“And you could see all of that in his eyes?” asked the deputy.
“You can read a man’s life history in his eyes if you know how to look for it.”
“Damn. I wish I could do that.”
“And I just wish I could get back to reading my damn paper!” countered the sheriff, getting back to his normal grumpy self.
“Sure thing Sheriff and thanks,” replied the deputy, as he walked out and sat down in the chair outside the office and thought about Jess. He wondered what he would have done if his family was murdered like that. He suddenly felt glad that he wasn’t that drifter over in Jonesville.
Jess hit the trail hard. It only took him a day and a half to reach Jonesville. The sheriff was right, there wasn’t much to Jonesville. No law, no bank, just a saloon, general store and a livery, along with a few houses scattered around the town.
He stabled Gray and asked the boy working the livery to brush down Gray and give him some extra grain. He had ridden him hard the last day and a half. He headed for the only saloon in town. There was no name on the saloon and no doors either. Jess walked in and stopped just inside the door. There were four men in the place, not counting the barkeep. Jess walked up to the barkeep and asked for a beer. The barkeep brought Jess his beer and sat it down, but not before wiping up the bar in front of Jess. The barkeep was a short fellow, but he looked like the kind of man who didn’t take any crap from anyone. Jess figured he might know about the drifter he was looking for.
“What’s your name, barkeep?” he asked.
“Who’s asking?”
“Jess Williams, and I’m looking for a drifter.”
“Information costs money here, mister,” implied the barkeep. “Hell, you don’t think I make any money serving drinks in this hell-hole of a place, do ya?” Jess took out a five dollar gold piece and placed it on top of the bar.
The barkeep took it, smiled and said, “Whatcha wanna know?”
“I’m looking for the drifter who shot that rancher and his son. You know who that might be or where I might find him?” The barkeep’s eyes turned cold and he reached into the pocket where he had put the five dollar gold piece and threw it back on the counter. The gold piece spun around and then fell flat on the top of the bar.
“Mister, that information ain’t for sale,” he said bluntly. “You can have it for free, especially if you’re here to make him pay for what he did. Hell, I knew that rancher and his kid. They were real nice folks. Now, if you tell me you’re a friend of his, you can take your ass back out of here.”
“I’m no friend of his,” he replied sharply. “I’m here to take him back for the bounty.”
“I thought you might be a bounty hunter what with all them guns you’re wearing,” stated the barkeep. “Not only is the information free, but so is the beer. That sumbitch has been hanging around here and he’ll most likely be back tonight. How are you with that fancy shootin’ iron you got there?”
“Good enough.”
“You’d better be, ‘cause that drifter is slicker that shit with a pistol.”
“You let me worry about that,” said Jess with a knowing look in his eyes.
The barkeep brought Jess another beer. Jess hadn’t realized how fast he had downed the first one. It had been a dusty and windy ride the last two days. Now that he thought about it, it seemed like it was always dusty and windy in Texas. The other four men in the saloon just sat there and drank. They listened to the conversation between Jess and the barkeep and decided they would wait and see what happened. They all knew the rancher and his son, too, but they weren’t gunslingers. They were ranchers and farmers. And since there was no law in town, they had long ago learned to mind their own business. Jess didn’t have long to wait. He had just put his glass down on the bar when the barkeep gave him a look and nodded toward the door. Jess moved back into the corner at the far end on the bar. The drifter slowly walked into the bar as if he owned it. He stopped at the table where the four men were sitting. He stared at them until each one of them lowered their eyes, humiliating them without even saying a word.
The drifter was about six feet tall with a little meat on his bones. Not heavy, but stocky. He wore two six-shooters low on his hips, but it wasn’t a double holster; it was two separate holsters, one strapped over the other. The right hand gun was lower than the left. The left gun was backwards and slightly forward. Jess figured he used the second gun as a backup gun since it was designed to be drawn with the right hand.
“You boys gonna buy me another beer tonight?” the drifter asked.
“Sure mister, no problem,” said one of the four men sitting at the table.
“Why, that’s mighty nice of you fellows; mighty nice indeed,” replied the drifter, as he walked up to the bar, but not before noticing Jess. He stopped at the bar and ordered a beer. He took a long, slow sip and sat his glass back down on the bar all the while never taking his eyes off Jess. He noticed the shotgun behind Jess, but he had not noticed Jess’ pistol yet since Jess was still facing forward to the bar, watching the drifter carefully out of his side vision.
“Well, well, seems we have a newcomer to town,” announced the drifter. “What’s your name, boy?” Jess didn’t respond right away. He just looked at the barkeep who had a look of foreboding in his eyes.
“Barkeep,” asked Jess, “you got any grub in the back?” The barkeep was somewhat surprised by the question.
“Sure mister, we got some stew left over,” he said. “I can get a plate of it for you if you want some.”
“That would be mighty nice of you,” said Jess. “I’d like to eat a bite before I leave town tonight.” Jess finally turned to the drifter, exposing his gun and looking the drifter straight in the eyes. The drifter was obviously not used to someone treating him so casually.
“I asked you what your name was, son?” demanded the drifter.
“You’re really not going to need to know that, actually.”
“Really?” replied the drifter sarcastically. “I always like to know the name of the man who’s going to buy me my next beer.”
“I’m not buying you a beer,” he said flatly. “Matter of fact, you’re not having another beer. At least not if you are who I think you are.” The drifter changed his stance a little.
“You tell me since you seem to know so much.”
“You’re the drifter who shot that rancher and his son, isn’t that right?”
“What if I am?” asked the drifter. “What the hell are you gonna do about it?”
“Well, there’s a bounty on your head in the amount of five hundred dollars if you’re the man who did it, and I intend to collect the money.”
The drifter laughed out loud. “So, I guess this means you ain’t gonna buy me that beer, eh?”
“No, not likely,” he replied. “I will buy those four men a beer though, to make up for all the beer they’ve obviously bought you.”
The barkeep came back out from the back of the bar with a big plate of hot stew and sat it down in front of Jess. Jess didn’t look at it, but he could smell it.
“Sure hope it tastes as good as it smells,” observed Jess.
“It does,” bragged the barkeep. “And the answer to your question is yes. That’s the rotten bastard who shot the rancher and his son!”
“Shut the hell up, barkeep!” hollered the drifter. “I hear one more word coming out of your pie hole and I’ll come back there and shove that sawed-off shotgun you want to reach for straight up your ass!” While the drifter was yelling at the barkeep, Jess had ever so slightly lowered his gun hand closer to his pistol.
“Seems like another mystery has been solved,” said Jess. “Well mister, seems like there is only one thing left to do.”
“And just what is that smart-ass?” demanded the drifter.
“I’m here to make you pay for what you’ve done, so why don’t you go ahead and show these men just how tough you really are.”
“You’ve got a real smart mouth on you, boy.
”
“Maybe.”
“You know who the hell you’re messing with?”
“Not really.”
“I’m J. J. Johnson,” the drifter said, as if his name should put fear into another man.
“Never heard of you.”
“You should have,” said Johnson. “I’ve got a reputation.”
“For what? Making other men pay for your beer?” he asked, knowing it would piss off Johnson some more.
“Hell no!” retorted Johnson angrily. “For being quick at skinnin’ leather!”
“Really?”
“Ain’t that what I just said?”
“Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“How fast you really are.”
“I’ll kill ya for sure,” crowed Johnson.
“Really?”
“You’re really pissing me off,” retorted Johnson.
“I’ll tell you what,” he replied. “If you beat me, you can have my stew here.”
That was the last straw for Johnson. Johnson tried a slight of hand on Jess. He moved his left hand on the bar just a few inches. It was enough to get Jess’s attention for a split second. It was a trick that had worked often for Johnson and it had cost many a cowboy and gunslinger his life, but not today. Jess caught the hand movement and he thought it was pretty slick and it was something he would remember.
Johnson’s right hand reached for his pistol a split second after he had moved his left hand on the bar and actually got it out of the holster completely, but not up far enough to point it at Jess when he felt a hard thump on his chest. He looked down at his chest as he dropped his pistol to the floor. He saw the blood streaming from the hole in his shirt and he looked up at Jess. He never thought the last sight he would see in his life would be of a young man taking a bite of stew while watching him slump to the floor.
“Barkeep,” said Jess, “this stew is wonderful. Do you think I could get another plate of it after I finish this one?” The barkeep put the sawed-off back down under the bar.
“Damn,” exclaimed the barkeep. “How the hell did you learn to shoot like that and where the hell did you get that shootin’ iron?”
“My pa taught me, and I found it,” he said, not really elaborating.
Jess finished the first plate of stew and while the barkeep was getting another plate for him, he walked over to the drifter and took off both his guns and checked his pockets. He found three hundred and forty dollars. Jess assumed it was probably stolen money. Jess gave the barkeep forty dollars of the drifter’s money and told him it was for the clean-up and to buy the four men beer until the money ran out to make up for the money they had spent buying beer for the drifter. They all thanked him. That left Jess with three hundred dollars of the drifter’s money.
“Barkeep, is that the horse that was stolen from the rancher?” asked Jess.
The barkeep looked outside at the horse. “Sure is.”
“I want you to take that horse and saddle to the wife of the rancher tomorrow. I also want you to take the rest of this money and give it to her,” said Jess, as he handed the money to the barkeep. “I know it won’t replace her husband or her son, but it ought to help her some.”
“That’s mighty generous of you, mister,” the barkeep said thoughtfully. “Whatcha gonna do with his guns?”
“I plan on trading them for a mule I saw at the stables to haul his carcass back to Largo for the bounty on his head,” replied Jess.
Jess had the four men drag the body to the stables. The stable owner was more than happy with his trade. He could sell the two guns for twice what the mule was worth. Jess decided to leave in the morning and asked the man running the stable if he could bunk down there for the night. The owner had no problem with that.
Jess got settled in and started to nod off to sleep. His thoughts that night were thinking he was finally close to finding Blake Taggert. He just had to make this delivery back to Largo and collect his five hundred dollars. And as sleep finally found him, his last thought that night was; Bounty hunting sure pays well.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jess headed out of Jonesville at first light. It took two full days to get back to Largo since he was dragging a stubborn mule with two hundred pounds of dead weight on it. The weather didn’t help much either. The first day was a nice sunny day, but with a strong wind hitting him straight in the face. On the second day, it started to rain just after the noon hour. Not a hard rain, just enough to make him put his slicker on and make the ride uncomfortable. It was still raining when he got to Largo just before dusk on the second day. He stopped at the sheriff’s office and one of the deputies was sitting on the porch in front of the jail. Jess handed the reins from the mule to the deputy and told him he would send Earl over for the mule later and he would check in with the sheriff tomorrow about the bounty. He was tired, wet, and cold and he needed sleep. He walked Gray over to the stable and told Earl about the mule.
“He’s yours to keep Earl, that is, if you want him,” said Jess. “He’s a stubborn cuss though. I had to drag his ass all the way here.”
“Never met a mule that wasn’t stubborn, Mr. Williams,” replied Earl. “Sides, if I can’t put him to work, I can sure put him on the table. I got hungry mouths to feed.”
“You know Earl, I never thought of that; but as stubborn as he is, I can just see you cutting into a thick, tough steak,” laughed Jess.
Jess was tired enough that he passed up going to Bridger’s Café for some late supper. All he wanted was a good night’s sleep. He got himself a hot bath and turned in for the night. He rose early and had a huge breakfast. Becca was definitely the best cook he had ever met, except his ma. He left her two dollars for a tip this time. He could tell that Becca and Earl were just simple folk working the hard life to make ends meet like most people. Yet, here he was, getting ready to collect five hundred dollars for less than one week’s work. He decided that as long as he had the money, he wouldn’t be greedy with it. He felt good about leaving the three hundred dollars with the rancher’s wife back in Jonesville.
He finished breakfast and walked down to the sheriff’s office. The usual deputy was sitting on the porch and he greeted Jess and told him to go on in. The deputy thought again about what the sheriff said about Jess and he looked at Jess with a newfound look of respect. Jess returned the greeting and found the sheriff sitting behind his desk reading a telegraph message.
“Well, good morning, son, and a good piece of work you did there,” said Sheriff Rubel. “Five hundred dollars ain’t bad for less than a week’s work. Your money is at the bank right next to the hotel you’re staying at. They can pay you cash or wire the money wherever you want. By the way, I knew that fella and he was damn fast with a gun. He’s one sorry cuss who won’t be missed.”
“Can’t argue with you about that, Sheriff,” he replied. “Did you get any word about Blake Taggert while I was gone?”
“Matter of fact, I was just reading the message now. It seems Mr. Taggert has been in Red Rock for quite a while now. I have a hunch they don’t suspect him of any wrongdoing.”
“Well, whether he had anything to do with the killings in Red Rock or not, he sure is guilty of murder and he’s going to pay for it,” Jess said with intent.
“I have no doubt about that, Jess.”
Jess spent the rest of the afternoon walking around town. He stopped in and talked to Earl. Earl had already sold the mule to a farmer and he offered half the money to Jess, but Jess refused to take it.
“I have all the money I need, Earl,” he said. “Now, you might give a little of that money to your pretty wife. She just might want to buy a new dress or something.” Earl laughed that loud belly laugh again.
“Hell, she done already got it all, Mr. Williams,” laughed Earl. “Every last penny of it.”
Jess grinned at Earl and said, “I’m going to have dinner tonight and when I see her, I just might suggest that dress thing, especially since she’s already got you
r money.”
“You tell her old Earl says she can have whatever she wants,” replied Earl. “She deserves it just for putting up with me, not to mention all the hard work she does to help out. She’s a keeper, that’s for sure. You be sure to tell her I said that.”
“I will, Earl. I surely will,” agreed Jess.
Jess stopped in at the bank and wired half the reward money to Jameson’s bank in Black Creek and took the other half in cash. He decided to have an early dinner. He headed for the café and was laughing to himself about what Earl had said about his wife. Jess figured he would throw in a real nice tip for her. The café was almost empty with only a half-dozen people eating. Becca saw him come in and nodded to him to sit at a table. She came out from the kitchen a minute later and walked over to a table behind him, delivering two heaping plates of hot food. Then, she turned around to Jess’ table.
“How you doin’ today, Mr. Williams?” she asked.
“I’m doing just fine, Becca. I had a nice talk with Earl today,” he said with a slight grin on his face.
“Did you, now?” asked Becca.
“Yes. He told me to tell you what a wonderful wife you’ve been and to make sure that you reward yourself with a nice new dress with the money from the mule.”
“That’s a right nice thing for him to say, but we can’t afford any new dresses,” she said. “We still got kids to feed and lots of repairs to the house. New dresses are for those who got more money than we do.”
“I still think you deserve a new dress,” he countered. “Consider it found money.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, trying to get him off the subject. “Would you like something to eat?”
“Absolutely; I’m hungry as a bear coming out from a long winter.”
Jess ordered and Becca had his meal out to him with a load of fresh biscuits in about fifteen minutes. During that time, several more people wandered into the café, including two men who looked like they had been on the trail for a while. They obviously had not stopped in for a bath before supper. They sat down at a table to Jess’s left. Both of them were packing pistols, but one look-over told Jess they weren’t anything to worry about. After Becca delivered his supper to him, she turned to the table where the two men sat down and asked them if they wanted to have something to eat.
The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western Page 19