The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western (11 page)

             
“Why do you ask?”

             
“You sure got enough hardware hanging on you,” he replied. “Are you one of those bounty hunters?”

             
“I could be,” replied Jess. “Is there someone in town that has a bounty on his head?”

             
The barkeep smiled. “Hell, there’s always someone in this town that needs hunting. If you’re looking for trouble, you’ll sure find plenty of it here.”

             
“I ain’t exactly looking for trouble, but I ain’t shying from any either.”

             
“Well, enjoy your lunch,” said the barkeep. “Martha will be out soon.”

             
Less than a minute later, a young girl with dark red hair came out of the kitchen and stopped at a table and dropped off two plates of food. As she did, she noticed Jess sitting at the table in the corner. She headed for Jess’s table and smiled as she walked toward him. The smile turned to a look of concern when she spotted the butt of the shotgun sticking up over his right shoulder. She almost paused, but continued.

             
“What can I get for you today?” asked Martha.

             
“I’ve given it a lot of thought and decided to take the special,” he said smiling.

             
Martha smiled again. “So, Sam told you about the special already, did he?”

             
“Yes. I’m afraid he beat you to it,” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to have any apple pie today, would you?”

             
“You’re in luck,” she said. Fresh baked this morning. You’ll like it. It’s the best apple pie anywhere around here.”

             
“You make it?”

             
“Of course; don’t I look like a woman who can make great apple pie?” she asked smartly, her hands on her hips now.

             
“As a matter-of-fact, you look just like a woman who can make great apple pie.”

             
Martha turned and walked back into the kitchen. Jess tried the coffee. It was just how he liked it, hot and strong. Jess turned his glance toward the door as he saw a man enter the doorway. The man acted like he wasn’t sure if he was going to come in or not. The man carried a single six-shooter slung extra low, but not tied down. Jess sized him up and figured him for a local troublemaker and one who was not as fast with a gun as he thought he was.

             
The man was Scott Vogan, a local ranch hand who worked for a ranch called the Last “C” and he came into town a few times a week to get serviced at the local cathouse, as well as get drunk and raise a little hell. Scott had a slight crush on the waitress Martha, which is what kept him coming back to the hotel. The barkeep, Sam, noticed Vogan standing in the doorway.

             
“Scott,” Sam said with a stern voice, “I thought I told you not to come back in here today.”

             
“Yeah, well you ain’t the owner here and what you say don’t mean shit,” argued Vogan, as he walked over to the bar and leaned on it. “Now give me a shot of that good stuff you keep under the bar.”

             
“Alright,” protested Sam, “but this is the last one today and I mean it. You want anymore and you’ll have to see the boss. I don’t care how tough you
think
you are.”

             
“Well, that’s a start, barkeep,” Vogan said with an ugly sneer.

             
Martha came out carrying Jess’s plate of food and as she walked toward his table, she noticed Vogan. She ignored his stare and took Jess his plate of food.

             
“It sure looks and smells good,” Jess said.

             
“You’ll like it,” she replied. “You want some more coffee?”

             
“Yes and keep it coming.”

             
“Hey, Martha,” Scott hollered across the room, “how about you take the rest of the afternoon off and spend some time with me? I’ll make it well worth your while.” Martha shot Vogan a glaring look.

             
“I’ve got work to do, Scott,” she said tensely. “And even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t spend any of my time with the likes of you. I thought I’d made that quite clear to you on more than one occasion. I’m not one of them whores down at Julie’s place that you can buy for a few silver dollars. Now leave me alone, you hear?”

Jess took a
nother sip of coffee and looked up at Martha.

             
“Problem?” asked Jess.

             
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied. What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around here before.”

             
“I’m not from around here. My name is Jess; Jess Williams.”

             
“Well, it’s nice to meet you Jess Williams and welcome to Tarkenton,” said Martha smiling.

             
“Thanks, but I don’t plan on staying around too long. I’m looking for someone, a man by the name of Randy Hastings. Heard of him?”

             
“Who hasn’t?” she said plainly. “Just about everyone around here knows Randy. He’s a pain in the ass and a cold-blooded killer. He came to town a few weeks ago with two other men. He killed one of the local toughs and then decided to stick around and make the rest of us miserable. He’s not someone you want to mess with. He’d just as soon kill you as look at you. What’s your business with him?”

             
“Personal,” he replied bluntly.

             
“Well, you watch yourself around him,” she warned as she walked back into the kitchen.

             
Jess nodded and took a bite of the ham. It was so tender you could cut it with a fork. During the conversation with Martha, Scott was leaning sideways on the bar listening to them. He was jealous and it showed by the scrunched up scowl on his face. As soon as Martha walked away from Jess, Vogan picked up his drink and started to walk over to Jess’s table. Jess was listening to his footsteps and paying attention to everything in the room. He was listening for any sound of a gun being slid out of a holster or a hammer being eared back. He heard neither.

             
“What’s your name, son?” asked Scott in a snide tone. Scott slowly walked around the table to face Jess. Jess put his fork down and looked up at Scott with a cold stare that seemed to make the man take a step back.

             
“I’m not your son and my name ain’t any of your business,” replied Jess, in a harsh voice and a cold look on his face. “Anything else you want to ask that you’ve got no business asking about in the first place?”

             
“You’re a cocky little son-of-a-bitch, ain’t ya?” asked Vogan.

             
“Mister, let me make this real easy for you to understand,” he said sharply. “My business ain’t your business. I just had me a nice hot bath and now I’m trying to enjoy a good hot meal, which is something I haven’t had in a week. Now, I plan to eat this meal before it gets cold; so if you’re looking for trouble let’s get it over with right quick. If not, haul your ass back over to the bar and don’t make me tell you twice, because if I have to, I’m grabbing some iron and I’d suggest you do the same.” Jess said all of this so matter-of-factly that it took Vogan totally by surprise, and he knew when to fold up and move on and this was surely one of those times.

             
“Didn’t mean to rile you up, mister,” he said as he headed back to the bar and leaned on it looking at the empty glass. The barkeep had a smirk on his face. He had enjoyed watching Vogan get his ass ripped.

             
“Would you like another shot, Scott?” Sam asked sarcastically knowing that his nerves may need a little settling after all.

             
“Hell yeah, might as well,” retorted Vogan. “And wipe that damn smirk off your face.”

             
Jess finished his meal and Martha brought him a nice slab of apple pie. She had watched the confrontation between Jess and Scott from the doorway and she had a smile on her face when she glanced over at Vogan.

             
Vogan was leaning on the bar just looking down at the shot glass. Jess savored the pie and another hot cup of coffee, paid his bill and headed down the street to the saloon to find Sheriff Manley. After Jess left, Martha came back out from the kitchen. Scott was still nursing his wounded pride along with his whiskey. She walked up behind the bar and started to help Sam wash a few glasses. Scott watched her and wondered what she thought of him after getting told off by a young kid who barely looked like he’d reached manhood yet.

             
“He didn’t look all that tough,” said Vogan. Martha eyed him quizzically.

             
“Then why’d you back down?” asked Martha. “You’re always looking for trouble. You had it right in the palm of your hand.” Scott let his gaze fall back to his drink.

             
“Yeah,” added Sam, “for a man always looking to give someone a hard time, you sure got a case of the frights.”

             
“Nobody asked you for your opinion,” muttered Vogan. “I just didn’t think it right to shoot a kid. Hell, he can’t be more than sixteen or so.”

             
“He may be young, but he ain’t no kid,” replied Sam with a knowing look.

             
“Hell yes he is,” chided Vogan. “You saw him. He’s still wet behind the ears for Christ’s sake.”

             
“Sam’s right,” interjected Martha. “He might be a little wet behind the ears, but there’s something different about that young man. You can see it in his eyes and tell by his demeanor.”

             
“Hell, that punk didn’t scare me,” rebuked Vogan. “I’ve taken on tougher men than him and I’m still standing.”

             
“You tell yourself whatever you want,” she said as she walked back to the kitchen.

             
Jess walked into the saloon and quickly looked around. The place was dirty and reeked of cheap whiskey and cigar smoke. The barkeep gave Jess a look and then glanced over at the men playing cards. One of the men looked to be in his fifties and had a tin star on his shirt. He nodded at the barkeep as if to say that he noticed Jess, and then went back to playing his hand.

             
The barkeep looked back to Jess and asked, “Can I help you, mister?”

             
“I’m looking for Sheriff Manley.” Jess looked over to the man with the badge. “I assume that would be you?”

             
“You assumed right, son. Now you just wait until I finish this hand. I’ve been losing at this game all day and I think this hand will make me whole,” bragged Manley as he finished his hand and lost.

             
“Damn it!” carped Manley, throwing his cards on the table. “How can I be such a lousy player?”

             
“Maybe you ain’t such a lousy player,” said one of the other men at the table. “Maybe it’s just that we’re better at the game than you, Sheriff.”

             
“Kiss my ass,” groused Manley. “I’ll get my money back tonight from you cheatin’ bastards.”

             
“Aw, come on now, Sheriff,” claimed one of the other men in the game. “We’ve been playing fair. You’ve just been playing lousy like always.”

             
“Well, you can still kiss my ass,” the sheriff countered as he pushed back his chair from the table and looked up at Jess.

             
“What can I do for you stranger?” the sheriff asked.

             
“I’m looking for a man who goes by the name of Randy Hastings. What can you tell me about him?”

             
“That you shouldn’t be looking for him,” replied Manley directly. “He ain’t nothin’ but trouble. He’s wanted by the law and has a bounty on his head. What’s your business with him?”

             
“If he’s who I think he is, he’s one of three men who murdered my family.”

             
Sheriff Manley put his head down for a moment and let out a long sigh then said, “He was heard bragging one night over at the saloon after having a few too many that he had raped and killed some women some years back. No one knew if he was just braggin’ or tellin’ the truth. He killed one of the local boys here in the saloon recently. Wish he would just take off and leave this place for good.”

             
“Do you know where he is now?”

             
“Left town a few days ago, but he told a few people that he’d be back. You’re kinda young for a bounty hunter, ain’t ya?” asked the sheriff.

             
“I never said I was.”

             
“Sure do look like one,” he said. “Why the shotgun? And where did you get a pistol and holster like that?”

             
“I came here to ask the questions, not answer them,” he replied crossly. “What is the bounty on Hastings?”

             
“Kind of a smart-ass for such a young one,” observed Manley.

             
“Maybe; now what about the bounty?”

             
“Five hundred dollars the last time I checked.”

             
“I’ll be collecting it when he comes back to town.”

             
“I thought you said you weren’t a bounty hunter.”

             
“I never said I wasn’t.”

             
“There’s that smart-ass thing again.”

             
“Don’t push me on it, Sheriff,” Jess warned.

             
“I’m the one wearing the star,” countered Manley.

             
“Yeah, and you had a murderer in your town and didn’t do a damn thing to arrest him,” complained Jess angrily.

             
“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” Manley snapped back.

             
“Then don’t make me do yours.” argued Jess.

             
“You gonna go at Hastings?” asked Sheriff Manley.

             
“I thought I made that pretty clear.”

             
“You seem kinda sure about how things are gonna turn out. Hastings ain’t gonna surrender that easy, especially to a young one like you,” said the sheriff.

             
“Who said I was going to ask him to surrender?” replied Jess. “I’m staying over at the hotel. I expect you’ll let me know when he comes back to town.”

             
“And just why in the hell should I do that?” demanded Manley, getting agitated at Jess’s harsh demeanor.

             
“Well Sheriff, if you won’t do your job, at least be man enough to let someone else do it for you,” he barked. “Now I expect you to let me know when he comes to town. If not, you’ll answer to me.”

             
“Who the hell do you think you are talking to me like that!” cried out Manley in an embarrassed tone.

             
Jess took another step toward Manley and spoke calmly and directly. “I’m the man who plans on killing at least
one
man before I leave your town,” he warned him. “It’s up to you whether or not it’s more than one. Enjoy the rest of your game, Sheriff.”

             
Jess turned and walked out of the saloon, ignoring the curse words coming from the sheriff’s mouth. He had already figured that Sheriff Manley was nothing more than a coward and he wasn’t going to waste any time on him. He had also noticed that Scott Vogan had sauntered into the bar during his discussion with Manley. Vogan had leaned on the bar saying nothing and listening closely. Jess knew that he would probably have to deal with Vogan before he left town, but that would be Vogan’s choice. Manley had watched Jess walk out of the saloon and then slowly slid his chair back up to the card table. The other three men at the table were getting ready to start on Manley about the kid telling him off.