CHAPTER FOUR
Jess tossed and turned that night. His mind replayed the horrors over and over again. He woke several times and each time he did, Sara was right there to comfort him. He finally woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon. For a brief moment, when he first opened his eyes, he hoped it was all just a bad dream. Then he realized where he was and it all came back to him again in a thundering rush. He just stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how he could or even if he could deal with what had happened. Then his thoughts turned to the men responsible. He knew he had to see justice done. He didn’t quite know how yet. He only knew that he had to make things right. There would be plenty of time to figure it all out. For now, he had to survive. He had to figure out what to do today, next week, and next month. He was a planner in life, just like his pa had been.
He got dressed and splashed his face with some cool clean water Sara had left in a large bowl on the table by his bed. It felt good on his face. As he lifted his head up in the mirror and reached for a small towel, he noticed something different about the way he looked. It was surely his reflection in the mirror, but it didn’t quite look like him. He was different in some odd sort of way that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He headed down the stairs to the kitchen and Jim was sitting at the table sipping some hot coffee, an empty plate in front of him. Sara was standing over the hot stove and when she heard Jess come into the room she turned around to see him.
“How about some eggs and bacon, Jess?” asked Sara.
“I don’t know,” replied Jess. “I’m not sure I’m hungry yet.”
“Jess, you haven’t eaten since early yesterday,” pleaded Jim. “You’ve got to be mighty hungry by now.”
“Well, I guess so,” he replied, talking so low you could hardly hear the words.
“Then let Sara fix you a plate of vittles,” submitted Jim. “You’ve got to eat eventually.” Sara put a plate of eggs, bacon and biscuits in front of Jess.
“Thanks, ma’am,” he said.
“You’re welcome, Jess. If you need anything else, you just say so.” Jess picked up a biscuit and began to pull it apart. He put a small piece of it in his mouth and began chewing it, a strange blank stare in his eyes. Sara fixed herself a plate and sat down next to Jess hoping she could coax him into eating some more.
“It sure looks good,” said Jess, “but I just can’t seem to eat much. If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go out and sit on the back steps.” Jess got up from the table and looked at his plate and then looked over at Sara.
“Sorry, ma'am,” he said. Sara put her hand on his arm gently.
“It’s okay Jess,” replied Sara. “I understand. You can eat whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks, he said, as he walked down the back hallway and out the back door and sat on the steps of the porch. The view behind the store was less than exceptional. There was junk cluttered all around. The view off in the distance was much more pleasing. He could see rolling hills, most of them covered with trees. As he viewed the scenery, he realized to himself that the men who had killed his family could be hiding in those hills right now. He didn’t even realize it yet, but his subconscious was mapping out his destiny and his future. Sara slowly picked at her eggs while looking down the hallway watching Jess on the back porch. Jim and Sara had not been able to have their own children and Sara had always been partial to Jess and had always treated him like her own son.
“It’s hard to even imagine what that boy is going through,” said Sara, her head hanging down looking at her food, which she hadn’t touched yet.
“I know,” added Jim. “Sara, did you notice something different about him this morning? I mean; I know his family being murdered and all has him all tore up inside, but something else is different about him. I swear he even looks older to me this morning.”
Sara hung her head and closed her eyes. You could see the tears welling up in her eyes as Sara looked up at Jim.
“Last night, we put a fourteen year old grieving boy to bed,” she said sadly. “But this morning, there is a fourteen-year-old young man with hatred and raw vengeance in his heart sitting on our back steps. I’m afraid for him, Jim, deathly afraid.”
“I felt it too, Sara. Something has changed him on the inside. We’ll have to help him as much as we can. That’s all we can do.”
Sara was crying quietly. She could feel in her soul what was manifesting itself in this fourteen year old boy and she knew there was nothing that she or anyone else in this world could do to stop it. She mourned for him more than for his family who would all be buried in the ground today. His family lost their lives. Jess, however, lost his very heart and soul.
***
The burial went as well as burials go. Jim gathered up a few of the townspeople and the preacher, and hauled the bodies of John, Becky and Samantha back out to the ranch to be buried in the little cemetery plot John had spotted that very first night he had stayed on his land. The graves were dug in silence and the bodies placed in their gravesites. The preacher said a prayer over each of them and some of the men from town shoveled dirt until the graves were filled. Someone fixed up three wooden crosses for the graves and Jim pounded them into the ground with a rock. Sara cried the whole time. Jess, however, watched all of this in a strange silence. He never spoke a word nor shed another tear. It was as if he already let them go and this was all just a formality; something that needed to be done. Jim came up beside him and put his hand on Jess’s shoulder.
“We should be getting back to town,” Jim told him softly. “There is no more we can do for them. The Lord will take care of their souls.”
“I’m not going back, I’m staying right here,” replied Jess firmly.
“Jess, you can’t stay here and run this ranch all by yourself,” submitted Jim. “There’s too much to do for one man, much less a fourteen year old boy.”
“I’m not a boy anymore, they took care of that,” Jess replied, not really signifying who they were, but Jim and Sara both knew who he was referring to.
“I know, Jess,” argued Jim, “but taking care of a ranch is an awful lot of responsibility to take on. Are you sure you’re ready for all that?”
“I guess I’ll have to be,” he replied, a tone of finality to his voice. Jim shook his head in frustration.
“Okay,” Jim said reluctantly. “But you promise me that if you have any trouble or need any help, you’ll let us know, okay?”
“I will…I promise,” he replied.
“The sheriff and his posse will be back in a day or so,” Jim said. “We’ll let him know that you’re out here. Is there anything else we can do for you right now?”
“No; I just need some time to myself,” he replied bluntly.
“Okay then. Just don’t forget, if you need anything…” Jim started saying when Sara took Jim’s arm and he knew that meant for him to shut up.
“Thanks for everything,” said Jess. “I won’t forget it. Pa always told me to repay kindness with the same.”
“Your pa was a smart man, Jess, and a damn good one,” said Jim. “We’re all going to miss him and your ma, and Samantha, too. We won’t forget them; ever.”
“I won’t forget either,” Jess said as he turned his stare from the gravesites to the rolling hills out past the field that his pa was plowing when he was shot down in his tracks. “I won’t ever forget,” he said softly to himself.
“Well, we best be going, Jess,” said Jim.
Jim and Sara got into the back of the preacher’s wagon and the other few townspeople rode out with the Blacksmith back to town. Jess found himself all alone for the first time in his life. It was a strange feeling. He didn’t like it, but he knew he had to get used to it. Jess sat down in front of the three fresh gravesites. He sat there for almost an hour. He kept thinking about how he and Samantha had always fought and how she used to aggravate him to no end. He wished she were here right now to do it again, but that wasn’t going to happen, ever again.
&n
bsp; He remembered his ma and how she was always there to help him with anything. His thoughts turned to his pa. How he had finally come down to the creek to teach him how to draw the wooden pistol he carved for him. He was just going to have to finish learning all by himself. But not with the wooden pistol his pa had carved. No, he would have to begin to practice with his pa’s .45 that was in the box under his pa’s bed. Before it was just a challenge to see how fast he could draw, now there was a need. He had to learn to be the best. Without really knowing or planning it, his mind was formulating a mission. He would hunt down the people who had so savagely murdered his entire family and kill them, one by one and there would be no mercy. He would kill them and in the most vicious way he could. They would suffer. His pa always told him there were some pretty bad people in the world, but he never realized just how bad. People that bad had no right to live as far as he was concerned.
Jess finally got up and said a little prayer over his family. After the prayer, he made his solemn promise to them. He made an oath that he would not rest until he tracked down and killed everyone responsible for their deaths. He walked back up to the house and went inside. Someone cleaned up the large pool of blood where his ma’s body hung; only a dark stain remaining.
The smell of food surprised him. There was a fire in the stove and Jess found some fried chicken in a pot along with some biscuits. Sara. She was a good person and he was thankful to have her as a friend. He wouldn’t go hungry tonight, but tomorrow he would have to fend for himself. He would have to do everything by himself now.
He felt the loneliness begin to set in as he sat at the table alone and ate. He decided he would go out and finish plowing the field his pa had started on first thing in the morning. He figured he would have to run the ranch for the next year or so. Then, he would ride out and carry out the deadly oath he made to his family. He would let the sheriff go after the men, but if he didn’t catch them, he would go after them himself. If the sheriff caught them, they would hang, and he would watch. Regardless, they will be reckoned with. Deep within himself, he hoped for the latter.
He finished the meal and then noticed there was a pie sitting by the window. It was an apple pie. Sara. Jess decided to have some later. Right now, he figured he would go and check the stock and throw some extra hay and then go down to the creek and practice with his pa’s pistol.
He headed out to the barn and threw some hay. He turned around to put the pitchfork back into the pile when he noticed a slight glimmer off to his right. The reflection was coming from the wall where his pa always hung his hat. What he saw hanging on the peg was the most spectacular and unusual looking pistol and holster he had ever seen. He walked over to it and picked it up off the peg. The holster was brown and had a finish to it he had never seen on any leather before. On the back of the holster was a name stamped into the leather. BOB MERNICKLE CUSTOM HOLSTERS. He also saw the words MADE IN CANADA. Another unusual feature of the holster is that it had no place to hold bullets. The pistol had a polished finish on it that was as perfect as any he had ever seen.
Jess strapped the holster on and it fit perfectly, as if it had been made for him. The holster held the pistol a little more out from his leg than a regular holster. The gun rode on Jess’s right leg perfectly. The holster didn’t cover as much of the gun as most holsters did. There was a nice one-inch wide leg strap that fit Jess’s leg perfectly. Jess unhooked the hammer strap and pulled the gun out. The first thing he noticed was how easy the gun seemed to glide out of the holster. It was as if the holster was greased, but it wasn’t. He reached inside the holster and felt the inside and it had a real smooth feel to it and it was harder than normal, which allowed the gun to glide out of the holster easier. Then he noticed there was no front or rear sights on the gun.
He looked the gun over carefully and noticed some printing stamped on it. On one side by the trigger he read the words RUGER BLACKHAWK .41 MAGNUM CAL. On the other side of the gun was a number: 40-01079. The handgrips were made out of some type of material he had never seen before. It looked like some type of horn material and the grips flared out at the bottom so as to make the gun extremely easy to grip.
Jess decided to take the gun into the house to study it some more. When he got in the house, he placed the gun and holster on the kitchen table. He sat there for several minutes trying to take this all in and wondering where this unusual gun had come from. He picked it up again. The gun was extremely light compared to the few pistols he had ever been able to hold. His pa’s gun was a Colt .45 Peacemaker and he figured it had to weigh twice as much as this gun. He didn’t know much about pistols, but he knew after handling this one for a few minutes that it was like no other pistol he had ever seen. This was something unique and special. He knew he would have to keep this gun and holster hidden for now. He walked outside and quickly went back to the barn and climbed up the ladder to the top floor. There were some wooden boxes that his pa kept there and he gently placed the gun and holster into one of the boxes and placed some more boxes around it to hide it.
He went back to the house and decided to have some of the apple pie Sara had left him. Before he cut it, he decided to make himself some coffee to go with it. The coffee was strong, but good and the pie was even better. As he sat there, he thought some more about the pistol. It couldn’t have been his pa’s gun or it wouldn’t have been hanging on a peg in the barn, it would have been in the box with his pa’s other gun.
By now, the sun was getting low in the sky. Jess decided against practicing this late and decided to turn in early tonight. He had a field to plow come morning. He had some more coffee and then he went into his pa’s room and got the shotgun from the corner and took it into his bedroom along with a few extra shells. If anyone tried to bother him tonight or the killers returned, he would be ready. He would never be surprised by anyone like his family had been. He promised himself that he would always have a gun by his side at all times and always be on the ready. As he fell off to sleep, he imagined he was tracking his family’s killers across the country. And he saw the pistol he found in the barn strapped to his waist. It looked like it belonged there.
He dreamed that night, but not nightmares. He dreamed good dreams of his family. He woke often through the night as he would for the rest of his life. The slightest sound would awaken him. His senses seemed more aware without him really knowing it. He would always be ready…always.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jess woke before sunrise. Before he got out of the bed, he thought about the pistol in the barn. All the same thoughts about the pistol and holster ran through his head again. He got up and cooked himself some breakfast. While he ate, he thought of all the things he would have to do on his own. He continued to plan out what he would do. He would work the ranch for the next two years. He would be a little over sixteen and, by that time; he planned to be the quickest draw with a pistol anyone had ever seen. In the meantime, he would plant crops and sell them. He would sell off all the livestock and stash away all the money and use it to do what he needed to do; what he knew he had to do.
It was a hot dusty day and he never figured plowing a field would be such hard work. He earned a new respect for his pa. It was just after high noon and he decided to stop and eat. After eating a simple meal of ham and a piece of apple pie, he went back at it again. When he finished for the day, he walked back to the house after throwing some hay and looked at the blisters beginning to form on his hands. He figured that he better wear the leather gloves his pa had in the barn or else he wouldn’t be able to practice drawing a pistol in the evening, and that was something that he promised himself he would do every night.
After dinner, he went into his pa’s room and got the wooden box out from under the bed. He took it to the table and opened it up. Inside, he found his pa’s Colt .45 Peacemaker and the holster to go with it. He also found four boxes of .45 slugs in the bottom of the box. He strapped the gun and holster on and went down to the creek. Even with the blisters, he practiced for t
wo hours straight. The first hour and a half he drew and dry fired the gun. Then, he loaded the pistol and spent the last half-hour using live ammunition. His practice took on a new fervor. It was not just a game anymore. Now it was something he had to do to make sure that he survived. He decided that tomorrow he would start practicing with both his pa’s pistol and the one he found in the barn.
When he finished practicing, he took his pa’s gun and holster and put it back in the house. Then, he climbed up in the top of the barn and looked at the pistol and holster he found. He decided to take it into the house. He finally turned in and as he lay there that night, he figured he would practice with his pa’s pistol for the first part of his practice every night and then switch to the new pistol for the rest of his practice.
The next day found him back out plowing the field. It was just before noon when he noticed a dust cloud out on the main road. He stopped and reached over to grab his pa’s rifle out of the scabbard that he kept strapped to the plow horse. The Winchester 44-40 still looked like new. He also had his pa’s double-barreled shotgun tied to the horse. He watched the group of riders turn down the ranch road. He counted four of them. He finally caught a glimpse of who was approaching. It was Sheriff Diggs with three other men. They rode right up to the plow rig and Jess walked around the rig after putting the shotgun down.
The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western Page 4