The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western (15 page)

             
Hastings glanced over at his friend at the bar and his friend looked over at Jess, letting Hastings know which one of the men in the saloon had been looking for him. Hastings would have been able to easily pick him out anyway. The strange looking pistol and holster and the shotgun handle sticking up behind Jess’s back were dead giveaways, but that’s not how he would have known; the look on Jess’s face was enough. It was a look that would make most men shudder with fear, but Hastings wasn’t like most men; he was a cold-blooded killer.

             
Hastings took a moment to look Jess over. Jess glared back at him. Hastings had a cocky smirk on his face. It was eerily quiet in the saloon as Jess and Hastings just continued to stare at one another for what seemed an eternity. Jess was savoring the moment of finally catching up with one of the men who murdered his family. Hastings was curiously wondering why this young man was hunting him. No one said a word until Hastings decided to break the silence.

             
“I hear you’ve been looking for me?”

             
“You heard right.”

             
“I also heard you killed two of my friends.”

             
“That almost makes us even.”

             
“Do I know you?” Hastings asked inquisitively. “What’s your name, boy?”

             
“You don’t remember me, do you?” asked Jess.

             
“Now why would I remember you?”

             
“We met once before.”

             
“Really, where was that?”

             
“Black Creek, Kansas.”

             
“Okay; Black Creek, Kansas. Now who in the hell
are
you?”

             
“My name is Jess Williams.”

             
“Well, Jess Williams, what’s your beef with me?”

             
“Almost two years ago, three men murdered my family,” replied Jess. “They shot my pa down like a bunch of cowards. Then they raped and murdered my ma, but that wasn’t enough; they also raped and murdered my little seven-year-old sister.
You
were one of those three men. I remember you from the road that day. I was riding in the wagon. Does that help your memory? Do you remember me now? Do you remember murdering my family?”

             
Hastings never flinched. He just stood there, with that same smirk still on his face. The truth was; he did remember that day. He just wasn’t about to admit it.

             
“Mind if I have a drink first?” asked Hastings.

             
“Go ahead,” replied Jess. Jess watched Hastings slowly walk to the bar and order a whiskey. Jess noticed that Hastings had gotten his left boot heel fixed.

             
“I see you got your left boot fixed,” observed Jess.

             
“How’d you know that?” asked Hastings cagily.

             
“I saw it that day on the trail into town,” he replied bluntly.

             
“Really?”

             
“I saw your tracks in the dirt in front of my pa’s house, too.”

             
“You don’t say.”

             
“I saw your tracks in the blood on the floor where you killed my ma too.”

             
“Maybe I ain’t the only one who’s ever lost a boot heel,” retorted Hastings.

             
“Maybe not; but probably not someone who wears two pearl handle Colts,” replied Jess firmly. Hastings downed his whiskey and glared at Jess.

             
“You know, you’ve made some serious accusations,” he said in a sinister way. “You got any proof?”

             
“Don’t need any.”

             
“Really?”

             
“Really.”

             
“Why not?” asked Hastings.

             
“You’re wanted by the law, dead or alive,” he replied smartly.

             
“Well, if I was one of those three men, and I’m not saying I was, what the hell you plan on doing about it anyway?” replied Hastings, showing no remorse at all.

             
“I plan to do what I promised my family I’d do,” replied Jess. “I plan to shoot you down like the dog you are, and I plan to make you suffer like my family did.”

             
Hastings was getting a little agitated now. Jess could see Hastings ears actually starting to turn red.

             
“Better men than you have tried and died,” retorted Hastings. “You sure you still want to do this? I believe you’re outgunned and outclassed.” Jess looked around the bar and looked back at Hastings.

             
“Are all these men in the saloon throwing in with you or just the chubby one down at the end of the bar?” Hastings’ friend straightened up at the insult.

             
“Just me and my friend over there,” replied Hastings. “The rest of these men are only here to watch you die.”

             
“Well then, I’m neither outgunned or outclassed,” replied Jess defiantly. “The only one who is going to die here today is you and your friend if he reaches for his pistol. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m done talking unless you want to confess before I kill you. Not that it will matter much. I don’t plan on taking you in alive. Just killing you and collecting the five hundred dollar bounty on your sorry ass.”

             
Hastings put his right hand down by the butt of his gun. “You know what punk?” said Hastings. “I’m the one that put that bullet in your sister’s head. What do you think about that?”

             
“I think your day of reckoning has finally arrived,” retorted Jess.

             
Everything happened at lightning speed. Hastings and his friend both went for their guns at the same time. Jess drew and shot the man at the end of bar first, the bullet ripping through his chest. He didn’t turn his body, he just snapped off the shot from the hip keeping the gun close to his side. The man had just barely got his hand on the butt of his pistol. As Jess brought the pistol back toward Hastings, he fanned the next shot with his left hand and the slug hit Hastings in the left arm, but that was no mistake. Hastings hadn’t quite got his gun out of the holster when Jess’s first shot hit him. Hastings dropped his gun and grabbed his left arm where he had been hit. Jess slowly walked forward and shot Hastings in his right arm. Hastings let out another scream.

             
“You bastard!” wailed Hastings.

             
Jess said nothing as he slowly moved toward Hastings, who continued to back up. Jess fired another shot that hit Hastings in the gut. Hastings fell back against the wall and slid down to the floor. He was screaming in pain trying vainly to cover his stomach wound. Jess smiled at Hastings as he shot him in his left kneecap, shattering it into little pieces. His sixth shot took out the right kneecap, bits of blood and bone splattering Hastings in the face. Jess walked up to him and looked at him for a moment, worming around on the floor holding his gut with both hands, which wasn’t easy since both his arms had been shot. There was blood all over. The only noise in the bar was coming from Hastings who was moaning and cursing. Everyone else in the bar was silent watching the event unfold.

             
Jess reloaded quickly and watched the room carefully. If anyone tried anything, he still had his pa’s Peacemaker tucked in his front belt. Then, Jess brought the pistol in line with Hastings’ forehead and pulled the hammer back slowly allowing Hastings to hear all four clicks of the hammer separately.

             
“What do you think my sister felt when you put that bullet in her head? Ever wonder? Will you actually hear the gunshot? What do think it will feel like? Well, you’re about to find out because that’s exactly what’s going to happen next,” Jess said with deadly intent.

             
The bullet sprayed Hastings’s brains all over the wall and floor. It was an ugly sight, but not one that hadn’t been seen before by most of the men in the bar. Jess replaced the spent cartridge, holstered his gun and walked back to the bar taking another long drink from his beer. No one said a word. He looked over at the barkeep and Ray brought him another beer.

             
Sheriff Manley walked into the saloon. He was surprised by what he saw, but he sure wouldn’t miss Hastings. He’d been nothing but trouble since he arrived in town. Manley walked over to the bar and Ray brought him a shot of whiskey. Manley slugged it down and turned around to survey the scene. The man at the end of the bar was lying face up on the floor in a pool of blood, shot in the middle of the chest. Hastings’ head was still leaning up against the wall and there were pieces of his brain matter all over the wall and floor. Manley turned back around to the bar and ordered another whiskey.

             
“Well, I guess you did what you came here to do,” said Manley.

             
“I suppose I did,” replied Jess.

             
“Don’t suppose you feel bad about it neither, do you?” Manley asked, already knowing the answer.

             
“Not even a little,” Jess responded.

             
“Well, you earned six hundred dollars in the process,” offered Manley. “I’ll make arrangements to have the money transferred to that Jameson fellow at your bank in Black Creek.”

             
“I thought the bounty was five hundred?” inquired Jess.

             
“Well, I looked through those wanted posters like you asked me. I found another poster on Hastings and wouldn’t you know, they raised it,” exclaimed Sheriff Manley. “I also found a wanted poster on one of the other two men you’re looking for. The man’s name is Hank Beard. He’s wanted for murder and two bank robberies. The last bank robbery was in a town called Halstad, down in Texas. There’s a three hundred dollar bounty on his head. I also found an old telegraph notice from the sheriff in Halstad. The notice said that Beard had been spotted around a small town called Timber, about one hundred miles southeast of Halstad. I got nothin’ on the other guy you showed me. I’m sure he’ll surface sooner or later though. Those types usually do. Hell, he may even be with Beard. Suppose you’re leaving town and heading down that way?”

             
“Matter of fact, I’ve decided to stay in town tonight and leave tomorrow. I have one more thing to do,” said Jess curiously.

             
“Can you do me a favor?” asked Manley.

             
“What?”

             
“Try not shootin’ anyone else before you go?”

             
“I’ll sure try, Sheriff.”

             
Jess finished his beer and headed to his room to turn in for the night. He felt good about killing Hastings. He had no business living after what he had done to other people. He hadn’t wanted to kill the other man, but that was his choice. As he dozed off, he kept thinking about Texas and a little town called Timber, and what he would find there. Hopefully, he would find the next part of his destiny.

***

              Back in Black Creek, Kansas, the funeral for Red Carter was a quiet and solemn one. No one from town came to the funeral. No one really liked Red except for his father Dick Carter. Carter owned the largest ranch in the area, the Carter “D.” He was a hard man who had no problem with stepping on anybody who tried to get in his way. He bought out some of the smaller ranches around his, and the ones he couldn’t buy, he simply forced them out. Carter didn’t have much use for Red either, but Red was his only son and he loved him despite all the problems Red had caused him.

             
Dick Carter had mixed emotions about Jess Williams. Jess had worked for him on the ranch doing odd jobs and he had always liked Jess, but that was before. He felt bad for what happened to Jess and his family; and he was sorry about Red killing the sheriff, but that was still no excuse to kill his only son; at least in his mind it wasn’t. Dick needed something and he needed it real bad. That something was revenge and that’s why he hired the two best gun handlers he could find. Their job was to kill Jess, and it didn’t matter to Dick Carter how they did it. They could kill him when they found him or they could drag his ass back to Carter so he could personally hang Jess himself. The two men were Frank Reedy and Todd Spicer and Dick was meeting with them this afternoon.

             
They were both hard men and fast with a pistol. Each had killed their share of men in their line of work. Frank Reedy was a former lawman who had turned to bounty hunting because it was more profitable, at least most of the time. He wasn’t really a bad man, just one who had lost his way in a land where you lived and died by the gun. Todd Spicer was different. He was just plain mean and he had no conscience about anything. He killed for money and he could change sides depending on who paid the most. They had worked as a team for the last three years and they split all their earnings right down the middle. They both knew that Carter was one of the largest ranch owners in the area and could pay big money, which is why they dropped what they were doing and high-tailed it to Carter’s ranch.