The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western (21 page)

             
“I’m afraid you just might pay for it,” said Steele, meaning something altogether different; but Mason and his group didn’t hear him. They had already turned their horses around and headed across the street to the saloon. They dismounted and walked into the saloon and bellied up to the bar.

             
“Jed, get us a bottle of your best whiskey and four glasses,” barked Mason, “and make it fast.”

             
“Yes, sir, Mr. Mason, right away,” replied Jed, as he went into the back room and brought out two bottles of his best whiskey. He knew from experience that one bottle was not going to be enough. Ray, one of the four men that Mason brought with him, and the fastest of the four with a pistol, poured a shot for Mason and himself.

             
“I’d sure like to get the first crack at that kid, Mr. Mason,” Ray said enthusiastically.

             
“That’s fine by me, Ray,” replied Mason. “I know you and Ben were good friends. That’s why I brought you along. The fact you’re the next best man I have with a pistol wasn’t lost on me when I picked you.”

             
“Hey, what about us?” asked one of the other men.

             
“You’ll all get your chance after Ray here,” an enraged Mason replied. “And whoever plugs him gets a hundred dollar bonus in his pay envelope next month.” They all smiled at that, but Ray was smiling the most. He was going to get the first crack at this kid everyone claimed was fast and he was sure he could take him. He had no way of knowing just how wrong he was. Mason and his men settled in for the wait and Sheriff Steele watched the saloon from his office window. He knew today was going to be a day he would more than earn the small salary the town paid him. Hopefully, at the end of the day, he could spend some of it on a drink; which he was sure he was going to need by then.

***

              There were bad men and then there were really bad men. These were men who would kill without remorse or rob people of their life’s work and sleep like a baby with no regret for their actions. However, Blake Taggert didn’t belong to that class of men. He was in a class all by himself. He was just plain evil to the bone. If ever God made mistakes, Blake Taggert was surely one of them. There was absolutely nothing good about Taggert. He had killed his first man when he was just twelve. That man was his father. His father was a mean ornery cuss who beat Blake’s mother; and whenever he felt like it, he’d beat on Blake. One night, he took a bottle and broke it over Blake’s head. It cut Blake’s head so bad that the blood just kept running in his eyes and he could hardly see. Blake was used to the violence, but for some reason something snapped inside him that night. Maybe the knock on his head did something to change him or maybe he was just a bad seed and he had finally had all he could take from his father. Blake went over to the fireplace and took down the Winchester rifle that his father always kept there and shot his father four times. When his mother screamed at him, he shot her three times. He saddled up the best horse, took all the money his parents had stashed in the house and never looked back. Truth be known, no one ever figured out Blake was the one who killed his parents. Everyone thought Blake had been kidnapped and killed or had run off after finding his parents murdered. No one really cared so the matter was just considered another unsolved murder.

             
While Beard was on his way to Timber, Blake had done what he said he had planned. He rode out to the homestead outside of Red Rock and murdered the family he told Frank about. He walked into the house about midnight and used the pillow to shoot the couple and then he raped the young daughter. The worst part about it was he dragged the daughter into her parents’ bedroom and raped her right there on the bloody bed between her now dead parents’ bodies. Before he was finished with her, she was covered in her parents’ blood and she was almost in a catatonic state from the shock of what was happening to her.

             
Then, when he was finished with her, he took his pistol, stuck it between her legs, and fired one shot. The shot was somewhat muffled and the bullet passed out of her stomach, along with some of her insides. He watched the life drain out of the girl and then he smiled at his work. He ransacked the house until he found the money. They had over six hundred dollars stashed in several different places and when Blake was satisfied he found all the money, he headed back to Red Rock; making sure no one saw him return. It was several days before the bodies were discovered, but no one had a clue as to who would do such a horrible thing. Blake just smiled to himself when he heard the men talk about it at the saloon. “Blew the girl’s innards right out!” he had heard one of the old men say.

***

              Jess arrived back in town shortly after Mason and his hired guns went to the saloon. He took the back way into town and slid up to the side window of Steele’s office. He could see Steele sitting in a chair and looking out the window.

             
“Afternoon Sheriff, you having a bad day?” asked Jess.

             
“Christ, Jess!” exclaimed a surprise Sheriff Steele. “Don’t ever sneak up on a man like that unless you plan on getting shot!” Steele relaxed a little. “Actually, I’m watching trouble right now over there at the saloon. Why don’t you come on in? I can see all five of them and they’re all bellied up to the bar and not looking this way.” Jess quickly walked into the sheriff’s office.

             
“So, is this a result of what happened with me and Grady the other day?” asked Jess.

             
“You have a keen sense of perception for as young as you are,” replied Sheriff Steele. “Yeah, old Mason and his group are over there waiting for you to come back to town. Then, they plan on making sure you’re dead before they leave.”

             
“Not very friendly people hey, Sheriff?” Jess asked sarcastically.

             
“Paul Mason is a lot of things,” replied Steele. “Rich, tough, married to a beautiful young woman, but definitely not friendly.”

             
“Did you explain it was a fair fight and that Grady drew first?” asked Jess.

             
“No, and I didn’t tell him about the time my father gave me my first horse either since I didn’t think he was interested in either of those stories,” the sheriff said mockingly. “Of course I told him. He just didn’t give a shit.”

             
“Well, what do you suggest, Sheriff?”

             
“Well, it seems to me you’ve got two choices,” he replied. “Head out of town and put some distance between you and Mason or go over there and probably get shot. I’ll be glad to stall them for as long as I can.”

             
Jess thought about it for a minute. “I haven’t finished what I came here to do. So, I guess I’ll just have to go over there and have a little talk with Mason.”

             
“Damn it,” he complained. “I just knew you were going to say that. Listen Jess, I’ve known Mason for a long time and he’s not a man to be messing with. He said he plans on seeing you dead for killing Grady and he’ll damn sure try. You won’t talk him out of it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

             
“We won’t know until I try now, will we? Besides, if I start running from trouble now, I’ll be running forever and that’s not going to happen. You can join me if you want, it’s your choice. It’s not your fight and I won’t ask you to involve yourself in the matter. I believe in a man taking care of his own problems,” he stated it as plainly as he could.

             
“Maybe, but I’m still the sheriff in town and I won’t stand for any gunplay unless it’s fair. That’s what I get paid for. So, I guess I’ll just tag along for the hell of it. It’s either that or do more paperwork.”

             
Jess knew Sheriff Steele would involve himself, it was just in the nature of a man like him to never shy away from a problem. Steele grabbed a few more shotgun shells and put them in his front pocket. He noticed Jess had two pockets sewed into his shirt that held two shells in just the right place.

             
“Kind of handy,” said Steele, as he nodded at Jess’s shirt as Steele was putting the twelve gauge shotgun shells into his pocket.

             
“I like to be prepared, Sheriff,” he replied.

             
They both seemed ready and they looked at each other for a moment as if to wonder how their two lives had seemed to cross paths at this moment in time. Then they nodded at each other and walked out onto the front porch of the sheriff’s office. They took a look around the street and up at the rooftops to make sure no one was ready to take a shot at them. As they walked across the street, and without taking his eyes off the front doors of the saloon, Steele said, “I sure hope you’re as good as Jed said you was.” There was no answer from Jess. He had other things to concentrate on.

             
As they walked up the two steps to the porch in front of the saloon, Steele could see that the four men who rode in with Mason had turned around with their backs to the bar. As Jess and Steele walked into the bar, the two of them split up. Jess went to the right and Steele to the left. Steele could hardly hear it when Jess said to him in a whisper, “the two on the left are yours, if you want in.” The room was so quiet you could hear a cockroach fart. Finally, Mason finished up his drink and slowly turned around to face Jess and Sheriff Steele.

             
“Sheriff,” said Mason, as he shot a look at Jess. “Is that the young man responsible for killing Ben Grady?”

             
“As a matter of fact, yes it is,” answered Steele, setting the twelve-gauge on a table, but still within his reach. Mason looked Jess over for a moment. He was looking at a young man who looked to be not more than seventeen years old; however, Mason could sense there was more to this young man than a cursory glance could tell.

             
“So, you’re the kid who outdrew Ben Grady?” asked Mason.

             
“Yep, that would be me,” said Jess, not taking his eyes off Paul Mason. Jess realized right off Mason was the man who controlled his other four hired guns in the saloon, who were all staring at Jess. Jess knew they would do nothing without Mason’s approval.

             
“You know what son, Ben Grady was my best man. You have to realize just how hard it is for me to believe that a young kid like you outdrew him. Hell, boy, you ain’t lived as long as Ben Grady was hiring his gun out. The Sheriff here claims it was a fair fight?” an angry Mason spoke. Sheriff Steele didn’t move or say one word, but a voice from behind the bar spoke up. It was Jed, the barkeep.

             
“Mr. Mason,” interjected Jed. “I saw the fight and it was a fair one. Ben drew on Jess first. Jess here drew that gun so fast I could hardly see it. Grady never even had a chance. His gun damn near fell back inside the holster. The only reason it didn’t was Grady fell back and his pistol fell out of his hand and on the floor. I’m telling you, I saw it; but I still don’t believe it.”

             
Mason listened to Jed’s recount of the gunfight, but it only made him angrier. There was no way he could replace Ben Grady unless he could hire this young man who had killed him. He didn’t think that was possible and he wasn’t sure in his mind this kid was all that good. Maybe he just got off a lucky shot. He didn’t know and he didn’t really care. All he cared about was that he had lost his best man and because of that he would lose a lot of money over the next year or so it would take to replace him.

             
“Well, son,” groused Mason. “It seems like we have a problem.” Jess cocked his head a little and smiled at Mason, which only made him angrier.

             
“I don’t seem to have a problem,” replied Jess. Mason took a step forward.

             
“You don’t see that you have a problem?” he asked. Jess thought about if for another moment. He looked at the other four men standing at the bar and then back to Mason.

             
“No, not really,” replied Jess calmly. Mason started peeling his leather gloves off one finger at a time while trying to stare Jess down. Jess didn’t flinch or show the slightest sign of being nervous.

             
“How old are you son?” asked Mason.

             
“Sixteen.”

             
“Only sixteen?”

             
“Yes, sir.”

             
“How long have you been using that pistol?”

             
“Long enough, I guess.”

             
“You guess?” An annoyed Mason questioned.

             
“That’s what I said,” said Jess casually.

             
“Where’d you get a gun like that?”

             
“Found it.”

             
“Well, son, how the hell did you make it to sixteen with an attitude like that?”