THE BOUNTY: Twentieth in a Series of Jess Williams Westerns (A Jess Williams Western Book 20)

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THE BOUNTY: Twentieth in a Series of Jess Williams Westerns (A Jess Williams Western Book 20) Page 13

by Robert J. Thomas


  “There’s no way I’m taking Jane into that town again,” submitted Jess. “The last time we were there, I had to kill three men before we could get out of town. I’ll keep Rubin and her with me and we’ll make camp over there by those boulders. Make sure you ain’t being followed when you come back. If you are, fire off three shots and I’ll know to come running.” Lauter took the list and the gold piece. Gilpin shot Jess a funny look.

  “How about enough money to buy me some new boots?” Gilpin griped.

  “You can’t wear them anyway until the swelling goes down and your foot gets back to normal size,” offered Jess.

  “But you are gonna buy me some new ones,” complained Gilpin.

  “Hell, once we get to Defiance, you’ll have five thousand dollars,” argued Jess. “You’ll be able to buy a dozen pair.”

  Lauter and Gilpin spurred their horses into a walk heading for Kendall. Jess, Jane and Rubin rode over to the large group of boulders and made a small fire to warm up some beans and make a pot of coffee. Jess pulled his Sharps buffalo gun out and placed it on top of one of the boulders along with the pouch of cartridges for it just in case.

  ***

  Lauter and Gilpin rode into Kendall and down the middle of the street until they found the doctor’s office, which doubled as a tonsorial parlor. Gilpin climbed down out of the saddle and limped into the little office and Lauter rode over to the general store in town to pick up the list of supplies. Lauter packed the supplies into his saddlebags and led his horse back over to the doctor’s office. When he walked in, he found Gilpin in a back room lying on a table and the doctor was finishing wrapping up his left foot.

  “That should do it,” the doctor said. “I’d get a slipper or maybe a moccasin to wear on it to keep it dry until the swelling goes down and you can put your boot back on.”

  “I already thought of that,” implied Lauter, handing Gilpin an oversized pair of moccasins made out of soft leather. Gilpin put the left one on, but he left his right boot on and threw the right moccasin into the corner of the room in disgust.

  “Why don’t you wear them both?” asked Lauter.

  “Do I look like some Injun to you?” spat Gilpin angrily.

  “Now that you mention it,” chuckled Lauter.

  “See, that’s why I’m keeping this right boot on, so I can stick it up your ass for being such a smartass,” threatened Gilpin.

  Lauter paid the doctor his fee and enough money for the rickety old crutch he had in his office. The two of them walked out and looked around the town. It was eerily quiet for late in the afternoon. Gilpin noticed a small saloon down the street and he elbowed Lauter.

  “We got enough money left for a drink or two?” asked Gilpin. Lauter reached into his pocket and counted out what money they had left. They had already burned through the two hundred dollars they had conned out of Walt Mercer, but they had enough money left over from the twenty dollar gold piece Jess had given them.

  “We got enough for a few drinks,” inferred Lauter. “Let’s limp on over and have one or two.” Gilpin shot his partner a harsh look.

  “I swear I’m gonna beat you with this crutch.”

  “Hell, it looks like it’ll fall apart if you try that.”

  The two of them headed for the saloon. Lauter was walking and Gilpin was limping and the crutch was creaking with every step. They finally made it to the saloon and they walked in to find several men loitering around. The barkeep was standing behind the bar with an apron tied around his waist and a dirty towel draped over his right shoulder. He was chewing on a fat stubby cigar. He smiled as Gilpin creaked up to the bar and laid the crutch on top of the bar.

  “You start laughing and I’ll poke your eye out with this thing,” barked Gilpin, picking the crutch up off the bar. Lauter gave the barkeep a sly grin.

  “My friend here is a little…sensitive about his recent injury,” chuckled Lauter. “We’ll take two whiskeys.”

  The barkeep grabbed two glasses and poured some whiskey into each of them and left the bottle on the bar and walked away. Gilpin was looking at a picture of a half-naked woman that was hanging up above the bar, but Lauter was leaning his back against the bar, which is why he saw Brack Wright riding into town on a big roan horse.

  “Lefty, we got company,” said Lauter. Gilpin turned around at the bar and frowned.

  “He is the worst person we need to run into right now,” complained Gilpin as Wright climbed down from the saddle and hitched his horse to the wooden rail outside.

  Brack Wright was a bounty hunter and an excellent tracker. He was raised by a Comanche Indian tribe in Kansas until he was about twenty years old. He finally ran off after the Army killed off most of the tribe in a bloody two-day battle. He was a dogged tracker and the fact that he was an expert with any type of weapon wasn’t lost on Gilpin or Lauter. Wright carried a sawed off rifle and two .36 caliber Navy Colts strapped around his waist in a double holster. As soon as Wright pushed through the batwing doors, he recognized Lauter and Gilpin immediately. He looked at Gilpin’s foot and smiled a sardonic smile.

  “Well Lefty, it looks like you’re living up to your nickname,” grinned Wright, looking at the moccasin on Lefty’s left foot.

  “I’m wearing this thing ‘cause I got shot in the foot by that damn…,” Gilpin didn’t finish his words because Lauter quickly elbowed him and Wright immediately picked up on it.

  “So who was it who shot you in the foot?” asked Wright in a curious tone.

  “I shot him by accident,” offered Lauter quickly.

  “That’s what I was gonna say when you elbowed me,” added Gilpin with a forced smile. Wright walked up to the bar and ordered a warm beer and took a long pull from it and let out a long sigh.

  “Damn, I needed that,” sighed Wright. “I’ve been on the trail of that damn woman for over a week now. I had her tracked, but she left her horse in the livery down the street. Must’ve been smart enough to change mounts.”

  “How’d you figure that out?” asked Gilpin tensely.

  “Her horse has a bent shoe on his left rear leg that makes a distinct impression in the dirt,” explained Wright. “I picked up her trail from her property after Mercer hired me to find her, but like I said, I lost it here. I’ve been searching around every little town since then and decided to come on back and see if she retrieved her horse, but it’s still at the livery. Man there says she was with some other bounty hunter and that he killed three men who tried to take her into custody for the bounty on her head. I suppose you two are looking for her, too?” Gilpin and Lauter exchanged nervous glances.

  “Well, truth is, we were; but now we’ve been hired to do another job for Mercer,” said Gilpin. Wright took another long pull from his beer and eyed the two men with penetrating eyes.

  “I’ve never known you two to walk away from a large bounty, and twenty-five thousand dollars is the largest bounty I can remember,” stated Wright.

  “Yeah, but everyone is lookin’ for the woman,” offered up Lauter. The man we’s lookin’ for ain’t being chased by every damn bounty hunter and gunslinger in Texas; so we’s goin’ after him instead, especially in light of my partners new injury.”

  “You must be talking about Rubin Fisher?” Wright asked cautiously.

  “How’d you know about Fisher?” asked Gilpin anxiously.

  “Walt Mercer told me he’d pay me another ten thousand dollars just to plug his ass if I ran across him,” Wright said plainly.

  “Well, you’ll have to beat us to it, ‘cause that’s who we’s hunting and we know what he looks like,” inferred Lauter. Wright gave the two of them a drilling look.

  “Mercer gave me a sketch of Jane Lacey, but not one on Fisher,” expounded Wright. “How’d you get one on Fisher?” Gilpin and Lauter looked at each other again and both of them tried to come up with a quick answer.

  “Well, when we searched his hotel room, we found an old tintype photograph of him,” said Gilpin after a long pause. Wright finish
ed his beer and stood there staring at the two of them for almost a whole minute.

  “Well, good luck with finding Fisher,” smiled Wright as he threw some money on the bar and headed toward the batwings. He paused at the doors for a moment and then he turned his head slightly when he said, “Funny thing though, Walt Mercer said Rubin Fisher was living in a barn and didn’t have any hotel room.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Brack Wright watched from behind some trees as Lauter and Gilpin rode out of Kendall. Lauter kept watching for any signs of Wright following them, but he saw nothing and neither did Gilpin. Wright didn’t have to actually keep them in sight, he simply waited for them to get far enough away and then he rode over and examined the tracks made by their horses. One horse had a heavy cut in his left front shoe that was easily distinguishable.

  Wright stayed back at least a mile and slowly tracked the two of them until he saw a wisp of smoke rising slowly in the air. He reined his horse up and pulled out a pair of field glasses and peered through them. He saw five people sitting around a fire eating and one of them was a woman. Wright couldn’t see her facial features, but when she stood up, it was plainly evident it was a woman and he had to surmise that it was Jane Lacey. He hid himself into a grouping of trees and waited patiently.

  ***

  Jess finished up with his cup of coffee and Lauter and Gilpin scarfed down the leftover beans and salt pork. Jess looked at Gilpin’s left foot and the moccasin he was wearing and couldn’t help but smile at it.

  “Nice moccasin you got there, Lefty,” implied Jess grinning. Gilpin gave him a sarcastic smile as he chewed his beans. Jess threw the remainder of the coffee into the fire and Jane began to clean things up. Rubin helped her pack up everything. Jess kept watching Gilpin and Lauter exchange funny looks every once in a while and he finally became curious.

  “Alright,” exclaimed Jess. “You both look like you’ve swallowed a canary, so what is it that you’re not telling me?” The two men exchanged glances and then the both of them looked at Jess with a bothersome expression.

  “Well, we ran into Brack Wright in the saloon when we were in Kendall,” offered Gilpin slowly as if it had to be forced out of him.

  “The bounty hunter that was raised by the Comanche’s?” Jess asked dubiously.

  “Yeah, that one,” replied Lauter sheepishly.

  “And just when were you two going to tell me about it?” snapped Jess.

  “We just told you, didn’t we?” defended Gilpin. “Besides, he didn’t follow us ‘cause we watched and made sure of it.”

  “Oh, he followed you,” said Jess standing up and looking around. “You wouldn’t see him though because he always stays way back and out of sight.”

  “I’m tellin’ you, he didn’t follow us,” pushed Gilpin. “We told him we wasn’t hunting the woman, just lookin’ for Rubin there.”

  “The hell he didn’t,” implied Jess. “Your horse has a deep cut in his left front shoe and he’ll pick up on that right off.”

  “How the hell do you know that?” asked Gilpin.

  “Hell, I noticed it the very first day you rode out ahead of me,” replied Jess. “Wright will spot that immediately. That man can track a snake over rock. He’s out there right now watching us, I’d bet money on it.” Gilpin stood up and limped over to his horse and picked up his left front leg and looked at the deep cut in the shoe.

  “Well ain’t that sumpin’,” whispered Gilpin. Lauter looked at Jane and then back to Jess.

  “Wright said he tracked her horse to the livery in town,” explained Lauter. “That’s why he returned to Kendall, hoping to find out that she came back for her horse. I expect he figured on tracking her again if she did. He knows about the shootout in town, and that a bounty hunter was helping her escape, but I don’t think he knows it was you who was helping her.”

  “So what should we do, set an ambush for him up ahead?” asked Gilpin after limping back to the fire, the wooden crutch creaking with every step. Jess thought about it for a moment, thinking about everything he knew about Brack Wright.

  “No, he’ll see it coming from a mile away,” answered Jess. “We’ll let him ambush us tonight when he thinks he’s got us at a disadvantage.”

  “You got a plan on how to do it?” Rubin asked nervously.

  “No, but I’ll think of one before we make camp tonight,” submitted Jess.

  ***

  Wright watched the five of them break camp and ride out heading straight north. He didn’t follow immediately; he waited until he figured they were at least two miles ahead before he walked his horse out from the trees. He followed the tracks slowly, always staying about two miles behind and riding slow so as not to kick up too much dust. Every once in a while, he pulled out his large field glasses and scanned the area up ahead. He would be patient. He had a plan. The only thing he didn’t know was that one of the five people was Jess Williams. If he had known that, he might have decided not to track them at all.

  ***

  Jess saw what he was looking for about an hour before dark. The landscape began to rise and fall and the hills were getting a little higher as they rode along the trail. When they rode past the last hill, which was to their right, they veered off the trail and put the hill between them and Wright. Jess figured they would be out of sight from Wright for at least an hour. That was enough time for him to put his plan into place.

  The five of them dismounted and quickly began the process of setting up their camp. Jane and Rubin took care of making the fire and Lauter tethered the horses. Jess put his bedroll down and used some extra blankets to stuff his bedroll to make it look like one of them had turned in early. Jane cooked up some beans and bacon and Jess quickly ate some of it. He walked over to Gray and slid his Winchester out and checked it and looked at the other four in the camp.

  “Alright, here’s the plan,” offered Jess. “When Wright comes into the camp tonight, he’ll see five people, thinking my bedroll is one of us. I’ll be watching from over there in those trees. He’s a crafty bastard and you’ll never hear him coming. When he gets the drop on you, and he will, don’t try to pull any guns or he’ll shoot you for sure. He’s a dangerous man and he doesn’t miss often.”

  “Alright, but you’d better get the drop on him before he takes Jane with him and kills Rubin there,” implied Lauter. “He knows about the ten thousand on Rubin and he said so when we talked with him.” Jess looked at his stuffed bedroll and pointed his rifle at it.

  “Then that’s Rubin in my stuffed bedroll,” submitted Jess.

  Jess walked into the stand of trees just as the sun was quickly going down. He found a dead tree that he could sit on and he waited for Wright to make his move. He figured that Wright would wait until late at night in the hopes of catching everyone in the camp asleep. Jess instructed them not to post anyone on guard duty. That would only get one of them killed and make Wright even more careful in his approach to the camp.

  It was about two in the morning when Wright silently approached their camp on silent feet. He had watched the four people drink coffee while one of them slept. He waited until the other four people finally crawled into their bedrolls and gave them enough time to fall asleep. He slowly crept up to the camp silently, his tall soft moccasins making no noise on the ground. The Comanche’s had taught him how to walk softly walking heel to toe very gently, feeling for any twigs or branches under his feet. They had taught him to blend in, wearing tan buckskins to blend in with the rocks and sand.

  He moved silently like a big cat stalking an unsuspecting prey. He stopped and looked around the entire area when he got to within a hundred feet from the dwindling campfire. Lauter, Jane and Rubin were all still awake, but not moving a muscle. Gilpin had actually fallen off to sleep and was snoring, which made Wright’s job of sneaking up on them even easier.

  Jess stood stone still next to an oak tree, watching the crafty bounty hunter sneak up on their camp. He had his rifle leaned up against the tree and was
aiming for Wright’s chest as he slithered silently up to their encampment. Jess shook his head slightly at the sound of Gilpin’s snoring, but he also realized that it would be to their advantage, making Wright believe that they were all truly asleep.

  Wright got to within twenty feet of the camp when he quietly placed his cut-down rifle on the ground and pulled one of his Navy Colts out and picked up a rock and threw it into the campfire, causing some of the embers to float up into the air. Jane was the first to slowly sit up and look at the fire. She turned around to see a tall slender man dressed in buckskins with no hat and pointing two Navy Colts at her.

  “Hello Jane,” said Wright. Lauter slowly sat up and Wright gave him a warning look and Lauter sat perfectly still.

  “You followed us?” Lauter asked.

  “It wasn’t hard,” replied Wright. Lauter kicked Gilpin and Gilpin stopped snoring and woke up. He looked at Wright holding his two Colts in his hands.

  “Damn it, Wright, what the hell are you doing here?” asked Gilpin.

  “I’m here to relieve you of the woman,” said Wright flatly. “I figured you two had her when I talked to you back in Kendall. I just had to wait for the right time to make my move.”

  “You gonna at least let us keep Rubin there,” said Lauter, pointing to Jess’ stuffed bedroll.

  “That’s Fisher sleeping in that bedroll?” asked Wright.

  “Yeah, and if you’re takin’ the woman, we’re keeping him,” snapped Gilpin. Wright snapped off a shot with his right hand gun, the slug slamming into the stuffed bedroll at the same instant the slug from Jess’ Winchester slammed into his right shoulder, knocking him backward a few feet and spinning him around. Wright spun back around, but Lauter and Gilpin already had their pistols cocked and pointed at him and Jess was coming into view now holding his rifle high and aiming it straight at Wright’s head.

  “Drop those guns or the next one will be between the eyes,” warned Jess angrily.

 

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