Brother's Keeper (22 page)

“And just what did you come here to do?” asked Jim, afraid of the answer.
“Why, to make ten thousand dollars—and kill my brother,” Sloan answered, speaking as if what he had said was nothing more that going down to the creek for an afternoon of fishing. He holstered his pistol in his customary fashion and turned to walk out when Jim said, “You didn’t ask me why your brother left town.”
Sloan stopped and turned back to Jim. “All right, I’ll ask. Why did he leave town.”
Jim smiled what could’ve only been considered an evil grin when he answered, “He’s looking for you.”

S
LOAN WALKED OUT OF
Jim and Sara’s place and headed for the saloon again. He never knew that Tony had the sights of his Winchester

square in the middle of Sloan’s back all the while he was talking to Jim and Sara. Tony kept the Winchester on him as he walked to the saloon and he wanted in the worst way to simply pull the trigger but something inside him, something that he could not understand, refused to let him do it. “Damn it” he said to himself as he put the Winchester down. As soon as Sloan was inside the saloon, he walked over to Jim and Sara Smythe’s. When he walked in, Jim was holding Sara who was sobbing in his arms.

“I had my Winchester aimed square in the middle of his back all the time he was here. If he’d of shot either of you, I would’ve plugged him,” said Tony.

Jim was angrier than he had ever been in his life before. “Hell, you should’ve plugged him anyway.”
“He had that pistol trained on you. How was I to know it wouldn’t go off and kill you anyway? I figured to wait it out and see. What the hell did he want?”
“He wanted to know if we knew Jess and where he was.”
“You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“Hell yes, I had to tell him. He threatened to kill me and then Sara after that. I had no idea you had him covered. I swear, if I had known, I would’ve refused and let him shoot me just so you could kill him. It would’ve been worth it.”
Sara lifted her head from his chest. “No, I wouldn’t want that and Jess wouldn’t either and you know it. Besides, Jess wants to face his brother and it’s going to happen sooner or later and if it’s later, someone else will die by that young man’s hands.”
Tony grunted and looked at Jim. “You know what? She’s right. We’ve all been trying to keep Jess’ brother from finding Jess when that’s what Jess wants in the worst way. We should’ve told Sloan about it when he first hit town. Maybe Trent Holt would still be alive.”
“I doubt it,” replied Jim, “that boy has a lot more killing inside of him.”
“I reckon you’re right about that. Let’s hope he can keep that smoke wagon of his in the holster until Jess gets back to town. I’ll go over and fill Andy in. Sloan is over there again, probably trying to get up another poker game.” Tony headed over to the saloon. Sara placed her head back on Jim’s chest again and sobbed some more.
“Jim, I was never so scared in my life before. I was sure he was going to kill the both of us,” she sobbed. “I think I understand now.”
“Understand what, Sara?”
Sara’s head rose up, “I think I understand what Jess is doing by hunting down men like that. I’ve been having a hard time trying to justify it, but when I felt for that one moment that I was going to lose you for no reason and maybe lose my life, too…well…I think it finally hit home with me. Jess is right. Men like that don’t deserve to walk the same streets as the rest of us. Men like that don’t deserve to live. I think that if I had the courage to do it, I would kill that young man myself. I would shoot him down in the street like the dog he is.”
Jim put her head back on his chest and held her firmly. “Now, now, calm down. We’re not like that, but we sure know someone who is…and he’s on his way back, I hope.”
Tony walked into Andy’s Saloon and sauntered up to the bar. Andy was wiping off some glasses and exchanging glares with Sloan, who was sitting at a table, shuffling cards. “Well, the secret’s out,” said Tony.
“What do ya mean by that?” asked Andy. Tony told him about all that had just taken place over at Jim and Sara’s.
“That little bastard needs killin’,” said Andy in a low enough voice so that Sloan couldn’t hear him. “I say we grab my double-barrel and blow his sorry ass outta that chair the first time he ain’t lookin’. Maybe you should distract him somehow so I could get the drop on him.”
Tony shook his head. “In case you’ve forgotten, we ain’t a professional gunman like him. I don’t think he misses much. He’d probably get at least one of us before it was over. I say we let our boy Jess handle it. I think he would want it that way.”
“You’re probably right ‘bout that.” Just then, LeAnn walked out of the back but Andy stopped her in her tracks. “Get yer ass back in that kitchen woman!” LeAnn huffed and spun around and went back in the kitchen. Andy wanted to keep her out of sight from Sloan figuring that nothing good could come from it. “That damn woman’s got a memory shorter than my pecker,” Andy complained.
“I thought you wanted to marry her off?”
“Not to that piece of crap.”
There was a moment of silence and then Tony said, “That short, huh?”
“Kiss my ass,” replied Andy as he looked over at Sloan who now looked agitated.
“Jesus Christ,” exclaimed Sloan, “a man can’t think with you hollering like some old woman.”
“What you gonna do, shoot me like you did Trent?” exclaimed Andy.
“You know the only reason I don’t you old cuss?”
“No, why don’t ya tell me?”
“Cause you look like the ass end of a mule I once had,” retorted Sloan, smiling at Andy. Andy almost replied but common sense finally got a grip on him and he kept his mouth shut and went back to wiping up.

Terrence Hanley woke up to what he thought was a cannon exploding. He jumped up from his bedroll trying to shake the cobwebs from his head and was reaching for his pistol when he saw Jess lying flat on his stomach; the Sharps Big Fifty lay across his saddle. Smoke was still coming from the end of the barrel and the smell of gunpowder still lingered heavily in the air. Hanley then realized that he was making himself quite a nice target and now that his brain was starting to come out of the fog, he dropped back down on the ground behind his saddle.

“What the hell is going on? Are we being shot at or what?”
Jess smiled and stood up, propping the Big Fifty against his saddle. “No, I don’t think that rabbit’s got a gun or a head anymore. Figured we could use some fresh meat for today and when I woke up, I spotted that rabbit out about one hundred and fifty yards and decided there was no sense in missing out on the opportunity for a good meal later on.”
“You hit that rabbit a hundred and fifty out?”
“Yep, that Sharps is one fine long gun. I like it more every time I shoot it.”
“You might want to warn a man who’s in a sleep before you fire up that thing.”
“Sorry about that. I’m so used to being alone on the trail I guess I didn’t think much about it.”
Jess walked out to pick up the rabbit. He gutted it and tied it on the packhorse. It would make a good meal later in the day. They made some coffee; bacon and pan bread and broke camp but not before Jess cleaned the Sharps rifle. He always kept his weapons in good order. They had been riding for a few hours when Hanley broke the silence.
“You don’t talk much.”
Jess glanced over at him and smiled. “I do when I have something to say.”
“Mind if I asked you a question?”
“Don’t mind at all,” replied Jess.
“When you finally meet up with your brother and face him, do you think you will actually be able to…well…kill him?”
Jess thought about it but only for a few seconds. “If he is what I think he is, yes, I’ll kill him for sure, brother or not. I still have some hope that maybe he’s nothing more than a liar, thief and a man who cheats other men out of their money at the poker table. I can live with that although I wouldn’t want any part of him. If he turns out to be a killer of innocent men and women, then he’s no better than the men who murdered my family and that puts him on my bad list. I only know one way to deal with people on my bad list.” Hanley didn’t have to wonder what that meant.
“Remind me not to ever get on your bad list,” replied Hanley.
Jess smiled. “You know, I was looking over your horses this morning. They are two of the finest horses I’ve seen in a long while. You wouldn’t want to part with one of them, would you?”
“Not mine to part with,” replied Hanley. “Cal Hardin loaned them both to me to catch up with you. They are mighty fine animals and they can run long and hard too. Maybe Hardin will sell you one if you ask him.”
“I might do that. Gray here has been a great horse but he’s getting a little tired. He’s going to deserve a long rest pretty soon.”
Hanley looked at Gray and then at the packhorse.
“Where’d you pick the packhorse up at?”
“I bought him from some rancher along the trail. I ran into two men who had been robbed and stranded and needed a ride.”
“How’d they get robbed?”
Jess thought about the whole thing with Carl and Murry for a moment. He shook his head and laughed. “I don’t think I want to tell you.”
“Why not? Hell, we ain’t doing nothing else but riding.”
“It’s too long of a story.”
“Come on, the way you’re smiling it must be a good one.”
“It is.”
“Then tell me.”
Jess smiled. “Remember that thing about reminding you not to get on my bad list,” said Jess, still smiling.
Hanley frowned. “I think I just lost all interest in that. I’ll be shuttin’ up now.”
They rode in silence for the next several hours. They decided they wouldn’t make it to Black Creek until the next day so they made camp and fixed a nice meal with the rabbit. They picked the bones clean and they both finished off a good plate of beans and that was followed by a few pots of hot coffee and some casual conversation before they finally turned in.

Randolph Jackson had been on the trail for months now. He was hell-bent on finding and killing the man who shot his brother Nevada Jackson. He knew who shot his brother; he just didn’t know where the young man was, at least, not until recently. He had started his search in Red Rock, Texas after he heard the news that his brother had been killed in a gunfight. By the time he had heard the news, he made arrangements to hit the trail and make it to Red Rock, Texas, Jess Williams was long gone.

Randolph traveled from one small town to another, asking questions about this young man, Jess Williams. He finally ended up in a small town called Baxter and it was there that he found out that Jess Williams was from Black Creek, Kansas. He had also come to the realization from the information he had gathered about Jess Williams, that he was mighty fast with a pistol. When he had first learned of the demise of his brother, his first thought was that there must have been some trickery involved or that his brother had no warning and was murdered, even though he was told that it was a fair fight. He thought that because he knew how fast his brother Nevada was with a pistol. He knew because he had taught him how to draw. The only one who could beat Nevada Jackson in a fair showdown was Randolph himself, or so he thought.

But now, he had finally come to the realization that it probably had been a fair fight between his brother and Jess Williams. Of course, it didn’t matter to him now. He was hell-bent on finding the man who killed his brother and, as usual, reason or common sense would have nothing to do with the matter. That was the way it was as far as he was concerned. He would avenge his brother’s death and that was that. It was his sworn duty to do so.

He rode into Black Creek in the later part of the afternoon. He stopped the first place most men did, the first saloon he could find. He tied his horse and walked into Andy’s Saloon. Randolph dressed much like his brother Nevada. Mostly black, with a black leather holster with some silver studs and a very nice Colt .45 Peacemaker in the holster. The holster was tied down low and tight to his thigh. Randolph could sense the tension in the saloon immediately and he could sense where most of the tension was coming from. It was emanating from a young man sitting alone at a table, shuffling and dealing cards to himself and an imaginary player that wasn’t there. Randolph walked up to the bar.

“What can I get ya?” asked Andy.
“Whiskey, and make it the good stuff.”
Andy grabbed a bottle of his good whiskey from

under the bar. He poured him a shot, which he downed with one quick motion and motioned for Andy to pour him another one. “Where ya from, Mister?”

“Hell, I’m not sure anymore. I’ve hit every damn shithole of a town over the last several weeks. Can’t remember half the names and don’t want to anyway,” answered Randolph, downing the second shot and asking for the third.

Andy.
“Naw, I’m hunting for the young man who killed my
brother.”
Andy had a smile on his face and an idea in his brain,
which didn’t happen all that often. “Might the young man
who killed yer brother go by the name of Tim Sloan?” “No, why do you ask?”
“Cause that’s Tim Sloan sittin’ right over there at the
card table. He’s killed his share of men, that’s fer sure.” Randolph glanced back at Sloan and then back to
Andy. “He fit’s the description, but not the name. I guess
the only way to find out for sure is to ask,” Randolph said,
downing his third whiskey. He turned to face Sloan who
had already sensed something going on. He decided to see
if the man at the bar was interested in a game of cards. “How ‘bout a game, Mister?” asked Sloan.
“I’m not looking to get into a card game; I’m looking
for the young man who killed my brother, Nevada
Jackson.” Andy, who had been leaning on the bar, hoping
to see a gunfight ensue between these two, heard the name
Nevada Jackson and that made him stand straight up. He
remembered about Jess telling him about his gunfight with
him.
Jesus Christ
, he thought to himself. He listened
intently now at the conversation as it continued.
“You fit the description but the barkeep says your
name is Tim Sloan. That right?” Sloan shot a glare at
Andy, knowing that Andy obviously had something to do
with this.
“That’s right, I’m Tim Sloan, but I didn’t kill anybody
by the name of Nevada Jackson, at least, not that I know
of. What’s the name of the man you’re looking for?” “They told me his name was Jess Williams.” That got Sloan’s attention real fast. Andy, now that
what he had feared was now confirmed, shook his head.
Here was yet another gunslinger looking for Jess to kill
him for revenge. Sloan was thinking hard now about how
to continue with the conversation. He didn’t want this man to get a crack at his brother before him and lose the ten thousand dollars he had already been spending in his head. He slowly stood up and pushed his chair back, his hammer
strap already removed.
“Mister, what is your name?”
“Randolph Jackson, brother of Nevada Jackson,” he
answered, slowly removing his hammer strap.
“Well, Randolph, it seems that we have a little
problem.”
“What might that be?”
“Jess Williams is my brother.”
Randolph stiffened a little at that. “Is that so? I guess that’s
why you fit the description so well. You’re wrong about
that little problem thing, ‘cause if you’re taking his side in
this matter, we have a big problem. Now, if that’s the case,
let’s get this over with right now and then I’ll take care of
that no good brother of yours as soon as our paths cross.” Sloan was trying to keep some information from
coming forth until he could decide how to handle this
whole matter, but he couldn’t let the threat go
unchallenged. It was simply his nature. His mood changed
towards a darker side and his words now held a sarcastic
tone as he spoke. “Listen, Randolph, I ain’t taking my
brother’s side in this matter or anything else, but if you
want to challenge me, I suggest you go meet with the
undertaker first to get measured up real nice for the pine
box you’ll need when this is over.”
Randolph smiled so hard he almost laughed. “Hell kid,
I’ve taken down more men already than you will if you
live to be an old man, which ain’t likely. What makes you
think I can’t take you? Hell, I’ve been slinging iron longer
than you’ve been breathing air.”
Sloan glared at Randolph, trying to decide whether or
not to chance outdrawing this man. Normally, he would have went through with it without a thought, but that ten thousand dollars was nagging at him like a itch that couldn’t be scratched, and that altered his way of thinking, temporarily at least. It was then that the idea came to him. “So, you want my brother dead in order to avenge the
death of your brother, correct?”
“That’s exactly what I want, and I don’t care how I get
it either.”
Sloan smiled an evil grin. “Well, what if I told you
that I am here waiting for my brother’s return so that I can
kill him myself?”
Randolph was taken aback by that. He had such a
close relationship with his brother Nevada that he couldn’t
fathom one brother killing another, yet he had heard of
such things. “You’re going to kill your own flesh and
blood, your own brother?” Randolph asked, not believing
what he was hearing.
“Yes sir, that is exactly why I’ve been sitting here
waiting around for the last few days.” Randolph was still
trying to wrap his brain around this idea. He was thinking
about it all when Andy broke the silence.
“The only reason he’s here to kill his brother is that
he’s being paid ten thousand dollars to do it,” Andy
hollered.
Sloan shot a glare over at Andy. “I swear old man, I’m
going to put a bullet square in your ass before this is over,”
exclaimed Sloan.
“Why my ass and not my head?” Andy asked,
sarcastically.
“Because every time you sit down, I want you to think
of me.”
“Yeah, well…when your brother get’s back to town,
you won’t be gettin’ a chance to shoot anyone else,”
exclaimed Andy.
Randolph interrupted. “Ten thousand dollars, huh?
That’s a lot of money for killing one man. I suppose if I’m
the man who kills your brother, I could collect the money
myself?”
Sloan was beginning to lose it when he came up with
another angle. He did not want to lose out on the money
and even though he thought he could take Randolph, he
didn’t want to take the chance now. He was a poker player
and was always trying to assess the odds. “Okay, I’ll make
you a proposition.”
“I’m listening.”
“If you and I go at it right now, one of us is going to
die, that we know for sure. If it’s you who gets shot, you’ll
go to your grave never having the satisfaction of knowing
that the man who killed your brother is dead. Who knows,
he might just beat me to the draw. Unlikely, but you never
know. Now, if it’s me who dies, you will get your chance
at my brother, but he is pretty fast and he might kill you, in
which case, you still don’t get your revenge.”
“That’s a whole lot of fancy talk but what the hell are
you getting at?” said Randloph, trying to follow Sloan. “Here is what I propose. You wait here until my
brother gets back and let me face him down first. If I kill
him, I will give you one thousand dollars just for letting
me get the first chance at him. If for some reason, he gets
me, then you still have the opportunity to face him and
collect the entire ten thousand dollars yourself. Don’t you
see? You have nothing at all to lose in the venture. Plus,
you will have the satisfaction of watching his own brother
kill him. What could be better than that?”
Randolph went back to the bar and poured himself
another shot of whiskey and downed it. He thought about
the proposal for a few minutes. Andy was staring at him
the whole time. Randolph slammed his shot glass down on the bar and turned back around to face Sloan. “You know what, kid? I have to agree with you. I wanted to be the one to kill him but to be able to watch you kill him in front of me, well, that’s even better. And, I’ll make a thousand dollars to watch him die. I couldn’t think of a better deal in
a hundred years.”
Sloan relaxed and sat back down at his table. Andy
went back to cleaning up and shaking his head in disgust.
Sloan shuffled up the cards again. “Randolph, would you
like to play a few hands of poker?”
Randolph grabbed the shot glass and bottle from the
bar and walked to the table. “Hell, might as well. I have to
keep an eye on you anyway. I don’t want to miss the big
showdown.” Sloan smiled and dealt the cards.