The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western (30 page)

             
“So, you’re that young shooter everyone’s been talking about,” said Sheriff Clancy. “What do you want with Blake Taggert? There isn’t any bounty on his head as far as I know and you sure look like a bounty hunter.”

             
“He’s got a bounty on his head, but I’m not worried about it, although I’ll collect it anyway. I’m just looking to kill him,” he said firmly. “He’s the last one left of three men who killed my family back in Black Creek, Kansas.”

             
“What happened to the other two?” the sheriff asked, already guessing the answer.

             
“They died.”

             
“Well, he’s not wanted for any crimes here and he has friends here in Red Rock,” said the sheriff. “They’re not about to just let you shoot him down like some dog.”

             
“Any of his friends who get in my way will go down with him,” warned Jess. “That will be their choice, not mine.”

             
“Well good luck, son,” he said. “I think you’re making a huge mistake, but a man has to make his own decisions. If I were you, I’d make sure you’ve made your peace with the man upstairs. If Taggert don’t kill you, one of the other gunslingers who run through here might, and there sure ain’t been any shortage of them lately.”

             
“Sheriff, I’d like to know where you stand in this matter?” he asked. “Are you planning on getting between me and Taggert?”

             
“Hell no,” he said flatly. “You think I got this old by getting in the middle of gunmen hell bent on killing each other? Not me. I just drag out the bodies after it’s over. If it isn’t a fair fight and someone back-shoots someone, I try to arrest him. I’m not getting shot over wearing this tin star, I can tell you that for sure. If they want better law than that, they can get someone else for the job and I’ve told the Mayor exactly that more than a dozen times myself.”

             
“I appreciate the honesty, Sheriff.”

             
“Just watch your back here,” he warned.

             
“Don’t worry about me, Sheriff. I can take care of myself, and luck doesn’t have anything to do with it.” Jess turned to walk out and stopped at the door and turned back around to the sheriff.

             
“Sheriff, the man at the stables said Taggert rode out of town with another man,” said Jess. “You know who he is or if you think he’ll throw in with Taggert?”

             
“That sumbitch is one big heap of trouble,” replied Sheriff Clancy. “Don’t be messing with him if you can avoid it. He was only here one night and killed one of the locals over a card game. I was in the saloon when it happened. It was a fair fight, but almost didn’t seem so. That Sloan fella is mighty quick with a pistol, and meaner than a rabid dog.” Jess stiffened a little at the name of Sloan.

             
“Sheriff, did you say his name was Sloan?” he asked probingly. “Is that his last name?”

             
“I believe so.”

             
“Did he say what his first name was?” asked Jess in a serious tone.

             
“Jim or Tim, something like that,” he replied. “I can’t remember for sure. Glad he’s gone and I hope he never comes back this way. Don’t know what his business with Taggert is.”

             
Jess felt like he had just been hit in the chest with a ten-pound hammer.
Could this be his twin brother he had been told about before he left Black Creek? If it was, is he the kind of man that Jess would hunt? What would he do if that were the case? What was he doing with Taggert, and if it was Jess’s brother, did he know that he was riding with one of the men responsible for murdering their mother?

             
Jess calmed himself down. It was too much to think about right now. He would just have to play whatever cards were dealt him. If it was his brother, and he came back to town with Taggert, Jess figured he would have to face him and get at the truth. Jess’s subconscious was trying to tell him something, but he wouldn’t let it through. It was too awful of a thought. Jess didn’t say another word. He turned back around and walked out of the sheriff’s office.

             
Jess realized that the sheriff would be of no help, but at least he wouldn’t get in the middle of it. He didn’t want to kill a sheriff, but he might if he were forced into it. He headed down the street to one of the saloons. He found a place called Little’s Drinks. He wondered if the same person who owned the small café where he had eaten earlier owned the saloon too. Jess pushed through the swinging doors and looked around. Even though it was early in the afternoon, the place was quite busy. There were people playing cards, some sitting at tables and drinking, and several men bellied up to the bar.

             
He picked out the two or three men in the place that might be trouble. One was playing at one of the card tables and there were two others at the bar that he figured for gunmen. One of the two men standing up at the bar seemed dressed pretty nice to be a gunman and he seemed to project a friendly attitude. Jess wasn’t sure about him, but his gut told him to treat the man with caution. There was a young kid sweeping up the floor and Jess noticed it was the same kid that ran in and out of the café earlier. Jess found his usual place at the right end of the bar occupied by this neatly dressed man. Jess was forced to take the far left of the bar. He ordered a beer and took a long pull from it. He noticed that the barkeep’s head wasn’t much above the bar, which made Jess lean over the bar to look. He found a raised platform behind the bar that was about a foot high off the floor. The barkeep, whose name was Paul Little, watched him do this and when Jess was done looking the barkeep gave Jess a stern look.

             
“One smart-ass word from you about me being short and you’ll not get another drink from me and I don’t care who the hell you are,” warned the barkeep.

             
“Sorry. I wasn’t planning on making any remarks, I was just curious,” he replied.

             
“Yeah, well you can be curious about something else,” he said severely.

             
“Sorry, I meant no offense,” he added as he took another sip of his beer.

             
Jess glanced down at the nicely dressed man at the other end of the bar and the man held up his glass of whiskey as if to salute Jess. The man was tall and muscular. He was dressed in all black and wearing a very nice black holster tied down low and tight. Jess noticed the man’s hammer strap was removed. When he had first walked into the bar, it was still over the hammer. Jess smiled to himself thinking that’s exactly why he always took the right end of the bar. It could hide such movement from most men, but Jess wasn’t like most men. Jess had already removed his hammer strap before he walked into the bar. Jess took another glance around the room and he could tell trouble was about to find him. He could tell from the changed expressions on the faces of the men in the bar. Jess finished his beer and ordered another one.

             
“Barkeep,” the man at the opposite end of the bar said, “put that beer on my bill. I’d be honored to buy Mr. Williams a drink.” The barkeep just grunted and got Jess another beer. Jess took a long sip of his beer and then turned to the man.

             
“Thanks for the beer,” he said. “Do I know you?”

             
“Thought maybe you might,” said the man. “They call me Nevada Jackson. I’m a bounty hunter myself. Just finished a job in a small town east of here and stopped off to see if there was some money to be made here in Red Rock.”

             
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, but I don’t have any bounty on my head,” replied Jess. “Well, at least not yet, if that’s what’s on your mind.”

             
“You sure?” he asked, tipping his head down a little at Jess.

             
“Pretty sure.”

             
“I’m going to take your word on it,” he said. “I always believe a man until he lies to me. I figure that’s the right way to go about it. Don’t you?”

             
“I couldn’t agree more, Nevada.”

             
“Well, I’d still like to make a little money today and I like a good challenge and haven’t had a serious one lately,” stated Nevada. “Fact is I’m getting bored. I think I have a way to combine both needs into one.” Jess didn’t respond. He simply stood there, looking at the man and sipping his beer.

             
“Don’t you want to know what it is I’m talking about, Mr. Williams?” asked Nevada.

             
“The way I figure it, you’re going to tell me all about it sooner or later anyway, and my hunch is whatever I say won’t matter much,” he replied. Nevada laughed a little and smiled back at him.

             
“Well, at least you have a sense of humor,” he said smiling. “I have to say, I’m quite impressed with you. You’re a cool one for being so young and I like that in a man. Now, here’s what I propose. Let’s each put five hundred dollars down on the bar, and then we face each other and the man standing after the smoke clears, gets to keep all the money. What do you think about that?” Jess thought about it for a moment.

             
“You know what, Nevada,” said Jess, “I’ve learned that things happen and sometimes you just don’t have any real control over them. Things like this: Here you are, and I don’t even know you, and yet you’re going to force me to kill you in a gunfight that I don’t want any part of. One day I hope to understand why; but for now, I’d be satisfied with one simple answer.”

             
“I’d be glad to answer any question you’ve a mind to ask, Mr. Williams,” replied Nevada. Jess took another pull from his beer.

             
“Have you ever killed someone in cold blood for no good reason?” asked Jess.

             
“I’ve killed more than my share of men, but they all deserved dying and they all had a fair chance to defend themselves. Why?”

             
“Well, if the answer had been different, it would have been a lot easier to kill you. Now, I don’t really want to square off with you, but I suppose you’re going to push me on the matter anyway.”

             
“Well, I guess so, unless you decide to walk out and refuse to face me,” replied Nevada. “I never shoot a man who refuses to draw in a fair fight.”

             
“Of course, you and I both know that I won’t do that.”

             
“Of course,” he agreed quickly. “I’ve heard all about you and your fancy pistol you got there. I heard all about you taking down that drifter up in Jonesville who shot that rancher and his boy. As a matter of fact, I was heading up there to collect that bounty when I heard you already took him down. You cost me five hundred dollars on that deal. I guess this would make me whole, so to speak.” Nevada pulled a wad of money out of his front pocket, counted out five hundred dollars and placed it on the bar.

             
“Barkeep,” said Nevada, “you hold the money. Mr. Williams, do you have the five hundred?”

             
I’ve got three hundred on me, but I can put up my gun and holster for the rest. If you win, I guess I wouldn’t need it anymore anyway. Agreed?”

             
“Agreed on both counts!” exclaimed Nevada quickly. “I’d love to have that pistol of yours. It’s worth the five hundred all by itself.”

             
The barkeep took the eight hundred dollars and put a bottle of whiskey on top of the money. Jess took another sip of his beer and turned to face Nevada when everyone in the bar was startled by the words that came from the batwing doors of the saloon.

             
“Get ready to die, mister!”

CHAPTER TWENTY

              The man standing in the doorway to the saloon looked to be about fifty. He had a bushy beard and moustache and looked like he hadn’t had a bath or a new set of clothes in several years. Jess didn’t recognize him, but he knew for sure the man was talking to him and not Nevada or anyone else in the bar.

             
“I said get ready to die!” the man repeated, as he walked into the center of the saloon. Jess saw the man had a gun tucked in his belt in the front of his belly. The gun looked as if it was used more for pounding nails than for shooting. Jess glanced at Nevada and then turned to face the old man. Neither Jess nor Nevada saw this man as any threat.

             
“Mister, I don’t know who you are and I have no quarrel with you,” said Jess. “What’s your beef with me?”

             
“I ain’t got no beef with ya! I just need the money!” hollered the man.

             
“What money?”

             
“The three thousand dollars that old man Carter put up for your head, dead or alive,” replied the man. “I need it. I ain’t had a good meal or a new set of clothes in three years. I’ve been riding a sorry sack of a mule ‘cause I lost my horse and what few nuggets of gold I had left from years of prospecting work to some damn thieves. I figure I ain’t got much to live for anyway. I heard about the money Carter had on your head and figured that I might as well go for it. Either way, my suffering will be over with and right about now, I don’t much care which way it ends.”