The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western (8 page)

             
Jess picked up his supplies and the boxes of cartridges and loaded them in the wagon. He climbed up in the seat and slapped the reins on the paint’s rear and headed out of town and back to the ranch. Jim looked at Sheriff Diggs.

             
“You need anything, Sheriff?” asked Jim.

             
“Not really; I was just checking on Jess,” said Sheriff Diggs. “He makes me nervous messing with his pa’s guns. I don’t like him getting that close to a pistol at his age, especially with what’s happened and all. There’s something going on in that boy’s head and I don’t think it’s anything good either.”

             
“Hell Sheriff, his whole family was murdered in cold blood and he saw it with his own eyes,” expressed Jim. “That would put a change in anyone’s life including you, the hard-case that you are.” The sheriff laughed at that and agreed.

             
“Well, let me know what he buys from you in the way of ammunition, okay?” asked Diggs. “I want to keep an eye on him. He’s really starting to worry me.”

             
“Sure thing, Sheriff,” replied Jim. “Sara and I only want the best for him too, but he is a man now and he’s going to have to find his own way.”

             
“I know. I just don’t want it to be the wrong way,” cautioned Sheriff Diggs.

             
The sheriff walked out and looked down the main street and he could see Jess turning the corner out of town. There was a real bad feeling growing in the back of his head about him. Yet, somehow he knew there was nothing he could do about it. He knew the boy was holding in a real rage about what had happened to his family and he understood that. He just wondered how all that rage would find its way out of the young man. Then he slowly hung his head and shuddered inside as he came to the realization that he already knew the answer to that question.

CHAPTER SIX

              For the next two years, Jess pretty much followed the same routine every day. He worked the ranch, taking care of the stock and working the fields. He sold off small groups of cattle here and there and put the money in the bank. He made many trips to town for supplies and ammunition. Every evening, he went down to the creek and practiced with his pa’s .45 and the new pistol. He was getting pretty fast with his pa’s gun, but he was like greased lightning when he drew his new gun. His accuracy was getting much better, too. He rarely missed a bottle whether it was standing still or even waving in the breeze hanging on a branch. He had even taken to throwing bottles up in the air and hitting them on the way down. He made it more difficult by wearing a hat while looking straight ahead and not up and then only drawing the gun when the bottle came into his field of view. This only gave him a fraction of a second to hit the target. At first, he missed most of the bottles. Later on, he rarely missed one.

             
He learned to point and shoot accurately. He learned to rapid fire and to fan the trigger, especially the second shot; which would become his trademark shot. He would cock the hammer back as he pulled the pistol out for the first shot and then use the middle finger of his left hand to fan the second shot a split second later. Before he drew, his right hand was down by the butt of his pistol and his left hand was just above his right hand, ready to fan the second shot. He would even go upstream and throw several bottles in the creek and run back and wait for them to come into his side vision. When they did, he drew and blasted them out of the water, one by one.

             
The new gun seemed to jump out of the holster with the least of effort. He was well on his way to being the fastest man to draw and shoot a pistol because he had an advantage that no other man had; the gun. Without it, he could learn to draw as fast as any of the best. But with it, he would become unbeatable.

             
Not only did he practice with pistols; he practiced with the rifle and the shotgun. With the shotgun, he made a special holster that was strapped to his back so that the handle of the shotgun stuck up just over his right shoulder. He practiced loading both shells into the shotgun in one fluid motion. He sewed some pockets onto his shirt that held two shotgun shells together so that he could grab and reload the shotgun quickly. He had to carry his pistol cartridges in his front pants pockets since the holster had no holders for bullets. He didn’t understand why, but it didn’t matter to him. He learned to throw a knife. He made a scabbard for the knife and tucked it behind him under the holster and tied it in place with a small leather thong.

             
During all this time, the sheriff was out to talk to Jess several times. He knew what Jess was planning and he knew it from the start. About a week before Jess was ready to head out for the trail, he decided to pay a visit to Sheriff Diggs and see if there was any news about the three men who had murdered his family. As he walked into the sheriff’s office, the sheriff was checking out the lock on one of his three jail cells.

             
“Need help with that, Sheriff?” asked Jess. The sheriff turned around.

             
“Well it’s about time you came to visit me,” exclaimed Diggs. “Naw, I’ll get the blacksmith down here to fix it. Damn thing won’t stay locked and I sure can’t have that. What can I do for you?”

             
“I’m just checking one last time to see if you’ve heard anything new about the three men who killed my family,” replied Jess.

             
“Actually, you’re in luck,” exclaimed Sheriff Diggs. “I just got some information on one of them. Remember the one with the missing boot heel?”

             
“I remember every one of them, Sheriff,” he replied candidly.

             
“Well, Sheriff Manley, up in Tarkenton, about two hundred miles northwest of here, says someone fitting his description got into a shootout with the local hothead there and got himself wounded,” exclaimed Sheriff Diggs. “He killed the other man, but needed surgery to remove a bullet from his left thigh so he’s been recuperating in the town’s local cathouse for the last couple of weeks. I’ve got no information on the other two, but at least it’s a start.”

             
“Why doesn’t the sheriff arrest him and lock him up?”

             
Sheriff Diggs let out a sigh as he sat down behind his desk. “Jess, you need to understand that most lawmen are not tough men,” he explained. “Some of them can’t even handle a gun and quite frankly, most of the lawmen in small towns just do it for the money so they don’t starve. They can’t handle or won’t handle most hardened criminals.”

             
“Then they need to get new lawmen,” he countered.

             
“No one else will take the jobs in those small towns,” said Diggs shaking his head. “I ain’t saying it’s right, I’m only telling you how it really is, okay?” Jess just shook his head, not wanting to understand how things really were.

             
“Anyway,” the sheriff continued, “he’s the one called Randy Hastings. The only murder he’s known to have committed is your family, although I have to believe he’s guilty of more. The wanted poster says there’s a five hundred dollar bounty on his head, dead or alive. I thought about heading up there and seeing if I can bring him in.”

             
“No, don’t bother, Sheriff,” he replied sharply. “Leave him to me.”

             
Sheriff Diggs had a look of frustration on his face as he took on a fatherly tone. “Jess, don’t talk that way,” he said. “Hell, Jess, I know what you’ve been planning since that day I met you at your house when you were plowing the fields. I’ve watched you come into town and buy every round of ammunition Jim Smythe has ordered over the last two years. I know about your practice with your pa’s gun and I know what’s in that skull of yours. But it just ain’t a good idea to go off and hunt men down and kill ‘em. It’ll change your life forever. It’ll turn you into a cold-blooded killer and you’ll never be able to come back from that. Once you start, you can’t stop and then you’ll end up dead before it’s over. Trust me, I’ve seen it over and over again and I don’t want to see it happen to you.”

             
“Sheriff, I understand what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it, I really do,” he said thoughtfully. “But you have to understand something. I died inside that day I sat on the porch of my pa’s house after finding my entire family murdered. That’s the day I changed, not today. I have only one mission left in life and it’s to hunt those bastards down and make them pay. I’ll kill every one of them along with anyone else who gets in my way. Look in these eyes, Sheriff. What do you see?” He walked closer to the sheriff. The sheriff looked into Jess’s eyes, which were black and cold, devoid of anything but death and vengeance. Diggs lowered his eyes to the paperwork on his desk, a sad look on his face, even though he understood.

             
“Okay, here is everything I have on Randy Hastings,” exclaimed Sheriff Diggs. “As soon as I get anything on the other two, I will get it to you. You just promise me you’re going to be careful. These men are cold and callous killers Jess,” replied the sheriff.

             
“Thanks, Sheriff,” he said, as he took the copy of the wanted poster of Randy Hastings. “You can be sure of one thing. Their killing days are coming to an end.” Jess said it with such a meaning in his voice that the sheriff truly believed it.

             
Jess headed over to the bank to see Mr. Jameson. He wanted to go over the account before he left town. He had sold everything that he figured he wouldn’t need and now had over nine hundred dollars in the bank. As always, Mr. Jameson was working at his desk. He was always glad to see Jess because he was usually bringing money to deposit.

             
“Howdy, Jess. Making a deposit again?” asked Mr. Jameson.

             
“Not today. Actually, I need to take some money out,” he replied.

             
“Well, how much do you need, Jess?”

             
“I’d like two hundred dollars.”

             
“Alright,” said Jameson, as he filled out a slip for him to take to the teller. Jess remained seated. “Anything else I can do for you today, Jess?”

             
“I was wondering how I can get money when I’m on the trail?” he asked.

             
Jameson explained about how he could wire for money if he needed any while away from town. Then Jess went to the general store and visited with Jim and Sara. He explained that he would be leaving town and he paid up his bill and purchased all the boxes of .45 cartridges Jim had in stock, as well as rounds for the rifle and more shotgun shells. He told Jim and Sara that he would stop by next week and see them one more time before he left and then he headed out of town and back to the ranch. Jim and Sara were standing on the front porch of the store watching Jess ride out. Sara looked up at Jim with tears in her eyes.

             
“Do you think we should tell him?” asked Sara.

             
“I don’t know, Sara. I’ve got to think about it. We can decide before he leaves town next week.”

             
“He deserves to know, Jim,” she pleaded. “We should tell him before he finds out for himself.”

             
“We’ll see, Sara, we’ll see,” he replied.

             
Jess went back to the ranch and spent his last week there. That last week at the ranch was a week full of memories. He spent a lot of time sitting at the gravesites remembering all the good times. Jess knew that someday he would come back, but not for a while. He knew he was in for a long and hard journey. On the last day, he made his last breakfast in the cabin, saddled up and headed for town to say his last goodbyes. Before he climbed in the saddle he strapped his new gun on, put his pa’s rifle in the scabbard and put the shotgun into the special back holster he had made from his pa’s scraps of leather. He stuck his pa’s Colt .45 Peacemaker in the front of his holster belt. He checked his knife and it was sharp and in its place strapped to the back of his gun belt. He was ready. He was ready for anything or anybody. Yet, he had something more. Something most men didn’t have. He had rage—and he had reason. Jess looked over the ranch once more before he started down the ranch road toward the main road leading into Black Creek.

             
Something happened to him when he rode down the ranch road. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. His life instantly changed forever at that moment. He felt like he had crossed an imaginary line of some sort. There was no feeling inside him one way or another. There was nothing he was afraid of and nothing that could stand in his way. God help the men he hunted or anyone who got in his way. They were destined for death, and he was destined to do the killing. It felt right.

CHAPTER SEVEN

              On his way into Black Creek, Jess stopped along the way at his old favorite stop by the big boulder at the bend in the creek. Not for himself though, just for his horse to drink. While Gray drank, Jess remembered the confrontation with the three men on that fateful day. He could picture the three men as if they were right there in front of him right now. Gray finished drinking and Jess continued toward town. As soon as he rode around the last bend toward the main street of town, he noticed the town was busier than usual. There were people gathering together and talking to one another. He noticed one man who ran across the street to the saloon. He put himself on high alert. He pulled up in the front of Jim and Sara’s general store. He dismounted and was tying up Gray when Jim walked out of the store.