***
Frank Reedy and Todd Spicer finally reached Timber about noon the next day. They rode hard to try to reach Timber before Jess left. They argued all morning about what they would do when they finally caught up to Jess. The only thing they agreed on was that Spicer would let Reedy talk to Jess first. After that, if reedy didn’t want any part of it, he would just leave and let Spicer do what he was hired to do. Reedy agreed with that only because of professional courtesy, one bounty hunter to another.
Jess was having some lunch at the saloon and watched Reedy and Spicer ride into town. He didn’t know either of the two men, but he knew they were up to something. He watched the two men through the saloon window as they rode up to the sheriff’s office and dismounted. They stopped on the porch again and spoke to one another for a minute and then went inside the sheriff’s office. Steele was doing what he loathed more than anything, paperwork. There were five new corpses and that always meant paperwork. He looked up from his desk. He knew in an instant he was looking at two bounty hunters. You could always tell. Hunters were always heavily armed and had a look in their eyes that most men didn’t, and these two were no exception.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” asked Sheriff Steele.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Reedy. “Mark Steele, when did you pin on a badge?” Steele stood up to get a closer look at Reedy.
“I’ll be damned if it ain’t Frank Reedy,” exclaimed Steele. “How in the hell have you been? It must be ten, no fifteen years since I last saw you. It’s been ten years since I pinned on a badge myself. What happened to yours? Last time I saw you, you were wearing a United States Marshall’s badge.”
“Hell, being a Marshall doesn’t pay enough,” explained Reedy. “Bounty hunting pays a lot more and the risk is the same or sometimes less. Plus, we’re both doing the same job except I get paid better. You ought to try it. We could use another hand. There are lots of bad guys out there that need catching, Sheriff.”
“It’s not for me; at least not yet,” replied Steele. “Being sheriff ain’t all bad. I get an office and I don’t have to spend my nights on the trail sleeping on hard ground. I sleep in a nice warm comfy bed every night.”
“That ain’t all bad either, I guess,” admitted Reedy. “Sheriff, this is my partner, Todd Spicer.” Steele shook Spicer’s hand.
“Sheriff,” Reedy continued, “we’re looking for a young man, about sixteen or seventeen years old. His name is Jess Williams.” Frank noticed a change in Steele immediately. “You know him, Sheriff?”
“Yes, I do,” replied Steele cautiously. “What’s your business with him?”
“We’ve been hired to bring him back to Black Creek, Kansas, for the murder of a man there,” replied Reedy.
“Who’d he murder?”
“A man by the name of Red Carter.”
“And who hired you two to bring him back?”
“His father, Dick Carter,” replied Reedy, knowing what Sheriff Steele would think. “Red Carter was his only son.”
“Murdered? You sure about that?” asked Sheriff Steele. “Jess doesn’t seem like a young man who would murder someone. Kill for sure, but not murder.”
“I guess you must know him then,” said Reedy. “Sounds like you’ve taken a liking to the kid.”
“I guess you might say that,” he replied. “You get to know someone who comes to your town and ends up killing four men in a few days. All fair fights, I might add. That’s why I’m having a hard time believing he would murder someone. Hell, he wouldn’t have to murder anybody.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Spicer.
“The kid’s so damn fast with that gun of his, all he’d have to do is call a man out,” replied Steele. “I’ve got to tell you that kid’s got an unnatural ability to draw and shoot a pistol and hit what he’s aiming at. Have you got a legal warrant on him?”
“We don’t need any warrant, Sheriff,” interjected Spicer. “We’ve been paid to bring him back and that’s what we aim to do, one way or another. It’ll be up to him if it has to go down bad. We’ve been paid to bring him back, dead or alive, no matter what,” said Spicer. Steele shook his head.
“This ain’t right and you boys know it,” complained Steele. “I ain’t letting you men just take this kid because some rich rancher hired you to do it. You have no warrant or legal paperwork on him. I’m sorry, but if you attempt to take him, you’ll have to deal with me along with the kid. Otherwise, go back to Kansas and get a warrant. Frank, you should know better.” Spicer was losing patience and Reedy knew he had to offer up something else.
“Sheriff, we just want to talk with him first,” pleaded Reedy. “At least give us that and then we’ll see how it goes. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds like the first sensible thing you’ve said up to now,” Steele replied. “I think he’s over at the saloon getting a bite to eat. You boys need to understand something though. This kid ain’t one to be messed with. And I’m not kidding about his shooting ability. You boys better think twice about what you’re doing.”
Steele walked them both over to the saloon. Jess watched the sheriff come out of his office with the two men in tow. He slipped the hammer strap off his gun and straightened himself in his chair and slid it back enough for his gun to clear the table if he had the need to use it. He trusted the sheriff, but not these other two men. There were half a dozen men in the saloon and they noticed the change in Jess and seen him remove the hammer strap. He watched the sheriff come through the door first and kept his eyes on the two men, one on each side of the sheriff.
“Afternoon, Jess,” said Sheriff Steele. “These two men say they have business with you. They say you murdered a man back in Black Creek, Kansas, by the name of Red Carter and they’ve been paid to take you back there for questioning. They don’t have a warrant or any legal papers on you, so you don’t have to go back with them or even talk with them if you don’t want to. I know one of these men, Jess. He’s always been a fair man and he says he just wants to talk to you first. So, what do you think?” Jess didn’t look at the sheriff yet, he kept his gaze on the two men standing behind him.
“Sheriff, I don’t mind talking with them, but first there are a few things you need to know. Red Carter shot the sheriff of our town and for no good reason. The sheriff was just trying to take him into custody again. Sheriff Diggs was a good man and a good friend to my family. That’s probably why they don’t have a warrant for my arrest. Red Carter was a murderer and I called him out fair and killed him fair. Now, that being said, what do you two want with me?” Spicer was getting frustrated at all the talking.
“I’m going over to the bar and get a drink, Frank,” said Spicer impaintently. “Let me know when you’re done talking to the kid. And don’t forget; leave your five hundred on the bar if you walk away from this.” Reedy nodded at Spicer and then turned his attention to Jess.
“Listen kid,” said Reedy, as he sat down in front of Jess. “We’ve been chasing your tail for a while now and everywhere you go, people end up dying. And yet, everyone says you’re an okay fellow. I haven’t run into one person yet who said you started any fight except the ones with Red Carter and another guy you shot by the name of Randy Hastings. So, I gotta ask you kid, did you shoot Red Carter fair and square, just like you said?”
“Yes, sir,” he replied bluntly. “I started that fight with Red Carter and I called him out, but only because he killed the sheriff in cold blood. I also let him draw first. Then, I shot him dead. That’s the truth.” Reedy sat back in his chair and thought for a moment.
“Okay, I believe you’re telling me the truth,” said Reedy. “Answer me one more question just for my own satisfaction. The man you shot, repeatedly I might add, back in Tarkenton, Kansas, by the name of Randy Hastings. Was he one of the men who murdered your family?”
“Yes, sir, he was, and I ain’t sorry I killed him,” he replied coldly. “I’m here looking for one of the other two, a man by the name of Hank
Beard. When I find him, I plan to kill him like the dog he is.”
Reedy looked into Jess’s eyes and he saw the look of a young man who was already a hardened killer and a hunter of men. Reedy knew he could not take this young man back to Black Creek and hand him over to Dick Carter. Of course, Reedy saw something else in Jess’s eyes and his self-preservation was also a large part of his decision. He knew Jess wasn’t going to let two men or even an army of men take him anywhere. Reedy wanted to live another day to do another job. He knew if he tried to take Jess back, that wouldn’t happen. Reedy stood up and walked over to the bar next to Spicer and dug into his pocket and placed the five hundred dollars that Carter paid him in advance on the bar.
“This young man ain’t a murderer and I won’t have anything else to do with taking him back to Carter,” Reedy stated firmly. “It ain’t right and I’ve been trying to tell you that all along. Why don’t we both go back to Kansas and tell Carter we couldn’t find him?”
“You’re going soft in your old age, Frank,” said Spicer, as he put the money in his front pocket. “A job is a job. We don’t ask questions or make judgments about the men we hunt. Hell, you’d better go back to wearing a badge and leave bounty hunting to guys like me who don’t give a rat’s ass whether or not a man is good, bad, guilty or innocent. We just bring them in and collect our money.” Todd finished his drink and turned to face Jess sitting at the table.
Reedy said in a low voice that only Spicer could hear, “Don’t do it, Todd. I’m telling you, this kid will drop you dead. You can’t outdraw him. It ain’t worth it.”
“Bullshit, Frank. I’m gonna make a total of three thousand dollars when this job is finished. I ain’t walking away from that much money,” snapped Spicer.
Spicer stepped away from the bar and looked straight at Jess. Sheriff Steele had sat down at a table next to Jess. If this was going to be a confrontation between two men, he wouldn’t interfere. His job now was to keep the odds even and to make sure Reedy didn’t change his mind and throw in with Spicer at the last minute. He started to think about more paperwork. He moaned, but it wasn’t from his shoulder wound he had gotten yesterday, it was from the thought of more paperwork he was now sure he would have to do; and soon.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Son, stand up so I can talk to you, face to face,” demanded Spicer. Jess slowly stood up, glancing at Steele. It was a look that told Steele he need not get involved in this. Then his eyes locked on Spicer. The look in Jess’s eyes unnerved Spicer momentarily, but Spicer was a hardened man who had faced death many times and survived.
“I only got one question, boy,” said Spicer. “You going back willingly or do I have to drag you back there behind my horse?”
“No.” Jess stated flatly.
“No, what?” asked Spicer. “No, you ain’t going back or no, you ain’t going back dragged behind my horse? Which is it?”
“Neither.”
“Well, then just what do you think you’re going to do?”
“Probably shoot you, unless you suddenly come to your senses,” replied Jess.
Reedy looked at Steele who almost let out a little chuckle at that comment.
“You think you can take me, kid?” Spicer spat.
“Yes.”
“You’re that certain?”
“Nothing is certain in life,” replied Jess.
“But you think you’re that fast, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Frank, you sure you don’t want in on this?” Spicer asked Reedy, glancing back at him, now seeming just a little unsure that he wanted to take Jess on alone after seeing Jess’s demeanor.
“Like I told you, Todd, I don’t agree with this job. It stunk right from the beginning. Leave it alone and let’s go back to Kansas. I’m telling you, this kid will drop you before you even know it happened. I feel it in my gut,” urged Reedy. Spicer turned his stare back to Jess who hadn’t moved except to move his gun hand into position.
“Well, kid. This is your last chance,” prodded Spicer. “Either you go back to Kansas with me willingly or I’ll have to pack you on a mule bent over. What do you say?”
“That’s just not going to happen,” he answered plainly.
Bounty hunters were a tough lot. They would face odds that most men wouldn’t. Most bounty hunters were pretty good with a gun and Todd Spicer was better than most. Bounty hunters were the type of men who stayed cool while facing death and Spicer was better than most at that, too. But most men just couldn’t walk away from a gunfight once they were in. It was a matter of honor. Most men would rather die and have people talk about how tough they were instead of walking away from it and having people talk about how they had turned tail and ran like a yellow dog. That kind of thing would follow a man around forever. These things, along with the thought of three thousand dollars, made Todd Spicer do what at any other moment in his life know he shouldn’t do. He had as good a sense about people as Frank Reedy did and he knew he was about to bite off more than he could chew, but he just couldn’t stop himself now.
Spicer went for his gun and it was a strange thing from his perspective. He felt himself reaching for his gun and even felt his thumb touch the hammer. Then, he felt a hard thump on his chest, heard a loud noise and saw a flash in front of him. He never blinked. He couldn’t understand how it happened so fast. He never even saw Jess draw his gun, yet here he was with a hole in his chest and the kid standing there with his gun pointed at him, and it was all over and he didn’t see any of it. He let go of his gun, which never even moved out of the holster. He glanced over at Steele who had a look of disbelief on his face and then he dropped to his knees, both of his hands trying to stop the blood that was now gushing from his chest. Todd Spicer finally fell face first onto the floor, dead before he hit it. Sheriff Steele, who had stood up after Spicer had been shot, sat back down again.
“Damn it, Jess, you ain’t natural,” said Steele, shaking his head. Reedy walked over to Spicer’s body, turned him over, and began to talk to him as if somehow he could hear him from the great beyond.
“I told you not to take him on, but would you listen? Hell no, you stubborn son-of-a-bitch. And now, there you are lying in your own blood, deader than dead. Damn it!” Reedy kept shaking his head in disgust as he reached into Spicer’s front pocket where he had tucked the five hundred dollars Reedy had put down on the bar. He pulled out the money along with Spicer’s five hundred and put the thousand dollars in his front pocket. He would take the money back to Carter and tell him what happened. He wanted no part of the money or Dick Carter. Then he sat down in a chair next to Spicer’s body.
“Sorry Sheriff, seems like you got more paperwork to do,” said Jess, as he sat down at the table. “It wasn’t my call. I didn’t want it.”
“I know,” replied Steele. “It seems like men just keep coming to you to get themselves killed. Hell, maybe you should become a preacher?”
“Now, why would I want to go and do something like that, Sheriff?”
“So you could read them their last rites before you kill them,” replied Steele. Jess almost smiled at that.
“Mr. Reedy, do you want him buried here or are you taking him back to Kansas?” asked Sheriff Steele.
“Hell, might as well bury him here. You do have a cemetery for idiots, don’t you?” he asked.
“Sure do,” replied Steele. “Most of the men buried there were idiots the day they died. The rest of them were drunk and stupid.”
“Well, just add one more to it,” said Reedy. “I’ll pay the undertaker on my way out of town. I’ll take it out of his share of the money, I think Dick Carter would say okay, not that I give a shit anyway.”
Jess and Steele walked out together. Jess spent the remainder of the day walking around town and asking a few townspeople if they knew anything about Beard. No one did. He had supper and checked on Gray. He went up to his room early, forgoing the saloon. Tomorrow he planned to ride out to some of the ranches to ask about Beard. He f
ell asleep and dreamed of little Samantha. She was throwing hay around the yard and throwing chicken eggs on the ground. Agitating Jess like usual; except she had a bullet hole in her head.
***
Beard spent the day hanging around the Mason ranch. He had decided to go into town at night and try to ambush Jess. He even spoke with Mason’s widow to see if she would hire him on. He didn’t really want a job. It was just a ploy to show he had a reason for hanging around. He left the Mason ranch before dark and rode within a mile of Timber. He made a fire and some coffee and waited until late before he snuck into town. He wanted to make sure that most of the townspeople were in bed and out of the saloon. He planned to sneak into Jess’ room and ambush him. He would shoot him while he was sleeping and head out of town in the dark; hoping that by the time people woke and found out what had happened he would have a good head start. He hoped it would be enough time for him to hide in the hills near the small ravine he had spotted the other day.
It was three in the morning when Beard tied his horse up to the pole on the back porch of the hotel. Sheriff Steele had already made his last rounds and was turned in for the night. Jed was still cleaning up the saloon, but there were no paying customers in there. The last of them left over an hour ago. The desk clerk in the hotel was up in his room, asleep. Beard tried to be as quiet as he could. He went into the lobby behind the counter and checked out the names on the register. He found the name he was looking for. Jess Williams was the name next to room #201. Beard thought that almost funny since he had stayed in room #203 just the other night.
This hotel was like most small hotels in many small towns. Drafty, in dire need of a coat of paint and creaky, especially the floorboards. That fact had not gone unnoticed by Jess. He paid attention to many of the smallest details concerning his surroundings. He noticed that the third step going to the second floor had a squeak to it. He was also aware that the floor just five feet from his door squeaked ever so lightly when you stepped there, and he had made a mental note of the fact that the top of the door to his room stuck a little. Not enough to stop you from opening the door, but just enough that when the door was opened, the top would hold slightly so when you continued to push on the door, the top would pop open and cause the all too flimsy door to shake a little.
The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western Page 16