The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western (20 page)

             
“Hi, Sheriff,” said Reedy, “got a minute?”

             
“Maybe,” replied Sheriff Manley. “Depends on what this is about? I haven’t had my breakfast yet.”

             
“It’s about a man we’re looking for,” replied Reedy. “Well, a kid really by the name of Jess Williams.” That got Manley’s attention immediately.

             
“Well, come on in then,” he said, as he walked back into his office followed by the two men. “What business do you have with Jess Williams?”

             
“To be honest, Sheriff,” answered Reedy, “we’ve been hired to bring him back to Black Creek, Kansas, to answer for the murder of a man there.”

             
“Really?” asked Sheriff Manley. “He didn’t seem like a murderer to me. Who’d he kill?”

             
“A man by the name of Red Carter,” interjected Spicer.

             
“And who hired you?” asked Manley.

             
“Red’s father, Dick Carter,” replied Reedy.

             
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway,” said Manley. “He left town a couple of days ago. He was involved in a few gunfights while he was in town, but they were both fair fights; although it didn’t really seem like it.”

             
“Really, what do you mean by that?” asked Reedy.

             
“The two men he killed never had a chance from what I hear,” replied Manley. “Those that saw the shooting said the kid was so fast the other men never got their lead pushers out of their holsters.”

             
“Well, that don’t matter, Sheriff,” Spicer snapped back. “He’s a murderer and we plan to take him back to Black Creek when we find him.”

             
“Suit yourself, but I wouldn’t go up against that young man. He’s just too damn fast. You boys will find yourself planted in the ground if you plan to brace that boy,” said the sheriff, almost proudly. The sheriff’s stomach growled and he walked out and left Reedy and Spicer in his office. Reedy looked at his partner.

             
“That bad feeling I had about this whole thing just got worse,” Reedy said apprehensively.

             
“Hey, like I keep telling you, ride out anytime you like. Just don’t forget to leave your share of the money,” groused Spicer. They walked out of the sheriff’s office and hollered out to the sheriff who was almost across the street. “Hey, Sheriff,” asked Reedy, “did Williams say where he was headed?”

             
“No, he didn’t say. He just rode out. Sorry I can’t be any more help.” Manley lied about it, not wanting these men to have any more information about Jess’s whereabouts.

             
They headed for the stables to get their horses and try to decide what to do next. The stable boy, Billy, got their horses saddled and brought them out to Reedy and Spicer who had been talking about Jess. Billy had overheard Jess’s name.

             
“You know Jess Williams?” asked Billy as Reedy and Spicer quickly exchanged glances.

             
“Yeah, we know him,” replied Spicer. “He’s a good friend of ours and we’re looking for him. We did some work together and we owe him his share of the money.”

             
“You guys bounty hunters, too?” asked Billy keenly.

             
“Yes. You could say that,” replied Reedy. “Do you know where he was headed when he left town?”

             
“Sure, he said he was headed for Timber, Texas. He heard that one of the other men he’s looking for was down there. Did you hear about the gunfight?” Billy replied excitedly.

             
“No, why don’t you tell us about it,” replied Reedy.

             
“Jess squared off with two men at the same time in a gunfight and they never had a chance,” exclaimed Billy. “And he killed Ben Grady who was one of the fastest men on the draw and Grady didn’t even clear leather. Jess was so fast you could hardly see him draw. Ain’t no one faster than Jess Williams, that’s for sure. When you guys see him, tell him Billy and his ma said hi. He gave me money to get my ma’s bum leg fixed up. He sure is a good friend to have.”

             
“Thanks, kid,” replied Reedy. “We’ll tell him you said hi.”

             
Reedy and Spicer rode out of town heading for Timber. They rode for a while in silence. Reedy was thinking about this young man, Jess Williams; Spicer was thinking about the money he was about to make. Reedy finally broke the long silence.

             
“You know what, Todd,” said Reedy. “The more I learn about his kid, the more I like him. I mean, how bad can this kid be when he gives some stable boy enough money to get his ma’s leg fixed? That doesn’t sound like a cold-blooded killer to me.”

             
“Hey, I’ve known cold-blooded killers that would buy kids candy,” retorted Spicer. “Even the worst of men have a heart sometimes. But that don’t make them nice men. Besides, it just doesn’t matter. We’re getting paid to kill him or bring him back. We’re not getting paid to judge him.”

             
“Well, I’ll go along until we finally meet up with him. When we do, I want to talk to him first,” replied Reedy. Spicer just shook his head wondering if his partner was going soft on him.

***

              Jess spent the remainder of the day walking around town. He had some dinner and turned in early. He decided not to go to the saloon for a drink; opting instead to go to his room and get a good night’s sleep.

             
Hank Beard finally arrived in Timber late that same night. He didn’t stop in the saloon for a drink either. He was tired and went straight to the hotel and got a room for the night. He had no idea that Ben Grady had been shot dead. He also had no idea that his room was just two doors down from the young man that killed Grady. Fate has a funny way of arranging things sometimes.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

              Timber was a quiet town in the morning. Jess got up at daybreak, saddled Gray and took an early ride around the area checking things out. It was early afternoon when he stopped in at River Bend Bill’s and had a cup of coffee with Bill. He took two pounds of fresh coffee to his new friend and Bill couldn’t say enough about how nice it was for Jess to do that for him. Bill didn’t have much money and sometimes he couldn’t afford to even buy coffee.

             
“Well,” said Jess, “I gave the sheriff and Patti your messages.”

             
“I would have loved to be there when you did,” laughed Bill. “What did Patti say when you told her?”

             
Something like; “Oh no, not this again!”

             
“Hah! I’ll bet the sheriff was pissed as hell, wasn’t he?” asked Bill.

             
“I thought he was going to spit blood,” Jess said with a smile. “I hope you’re not thinking about going into town any time soon. The sheriff has men watching for you and he’ll throw you in the hoosegow for sure if you show up. I think I’d wait awhile if I were you.”

             
“Maybe. Hell, I got nothin’ but time anyway,” he said.

             
Bill lifted his cup to his lips for another sip of fine coffee when he noticed a small cloud of dust over the other side of the river. He stood up and so did Jess. They spotted four riders following a large man wearing a hat that looked too big for him. They were heading into Timber. Bill recognized the lead rider as Paul Mason.

             
“That’s Paul Mason,” said Bill. “I wonder what he’s heading into town for. He never comes to town unless there’s some kind of trouble.”

             
“Actually there was a little trouble day before yesterday,” replied Jess. “I killed a man by the name of Ben Grady.” River Bend Bill gave him a disconcerted look.

             
“You drew down on Ben Grady and lived to tell about it?” he asked excitedly.

             
“He drew first,” he replied flatly. “I didn’t start the fight. I only finished it.”

             
“
You
beat Ben Grady to the draw?” he asked again.

             
“How many times do you want me to tell you?”

             
“Well, it ain’t finished,” River Bend Bill said as he sat back down. “It ain’t finished until Paul Mason says it’s finished. He was paying Ben Grady a lot of money to be his lead hired gun. He’s gonna be mighty pissed off. He ain’t bringing those four riders into town for no Sunday meetin’.”

             
“Maybe I should head back to town and see if the sheriff needs any help,” implied Jess, a worried look on his face.

             
“Hell, it ain’t your job,” said Bill. “Have another cup of this fine coffee.”

             
“It might not be my job, but I caused it,” he replied. “Actually, Grady caused it, but I don’t like anyone paying for my doings.” Jess gulped down his coffee and got on his horse and headed straight back to town.

             
Paul Mason was mad as hell. He was paying Ben Grady ten times what he was paying any of his other hired guns. Of course, Grady was ten times as good as any of them. Mason lived by a few hard and fast rules in his life. One of them was you get what you pay for. If you want the best, you have to pay for the best; and Grady was the best. At least, he had been the best he could find, up until now. Mason had a temper hotter than most branding irons. When one of his hands came back to the ranch after hearing how a young kid shot Ben Grady dead in a fair gunfight, Mason got so mad he punched the ranch hand who told him about it and stormed outside and shot the first thing he saw, which happened to be the man’s horse. He shot the horse three times and then threw his gun as far as he could. He spent the remainder of the day cursing and giving everyone a hard time while he gathered up a group of men to ride with him to Timber. They arrived in Timber in the early afternoon. Mason was leading the group by a few feet. Not because he ordered the men to stay behind him, but because they were all afraid of what he might do if they took the lead. They rode up to the sheriff’s office, but didn’t dismount. Mason yelled out from his horse.

             
“Sheriff Steele, I know you’re in there,” growled Mason. “Come on out. I want to talk to you.” The other four men just sat on their horses.

             
The door of the sheriff’s office opened up, but Steele didn’t appear right away. He stayed back a little for a moment to see if things would explode right away. When they didn’t, he slowly walked out of the doorway. He was holding a double-barreled sawed-off shotgun. He was wearing his pistol and he also had another Colt .45 stuck in his belt. He believed in being prepared.

             
“What can I do for you, Mr. Mason?” Sheriff Steele calmly asked.

             
“You can start by telling me who killed Ben Grady,” directed Mason. “Then, you can point him out to me so I can kill the bastard.”

             
“You know I won’t stand for that, Mason,” countered Sheriff Steele. “Ben Grady was killed in a fair fight. As a matter of fact, he drew on the kid first.”

             
“You’re crazy, Sheriff,” Mason bit back. “You know there ain’t no one fast enough to take down Grady, especially some wet behind the ears young kid. Hell, you were afraid of going up against Grady yourself! If I have to, I’ll have each one of these men challenge this kid one at a time in a fair fight. You can’t do anything about that now, can you?”

             
“Well, no, but if you do that, Ralph the undertaker will be a happy man,” replied Sheriff Steele.

             
“Really! Why is that?” Mason asked infuriated, still clutching the reins on his horse so tight the horse was jerking his head up and down.

             
“Because he’ll be making four new wooden boxes to put your men in and maybe even one for you,” replied Steele matter-of-factly. “Hell, Mason, you know as well as I do that Grady could take any two of your men at the same time and not even break a sweat. This kid took Grady down and Grady never got his pistol out of his holster. Add to that, the fact Ben Grady went for his gun first.”

             
“Sheriff, I don’t give a damn about any of that,” snapped Mason. “Now, I’m not asking you again. Where is this dirtball of a kid?”

             
“First off, don’t threaten me, Mason,” retorted Steele angrily. “You should know by now that I don’t react too kindly to threats. Besides, he’s not here right now. Seems he took an early ride this morning. He’ll probably be back sometime later this afternoon.” Mason glared at Sheriff Steele.

             
“Sheriff, we’ll be over in the saloon having a drink. We can wait, but when I leave today, that kid will be in a box and I’ll even pay for it!” hollered Mason, as if he wanted the whole town to hear.