“What the…,” exclaimed Wright, as he gently placed his two Colts on the ground and stood back up holding his right shoulder. When Jess got close enough to the fire, Wright recognized who it was and he shook his head and frowned.
“Damn it, Williams; if I knew you was with them, I’d of never tried to take the woman,” grimaced Wright.
“Give me one good reason not to finish you,” demanded Jess. Wright looked at what he thought was the dead body of Rubin Fisher.
“I killed Rubin for you and you can collect the ten thousand dollars on him and let me go,” offered Wright.
“You didn’t kill Rubin, but you did put a nice hole through my blankets,” submitted Jess. Rubin finally sat up and smiled.
“I’m Rubin Fisher,” said Rubin. Wright had a confused look on his face.
“If that’s Rubin Fisher, then why haven’t you two killed him yet?” Wright asked Lauter and Gilpin.
“Because Williams is paying us the ten thousand to let him live and testify on her behalf,” snapped Gilpin pointing to Jane.
“I don’t understand,” grimaced Wright.
“Jane killed Mercer’s kid, Jethro, out of self-defense,” stated Rubin as if he was in a courtroom and under oath. “I was there and saw it.”
“I still don’t understand,” groused Wright. “She’s still worth twenty-five thousand to anyone who brings her in alive to Mercer.”
“I’m going to take her to Mercer, but I ain’t letting him string her up or kill her,” explained Jess, still holding the rifle trained on Wright.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“So now what?” grimaced Wright, the pain in his shoulder kicking in a little more as the numbness began to wear off.
“Well, for one, you still haven’t given me a reason not to part your forehead,” snapped Jess.
“How about I team up with you and we split the money evenly,” offered Wright. Lauter and Gilpin started grousing about the money, but Jess ignored them.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“I’ll give you my word on it,” replied Wright. “Besides, like I said, I would have never even tried this if I’d of known you were involved.” Jess slowly lowered his rifle and studied Wright for a few moments.
“I’ll make you the same deal I made with those two back there griping,” said Jess. “You help me deliver Rubin and Jane to Mercer and I’ll make sure you get paid five thousand dollars.” Gilpin muttered something under his breath. Lauter stood up and walked up next to Jess.
“Are we still getting our five thousand each?” Lauter asked warily.
“That’s the deal I made with you,” submitted Jess.
“Then why should we care then,” replied Lauter. “Welcome aboard Wright.”
“How about we get my shoulder looked at?” Wright grimaced in pain. Jess turned to Lauter.
“Lauter, pick up his guns while I have Jane look at his shoulder,” suggested Jess.
Lauter picked up both Navy Colts and slid them back into the holster and he picked up the cut-down rifle and placed them on the empty bedroll. Wright sat down and removed his shirt and Jane carefully looked at the wound. The bullet had gone clean through.
“Well, I can clean it up and disinfect it with some alcohol, but you’ll need to see a doctor soon so it can be cleaned thoroughly or infection might set in,” said Jane.
“There’s a little town north of here called Burke and they’ve got a saw bones,” recalled Wright. “I can stop there tomorrow afternoon.”
Jane went about cleaning the wound up and wrapping gauze around his chest. Wright winced at the pain when she poured the alcohol into the wound, but he didn’t complain about it. When she was finished, Jess suggested Wright get a few hours of sleep and Lauter stood watch until daylight.
In the morning, after a breakfast of beans and bacon, Jess took stock of his situation. He had Jane in his custody with four men, three of which were bounty hunters. He had Gilpin with a shot up left foot and Wright with a right wounded shoulder, both a courtesy of Jess, himself. He had Rubin, who was more afraid of Lauter, Gilpin or Wright than he was of Jess. He shook his head and smiled to himself.
Wright walked back to retrieve his horse where he had left him the night before and came walking back into the camp as Jane and Rubin finished packing things up. They all saddled up and Wright looked at Jess with a curious look.
“Might I make a suggestion?” asked Wright.
“What’s on your mind?” Jess asked him.
“Why don’t you let me take the lead and scout up ahead of the rest of you? If I see something that might be trouble, I’ll double back and let you know,” suggested Wright. Jess looked at the double scabbard tied down to Wright’s horse and saw the fifty caliber Sharp’s buffalo rifle and Wright noticed him looking at it and grinning. He knew what Jess was thinking.
“One thing I learned while living with the Comanche’s is that once you give your word, you never go back on it,” explained Wright. “Besides, I shoot that long gun with my right hand and I don’t think my right shoulder could handle the kickback now. I’m just as good with my left hand pistol though.”
“Alright, but when you stop to ride into Burke to see that doctor, we’ll stay a couple miles outside of town and wait for you to show up,” said Jess.
“One more thing,” offered Wright. “If you see three small rocks with a larger rock in the center off the right side of my trail, it means trouble and that I couldn’t double back to warn you.”
“Good to know,” said Jess.
Wright headed out riding fast for the first few miles and then slowed to a walk. The other four followed behind at a moderate pace, Jess watching every tree, rock and hilltop for any signs of trouble. He didn’t think that Wright would go back on his word, but he wasn’t one to take chances either. They rode for about five hours and Jess saw where Wright’s tracks turned west toward Burke to see the doctor.
He looked around and found some trees where they could make camp and wait for Wright. They all ate and were drinking coffee when the sun started heading down toward the west and Jess got increasingly impatient and worried that something might have went wrong in Burke.
***
Wright rode into Burke and found the doctor’s office and climbed out of the saddle, hitched his horse to the wooden rail and walked in. The doctor was reading some kind of medical journal and when he looked up and saw the bloody spot on the front of his shirt, he smiled.
“Finally a patient,” exclaimed the doctor. “Ain’t had one in two days now. Shot or stabbed?”
“Bullet went clean through, Doc,” explained Wright as he took off his shirt. “Need it cleaned up proper so infection don’t set in.”
“Take a seat right here,” said the doctor as he went about cleaning his tools. The doctor removed the gauze and looked at it and went about cleaning it thoroughly and when he finished, he wrapped it up with new bandages and gauze.
“That ought to do it,” quipped the doctor. Wright put his shirt back on and tucked it in and paid the doctor his usual fee. He walked out of the doctor’s little office and climbed back into the saddle and was riding past the saloon in town when a man came walking out.
“What the hell are you doing in town?” Wright turned to look at the man and recognized him as a gunslinger by the name of Cal Livingston. He reined his horse up and looked at Livingston.
“Hell, I could ask you the same thing,” replied Wright. “Where is your sidekick, Huntsman?”
“He’s inside drinking up all the whiskey,” complained Livingston. “Why don’t you come on in and have a drink with us.” Wright didn’t really want to waste the time, but he knew the two men well and figured they would be wondering why he was here. They might wonder enough to follow him when he left, so he decided he’d go in and have a drink or two and find out what they were up to.
He walked his horse over to the hitch rail and climbed down from the saddle and winced at the pain in his right shoulder and Livingst
on noticed it, but said nothing. Wright followed Livingston into the saloon and when Jeffrey Huntsman saw them, he stood up from the table and grinned widely at Wright.
“Well looky who dropped outta the sky,” said Huntsman, sticking his hand out to shake. Wright offered his left hand, which made Livingston even more curious.
“Something wrong with your right hand?” asked Livingston.
“Damn horse kicked me about a week ago and it’s still bruised and tender,” lied Wright. Huntsman glanced at his partner suspiciously.
“Well, take a load off your feet and have a drink with us,” smiled Huntsman, as he waved to the barkeep for another glass. The barkeep brought over a glass and Huntsman poured him a drink.
“So what brings you to Burke?” asked Livingston.
“Just stopped in to have the doctor check on my shoulder,” offered Wright. “What about you two?”
“We’ve been looking for that woman, Jane Lacey,” replied Huntsman. “I suppose you’re looking for her, too?”
“Actually, I’m looking for a man by the name of Rubin Fisher,” lied Wright. “He’s worth ten thousand dollars and all I have to do is kill the sumbitch to get paid.”
“Yeah, but the woman is worth twenty-five thousand, which is a whole lot more than ten thousand,” implied Livingston.
“I know that, but she has to be brought in alive and with my bad shoulder and all, I can’t be dragging a woman along kicking and screaming,” explained Wright, hoping the two gunslingers might buy his story, although he wouldn’t have believed it himself. “Well, I’ve got to be moving on, I got a tip Fisher was seen down in Kendall a few days ago.”
Wright stood up and finished his drink and walked out. He climbed up in the saddle and rode in the opposite direction of where Jess and the others were waiting on purpose. Once he got far enough out of town, he worked his way in several different directions and then quickly headed toward the spot where the rest of them were waiting for him.
***
Back in the saloon, Livingston and Huntsman were having another drink and mulling over the strange discussion they had with Wright.
“Something just ain’t right about that little chat we had with him,” implied Huntsman.
“I know, I’ve never known him to back off a job that pays that much money.”
“You think he was telling the truth about getting kicked in the shoulder by his horse?”
“Only one way to find out,” suggested Livingston. “Let’s go and visit the doctor.”
The two of them walked out and down to the doctor’s office. When they walked in, the doctor smiled a wide smile.
“Three patients in one day,” exclaimed the doctor. “Business is sure looking up.”
“We don’t need no doctoring,” barked Livingston. “We need information. What was wrong with your last patient?” The doctor’s smile quickly turned to a frown.
“That’s privileged information between only the doctor and the patient,” the doctor explained as if he was reading it from a book. Livingston glared at the doctor.
“Have you ever heard about the court case between Doctor Dumb and Mr. Colt?”
“Huh?” the doctor asked.
Livingston pulled out his Colt Peacemaker and stuck it in the doctor’s face and thumbed back the hammer slowly.
“Mr. Colt won,” grinned Livingston.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Wright finally rode into their camp about two hours after dark. He whistled before he rode in, which was the signal that he and Jess had agreed on earlier. He had several large pine branches dragging behind his horse which were tied to his saddle. Wright cut the rope and handed off his horse to Lauter, who had somehow become the one responsible for all the horses. Wright walked over to the campfire and poured himself a cup of coffee. Jess was sitting on a rock looking at him suspiciously.
“So what the hell took so long?” probed Jess.
“I ran into two gun slicks in Burke when I was there,” explained Wright. “I don’t think they bought my story about my horse kicking me in the shoulder and they are both looking for Jane. I know both of them well and they are ruthless killers and damn fast with a smoke wagon.”
“Do you think they were able to follow you?” asked Jess nervously.
“I figure they’ll try,” replied Wright. “But I made several switchbacks in my trail including riding across some rocky terrain and through a creek. I’m pretty good at hiding my trail.”
“I can see that,” implied Jess, looking at the pile of pine branches.
“Yeah, living amongst the Comanche’s for almost twenty years wasn’t all bad,” said Wright.
“Well, we’ll post guards tonight just in case they happen to find us,” suggested Jess. “Jane saved you a plate of beans and bacon. You’ll have to eat them cold though, ‘cause I’m kicking this fire out now that we have someone else looking for us.”
Jess kicked out the fire and Wright ate his cold beans and bacon. The coffee was still hot though and he was thankful for that. They turned in for the night and the men all took turns at watch except Gilpin, who was still nursing his left foot.
***
Livingston and Huntsman walked out of the doctor’s office, leaving a trembling doctor sitting behind his desk praying for the mere fact that he was still alive. Huntsman looked at his partner and smiled an evil smile.
“Wright said he was heading to Kendall to look for that Rubin Fisher fellow, so why did he ride out to the west when he left here?” pondered Huntsman.
“He was trying to throw us off his trail,” implied Livingston. “I still think he’s after the woman. And who the hell shot him anyway? And why would he lie about it? That’s what doesn’t make sense. I know Wright’s pretty good and gettin’ the drop on him ain’t all that easy.”
“I don’t know who shot him, but I think he’s still hunting the woman,” said Huntsman cagily. “And if I were a betting man, I’d say he’s heading in the exact opposite direction he told us he was going.”
“You think he’s heading north instead?”
“I’d bet twenty-five thousand dollars on it.”
“You wanna light out after him now?”
“No, let’s get a good night’s sleep and head out at first light,” suggested Huntsman.
“Sounds like we have a plan then,” agreed Livingston.
***
Jess and the rest of them rode out of their camp about an hour after sunrise. Wright took the lead again and stayed about a mile or two ahead of them. Jess stayed back from the rest of the group by about a half-mile or so, always checking their back trail with his spyglass. They had been riding at a pretty fast pace, stopping once in a while to let the horses fill their lungs up. They didn’t even stop for any lunch, opting to eat in the saddle, chewing on jerky and hardtack to make good time.
Up ahead, Wright pulled out his field glasses and scanned the area and when he did, he saw dust rising up in the air. It was too much dust to be a single rider though. He spurred his horse into a gallop and when he closed the gap, he saw a covered wagon being pulled by a team of four horses. He was less than a quarter-mile back from the wagon when a rifle shot rang out. Wright reined in his horse and saw that the wagon had stopped. He pulled his field glasses back out and quickly looked at the wagon to see a man standing up in the seat with a rifle. Fire belched from the rifle again and the slug tore up some sand a hundred yards in front of Wright’s horse and to his left. Wright waved his hands in the air to signify he wasn’t a threat, but the man kept firing his rifle in his direction, one shot after the other. The strange thing though, none of the shots came close to Wright. It was as if the man was just trying to warn him not to come any closer.
The firing stopped suddenly and Wright surmised that the man was reloading and he spurred his horse into a fast gallop, his left hand gun in his left hand now. When he was about two hundred feet from the wagon, the man stood up and fired his rifle at him again, missing him by at least ten feet.
<
br /> “Hold on there, Mister, I don’t mean you any harm,” he said. The man was an older man with a balding head with a circle of gray hair just above his ears.
“What in the hell did you say?” the man asked, not even looking straight at Wright.
“I said I mean you no harm!” hollered Wright. The old man held the rifle up in the air and was looking around as if he was trying to find something. Wright looked around behind him to see if anything was there, but there was nothing.
“Come a little closer so I can see you,” snarled the old man. Wright slowly walked his horse up toward the old man until he got to within twenty feet of him. The man looked straight at him now.
“That’s better, now I can see you,” the old man exclaimed in a tired voice.
“Why in the hell were you shooting at me?”
“I thought you was one of them damn Apache’s,” said the old man.
“Do I look like an Indian?” Wright asked bluntly. The old man peered at him with narrowed eyes.
“No, I don’t suppose you do, but I can’t see worth a damn anymore,” the old man admitted.
“That explains why you missed me with every shot,” agreed Wright.
“Huh, what’d you say?”
“Can’t hear either?” asked Wright.
“Not too good,” the old man admitted. “Hell I can’t see or hear worth a damn anymore. It’s hell gettin’ old.”
Wright heard hoofs beating quickly against the hard ground and looked to see Jess riding toward them, his rifle in his hands. The old man racked another shell into his rifle and stood up and Wright waved at him.
“Don’t start shooting again,” snapped Wright. “He’s a friend.” Jess reined up next to the wagon and gave Wright a confused look.
“What the hell was all the shooting about?” Jess asked. Wright grinned at Jess and nodded at the old man.
“He started firing wildly at me when he saw me riding up,” explained Wright. “He can’t hit the broad side of a barn, which was lucky for me.”
THE BOUNTY: Twentieth in a Series of Jess Williams Westerns (A Jess Williams Western Book 20) Page 14