The RECKONING: A Jess Williams Western (2 page)

             
After his last job as sheriff in a little town in Texas called Sparta, he decided to pack up and just roam around until he found somewhere he could call home. After almost a year of wandering around, he found some land just five miles outside of a small town called Black Creek, in the state of Kansas. Good fertile land and the Black Creek ran right through the middle of the property. He spent some time in the small town. He rode around the area visiting some of the other ranchers and farmers. Everyone he talked to seemed downright friendly. He liked the area and he decided he was going to spend the rest of his life there. He was sure of it. He spent some nights camped out on the land that he planned to settle on. One night, just before dusk, when he was getting a campfire started to cook him some beans and salt pork, he actually picked out the site for the family cemetery. There was a giant oak tree about five hundred feet from where he decided he would build the house. The oak tree would provide some shade for the future gravesites. John was a planner in life for sure.

             
John first met Jess’s mom, Becky, in town and he thought she was just the prettiest woman he had ever laid eyes on. He decided right then and there he was going to marry Becky. John was just that way. He decided quickly about what he wanted to do and then he would set out to do it. He still had some of the money he saved from his work as a sheriff, but it wasn’t enough to build the house. He worked several odd jobs around town and for some of the surrounding ranches to earn enough money to buy the lumber and materials he needed to build the house. Of course, he preferred working in town since it gave him more opportunities to see Becky.

             
Becky was a seamstress and a darn good one. She had a little shop behind Smythe’s general store where the townspeople could drop off their clothes for repair or to be fitted for new ones. Mr. Smythe didn’t charge her any rent. Instead, he took a small cut of what money she made and, of course, he had all his clothes tailored for free. Becky first saw John when he came into the general store for supplies. She knew right off he was different from most men. She was interested, but certainly had no idea that he had already fallen deeply in love with her.

             
Jess’s sister, Samantha, was seven and full of brimstone and hellfire. She was always getting into trouble and usually getting away with everything. Although she sometimes helped Jess with chores, she usually caused him more work and grief. Mostly, she would tag along with him and bug him until he just wanted to thump her on the back of her head. The only thing that stopped him from doing so was the knowledge that he would get a switch taken to his backside and that was something he worked real hard to steer clear of. It was close to noon on a typical day around the ranch and Becky was in the house making some lunch for Jess to take out to his pa. Jess had finished throwing some hay in the stables to feed the cattle and he was walking up to the house to see if his mom had the food ready when Samantha came out of the stables with her hands full of hay. She was jumping up and down, each time letting a little hay drop here and there. Jess knew she was just egging him on.

             
“One of these days I’m going to thump you good, Samantha,” he warned her, giving her a look of dissatisfaction.

             
“I don’t think so, ‘cause you know pa will switch your behind real good,” she replied giggling. Jess gave her the evil eye for a moment and turned around and headed for the house. Just as he walked in his mother was wrapping John’s lunch in a cloth.

             
“I’ll bet your pa is mighty hungry by now Jess,” said Becky. “You get this out to him right away, you hear?”

             
“I’ll get it straight out to him, I promise,” he replied.

             
“Make sure you do.”

             
“Can I ride the paint today?”

             
“Didn’t your father already tell you that you could?”

             
“Yeah, but I was just checking.”

             
“Then I’m sure it’s okay,” said Becky. Jess took the lunch from his ma and headed for the stables to saddle up the paint.

             
Jess had the paint saddled up and out of the stable in less than five minutes. Out of the six horses they owned, Jess had always liked the paint the best. He was a gentle horse and Jess gave him a few apples or carrots every day. Jess always loved riding out on the ranch. Sometimes he would imagine he was on his own and roaming around the country going from one town to another. He was always wondering about what he would do when he grew up. Would he stay and work the ranch or go off and do something different? Maybe he’d be a sheriff like his pa had been, or maybe he’d own his own business in town. Of course; like most young boys, Jess would imagine himself as a gunfighter; and of course, the
fastest
gunfighter alive. Whenever Jess got some free time from his chores, he would find himself down by the creek drawing his hand-carved wooden pistol that his pa made for him. He asked his pa a while back to teach him how to shoot a real pistol, but John said he was too young for that yet. It only took fifteen minutes before Jess found his pa. He was looking over a new calf that seemed to be lost and not doing very well.

             
“About time you got here Jess,” said John. “My stomach’s been growling like a bear that just came out from a long winter nap.”

             
“Sorry pa,” replied Jess nervously. “I got here as soon as I could…honest. I never stopped or anything, I rode straight out here. The biscuits ma made you are still warm and she put some honey in a jar to go with them.” John looked at Jess and gave him a big smile.

             
“Don’t get you’re britches all up in a bunch,” laughed John. “Get down off that horse and let’s have a biscuit or two.” Jess always liked it when his pa let him have lunch with him out on the range.

             
“Jess, don’t forget to stack up some more hay in the barn and stable tonight before supper,” said John, as he finished up with his lunch.

             
“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?”