The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western

by Robert J. Thomas

  “Hell, that boy ain’t got a lick of sense that ain’t been beat into him. Besides, what’s it to you anyway?” barked the old man. Jess looked at Billy and smiled.

  “Well, let’s just say that I’ve taken a liking to the boy and don’t want to see him mistreated. You got a problem with that?” he asked, turning to glare at the old man.

  The old man looked at Jess and didn’t say anything for a moment or two, studying him.

  “Sure, if that’s what makes you happy,” replied the old man in a softer tone of voice.

  “I’m glad we have an understanding,” he implied. “And billy, don’t forget a few apples for Gray today.”

  “No problem,” said Billy with a big smile on his face.

  “So what’re you in town for anyway?” asked the old man, spitting out some tobacco juice on the ground.

  “I’m looking for a man by the name of Randy Hastings. You know him?”

  “Hell yes, I know him,” said the old man. “I take care of his horse. He should be back tomorrow. What’s your business with him?”

  “Personal.”

  The old man laughed, “Hope it’s not too personal.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’ll find out when he gets back in town,” replied the old man with a strange smile on his face.

  “I suppose I will,” he replied, glaring at the old man again, quickly wiping the strange smile off his face.

  ***

  Scott Vogan and Saul Littman had been bellied up to the bar in Spurs Saloon for at least two hours now. They shared a bottle of whiskey and neither of the two was feeling much pain. Ray, the barkeep, didn’t like Vogan; but he didn’t say anything to him because he knew that Littman was a hired gun with a nasty disposition and pretty good with a pistol.

  “So who was this punk who gave you a hatful of shit today?” Saul asked Vogan.

  “I never saw him around before. I think I overheard the sheriff say his name was Jess Williams or something like that.”

  “Why didn’t you just pull leather on him and smack a bullet into his smart mouth?”

  “I don’t rightly know. I guess it was that look in his eyes. It was unnatural like. I thought maybe he was just plumb loco.”

  “Hells-fire!” bellowed Littman. “A look ain’t ever killed anyone as far as I know.”

  “I suppose so, but you had to be there,” explained Vogan in a defensive tone. I’m telling you, it wasn’t normal. I think the kid’s got the devil inside him or something.”

  Saul laughed at that notion. “You leave the little shit head to me. I’ll straighten him out right quick.” Saul looked up just in time to see Ray with a funny look on his face.

  “What the hell you smirking about?” asked Saul.

  “Nothing,” replied Ray, sheepishly.

  “Don’t give me that shit,” refuted Saul. “I saw that little smirk on your face. You best tell me what you think is so funny else I’ll wipe that smirk off your face with the butt of my pistol.”

  Ray was a barkeep, not a fighter, so he answered timidly. “I was just remembering how Sam over at the hotel bar was telling me about how that William’s kid backed Scott down yesterday. According to Sam, he’s got the look of death in his eyes. I saw it yesterday with my own eyes when he was talkin’ to the sheriff.”

  “Hell, ain’t no kid that young gonna be that fast with a pistol and looks don’t kill,” argued Saul. “He comes in here, I’ll show you how to handle a punk ass kid. Now get us another bottle of that whiskey and make sure it’s a full one this time.”

  Jess left the livery and walked back to the hotel and paid for another night. Then he headed for the saloon. He walked in and noticed the sheriff playing a poker game at the same table as before. Jess noticed Scott Vogan at the bar along with several other men. There was one at the far end of the bar next to Scott that Jess picked up on right away. He looked like trouble. He was a tall slender man, wearing a hat that looked too big on him and two pistols worn low and tied down. Jess kept an eye on him along with Vogan as he walked to the bar and ordered a beer. Ray brought Jess a cold beer. Jess took a long drink and noticed an empty table over in the corner. He walked over to it and sat down, deftly removing his hammer strap as he did.

  Scott and the man with the oversized hat turned around at the bar facing Jess’s table. Vogan, feeling braver after several shots of whiskey and having Littman with him, decided to pay Jess back for humiliating him earlier in the hotel bar.

  “So, what are you really in town for, mister?” asked Vogan sharply looking directly at Jess.

  “I’m looking for someone.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “Could be.”

  “Could be?”

  “That’s what I said,” he replied harshly.

  “So, who you looking for?”

  “His name is Randy Hastings; you know him?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “That’s what I said,” Vogan replied sarcastically.

  “Hey, you’re the one who asked, and frankly, I don’t really care.”

  “You don’t care about what?”

  “Neither.”

  “What do you mean, neither?”

  “I don’t care if you know him and I don’t care if you tell me,” countered Jess. The smirk that was on Vogan’s face suddenly disappeared and he got a more serious tone in his voice.

  “Yeah, I heard of him,” admitted Vogan. “He’s out of town right now, but he’ll be back any day now.” Jess simply nodded and didn’t respond. Vogan pushed some more.

  “So why are you looking for him?” he asked.

  “It’s personal.”

  “You and him friends then?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Well, Hastings ain’t someone to mess with.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yeah, and he don’t take kindly to strangers either.”

  “We ain’t exactly strangers.”

  “So he knows you then?”

  “No, we’ve only met once before and I don’t think he’d remember me,” replied Jess cagily.

  Saul Littman had been listening to all of this, letting Vogan have him fun. Saul put his drink down and took his hat off and sat it on the bar. He reached into his front pocket and took out a half-smoked cigar and lit it. He took a long drag and blew the smoke slowly up toward the ceiling. He took another sip of his whiskey, all the while, studying Jess. He looked at the shotgun handle sticking up over Jess’s right shoulder and he took some time to look over the gun strapped to his waist. Jess ignored his stare, but he was well aware of it.

  Saul, without taking his stare off Jess, hollered to the barkeep, “Ray, pour me another.”

  Ray filled the shot glass and Saul reached back and picked it up and tipped his head back and downed the whiskey. He sat the glass down on the bar with a hard thump. He hollered at the barkeep again. “Ray, one more time.” Ray filled the glass again as Saul stared straight at Jess.

  “So tell me, what do you use that shotgun for?” asked Saul.

  Jess still didn’t look directly at Saul. He took one quick glance around the saloon and took another sip of his beer and put the glass down gently. Then, he slowly lifted his eyes up and locked them onto Saul’s. He figured Vogan was going to be involved in this, but he already decided that this man was the one to worry about first.

  “And you are?” asked Jess calmly.

  “Who wants to know?” he replied nastily.

  “Well, when a man asks me a question, I figure I deserve to know his name before I feel a need to answer him,” he stated firmly.

  Saul’s cocky smile turned to a nasty scowl. “You’re quite an arrogant little bastard, ain’t you?”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that,” he replied, smiling at Saul now, which only got deeper under his skin.

  “What if I don’t feel like telling you my name?”

  “Well, then I guess I don’t feel like answering your question.”
Saul smiled a cynical smile. He looked over at Vogan who was watching as if he was enjoying the banter.

  “Well, if you must know, my name is Saul Littman,” he replied as if the name was important to everyone listening. “What’s yours?”

  “Jess Williams.”

  “Never heard of you before.”

  “And that matters?”

  “So, now that we know each other, what’s the shotgun for?”

  “Shootin’ rabbits; and sometimes people.”

  “So, how many people have you killed so far?” asked Saul.

  “One.”

  “Only one?” he asked sarcastically.

  “So far.”

  Saul laughed and so did Vogan.

  “And did you kill him with that shotgun or with that fancy looking lead pusher you got there?” asked Saul.

  “Does it really matter?”

  “Guess not. You pretty good with that pistol?”

  “Good enough.”

  “You sure?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “And how good is that?”

  “How good do I need to be?”

  “I don’t know,” sneered Saul. “Maybe good enough to take me.”

  Jess noticed an immediate change in Saul and knew that things were coming to a head fast.

  “Ray,” Saul hollered back at the barkeep, “you forgot to wipe up that dirty table he’s sitting at. I can see spilt beer on the table. Is that any way to run a place?”

  Ray, who had been watching and listening to the banter between Jess and the two at the bar, was caught completely off guard by the question. “Huh…oh yeah…I’ll get it.” Ray said as he started to walk over to where he had left a towel to wipe the tables down.

  “Don’t bother,” said Saul, as he reached for the towel that was lying only a foot away from him, “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind cleaning up his own table.” Saul picked up the towel and threw it at Jess.

  What happened in the next few seconds was something that no man in the bar would ever forget. The towel was in the air heading for Jess as Jess reached back with his right hand and found the handle of his bowie knife and he brought the knife out of its sheath and up, going straight for the towel. In one quick fluid motion, Jess caught the towel on the point of the knife and slammed the knife down into the table, and as he did he stood up facing both men. Saul had begun to move his hand toward his right pistol and Vogan’s hand was moving for his gun at the same time. Jess drew his pistol, thumbing the first shot, which hit Saul square in the chest. Before the hammer hit the firing pin, Jess’s left hand began its movement toward the gun with the middle finger hanging down. Jess fanned the second shot and the bullet slammed into Vogan’s chest just above his heart.

  Both shots were kill shots, and yet, they were only a fraction of a second apart. Before the two men hit the floor dead, Jess stepped to his right and placed his back against the wall and took a quick glance around to see if anyone else was going to be involved. He quickly glanced over at the sheriff who had a stunned look on his face.

  Ray, the barkeep, was the first to speak. “Damn, I can’t believe what I just saw. I saw it, but I still don’t believe it.”

  Jess replaced the two spent cartridges and holstered his pistol. He sat back down at his table, able to see the entire place including the door and took another sip of his beer. Sheriff Manley slowly rose from his chair and walked over to the two dead men lying on the floor. Vogan had fallen face forward while Saul had slunk down, banging the back of his head on the bar before hitting the floor. Manley looked up at Jess and just stared at him for what seemed to be forever. The sheriff took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he spoke. “So, you say you’re looking for Randy Hastings, hey?”

  “I thought I already made myself clear on that matter, Sheriff.”

  “Well, you’ll surely find him now.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because Hastings only has a few friends around these parts, and you just killed two of them,” replied Manley. “I imagine he’ll be looking for you once he gets back in town. Sure as hell hope I don’t miss that fight. You gonna pay to bury these men?”

  “Is there any bounty on either of them?”

  “Don’t believe so.”

  “Well then, I’ll be taking their horses, saddles, guns and any cash they have on them,” he replied plainly. “You can tell the caretaker to bury them and I’ll pay for it out of what I get from the sale of their belongings. Tell him nothing fancy, only what’s necessary.”

  “Why the hell should I?”

  “Because if you’re not going to enforce the law, then at least you can clean up the mess after someone else takes care of it for you,” he said bluntly.

  Jess stood up and walked over to the two dead men and stripped them of their valuables. He walked the two men’s horses over to the stables and tied them up and left a note for Billy. Sheriff Manley walked back to his table. Ron had a funny grin on his face.

  “What’s that big grin for?” asked Manley.

  “Just wondering if you want to cancel your bet?”

  “I ain’t canceling anything,” he muttered. “That kid got lucky is all.”

  “What I just saw wasn’t luck, Sheriff,” submitted Butler. “That boy is faster than a whore running out of a church on a Sunday morning.”

  “Kiss my ass and deal me a winning hand for a change,” groused Manley, as he sat back down. He sure hoped he got a good hand because he had a feeling that he was going to lose some money to Ron Butler soon.

  Jess headed back to his room and went straight up and turned in for the night. When he woke, he splashed some water on his face and headed down for breakfast. Martha took his order and the place was eerily quiet. Sheriff Manley was sipping coffee with one of the men Jess had noticed at the poker table last night. They both glanced at him repeatedly.

  “Well, I heard you had quite a night last night,” said Martha as she sat Jess’s breakfast on the table.

  “It would seem so,” he replied.

  “Everyone in town is talking about it,” she said. “They said you were fast; really fast.”

  “Is that what they’re saying?”

  “Yes,” she replied cautiously. “Why don’t you leave town while you’re ahead? You seem like a fairly nice young man, except for the fact that you just killed two men last night.”

  “Why thank you, Martha. I think you’re a fairly nice woman too. But I can’t leave town until Randy Hastings is dead. I’m not looking for a fight with anyone else. I didn’t ask for one last night. It wasn’t my choice.”

  “There are two men dead, just the same.”

  “They made an error in judgment.”

  “And you won’t?”

  “No.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “A good man knows his abilities.”

  “Oh, and they didn’t?”

  “That’s kind of obvious now, isn’t it.”

  “And you do?”

  “Yes.”

  “It must be nice to be so sure of yourself.”

  “It does help,” he replied flatly.

  Martha turned and walked back into the kitchen. Jess finished his breakfast and headed out to the porch to sit. He wasn’t there more than five minutes when Billy walked across the street and up to him.

  “I got your note about the horses. What should I tell the old man?” Billy asked, referring to the owner of the livery.

  “Tell him to sell the one horse and saddle or to buy it himself,” he replied. “And tell him to take ten percent and not to even think about cheating me.”

  “Okay,” Billy said as he turned away. He stopped suddenly and turned back to Jess. “What about the other horse?”

  “Oh, that one’s yours to keep, Billy,” he replied. “You pick out which one you want. Every young man needs a horse and now you’ve got one.”

  “Thanks Mr. Williams!” exclaimed a very excited Billy. “I never had me a horse. I don’t kn
ow how to thank you. Can I pay you something for him? I don’t have much money, but what I got, you can have.”

  “Tell you what, Billy,” he replied. “You can pay me one silver dollar when I leave town. How’s that?”

  “That’s just fine,” he replied keenly. “Wait till my ma finds out I got me a horse. She won’t believe it. Thanks again Mr. Williams.”

  “Just don’t forget about our little secret,” he reminded Billy.

  “I won’t. You can be sure of that,” he replied.

  Billy headed back to the livery and Jess sat on the porch outside the hotel for a while. Then he went up to his room and took a little nap. As he lay there, he thought about Randy Hastings and what he and the other two men had done to his family. Whenever he had any doubts about what he was doing, he thought of his little sister Samantha lying with a bullet hole in her head and pictured his ma hanging in the doorway in a pool of drying blood. Whenever he thought of those things, he knew what he was doing was not only right, it was justified.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jess woke before daylight and headed down to the café in the hotel. Jess sat down just as Sheriff Manley walked in. He noticed Jess and sat at a table on the other side of the room. Martha finally came out of the kitchen and stopped by the sheriff’s table and took his order. Another man came in and sat next to Manley. Jess recognized the man as one of the men who played poker with Manley at the saloon. Martha walked up to Jess’s table and the normal smile was replaced with a frown.

  “I guess you didn’t take my advice about leaving town while you’re still alive,” she said dryly.

  “Guess not. I just couldn’t pass up another helping of those biscuits.”

  “Biscuits ain’t worth dying for, no matter how good they are.”

  “Some men have died for less.”

  “You’re probably right,” she said. “None of it makes any sense to me no matter how much I try to understand it. I suppose it must be something that men just think they have to do.”

  “Maybe so,” he said.

  “You want the same as yesterday?”