The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western (12 page)

             
“Don’t even start on me,” advised Manley.

             
“Start what?” one of the men said, acting as if he didn’t know what the sheriff meant.

             
“You know damn well what I mean!” argued Manley. “Damn young kid thinks he can come in here and tell me what to do.”

             
“I think that’s exactly what he did, Sheriff,” one of the men said and all three of them starting to chuckle.

             
“Kiss my ass, the bunch of you,” muttered Manley.

             
They started up the game again and one of the men got a serious tone in his voice. “You know, Sheriff, I saw something in that young man. I don’t think I’d cross him if I were you.”

             
“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Manley.

             
“I don’t know,” replied the man. “It’s just a feeling. The way he carries himself and that gun he’s wearing. Did you ever see anything like that before?”

             
“I heard of some gunslingers making up their own holsters, but I never seen one like that,” one of the other men said.

             
“Well, I ain’t messing with that kid anyway,” interjected Sheriff Manley. “This damn job don’t pay enough. I just run in the drunks and sweep out the jail. If the town wants more than that, they can hire themselves another sheriff.”

             
Jess took a stroll around town and checked out the buildings and back entrances to them. He wanted to know more about his surroundings before Hastings came back to town. He stopped at the livery to check on Gray.

             
“How’s he doing?” Jess asked Billy. The stable boy had been brushing Gray down when Jess walked up.

             
“He’s doing just fine, mister,” he replied. “He sure likes apples. I hope it’s okay that I gave him a few earlier.”

             
“He loves apples,” he said. “Just don’t give him too many, he’s quite the hog. I’ll be staying in town a few days over at the hotel. How would you like to make ten dollars?”

             
“Golly, ten dollars! That’s a lot of money. What do I have to do for it?” he asked excitedly.

             
“All you have to do is let me know when Hastings gets back to town.”

             
“What if he finds out I told you?” he asked, a worried look on his face. “He’ll beat me for sure and I’ll lose my job and I need this job mister. I have to help my ma. She’s got a bum leg and can’t do much work. Besides, how am I supposed to let you know without getting caught?”

             
“I’ll tell you how, Billy,” he replied. “I’m staying at the hotel in room twelve. If it’s late at night, just knock on my door three times, wait a few seconds, and knock twice more. If it’s during the day, just find me and look me in the eyes from a distance. I’ll know what it means. And I’ll make it twenty dollars instead, how’s that?”

             
“Well, my ma can sure use twenty dollars.”

             
“Thanks, Billy, I owe you,” he said as he turned to walk out. Before he got to the front door, he turned and said, “Hey, Billy?”

             
“Yeah?”

             
“I never saw a dead man give anyone a beating,” he said with a knowing look.

             
Jess went back to the hotel and picked up his clean set of clothes. He went to his room and packed his clothes in his bag. He always had to be ready to move at an instant. After that, he went back down to the dining room of the hotel and had supper. He turned in early and arranged his room very carefully. He put the chair in front of the door and put his pistol on the table next to his bed. The bed was comfortable, much more so than the cold hard ground he had been sleeping on the last several days. He drifted off to sleep wondering how he would kill Randy Hastings. He wanted to make him suffer as much as possible. He imagined putting the last bullet between his eyes.

CHAPTER NINE

              Jess rose before dawn, dressed and went down to the dining room. There were a few people already eating. He sat down in the corner again. Before long, Martha came out of the kitchen and took a few orders and then she noticed him. She brought him a cup and poured him some coffee.

             
“Are you hungry this morning?” asked Martha.

             
“How about some scrambled eggs and a pile of bacon?”

             
“Be right out with it,” she said smiling.

             
“Still got any of that apple pie left for dessert?” he asked before she walked away.

             
“I saved a piece just for you.”

             
“And maybe you could throw in some flapjacks, too?”

             
“My, my; aren’t we hungry this morning?” she asked playfully.

             
“I’m still a growing boy,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. Martha laughed as she headed for the kitchen.

             
Jess finished breakfast and washed it down with several cups of hot coffee. He noticed Sheriff Manley eating at another table. Jess left Martha a nice tip and once again she smiled. It was the best tip she’d ever got waiting tables. She walked over and began cleaning off Sheriff Manley’s table. He had been joined by one of his poker pals, a man by the name of Ron Butler.

             
“Well, Martha,” the sheriff asked, “what do you think about our young new guest we have in town.”

             
“I don’t rightly know yet, Sheriff, but he seems like a mighty interesting young man. I think he acts a lot older than he really is.”

             
“What do you mean by that?”

             
“Sheriff, he may be all of sixteen or seventeen, but he acts more like a man of twenty. He backed down Scott Vogan yesterday and the look in his eyes when he was doing it…well…it scared Vogan, and quite frankly, it scared me a little, too.”

             
“Really; what kind of look?” asked the sheriff.

             
“The kind of look that could burn a hole straight through you,” she replied frankly. “A look of torment and hatred all rolled up into one. If that look didn’t kill you, I’m sure he would in a heartbeat. Yet, he seems like such a nice young man. It’s a little strange; like he’s two people all wrapped up as one.”

             
“Well, you don’t have to worry about him much longer,” said the sheriff. “He’s looking for Randy Hastings.”

             
“He told me that yesterday,” she said fatefully. “I sure wouldn’t want to be him.”

             
“You mean our young guest over there?”

             
“No, I’m saying I wouldn’t want to be Randy Hastings,” replied Martha with caution.

             
Ron Butler finally chimed in. “Hastings is pretty damn fast with those twin six-shooters,” said Butler. “I watched him draw in that gunfight over at the saloon and he was pretty quick. Hastings won’t be a pushover when it comes to a gunfight.”

             
“Call it a hunch, but I think Hastings may have met his match,” she said as she walked back to the kitchen.

             
“What do you think, Sheriff?” asked Butler.

             
“I don’t know, but I’ll put ten bucks on Hastings if you’ll take the bet,” said the sheriff. Butler thought about what Martha had said about the young man called Jess Williams and took the bet.

             
Jess went out on the porch of the hotel and sat in one of the chairs. He watched the town wake up and watched the local townspeople going about their daily business. Sheriff Manley left the hotel and headed for the saloon. Jess took another stroll around town and stopped in to see Billy at the livery. The old man who owned the livery was there and he was yelling at Billy for taking too much time caring for Jess’s horse. Jess showed up just as the old man slapped Billy on the back of the head.

             
“Damn it boy, quit fussing over that damn horse and clean up this shit here!” hollered the old man. “I ain’t telling you again, you hear?”

             
“Yes, sir,” replied Billy. “I’ll get to it right now.”

             
“Well, see to it that you do,” grumbled the old man.

             
Billy grabbed a shovel and started to scoop up the horse droppings. Jess walked into the livery. The old man noticed him when Jess said good morning to Billy. Billy just nodded at Jess and kept working for fear he’d get another slap on the head.

             
“What can I do for you?” the old man asked in a grumpy voice.

             
“Well, first off, you can stop slapping the boy around,” replied Jess. “That horse he’s fussing over is mine. I expect him to be taken care of properly, and I made him promise me to do so.” Jess didn’t mention the extra money he was paying Billy to take care of Gray, remembering what Billy said about the old man taking the money if he found out.

             
“Hell, that boy ain’t got a lick of sense that ain’t been beat into him. Besides, what’s it to you anyway?” barked the old man. Jess looked at Billy and smiled.

             
“Well, let’s just say that I’ve taken a liking to the boy and don’t want to see him mistreated. You got a problem with that?” he asked, turning to glare at the old man.

             
The old man looked at Jess and didn’t say anything for a moment or two, studying him.

             
“Sure, if that’s what makes you happy,” replied the old man in a softer tone of voice.

             
“I’m glad we have an understanding,” he implied. “And billy, don’t forget a few apples for Gray today.”

             
“No problem,” said Billy with a big smile on his face.

             
“So what’re you in town for anyway?” asked the old man, spitting out some tobacco juice on the ground.

             
“I’m looking for a man by the name of Randy Hastings. You know him?”

             
“Hell yes, I know him,” said the old man. “I take care of his horse. He should be back tomorrow. What’s your business with him?”

             
“Personal.”

             
The old man laughed, “Hope it’s not too personal.”

             
“Why do you say that?”

             
“You’ll find out when he gets back in town,” replied the old man with a strange smile on his face.

             
“I suppose I will,” he replied, glaring at the old man again, quickly wiping the strange smile off his face.

***

              Scott Vogan and Saul Littman had been bellied up to the bar in Spurs Saloon for at least two hours now. They shared a bottle of whiskey and neither of the two was feeling much pain. Ray, the barkeep, didn’t like Vogan; but he didn’t say anything to him because he knew that Littman was a hired gun with a nasty disposition and pretty good with a pistol.

             
“So who was this punk who gave you a hatful of shit today?” Saul asked Vogan.

             
“I never saw him around before. I think I overheard the sheriff say his name was Jess Williams or something like that.”

             
“Why didn’t you just pull leather on him and smack a bullet into his smart mouth?”

             
“I don’t rightly know. I guess it was that look in his eyes. It was unnatural like. I thought maybe he was just plumb loco.”

             
“Hells-fire!” bellowed Littman. “A look ain’t ever killed anyone as far as I know.”

             
“I suppose so, but you had to be there,” explained Vogan in a defensive tone. I’m telling you, it wasn’t normal. I think the kid’s got the devil inside him or something.”

             
Saul laughed at that notion. “You leave the little shit head to me. I’ll straighten him out right quick.” Saul looked up just in time to see Ray with a funny look on his face.

             
“What the hell you smirking about?” asked Saul.

             
“Nothing,” replied Ray, sheepishly.

             
“Don’t give me that shit,” refuted Saul. “I saw that little smirk on your face. You best tell me what you think is so funny else I’ll wipe that smirk off your face with the butt of my pistol.”

             
Ray was a barkeep, not a fighter, so he answered timidly. “I was just remembering how Sam over at the hotel bar was telling me about how that William’s kid backed Scott down yesterday. According to Sam, he’s got the look of death in his eyes. I saw it yesterday with my own eyes when he was talkin’ to the sheriff.”