“Okay, pa. If I get done early enough, can I go down to the creek and mess around a bit?” asked Jess, a pleading look on his face. John knew exactly what that meant.
“I guess so. As long as you get all of your chores finished.”
“Will you come down to the creek and help me practice a little?”
“Maybe after dinner,” he offered. “We’ll see what kind of mood your ma is in. She’s still mad about me carving you that wooden pistol.”
“How come she’s so dead set against it?”
“Well, let’s just say she has her reasons.”
Jess got back to the ranch as quickly as he could so he could finish his chores and go down to the creek to practice with his wooden pistol. On the way back, he imagined himself a sheriff tracking down a bad guy who robbed a bank in some town. When he arrived back at the ranch, he brushed down the paint and put him in his stall. Then he finished the chores his pa had told him to do.
Jess went over to the stables and got out his homemade wooden pistol and holster. He made the holster himself out of some scrap leather his pa gave him. He fashioned the holster a little different from most holsters. He attached it to the belt at an angle so the barrel of the pistol pointed slightly forward. He fashioned the belt so the gun rode lower on the hip and he tied it down to his thigh with a strip of leather. He ran down to the creek and began to practice
This time he imagined he was a sheriff in a small town and he had been called out on the street by a gunslinger wanted by the law. Of course, he out-drew the gunslinger. He was there about a half-hour when he heard his ma call him to supper. As he walked up toward the stable to put his wooden pistol away, he wondered if his pa would come back down to the creek after supper so he could show him how good he was doing on his own.
Dinner consisted of beef stew and bread. Becky was a pretty good cook. For dessert, they had apple pie. Jess ate a good helping of stew and then a big slice of pie. John finished his pie, washing it down with another cup of hot coffee, and pushed himself away from the table.
“Damn fine meal, woman. I don’t know anyone who can make apple pie quite like you,” John said with a look of pride on his face.
Becky blushed a little. She was very modest. “You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Williams,” she replied. “Quite the charmer indeed.” Jess looked at his pa.
“Pa, do you think you could go down to the creek with me for a little while?” Jess asked nervously. His ma gave him that look she always gave him when he mentioned going down by the creek. She knew what that meant and it wasn’t fishing. Jess kept looking at his pa figuring if he looked at his ma it would just get her started.
“You know I really don’t like you fooling around with that gun, Jess,” said Becky. Jess kept looking at his pa, waiting for a sign.
“Sweetheart,” John said, as he got up from the dinner table, “you are about the best cook around these here parts. I don’t know anyone who can bake a pie like you can. Course, women are good at certain things and men are good at other things. Women have to be good cooks else they won’t ever get a man. On the other hand, men who don’t know how to shoot a gun may never live to get married to a wonderful woman like you in the first place. Matter of fact, if I’d never learned to shoot a pistol, I wouldn’t be here today, and you know that to be a fact.” As he finished his last word he had walked slowly around to Becky at the other end of the table and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Well, I still don’t like it and you know it,” she replied.
“He’s going to learn anyway, submitted John. “So he might as well learn it right.”
Jess was already up and out the door heading for the stable to get his wooden pistol. He was excited that his pa was finally going to show him how to handle a gun, even if it was only a wooden one. John stopped by Samantha’s seat and gave her a kiss on top of her head; and just as he reached the door, and without looking back he said, “By the way, you ought not to be kicking your brother under the table like that at supper.” It was Samantha’s turn to blush now. She dropped her head a little and looked at her empty plate.
“Yes, pa,” she replied sheepishly.
Just as John walked out the door he heard Becky quietly say, “Quite the charmer indeed, Mr. Williams…indeed.” John met Jess between the house and the stable and they both headed down to the creek. The creek wasn’t very big. It was only about six to ten feet across and very shallow except for a few deep pools here and there.
“Pa, when are you gonna let me shoot a real pistol?” he asked.
“When I think you’re ready, Jess… and not one minute before,” he replied firmly.
“But I’ve been practicing with this here wooden pistol for months now,” he reasoned, a pleading look in his eyes.
“I know.” replied John patiently. “But you have to understand, you just turned fourteen a few months back and I’m still your pa and I’ll decide when you’re ready, understand?”
“Yes sir…I understand,” he agreed reluctantly, his eyes glancing down at the ground.
“Okay, now, let’s see you draw a few times,” said John.
Jess got himself ready. He made sure the holster was tight and in just the right place. He drew the wooden pistol several times and each time he re-holstered the gun as quickly as he drew it. The first time he drew, John was actually quite surprised with his hand speed, though he shouldn’t have been.
“How am I doing, pa?” he asked.
“Not bad, son…not bad at all, but speed isn’t the only important thing,” submitted John.
“Well pa, if I was in a gunfight, I’d want to be faster than the other guy so I wouldn’t get shot!” he contested keenly.
“Yeah, but if you were one half of a second faster than the other guy, and you missed with your first shot, who would be laying in the street, gut shot, and looking up at the sky wondering what the heck happened?” he countered with a look of experience on his face.
Jess thought about that for a moment and said, “I think I get what you mean, pa.”
“Okay Jess, here is your first and most important lesson,” he explained. “Drawing fast is important; there’s no doubt about that. But shooting straight and true is just as important. I’ve seen my share of gunfights and you wouldn’t want to know how many times the quicker man lay dead in the street. Sure, if you’re that much faster than the guy you’re facing, you might get off another shot before he pulls the trigger, but not many men are that fast. You have to make your first shot count every time, understand?”
“I think I do pa,” he said practically.
“Also remember this,” John continued, “most men don’t have nerves of steel. They’re afraid of dying even though most men will never admit it. When it comes down to the last second before the draw, most men will be sweating bullets or pissing themselves. A lot of times their first shot goes astray and the next thing that happens is they’re lying dead in the street. You have to be cool and deliberate in a gunfight. You have to focus on your target and make sure the first shot counts or it just might be your last.”
“How’d you get to know so much about gun fighting, pa?” he asked.
“Watching a lot of people who thought they were real fast get shot real dead,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“I guess I’m lucky to have a good teacher like you pa.”
“Just remember what I said about making that first shot count. I’m going to go up and have a cup of coffee and another slice of that apple pie with your mother. You can stay down here a few more minutes, but then you get back and hit the sack, okay? You have chores to do in the morning and I need to send you into town tomorrow for some supplies,” he told him.
“Okay, thanks pa,” he said excitedly.
John turned and started to head up to the house. He was still surprised about how fast Jess could draw the wooden pistol, but he admitted to himself silently that he shouldn’t be. That kind of speed was born and bred into the boy, but Jess had no idea of the tr
uth of the matter.
Jess thought a lot about what his pa had told him, especially about how some men were quicker on the draw, but still lost a gunfight by missing with their first shot. He practiced for another fifteen minutes and then headed for the stables to put his gun away and then he turned in for the night. As he slowly fell asleep, he imagined he was drawing his pistol slow and deliberate. He imagined he was a sheriff in a big town and he had to stop a gunfight and…
CHAPTER TWO
Jess woke at the first sign of daylight peeking into his window. He dressed and headed for the barn and stables to do his chores. He threw hay, did some milking and picked some fresh eggs for breakfast. John was in the stables messing around with the saddles and changing some worn out cinch straps. He planned to start plowing a few extra acres today. Becky was already cooking up a huge breakfast. Jess could smell the bacon all the way out in the barn and his stomach started growling. While he was picking eggs in the chicken coop, Samantha came in and started bothering the hens.
“Samantha, stop fooling around and make yourself useful for a change,” Jess complained. “Here, take these eggs in to ma for breakfast.”
Samantha stopped and looked at Jess as if she could burn a hole right through his head with her stare. Then, she smiled and politely said, “Okay.”
Jess was a little startled by her reaction, but glad to see her finally willing to do something productive. Jess finished up in the coop, and then heard his ma call everyone for breakfast. Just as he stepped out of the coop, he heard a crunch under his boot. When he lifted his boot, he discovered a smashed egg. Samantha put it right in his path knowing he would either step on it or have to carry it in to the house. He shook his head.
When Jess got to the table, everyone else was already filling their plates. Becky cooked bacon, eggs, ham, biscuits and honey; and it all looked good. After finishing his plate and taking another swallow of his coffee, John looked up at Jess.
“Jess, don’t forget you have to go into town today and pick up some supplies,” he said. Your ma’s got the list and make sure you stop in and see Sheriff Diggs to ask him if he needs any more steaks.”
“Sure thing pa,” he replied. “I’ll make sure to stop and ask him.” Jess went out and got the wagon hooked up to the paint and went in to get the list from his ma.
“Jess, I need those supplies back here in good time so I can get them all put away and have supper ready in time,” exclaimed Becky. “You know how your pa can be if supper is late.”
“I won’t be late,” he replied.
Jess climbed up into the wagon and slapped the reins on the rear of the paint and headed for town. It was about a five-mile ride into town and Jess enjoyed every mile of it. The road was a winding one and it followed Black Creek almost all the way. He was about two miles from town when he noticed a cloud of dust in the distance. Jess watched the cloud of dust getting closer and closer. The road was lined with just enough trees that he couldn’t make out who or what was coming. Finally, between the trees, he spotted three riders. Several moments passed before he rounded the last curve in the road before meeting up with them.
He saw three men on horseback. He reigned in the paint and stopped the wagon. The three men rode right up to the front of the paint and stopped. They didn’t say anything at first. They just looked Jess over and then looked at one another, slightly evil grins on their faces. Jess could tell right off he didn’t like these men. The man in the middle was the youngest. He looked to be in his early twenties. He wore a set of six-guns that were strapped low and tied down tight. The man to Jess’s left was older, probably in his thirties. He wore a single six-shooter in a left-handed holster. The man had a bushy beard.
The man to Jess’s right was by far the oldest. He was probably in his late forties or early fifties. He was clean looking with a neatly trimmed mustache. He wore a yellow bandanna around his neck, and he had what looked like a new pair of boots on. He was wearing a six-shooter, but he noticed he also had a double-barreled shotgun lying across his lap. he wondered if he rode like that all the time or if he had taken it out only because he seen someone coming. The older man’s grin had changed to somewhat of a smile, but Jess’s first impression of him was the same as that of the other two men. He didn’t like him.
The older man spoke first and asked, “where you going, boy?”
“Just going into town to get supplies,” replied Jess.
“What kind of supplies, kid?” the youngest one asked.
“I got a list,” he replied in a sharp tone.
“Kind of mouthy for a boy your age,” said the grubby one with the bushy beard. The older man took over the conversation again.
“You from around here, boy?” asked the older man.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Where from?” asked the older man.
“Down the road, that way,” said Jess, pointing backwards not taking his eyes off the three men.
“You got family, boy?” asked the older man.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“They live down the road that way, too?” the older man asked, as he nodded in the direction Jess had pointed in.
“Yeah,” he replied again.
“You’re not very friendly, are you boy?” asked the older man.
“Not with strangers,” he retorted.
“Hell, we ain’t strangers, boy,” the youngest one cut in. “We’ve been talking now for almost a whole minute! Hell that almost makes us friends!”
“We ain’t friends,” countered Jess.
“You sure ain’t very neighborly, boy,” exclaimed the older man. “We’re just trying to be friendly and all.”
“You don’t seem very friendly to me,” replied Jess. “Besides, I got to get to town, else I’ll be late getting back and my pa will be sore at me.”
“Maybe we’ll stop and see your pa and tell him what bad manners you got, boy,” the youngest one groused.
“My pa ain’t got no time for strangers, he’s too busy,” he argued.
Jess slapped the reins on the paint and the paint responded by walking right through the three men who had been sitting in their saddles in a straight line across the road. The oldest man moved to the creek side and the other two moved over to the left just enough for him to get through. As he was passing the two men on his left, he glanced over in their direction. Not directly at them though, keeping his eyes low as if he was looking at the ground. He could see both of them clearly out of his side vision, especially the one that looked like a gunslinger. That’s when Jess noticed something odd. The youngest man’s left boot heel was missing. They were old boots, but Jess wondered why he hadn’t gotten the boot fixed in town. After a minute or so, Jess looked back. The three men were still sitting in the road watching him and talking to one another. He made up his mind right then and there that he was going to tell Sheriff Diggs about these men when he got to town. When he looked back a second time, the three men had turned their horses around and continued down the road. Good riddance, he thought to himself.
As Jess rounded the last turn and headed down the main street of town, he finally relaxed. He was worried the three men might come after him. He headed straight for Smythe’s general store and he tied the wagon up in back. He walked around to the front of the store and went in.
“Hey, Jess, how are you and the rest of the family?” asked Jim Smythe with a happy smile.
“They’re just dandy, sir,” he replied. “Pa sent me in to pick up some supplies. I got the list here.” Jess handed the list to him and Jim went about picking the stuff out for Jess and stacking it in wooden boxes to carry out.
“Are you going to look over the candy counter today?” asked Jim, looking in the direction of the front counter where he displayed all the hard candy in nice clear jars.
“Yes, sir!” he replied eagerly. “I’ll pick some out when I get back. Right now I have to go see Sheriff Diggs.”
“He might be a little cranky just yet,” said Jim. �
��He had to run three drifters out of town this morning. Also, that hotheaded Red Carter came into town last night and kept the saloon open all night. He got himself pretty drunk and started a fight in Andy’s saloon with one of the hands from the Hansen ranch not more than a half-hour ago. He had to lock Red up. Red wasn’t too happy about the sheriff cracking his skull with the butt of that shotgun the sheriff carries.” Jess stopped and turned around before he got to the front door.
“I’ll bet it was the same three men I met on the road earlier on the way into town,” submitted Jess.
“Probably was, they rode out that way,” he said.
“I was going to tell the sheriff about them anyway,” he said keenly. “I didn’t like them much.”
“Not much to like,” agreed Jim.
“Why did the sheriff run them out of town?”
“He figured them for trouble, just from the looks of them,” he replied. “Sheriff Diggs never even let them get off their horses. He met them in the street with that shotgun of his and told them they weren’t welcome to stop and to keep on riding. Besides, he knew that Red was sleeping it off in the jail and when he let him out, he knew that Red would end up right back at the saloon. If the three drifters went to the saloon, the sheriff knew he would be picking up some bodies. You know how Red is; thinks he’s the fastest thing in these here parts.”
“Yeah, and one day he’ll get himself shot, that’s for sure,” claimed Jess.
Red Carter was the only son of one of the biggest ranches in the area, the Carter ‘D’, and Red was pretty fast with a pistol. He had gotten into a gunfight a few years ago against some drifter who challenged Red after Red won his money in a hot game of poker. Red planted a bullet in the drifter’s chest before the man got off a shot. Then, last year the drifter’s brother came to town to settle up the score and Red disposed of him even easier. That officially made Red a gunslinger. Most of the townsfolk were afraid of him and steered clear of him when he was in town.
Jess walked out the front door and headed for Sheriff Diggs’s office. When he opened the door, the sheriff was filling out some papers. His double-barreled shotgun was lying across his desk, always within easy reach. Jess saw Red lying on the bunk in the cell, still sleeping it off.
The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western Page 2
