Sins of the Father

This book is dedicated to my brother, Tony, who has been fighting the good fight over lung cancer for some time now. He is an inspiration to us all. He has never given up and he has shown more bravery than I thought possible. I am very proud of him. His walk through life has been a tough one from the day he was born and yet he faced every complication that life ever threw his way and he did it with a stern determination that he would overcome it all.

He is a better person for it and a better man than any other I know.
He is still with us today and I hope he will be with us for years to come.
Tony, we all love you and are truly proud to have been blessed to have you as a brother.

Thanks to
Dave Hile
from Hile Illustrations for the magnificent artwork on the front cover. He did the holster and all the artwork within the holster. His talent for detail is remarkable.

Thanks to
Barb Gunia
from Sans Serif for the rest of the cover design. She is responsible for everything on the cover outside the holster and is always a pleasure to work with.

Thanks to my wonderful, beautiful and talented wife,
Jill
. She is responsible for the formatting and typesetting of everything between the covers of the book and once again has done a terrific job.

Thanks again to
Ted Williams Jr
., who is once again depicted on the cover as Jess Williams. He never fails to amaze me.

Thanks to
Michael J. Reddy, Sr.
, who is depicted on the front cover as Frank Reedy, a bounty hunter turned U.S. Marshal. Mike is also a Publisher with Immortal Investments Publishing. He has published many famous sports celebrities’ books including Gordie Howe, Bill Gadsby, Willie Horton, Otto Graham, Eddie Feigner and Billy Taylor, Lem Barney and Johnny Bauer.

Thanks to
Mark Neal
who is depicted on the front cover as Eddie Sloan.
Thanks to all of my rough draft reviewers.
Tim
and
Paul O’Neill, Aimee Reddy, Tammy Harder, Carol Nowak
and my grandson,
Eric Lockhart
. They all helped in making the book better. If you find any typo’s in this novel, I’m sure it’s their fault.

“You don’t need to know my name; all you need to know is that I’m going to be the one who can brag that I took down Jess Williams.”

“Mister, dead men don’t brag, and if you plan on pulling that smoke wagon, that’s exactly what you’re going to be. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink and forget about this whole thing? I don’t have any beef with you.”

“What you think don’t matter to me. Everyone keeps talking about how fast you are with that fancy pistol of yours and I don’t believe it. I ain’t been beat on the draw yet and you ain’t gonna be any different. I know I can beat you.”

Jess found himself in yet another confrontation with a gunslinger that he had no desire to brace but he would have no choice in the matter. If he didn’t draw on the man, the man would simply go for his pistol and shoot Jess. The only other option for Jess was to admit that the other man was faster and walk out of the saloon and be considered yellow. That was not an option that Jess was ever going to choose. He had been on the trail of his father for almost two years now and he had been in more saloons in little towns than he could remember. And, the confrontations had become all too familiar and all too often. His reputation as a man with a lightning-fast hand had spread widely, and he couldn’t go anywhere now without some gunslinger recognizing him and of course, challenging him. He didn’t like it and he didn’t want it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. The results were always the same. Another gunslinger would lay dead on the floor or in the middle of the street. Then the reputation would grow even more and attract more men who would search him out just to challenge him.

That’s exactly what Bear Deever was doing right now. He had spotted Jess as soon as Jess had walked into the little saloon and walked up to the bar. He wanted to claim the reputation of Jess Williams and he wanted it bad enough to put his life on the line to get it.

Jess put his beer down on the bar and turned slightly to face Deever, who was standing next to the table he had been sitting at when Jess had walked into the saloon. “Well, Mister, if I can’t talk you out of this, then we might as well get it over with. I don’t understand why a man would want to end his life over nothing, but if that’s what you want to do, I reckon it’s not my place to keep you from doing something stupid.”

Deever gave Jess a sarcastic look. “Ain’t you getting a little ahead of yourself? We ain’t even drawn yet, and you’re already predicting the outcome. You ain’t one of them mind readers, are you?”

“Nope, I’ve just seen this too many times before.”
“Well, you’re going to see something else today. You ain’t been braced by Bear Deever yet.”
“Yeah, and I have a hunch that it won’t ever happen again.”
That pushed Bear Deever over the edge. He had been talking long enough to get up the courage to pull on Jess. He went for his Colt and his hand got the Colt halfway out of the holster when the slug from Jess’ pistol hit Bear Deever straight through the heart, dropping him instantly. Jess looked around the saloon and seeing no other threat, put his pistol back in the holster, but not before reloading the one spent cartridge. He turned back to the bar and the bartender brought him another beer.
“That son of a bitch has been itching for a fight since he came to town yesterday,” the bartender said, setting the beer down in front of Jess.
“That’s the way it is with men like him,” replied Jess. “They have no regard for any life including their own. He would have gotten himself shot sooner or later, and if it hadn’t of been me, it would have been someone else.”
The bartender smiled. “Well, I’m glad it was here, and I’m glad it was you.”
“Really; why is that?”
“Because I’ve heard a lot about you and that fancy pistol of yours and I always hoped that I would see it in action for myself. It was hard to believe that any man could draw a pistol that fast.”
“Well, now you’ve seen it.”
“Yeah, but I’m still having a hard time believing it,” said the bartender, as he began to walk away to wait on another man who had walked up to the bar.
Jess picked up his beer and took a long drink of it. It tasted good. He had been on the trail of his father, Eddie Sloan, since the fall of 1878. It was now early spring and he had come up from Mexico to this little town of Kern in the southwestern corner of Texas. It was just another one-street town with one hotel, one saloon and a few other small shops. Kern didn’t even have a town sheriff. The only law here was a gun and any man brave or stupid enough to use it.
He had found his father’s trail more than a dozen times, but each time he lost the trail, or got distracted from his hunt due to the profession he was in. Bounty hunting was an unpredictable business and you never knew when the next large bounty would come up. He would travel to some small town where he heard that Eddie Sloan had taken money, and sometimes the lives of the men who thought they could beat Sloan at poker, only to find a wanted poster of some low life murderer with a bounty on his head. He would go on the hunt for the man and after he brought the dead body in and collected the bounty, he would start his hunt for his father again. The trail would be cold but that would not deter Jess. He would simply keep looking for his father until he finally caught up with him and it didn’t really matter when it would happen, just as long as it did.
A couple of cowboys helped the bartender drag the body of Bear Deever out of the saloon. The bartender came back in and refilled Jess’ glass. “Well, Mr. Williams, what were you were asking me about before Deever interrupted with his request to get a look at his next life?”
Jess took another long sip on his beer. “I’m looking for a man by the name of Eddie Sloan. I heard he was here working a poker game recently.”
The bartender, whose name was Nash, raised his eyebrows. “He was here about a month ago. He set up his game right over there at that table. Game ran about a week and he drained every dollar from every man who tried to beat him. A couple of the men who lost their money to him claimed he was cheating somehow, but no one could see it. He is a slick one that’s for sure. What do you want with him?”
“I just need him to answer a few questions.”
“Well, he ain’t the friendly type, if you know what I mean.”
“I’ve heard that about him before. Any idea of where he might have headed to?”
“Seems like I remember him saying something about a big game up in Abilene, Kansas. Lots of players with lots of money the way I heard it.”
Jess finished his beer and put some money on the bar. “Well, I’m sure that’s where he’s headed so I guess that’s where I’m headed next.”
The bartender smiled when he saw the five dollars Jess had left on the bar. “Why thanks, Mr. Williams, this is probably the biggest tip I’ve ever had.”
“You’re welcome, and thanks for the information. I’m going to turn in early tonight and get a fresh start in the morning,” said Jess, as he turned to walk out of the saloon.
“Hey, you sure you don’t want to hang around and play with a few of the other local hot heads in town? There’s a few more need plugging, if you know what I mean.”
Jess turned back and smiled. “No thanks, I’m no lawman, but if you know of someone who has a bounty on their head, you let me know.”
Jess walked out and headed for the only hotel in town. There was no name of the hotel, just a sign that read, rooms for rent. He paid for one night and went up to his room and turned in.

ed ducked just in time to hear two shots ring out so close together that they sounded as one. The first slug was from Harlan Woolsey’s pistol and it shattered a bottle of cheap tequila on a shelf behind the bar. The second slug was from Sheriff Mark Steele’s Colt .45 Peacemaker and it made its way straight through the heart of Harlan Woolsey,

dropping him like a sack of potatoes. There were several other men in the saloon but they were not going to be involved in any further gunplay against Steele.

Two of the men in the saloon had come in with Harlan Woolsey. Mike Winters and Jeramiah Paxton were hired guns of Rance Madden, but not quite the caliber that Harlan Woolsey was. They had come to town to watch Woolsey brace Sheriff Steele and then go back to the Double ‘M’ ranch and brag to Rance Madden that Sheriff Steele was now officially out of the way. Instead, they would have to go back to the Double ‘M’ carting the dead body of one of Madden’s best hired guns.

Steele reloaded his Peacemaker. “You boys go back and tell your boss that this has got to stop. There has been enough killing the last few months to last a lifetime. Tell Madden that I want to set a meeting between him and Henry Thornton in a few days to see if we can settle this war once and for all. I’m sending the same message to Thornton. We will meet here at Jed’s Saloon, Wednesday at noon.”

Mike Winters sneered at Steele. “Yeah; and what if he don’t want to meet with Thornton?”
“You tell him whoever doesn’t show for the meeting will be the one I’ll hold more responsible for this whole damn mess and the full weight of the law will come down hard on him. I’m sending for a U.S. marshal along with some deputies to straighten this thing out.”
It was Jeramiah’s turn to sneer. “Rance Madden will just hire some more guns. He’s got more money than Thornton and the whole town combined. You can get all the marshals and deputies you like. It won’t make any difference.”
“Just make sure he gets the message.”
“We’ll tell him, but he ain’t gonna be happy about it.”
Now it was Steele’s turn to sneer. “If that man has ever had a day when he was happy, I sure as hell missed it. Now get that dead weight out of here before it starts to stink the place up.”
Winters and Paxton went about carrying out Woolsey’s body and tying it to his horse. Steele turned back to the bar to face Jed who had a shot of good whiskey waiting for him. Steele downed it quickly and Jed filled the shot glass again.
“Sheriff, you can’t keep taking on all these hired guns. Sooner or later, Madden will hire one faster than you and one that can aim better than this last one. Woolsey outdrew you but he missed. I hope you weren’t kidding when you said you were sending for a U.S. marshal and some more deputies.”
Steele slammed the second shot down as quickly as the first. “I wasn’t kidding. I’m going to send the message out right now. A good man knows his limitations and I’ve reached mine. I hate to admit it, but this thing is just too big for one sheriff and a few local deputies to handle.”
“So, who are you sending for?”
“A good friend of mine by the name of Frank Reedy. He went and pinned on a U.S. marshal’s badge recently. I guess he got tired of the bounty hunting business. We’ve called on one another over the years and I guess it’s his turn again.”
“Well, he better be damn good and just as tough. You got a war brewing and I don’t think it will be over until a lot more men get killed.”
“Oh, he’s good, and tougher than most men you would meet. He doesn’t rattle in a fight. I’m going to ask him to bring at least two deputies with him. With my deputies here in town that will give us six good men. That’s not an army, but it might get the job done.”
“Well, you’re more optimistic than I am. I think it’s going to take more than that to put this problem to rest. Hell, I ain’t made a profit since I bought this damn bar. I can’t afford to replace the mirror behind the bar again and I’ve lost dozens of bottles of whiskey. My damn floor is drunker than any cowboy who leaves here as much as been spilled on it.”
Steele thanked Jed for the whiskey and headed straight for the telegraph office. He jotted down a note and handed it to the telegraph operator. “Send this message to these fifteen towns I have listed at the bottom of the message.”
“Yes sir, Sheriff. I’ll get to it right away.”
Steele walked back to his office and on the way, he stopped one of Thornton’s men and gave him the same message he had sent to Madden. He hoped that Frank Reedy would get the message soon. He had bought himself a few more days with the meeting he was setting up between Rance Madden and Henry Thornton. The two ranch owners had been deadlocked in a bitter dispute over water rights to the one small river that ran through the area. Thornton had built a few retention ponds on his land to give his cattle enough water through the dry times and when the dry times hit, there was hardly enough water for the old Mason spread, which was now owned by Rance Madden.
Mason was bad enough when he owned the spread, but Rance Madden was much worse. He cared little for any other human being or their needs and he would not hesitate to send his hired guns out to run out or kill another rancher who might get in his way. His plan was to eventually own everything in this area but Henry Thornton had grown his cattle ranch from less than one hundred head over twenty years ago, to over three thousand head today. Madden had offered Thornton twice what the Triple ‘D’ was worth but Thornton wasn’t about to sell. Thornton’s ranch had been established long before Rance Madden came to this valley and Thornton swore that he would be put in his grave before he sold out to the likes of Rance Madden. The possibility of that happening was growing with each passing day unless Sheriff Steele could somehow resolve what he was beginning to think was an impossible problem.
It mattered little to Madden that Thornton had refused his offer. He would simply use the money he offered Thornton to hire the best gunmen that money could buy. His overall plan was to drive Thornton off the property, or eventually kill Thornton and every one of his men. Madden already had at least a dozen fairly good gunmen and he had sent a few of them, along with Harlen Woolsey, to get rid of the one problem still standing in his way of settling his dispute with Thornton. That problem was Sheriff Mark Steele. Now that Steele had taken down Harlen Woolsey, Madden’s best man, Madden would have to send for another fast gun for hire. It would cost him a lot of money, but it would still be cheaper than buying Thornton out.
Mark Steele pondered all of this as he sat in his little office. He knew that he was running out of time and cheating death every day. Steele was fast with a gun, but he was smart enough to know that someone out there was faster and all Madden had to do was to find him and hire him. His message to Frank Reedy was: