The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western (31 page)

             
“How are you going to collect the money when you don’t have a gun?” asked Jess, somewhat sarcastically.

             
“I got me a gun,” the man said defensively.

             
“Where?”

             
“Right here,” he said pointing the the shabby looking pistol in his front waist. “What the hell you think this here is?”

             
“That thing?” said Jess, with a look of amusement. “It looks more like a hammer. What are you going to do, throw it at me?”

             
“Sir,” Nevada politely said to the old prospector, “Mr. Williams and I have a business proposition to complete first. You’ve interrupted us, and I would suggest you wait until we are finished.”

             
The prospector kept his gaze on Jess, but now he recognized Nevada Jackson and he knew of his reputation. He began to have a sinking feeling. He took a few steps back and began to rethink his plan. He knew he was outgunned by either of these two. His senses began to return and he sat down at a table. When he did, the old pistol slipped out of his belt and fell onto the wooden floor with a thud. When it did, one side of the butt grips fell off the gun. The old prospector just looked up at Jess with a sorrowful look. Nevada turned to the barkeep and told him to get the old man a drink on him. The prospector asked for beer and the barkeep handed it to the kid who worked there and the kid took it over to the man’s table. Nevada then turned back to Jess.

             
“Well, it seems that if I win this thing, I can collect the money on the bar, your fancy pistol and holster
and
three thousand dollars from this Carter fellow,” said an enthusiastic Nevada. “It seems to be my lucky day.”

             
“Only if you win,” claimed Jess. “And that three thousand dollars is just blood money Carter put up to have me murdered. It’s not an official bounty. He’s just pissed off because I killed his only son in a fair fight.”

             
“That don’t matter,” stated Nevada. “If I win, I might as well collect it. If I didn’t, it won’t make you any less dead.”

             
“Well, I guess talking you out of this is out of the question?” Jess asked him.

             
“Hell, I was ready to face you for the three hundred dollars and your pistol and holster,” said Nevada. “Now with three thousand dollars added to the pot, I mean, who could walk away from that.”

             
“Someone who wants to live.”

             
“You’re assuming that you’ll beat me.”

             
“I’m not assuming anything.”

             
“So, you’re saying I might beat you?”

             
“Well, I might drop my gun or something like that,” replied Jess, smiling.

             
“A man with a sense of humor,” said Nevada with a grin. “I like that in a man.”

             
“Then why push this?” asked Jess.

             
“Did you forget about the three thousand dollars?”

             
“I didn’t forget.”

             
“Well, neither did I.”

             
“So, you’re still going to push this?” Jess asked again.

             
“I would say that you have a good grasp of the obvious,” said Nevada. “Now, since I made the challenge, I think it’s only fair that you get the chance to draw first.”

             
“I never draw first,” replied Jess. “Besides, this isn’t my choice. If you want this fight, you’ll have to start it.”

             
What happened next was another lesson that Jess would never forget. Nevada feigned a move so slightly that only Jess saw it. It was so slight that you couldn’t really call it a movement. Jess realized in that small fraction of a second that Nevada was attempting to get Jess to draw first. Jess couldn’t figure if it was out of some sense of fairness or some way to trick him into stalling his draw so that Nevada had an advantage. When it happened, Jess almost fell for it.

             
Instead, he turned the tables on Nevada and did the same to him, feigning a draw and when Nevada saw it, he went for his gun. Nevada was fast. He had outdrawn a dozen men and had never taken a bullet yet. And some of the men he had outdrawn were seasoned gunslingers who were fast, which is why Nevada was so shocked at what happened next. After he felt the thud in his chest and looked down at the bloodstain beginning to form on his shirt, he noticed he had his hand on the butt of his pistol, but it had not moved out from the holster. He looked up at Jess with a look of disbelief in his eyes.

             
“Damn, I didn’t even have a chance, did I?” he asked.

             
“Now it’s you who has a good grasp of the obvious,” replied Jess. “I guess things just don’t always work out the way you plan them.”

             
“I guess not,” replied Nevada, a hint of a smile on his lips. He took his right hand off his pistol and went to pick up his whiskey for one last drink. He never tasted that last drop. Nevada slumped to the floor, dead. Paul, the barkeep, who never had much to say and one who was not easily impressed, spoke up.

             
“I’ve seen lots of men go at it in here,” said the barkeep. “I’ve seen a few dozen gunfights in my lifetime, but I’ve never seen anything like that. You ain’t normal.” The barkeep went back to cleaning glasses. One of the men sitting by the bar was the town’s preacher. He looked at Jess with a dreadful look in his eyes.

             
“I seen it, too, and I don’t believe it neither, son,” the preacher said, looking right at Jess, “I don’t know who you are, but Paul here is right, you ain’t normal. Maybe you’re a soul incarnate who’s been brought back to this world by God Almighty himself or maybe you’ve been sent here by the devil to do his dirty work. Whichever it is, you’re not welcome in my church.”

             
The preacher stood up, picked up his Bible and walked out, not saying another word. Jess said nothing to the preacher. Instead, he turned his attention to the prospector who was still sitting down, holding his glass with both hands so that Jess would see he wasn’t even thinking about going for his gun, which was still lying on the floor under the table.

             
“I hope you’re still not going to try to collect that blood money, old man,” said Jess.

             
“No way in hell,” replied the prospector. “I saw what I saw, and my mama, whoever she was, didn’t bear no fool. I was just desperate and on my last straw when I came in here. I’ll be glad to leave here the same way, If’n you’ll let me.”

             
“Well, I’ll have to think about that for a minute,” he said curiously. The prospector moaned a little.

             
“Damn it,” exclaimed the prospector. “I just knew when I opened my eyes this morning that it was going to be a bad day.”

             
“Really, why is that?” asked Jess.

             
“Because I was able to open my eyes.”

             
“Well, maybe it won’t be such a bad day after all,” said Jess. The prospector looked somewhat confused. He still wasn’t sure what Jess was going to do. Jess picked up the eight hundred dollars from the bar and counted out three hundred dollars. He walked over to the old prospector, who wouldn’t move his hands from his glass, and sat down at the table with him.

             
“What’s your name?” he asked the old prospector.

             
“Name is Dusty Slim,” he replied. “I got that name ‘cause I don’t particularly like baths and I get kinda dusty. I also don’t have a chance to eat very often, as I ain’t never got any money.” He finally took his hands from his glass and patted his chest a little and some dust flew off the old man’s clothes.

             
“Well, Dusty, I want you to take this three hundred dollars and use it to get yourself a new start.” Jess threw the money on the table. “And, I want you to promise me you won’t try anything that stupid again. Otherwise, I’m making a bad investment in you. “Besides,” he said, glancing down at the sorry looking pistol on the floor, “that thing would probably backfire and blow your damn head off even if you did get off a shot. You best let the barkeep sweep it up and get rid of it.”

             
Dusty wasn’t quite sure what to say. He had come into the saloon to try to kill Jess for the money and now Jess was giving him money for a new start. This was not a normal day for Dusty Slim. It seemed his never-ending bad luck may have finally changed for the better.

             
“Mr. Williams, no one’s ever done anything like this for me before,” he exclaimed. “I don’t rightly know how to thank ya. I need the money real bad so I’ll take it, but I promise to pay you back every penny and more. I know a secret place that I’m sure still has some gold in it. Not enough to get rich, but enough to pay you back and let me finally quit mining. I’m right sure thankful, Mr. Williams, right sure.”

             
“You’re welcome, Dusty. And, you tell the man at the livery down the street that I said to give you Nevada’s horse, saddle and his rifle. That is if he had one, and I’m sure he did. Leave the saddlebags or any other belongings though. Tell the stable man I’ll be along to claim those later. Anyone gives you a problem; you let me know about it.”

             
“Yes, sir, Mr. Williams, yes, sir,” Dusty happily agreed as he headed out the door before Jess could change his mind.

             
“You’re gonna claim Nevada’s belongings? You sure that’s right?” asked the barkeep. Jess looked at the very dead Nevada and pursed his lips.

             
“He sure ain’t going to need them anymore and besides, that man lying there was going to kill me just as dead as he is right now,” explained Jess. “If that had happened, what do you think would’ve happened to my belongings? You think all my things would just disappear? The way I look at it, his things belong to me now. His money, his horse, his gun and anything else of value he’s got. Hell, if right had anything to do with it, I wouldn’t be here today; and I wouldn’t have had to kill Nevada. I imagine there is some right in this world, but it hasn’t been hanging around me for quite some time now.”

             
“Fine by me,” replied the barkeep, “but Nevada had a lot of friends and a brother who just might not agree with your way of thinking, if you know what I mean.”

             
“I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

             
Jess removed Nevada’s gun from his body and found another two hundred dollars in his pockets. He also removed a beautiful gold pocket watch from Nevada’s front pocket. Jess didn’t have a watch, he never had much use for one, but this one was beautifully engraved on the front. He decided it was time to have one. Sheriff Clancy walked into the saloon and looked at Nevada’s dead body.

             
“Damn,” said Clancy. “You took down Nevada Jackson.”

             
“He sure did,” interjected the barkeep. “Nevada never even got his gun out.” The sheriff got his two deputies to take Nevada’s body over to the undertaker. Sheriff Clancy looked at Jess.

             
“You know he’s got a brother,” said the sheriff in a cautionary tone.

             
“So I’ve heard.”

             
“He’s not going to be happy about this,” advised Clancy. “And he taught Nevada everything he knew about slinging lead.”

             
“Evidently not enough.”

             
“Well, there’s no bounty on him, at least not that I know of,” said Clancy.

             
“Sheriff, I tried to talk him out of this. It was his decision, not mine.”

             
“Hey, I got no problem with it,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned, it was a fair fight. I guess it won’t be the last one today.”

             
“Why’s that, Sheriff.”

             
“Several new toughs came into town a little bit ago,” he replied miserably. “Looked like trouble for sure. They went over to Jake’s saloon down the street, but they’ll end up in here before long, especially once they find out you’re here. Sure as shit, at least one of them will be looking to add to their reputation by taking you down. You have time to ride out if you want to.”

             
“You know I can’t do that, Sheriff,” he replied. “Taggert didn’t happen to be one of them did he?”

             
“Nope, never seen any of these fellows before, but I’ve sure seen their kind before. I aim to check my wanted posters for their faces. I wouldn’t be surprised to see one of them on one.”

             
The sheriff walked out and Jess finished his beer. He thanked the barkeep, gave him a nice tip, slung Nevada’s gun and holster over his left shoulder and walked down to the stable. Jess actually felt a little bad about killing Nevada even though Nevada had forced him into the fight. Nevada wasn’t a cold blooded killer. He was just another bounty hunter out to make some money and a name for himself.