The river runs red a jes.., p.1
The RIVER RUNS RED (A Jess Williams Western Book 7), page 1
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author and/or publisher. They are solely the imagination of the author and/or publisher and the imagination of events that may or may not possibly happen.
Copyright© 2012 by Robert J. Thomas
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, or stored in or introduced into an electronic or mechanical method without the express written permission of the author and/or publisher. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the author and/or the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.
A Jess Williams Novel. Westerns. Revenge. Violence. Action. Adventure.
ISBN#13—978-0-9838056-1-8—E-Book
LCCN# 2012913902
AMAZON AISN# B008RTTHDW / AMAZON ASSIGNED E-BOOK NUMBER
THE RIVER RUNS RED
A Jess Williams Western
Seventh in the series
By Robert J. Thomas
CHAPTER ONE
The day before Jess left Annie McCracken in Black Creek, Kansas, he stopped in at the sheriff’s office to see if Sheriff Fowler had any wanted posters on men with a bounty on their heads. The sheriff gave him one. The wanted poster was for a man by the name of Curly Jeeter and he was wanted for several murders that happened in Kansas and Texas. Over the last several weeks, Jess had tracked him through several towns in Texas and the latest lead took Jess to Hollis, just south of Abilene, Texas. Hollis was a small town with several saloons, a few brothels and some other businesses of a different nature. It also had one mean sheriff along with two deputies who were just as mean.
Sheriff Brett Hatfield didn’t exactly follow the law in his dealings with people and he was as corrupt as any other criminal. His two deputies weren’t much better. Jess arrived in town in the late afternoon and went straight to the sheriff’s office to inquire about Curley Jeeter. When he walked into the sheriff’s office, he could immediately sense that he wasn’t welcome there. The sheriff was sitting behind an old beat up desk reading a newspaper and the two deputies were playing cards with each other for pennies. All three of them looked up at Jess and he didn’t like the facial expressions he was getting from the three of them. The sheriff put his newspaper down.
“Well, if it ain’t the great and infamous bounty hunter Jess Williams himself. Your ass ain’t welcome here, you understand me. I’d advise you to get right back on your horse and ride on out of here. If you cause me even one bit of trouble before you leave, I’ll shoot your ass myself or lock you up in one of my jail cells,” exclaimed the sheriff.
“Hold on, Sheriff, I ain’t looking to cause you any trouble. I’m just looking for a man by the name of Curly Jeeter. He’s wanted for several murders and has a bounty on his head. I just need to know if he’s been in town lately since this is the way he was headed the last I heard,” he explained, trying to calm the sheriff down, but he noticed that he wasn’t doing a very effective job of it.
“You listen to me asshole; I don’t give two shits about what you want. As for Curly Jeeter, that asshole left town two days ago after paying me a fifty-dollar fine just for pissing me off. Now, as I suggested earlier, you’d best leave town before you get yourself in any trouble,” insisted Sheriff Hatfield, a firm look on his face. “I’ve got no use for bounty hunters, and especially you.”
Jess could tell he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Sheriff Hatfield so he simply walked out of the office and headed for a saloon across the street. As soon as he walked in, he noticed a man sitting at a table in a corner. The man was nicely dressed. He was wearing black pants, a black shirt with a white string tie and a white hat. What Jess really saw though, is that the man was wearing a fancy pistol that rested in a holster all done up with silver studs. The man smiled at Jess and watched as he walked up to the bar and ordered a whiskey. The barkeep brought him a glass and a cheap bottle of rotgut whiskey.
“What’s your name, barkeep?” asked Jess.
“Barkeep,” replied the man, with a sneer.
“Well, barkeep, do you have any good whiskey in back?”
“Nope, this is all we serve in this place.”
“Well, do you have any coffee in back?” asked Jess, not wanting to drink the rotgut whiskey since it always gave him a bad headache.
“Yep, I got coffee in the back,” replied the barkeep.
“Can I get a cup from you?”
“Nope.”
Jess was getting pretty frustrated with the attitude of people in the town. His meeting with the sheriff had gone badly and now he had a barkeep that obviously had a bad disposition. He did his best to keep a calm demeanor. “Well, if you have coffee in the back, why can’t I get a cup of it?”
“Because we have coffee in the back, but we ain’t serving it out here. Now do you want this rotgut or not?” sneered the barkeep.
“No thanks. This is one town I’ll be more than happy to leave,” replied Jess, as he walked toward the swinging doors and out into the street to where his two horses Gray and Sharps were. The man in the corner stood up and followed him outside, which didn’t go unnoticed by Jess. He was getting ready to climb up in the saddle when the man dressed in black stepped onto the wooden boardwalk in front of the saloon.
“So, you’re that famous bounty hunter Jess Williams?” asked the man.
Jess looked over across the street and Sheriff Hatfield and his two deputies were now out on the boardwalk in front of the office. They were watching Jess and each one of them carried a double-barrel shotgun, which was not a good thing as far as he was concerned. He had a bad feeling, and he felt somewhat trapped at this point. He turned to face the man, who was smiling and acting very polite.
“Yeah, I’m Jess Williams, but I’ve never met you before,” he replied.
“My name is Wesley Hommes and I’m being paid a lot of money from a man by the name of Henry Stidham to kill you.”
“Well, I have some bad news for you, Mr. Hommes. That ten thousand dollars in blood bounty was cancelled a while ago due to the death of Henry Stidham, in case you haven’t heard,” replied Jess.
“Oh, I already know all about that. You see, I met with Henry Stidham a few weeks before his death and he had me sign a contract with him,” replied Hommes.
“I don’t understand what that has to do with me.”
“It has everything to do with you, Mr. Williams,” he replied smartly. “The contract I signed states that whenever I can bring proof that you’re dead by my hands, I’m to be paid twenty five thousand dollars that’s been put into a trust in Henry Stidham’s bank in New York. I even have my own photographer who travels with me to take a photo to prove that you’re dead by my very own hands.” Hommes pointed to a man who was already setting up his equipment on the boardwalk in front of the saloon.
Jess looked around and there were several men starting to gather for the show, but what really concerned him were Sheriff Hatfield and his two deputies, who looked more like a pack of hungry coyotes instead of lawmen, waiting for their share of the kill. he was in a real predicament and he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to get out of it.
“Mr. Hommes, I have no beef with you; but if you force my hand, I’ll kill you for certain. You can’t beat me and you should know that,” said Jess, loud enough for the sheriff to hear, hoping he could keep the sheriff from making good on his threats he made in his office only moments ago.
Wesley Hommes looked Jess over for a moment as his photographer finished up with his equipment. “Well,” replied Hommes, “I guess we’ll just have to see about that now won’t we?”
“Sheriff,” hollered Jess, “I’m not looking for any trouble with this man. Why don’t you tell him to let me take my leave and I’ll ride straight out of here like you told me to.” Sheriff Hatfield and his two deputies laughed.
“Hell, it ain’t my problem asshole,” he hollered out to Jess. “It looks like you’ve gotten yourself in some trouble already and you haven’t been in town more than ten minutes. That might just be a record of sorts.” Jess turned his attention back to Hommes.
“Listen, Mr. Hommes, Sheriff Hatfield doesn’t want any trouble here in town as he so firmly informed me,” he said while glaring at the sheriff and his two deputies. “Why don’t we take this out of town and you can challenge me if you still insist on doing so. Go ahead and bring your photographer if you need to, although I have to tell you, the only picture he’ll be taking is of you getting shot dead.”
“That is a tempting thought Mr. Williams, but I’ve been looking for you for quite a while now and I’m not letting you out of my sight,” he replied. “As for me getting shot, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’m a pistol champion from New York City. I’ve won the annual competition for the entire state of New York for the last fifteen years in a row. We have thousands of men who compete in events all year long all over the state and the top twenty men compete for the top championship every year and I haven’t been beaten yet. Henry Stidham paid for all my competitor’s fees every year and that’s why he made the deal with me. He figured I’d have
“Let me ask you a question, Wesley. When you were competing against all those other men, did they get to fire a real bullet back at you during the competition?” Hommes laughed.
“Hell no they didn’t. Just because we live east of the Mississippi doesn’t mean that we’re stupid. We stand next to one another and there are judges watching who declares who was faster and who wins each shootout.”
“So then, you’ve never been in a real gunfight facing another man straight on when the other man also has a pistol with real bullets in it and can shoot back at you?”
“Well…no…not really,” stammered Hommes, a slight look of confusion on his face.
“Idiot,” said Jess, shaking his head now.
“Did I hear you right? Did you just call me an idiot?”
“Yeah, I suppose I did,” he replied.
“Well, I take that as an insult to my integrity and I will have to request an apology from you Mr. Williams.”
“You want an apology? Hell, I’m trying to keep you from getting shot dead and you’re worried about being insulted. Anyone who hasn’t faced a man in a real gunfight before should think long and hard about it. It’s a whole different matter than competing in a pistol contest. I’ve learned from experience that a man never knows exactly how he’s going to react when involved in a real gun fight with his life on the line and there is someone aiming right back at you with real bullets.”
“I’m not sure that I see the difference.”
“Well you will if you continue to pursue that line of thought.”
Jess could see that Hommes was indeed thinking about it for a few seconds. Jess looked over at Sheriff Hatfield and his two deputies. They hadn’t moved at all; they were just watching and he could tell that they were enjoying it a little too much for his comfort. He didn’t want to kill Sheriff Hatfield or his two deputies, but he was prepared to do so if he was forced to. He looked back at Hommes who was still standing on the boardwalk; his head slightly tilted down as if he was still thinking about what Jess had said to him. Then, Wesley lifted his head back up as if he had found the answer he was searching for and he walked down the steps and into the street, a renewed look of determination on his face.
“Mr. Williams, I’ve given it some thought and I’ve decided to still challenge you to a gunfight right here and right now.”
Jess looked back over at Sheriff Hatfield and his two deputies and all he could say was—“Damn it.”
CHAPTER TWO
Only fifteen feet separated Wesley Hommes and Jess and in the middle of the street. The photographer was ready to commemorate the moment and he gave the signal to proceed. There was nothing else Jess could do about the situation. He glared at Hommes for putting him in this predicament, especially when the sheriff was just looking for a reason to lock him up in jail.
“Alright, Mr. Hommes, if this is where you’ve decided to last moments in life, I suppose I’ll have to grant you your request. I have to tell you again though, there is not one chance that you can’t beat me on the draw,” insisted Jess.
“I’ve taken that into consideration Mr. Williams, but twenty five thousand dollars is a whole lot of money for one man,” replied Hommes. It’ll be enough money for me to retire on.”
“You’ll be retiring for sure, but it won’t be with the twenty five thousand dollars you think you’re going to make. You’ll be retiring from the two slugs I’m going to put into your chest if you don’t walk away from this before you make one final mistake in your life,” cautioned Jess.
“I still think I can take you.”
“Thinking and doing are two different things.”
“I think the talking is over now and we should just get to it,” said Hommes, waving to his camera man, more worried about the photo than the actual gunfight.
Jess was really at the edge of his patience now at the indifference that Hommes was exhibiting. Men from the other side of the Mississippi just didn’t seem to understand how things really happened out in the west. He removed his hammer strap and glared down at Hommes and Wesley now saw the darkness in Jess’s eyes that he hadn’t seen up to now. It was the look of a man who had faced death many times before and lived and it somewhat unnerved him, although it was too late now. Hommes couldn’t stop thinking about the twenty five thousand dollars he was about to make.
“Anytime you’re ready, make your move Mr. Hommes,” said Jess, showing no emotion now.
Hommes checked his pistol in his holster to make sure it was loose enough. He slowly pulled it out just a little and slowly slid it back into place just like he did when shooting in one of his pistol competitions. He looked at Jess and he slowly came to the realization that he might have bitten off more than he could chew, but it was too late now. Most men who got themselves this far into a gunfight with another man just couldn’t seem to walk away, even though something in the back of their heads usually told them to do so. He had an uneasy feeling about what he was about to do, but the money kept pushing him to do something that he knew in the back of his subconscious was most likely a mistake and one that might cost him his life.
Hommes went for his gun and the photographer took the shot. The photographer caught Wesley in all his glory reaching for his pistol against the infamous bounty hunter, Jess Williams. What he didn’t capture, however, was Jess slicking his pistol out and putting two slugs into Hommes’s chest before the photo even finished. The photographer stood up in time to see him fall face forward into the dirt and Jess standing there with smoke still coming from the business end of his pistol. Jess immediately looked over at Sheriff Hatfield and his two deputies, who still had not moved an inch, which somewhat surprised Jess. He thought for sure they would have made a move on him as soon as the gun play was over, but they were still standing on the boardwalk in from of the sheriff’s office and grinning strangely at him. Jess was trying to figure out what they were thinking and that’s when he noticed it. They seemed to be looking at something behind him. Jess felt the hair on the back of his neck start to stand up and he was in the process of turning around to see what they were looking at when he felt a hard thud on the back of his head and the only thing he saw a second later, was absolute blackness.
***
Jess slowly opened his eyes and tried to focus. He felt lightheaded as he slowly tried to get his bearings and wits about him. He saw what looked like a ceiling, which told his foggy brain he must be lying on his back. He tried to remember what had happened, but everything was still muddled in his head and he couldn’t seem to put anything together. He tried to sit up, but his head hurt so bad that he couldn’t. He closed his eyes again and tried to concentrate. He wondered if he might be dead and this is where people went when they passed on to the other side of death’s door, but he didn’t remember dying or even getting shot. He couldn’t remember anything at all yet. He closed his eyes for a few more minutes and tried to remember what happened. Some things started to slowly filter back into his brain. He remembered that he had been facing off with a man in a gunfight and he shot the man twice before the man had finished drawing his pistol completely out of his holster. Yes, Wesley Hommes was his name. He remembered Sheriff Hatfield and his two deputies and then he remembered the photographer standing on the boardwalk and the bright flash just as Hommes went for his pistol. Jess still didn’t know for sure if he was dead or not at this point.
Suddenly, he began to hear noises off in a distance. There were voices, but he couldn’t make out the words. They sounded muffled somehow as if he had cotton stuffed in his ears. He unconsciously checked his ears and there wasn’t any cotton in them, so why couldn’t he make out the words? He listened a little more to the voices and slowly they began to make sense to him, the words becoming clearer with each passing moment. He opened up his eyes again and his vision was getting a little better now. He could definitely see it was a ceiling he was looking at now. He couldn’t sit up yet, but he could move his head and he moved it in the direction of the voices. When he did, he saw Sheriff Hatfield and his two deputies standing on the other side of metal bars and they were laughing and joking with one another.
