The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western (6 page)

             
“I know, Jess,” argued Jim, “but taking care of a ranch is an awful lot of responsibility to take on. Are you sure you’re ready for all that?”

             
“I guess I’ll have to be,” he replied, a tone of finality to his voice. Jim shook his head in frustration.

             
“Okay,” Jim said reluctantly. “But you promise me that if you have any trouble or need any help, you’ll let us know, okay?”

             
“I will…I promise,” he replied.

             
“The sheriff and his posse will be back in a day or so,” Jim said. “We’ll let him know that you’re out here. Is there anything else we can do for you right now?”

             
“No; I just need some time to myself,” he replied bluntly.

             
“Okay then. Just don’t forget, if you need anything…” Jim started saying when Sara took Jim’s arm and he knew that meant for him to shut up.

             
“Thanks for everything,” said Jess. “I won’t forget it. Pa always told me to repay kindness with the same.”

             
“Your pa was a smart man, Jess, and a damn good one,” said Jim. “We’re all going to miss him and your ma, and Samantha, too. We won’t forget them; ever.”

             
“I won’t forget either,” Jess said as he turned his stare from the gravesites to the rolling hills out past the field that his pa was plowing when he was shot down in his tracks. “I won’t
ever
forget,” he said softly to himself.

             
“Well, we best be going, Jess,” said Jim.

             
Jim and Sara got into the back of the preacher’s wagon and the other few townspeople rode out with the Blacksmith back to town. Jess found himself all alone for the first time in his life. It was a strange feeling. He didn’t like it, but he knew he had to get used to it. Jess sat down in front of the three fresh gravesites. He sat there for almost an hour. He kept thinking about how he and Samantha had always fought and how she used to aggravate him to no end. He wished she were here right now to do it again, but that wasn’t going to happen, ever again.

             
He remembered his ma and how she was always there to help him with anything. His thoughts turned to his pa. How he had finally come down to the creek to teach him how to draw the wooden pistol he carved for him. He was just going to have to finish learning all by himself. But not with the wooden pistol his pa had carved. No, he would have to begin to practice with his pa’s .45 that was in the box under his pa’s bed. Before it was just a challenge to see how fast he could draw, now there was a
need.
He had to learn to be the best. Without really knowing or planning it, his mind was formulating a mission. He would hunt down the people who had so savagely murdered his entire family and kill them, one by one and there would be no mercy. He would kill them and in the most vicious way he could. They would suffer. His pa always told him there were some pretty bad people in the world, but he never realized just how bad. People that bad had no right to live as far as he was concerned.

             
Jess finally got up and said a little prayer over his family. After the prayer, he made his solemn promise to them. He made an oath that he would not rest until he tracked down and killed everyone responsible for their deaths. He walked back up to the house and went inside. Someone cleaned up the large pool of blood where his ma’s body hung; only a dark stain remaining.

             
The smell of food surprised him. There was a fire in the stove and Jess found some fried chicken in a pot along with some biscuits.
Sara.
She was a good person and he was thankful to have her as a friend. He wouldn’t go hungry tonight, but tomorrow he would have to fend for himself. He would have to do everything by himself now.

             
He felt the loneliness begin to set in as he sat at the table alone and ate. He decided he would go out and finish plowing the field his pa had started on first thing in the morning. He figured he would have to run the ranch for the next year or so. Then, he would ride out and carry out the deadly oath he made to his family. He would let the sheriff go after the men, but if he didn’t catch them, he would go after them himself. If the sheriff caught them, they would hang, and he would watch. Regardless, they will be reckoned with. Deep within himself, he hoped for the latter.

             
He finished the meal and then noticed there was a pie sitting by the window. It was an apple pie.
Sara.
Jess decided to have some later. Right now, he figured he would go and check the stock and throw some extra hay and then go down to the creek and practice with his pa’s pistol.

             
He headed out to the barn and threw some hay. He turned around to put the pitchfork back into the pile when he noticed a slight glimmer off to his right. The reflection was coming from the wall where his pa always hung his hat. What he saw hanging on the peg was the most spectacular and unusual looking pistol and holster he had ever seen. He walked over to it and picked it up off the peg. The holster was brown and had a finish to it he had never seen on any leather before. On the back of the holster was a name stamped into the leather. BOB MERNICKLE CUSTOM HOLSTERS. He also saw the words MADE IN CANADA. Another unusual feature of the holster is that it had no place to hold bullets. The pistol had a polished finish on it that was as perfect as any he had ever seen.

             
Jess strapped the holster on and it fit perfectly, as if it had been made for him. The holster held the pistol a little more out from his leg than a regular holster. The gun rode on Jess’s right leg perfectly. The holster didn’t cover as much of the gun as most holsters did. There was a nice one-inch wide leg strap that fit Jess’s leg perfectly. Jess unhooked the hammer strap and pulled the gun out. The first thing he noticed was how easy the gun seemed to glide out of the holster. It was as if the holster was greased, but it wasn’t. He reached inside the holster and felt the inside and it had a real smooth feel to it and it was harder than normal, which allowed the gun to glide out of the holster easier. Then he noticed there was no front or rear sights on the gun.

             
He looked the gun over carefully and noticed some printing stamped on it. On one side by the trigger he read the words RUGER BLACKHAWK
.41 MAGNUM CAL. On the other side of the gun was a number: 40-01079. The handgrips were made out of some type of material he had never seen before. It looked like some type of horn material and the grips flared out at the bottom so as to make the gun extremely easy to grip.

             
Jess decided to take the gun into the house to study it some more. When he got in the house, he placed the gun and holster on the kitchen table. He sat there for several minutes trying to take this all in and wondering where this unusual gun had come from.
He picked it up again. The gun was extremely light compared to the few pistols he had ever been able to hold. His pa’s gun was a Colt .45 Peacemaker and he figured it had to weigh twice as much as this gun. He didn’t know much about pistols, but he knew after handling this one for a few minutes that it was like no other pistol he had ever seen. This was something unique and special. He knew he would have to keep this gun and holster hidden for now. He walked outside and quickly went back to the barn and climbed up the ladder to the top floor. There were some wooden boxes that his pa kept there and he gently placed the gun and holster into one of the boxes and placed some more boxes around it to hide it.

             
He went back to the house and decided to have some of the apple pie Sara had left him. Before he cut it, he decided to make himself some coffee to go with it. The coffee was strong, but good and the pie was even better. As he sat there, he thought some more about the pistol. It couldn’t have been his pa’s gun or it wouldn’t have been hanging on a peg in the barn, it would have been in the box with his pa’s other gun.

             
By now, the sun was getting low in the sky. Jess decided against practicing this late and decided to turn in early tonight. He had a field to plow come morning. He had some more coffee and then he went into his pa’s room and got the shotgun from the corner and took it into his bedroom along with a few extra shells. If anyone tried to bother him tonight or the killers returned, he would be ready. He would never be surprised by anyone like his family had been. He promised himself that he would always have a gun by his side at all times and always be on the ready. As he fell off to sleep, he imagined he was tracking his family’s killers across the country. And he saw the pistol he found in the barn strapped to his waist. It looked like it belonged there.

             
He dreamed that night, but not nightmares. He dreamed good dreams of his family. He woke often through the night as he would for the rest of his life. The slightest sound would awaken him. His senses seemed more aware without him really knowing it. He would always be ready…always.

CHAPTER FIVE

              Jess woke before sunrise. Before he got out of the bed, he thought about the pistol in the barn. All the same thoughts about the pistol and holster ran through his head again. He got up and cooked himself some breakfast. While he ate, he thought of all the things he would have to do on his own. He continued to plan out what he would do. He would work the ranch for the next two years. He would be a little over sixteen and, by that time; he planned to be the quickest draw with a pistol anyone had ever seen. In the meantime, he would plant crops and sell them. He would sell off all the livestock and stash away all the money and use it to do what he needed to do; what he knew he had to do.

             
It was a hot dusty day and he never figured plowing a field would be such hard work. He earned a new respect for his pa. It was just after high noon and he decided to stop and eat. After eating a simple meal of ham and a piece of apple pie, he went back at it again. When he finished for the day, he walked back to the house after throwing some hay and looked at the blisters beginning to form on his hands. He figured that he better wear the leather gloves his pa had in the barn or else he wouldn’t be able to practice drawing a pistol in the evening, and that was something that he promised himself he would do every night.

             
After dinner, he went into his pa’s room and got the wooden box out from under the bed. He took it to the table and opened it up. Inside, he found his pa’s Colt .45 Peacemaker and the holster to go with it. He also found four boxes of .45 slugs in the bottom of the box. He strapped the gun and holster on and went down to the creek. Even with the blisters, he practiced for two hours straight. The first hour and a half he drew and dry fired the gun. Then, he loaded the pistol and spent the last half-hour using live ammunition. His practice took on a new fervor. It was not just a game anymore. Now it was something he had to do to make sure that he survived. He decided that tomorrow he would start practicing with both his pa’s pistol and the one he found in the barn.

             
When he finished practicing, he took his pa’s gun and holster and put it back in the house. Then, he climbed up in the top of the barn and looked at the pistol and holster he found. He decided to take it into the house. He finally turned in and as he lay there that night, he figured he would practice with his pa’s pistol for the first part of his practice every night and then switch to the new pistol for the rest of his practice.

             
The next day found him back out plowing the field. It was just before noon when he noticed a dust cloud out on the main road. He stopped and reached over to grab his pa’s rifle out of the scabbard that he kept strapped to the plow horse. The Winchester 44-40 still looked like new. He also had his pa’s double-barreled shotgun tied to the horse. He watched the group of riders turn down the ranch road. He counted four of them. He finally caught a glimpse of who was approaching. It was Sheriff Diggs with three other men. They rode right up to the plow rig and Jess walked around the rig after putting the shotgun down.

             
“Hi, Jess,” said Sheriff Diggs. “I sure didn’t expect to find you out here and especially never expected to see you working the field. Hell, I thought someone was trying to squat and I’d have to run him off. I figured you would still be at Jim and Sara’s. You expecting trouble?” he asked, nodding at the rifle and shotgun leaning on the plow.

             
“I wasn’t expecting any, but if there was, I’d be ready for it,” he replied. “I decided to stay here and work the ranch. Got to be a man and do a man’s work now, Sheriff. They didn’t leave me much choice about that the way I figure.” The sheriff knew who
they
were. “I reckon you didn’t find them unless you had to kill them and bury their carcasses out on the trail.”

             
“No such luck,” replied Sheriff Diggs dejectedly. “I would have loved to bury the bastards if I found them. We did find out who they were with the help of some other unfortunate people they robbed not more than ten miles from here. I also got some news from the sheriff in a little town about twenty miles east of here. They stopped there for a drink and someone overheard them bragging about how they killed some people and raped some women. The sheriff didn’t have any wanted posters on them, but he did get a look at them and he gave me a pretty good description. We had a local artist in town draw up some wanted posters and I showed them to the couple that was robbed and they were able to identify all three of them. I need you to look at them to see if they are the same three men you met on the road that day.” Jess took the drawings from the sheriff and looked at them, the look on his face hardening as he did. It was the same three men.