two extra dollars to have the young boy who was working there deliver the supplies down to the livery. The boy took the box of supplies and headed out of the store. Jess turned to leave when the clerk cleared his throat a little louder than normal, which made him turn back around.
“You got something to say?” Jess asked calmly. The clerk shuffled his feet a little and his mouth started twitching a little.
“You after those gunslingers who are in town?” the clerk asked. Jane’s face quickly turned sour when he said it.
“What gunslingers?” probed Jess.
“I don’t exactly know their names, but the three of them rode into town not more than five minutes ago. They’re over at the saloon right now and they were asking about…well…her,” the clerk blurted out pointing at Jane.
“Shit,” exclaimed Jess. Jane quickly peered out the window nervously. Jess looked, too, but saw only a few locals walking around outside.
“You got a back door?” Jess asked.
“Yeah, right through the storeroom there,” the clerk said, pointing to the door.
The two of them quickly walked through the storeroom and found the back door. Jess stopped and pushed the screen door open with his rifle before going through it. The two of them quickly walked back to the livery and when they got there, the old man had their horses waiting for them outside. Jess quickly packed up the supplies and the two of them rode out of town heading north. Once they were well away from town, they rode west and then turned back south toward Harry Fisher’s place.
THE BOUNTY: Twentieth in a Series of Jess Williams Westerns (A Jess Williams Western Book 20) Page 10