Sins of the Father (20 page)

“Between the Doc and Pattie, I’ll be up and running around in no time.”
Jess walked out and met Reedy at the livery. They mounted up and headed for Largo. Reedy could see anxiousness in Jess as they rode. Reedy had gained a lot of respect for this young man he was riding next to and he hoped that Jess would find what he was looking for in Largo.

HE RIDE TO
L
ARGO WAS A
quiet and uneventful one. Reedy and Jess covered as much distance as they could the first day. Reedy’s
horse was having a hard time keeping up with Jess’
horses. Jess had to slow the pace once in a while to
give Reedy’s horse a break. They even rode a few
hours after the sun went down. They finally made
camp at a small clearing in a wooded area where a
small stream ran out of the woods and into a large
meadow. They had cover from three sides, which
always made Jess more comfortable. Reedy gathered
up some wood and made a small fire to make some
coffee and warm up some beans while Jess went
about checking the perimeter and placing a few of his
cans on strings around the area. After the coffee was
done and the beans were warm enough, they both sat
down to eat.
“You’re mighty paranoid about your
surroundings, Jess. I never seen anyone put up cans and string around a camp before. Where did you get that idea from?”
“It just came to me one day. I figure if someone is going to sneak up on me, they’ll never suspect the cans and it might just give me enough warning to stay alive.”
Reedy thought about it for a moment. “Well, I can’t say it’s not a good idea; I just never thought about it before.”
“Well, maybe you should start thinking a little more about such things. I would’ve never gotten ambushed back in Timber like you did, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, I sure let my guard down that time. I won’t let that happen again, you can be sure of that.” Reedy finished his beans and filled his coffee cup up again. “Jess, can I talk with you about something?”
“Sure, Frank, what’s on your mind?”
“Well, you’ve killed quite a lot of men already and you ain’t even hit twenty years yet. How long are you going to keep on this trail of vengeance? You already killed the three men who murdered your family and you’ve killed your brother that you didn’t know you had, and tomorrow you plan on riding into Largo and my guess is that you will brace your father. Your reputation is growing with every kill and there will be more men gunning for you than ever. Have you ever thought about just quitting and going back home and starting up the old homestead and farm some fields and raise some cattle?”
Jess had been finishing up with his beans while Reedy was talking. He put his tin plate down and filled his cup with more hot coffee. “Frank, you’re a lawman so you will understand it more than most. I didn’t ask for this life, fate just threw it at me. Maybe there is some reason for it, I’m not sure, but I do think about it all the time. I mean, the way I got this gun and holster is something that can’t be explained, but here it is and it came to me after my family was murdered. It was like as though it was supposed to find me when I needed it the most. I can’t explain it, and probably never will understand it, but that don’t matter. There are plenty of farmers and cattle ranchers. There are plenty of sheepherders and other people in all walks of life. There are lawmen like you, although not enough to enforce the law out here and there are plenty of bad men who deserve to die for the awful things that they do. That’s where I fit in and I’m comfortable with it. Frank, everyone has their place in life and I believe I’ve found mine. There are men who need to be brought to justice and too many of them never get caught, and they continue to kill innocent men and rape innocent women, and the law can’t catch them all. I can’t go back to farming now. I have a different sort of talent and it just happens to be killing bad men who deserve to die; and I will not waste it on farming. I suppose some people might consider me as evil, but I guess I’m what some people would call a necessary evil. I get the job done that you and other lawmen can’t or won’t. I believe in what I’m doing and I don’t intend to stop until either I die, or I kill the last man that needs killing.”
Reedy leaned back against his saddle and thought about what Jess had said for a few minutes. “Well, it’s damn hard to argue with your view about such things and I have to agree that you are damn good at what you do. You have an unnatural ability to kill men and it doesn’t seem to bother you, and I can’t argue that the men you’ve killed didn’t deserve to die because each one of them surely did. I guess until you start killing men who don’t deserve to die, I will consider you a good man and a good friend.” “I’m glad you feel that way, Frank. I’d always like to consider you a friend, too. I don’t have very many, so I need everyone I can get.”
“I have a hunch you have more friends than you think. You may have killed a lot of men but you have helped a whole lot of people in the process. Well, I’m ready to turn in. Tomorrow will be an interesting day, I believe.”
“Frank, you are right about that. I can’t wait to have my little chat with Eddie Sloan.”
They put out the fire and both pulled blankets up to keep warm from the cool night air. They both went off to sleep, Frank wondering how things were in Timber and Jess wondering about what he would say to Eddie Sloan tomorrow. They awoke at sunrise and made coffee but no breakfast. They saddled up and headed straight for Largo.

he saloon was no different than any other saloon that one would find in many of the small towns scattered throughout the west. It reeked of cheap whiskey, and cigar smoke lingered heavily in the air. There was one bartender behind the bar and a few women sitting around waiting for one of the men to take them upstairs for a little attention. One of the women was sitting next to a man who was

playing poker at a table with three other men. They had been playing for several hours now, and it was obvious to everyone in the game who was in control. Eddie Sloan always liked to have a whore sitting next to him when he was playing cards and he always liked to control the game. Most of the time he could control it simply through his well-honed skill at the game and when that didn’t work, he could always fall back on his cheating skills. Sloan had honed his cheating skills over the years to a level of perfection that most men would never acquire. He could palm cards, hide them and make them disappear without anyone else noticing it. He would practice those skills in his hotel room every day so that he could always keep sharp and way ahead of the best of players.

He would often ride out of whatever town he was staying in and practice his pistol skills for hours. It was another skill that went along with his profession as an expert poker player, especially when someone at the table would finally get fed up with losing every hand and made the mistake of calling Eddie Sloan a cheat or a liar. That was exactly the mistake Brad Tillman was making at this very moment.

“Jesus Christ!” exclaimed Tillman. “How in the hell did you get another two pair? Hell, I’ve never had that many good hands in a row in any game and I’ve played a lot of poker. You just can’t be that lucky, it ain’t natural.”

Sloan leaned back in his chair, picked up his cigar, took a long pull on it, and let it out slowly, savoring the flavor. He enjoyed a good cigar much like he enjoyed a good whore once in a while. He looked completely relaxed and completely within his environment. He looked at the other two men as if to see if they were going to start complaining. Sloan could see from their faces that they wanted to say something, but they would not. They knew all too well that Eddie Sloan was not a man to cross or especially call a cheat. They would be no problem for Sloan. They would simply lose all their money to Sloan and walk away, which is exactly what most of the men who played poker against Sloan did. Poker was a little like being a gunslinger. Even though you knew the man you were up against was a better player, you just had to try your luck to see if you could be the one who could brag that you beat the best poker player in the West—Eddie Sloan. To this day, no one had ever beaten Sloan at poker and this day would be no different. The pot on the table had grown to almost two hundred dollars before Tillman called Sloan’s hand. Tillman thought he finally had a winning hand with a pair of kings and a pair of fours. His smile had quickly faded when Sloan laid his pair of aces and a pair of eights on the table. It was the very same hand that Wild Bill Hickok was holding when Jack McCall shot Hickok in the back while Hickok was playing in a poker game in Deadwood, South Dakota on August 2, 1876.

Sloan looked squarely into Brad Tillman’s eyes and found what he was looking for. “So, what are you saying, Tillman? Are you saying that I’m unnaturally lucky?”

Tillman leaned forward in his chair. “I’m saying anyone who can win that many hands and have that many good hands in that short of a time has got to be cheating.”

It was the one thing that Brad Tillman shouldn’t have said, but he had said it now and there was no taking the words back. Sloan motioned for his whore to go to the bar. She knew what that meant and she did not linger. She had seen this before and knew that it would not be long before lead flew and someone died. She walked up to the bar next to a tall man who had a full head of golden hair along with a beard and a mustache. He was sipping whiskey and watching the event unfold as if he had bought a ticket for it. When she placed herself to the left of the man, she partially blocked his view of the poker table and the man politely asked her if she could move to his right.

She looked up at him curiously. “You’ve never seen a gunfight before?” she asked, somewhat nonchalantly.

Frank Reedy looked her over. She was prettier than most of the women who worked in her profession. “Normally, I don’t much care to watch one man shoot it out with another for no good reason, but I have a vested interest in this one.”

Her curiosity grew a little more. “What do you mean? Do you know those men?”
“I know one of them. Eddie Sloan. The man you were sitting with. You know the one who keeps winning hand after hand.”
She laughed. “I don’t know what you’d call it. He is either the luckiest man I’ve ever met or the best poker player anywhere in the West, but he never loses a game. What is your interest in him? If you’re looking to get into the game, I believe there will be an empty seat real soon,” she said, looking past Reedy’s shoulder at the unfolding argument.
Eddie Sloan had put down his cigar. He was now glaring at Brad Tillman. “Mister, did I hear you correctly. Did you just call me a cheat?”
Tillman pushed back his chair and slowly stood up. “I do believe that’s what I called you—a cheat. I heard about you before and that’s why I got into this game. I wanted to know if the great Eddie Sloan was really the best poker player in the West or if he was a cheat. Now I know the answer. I’ve played a lot of poker and no one is that lucky for that long of a time.”
Frank Reedy watched intently as Eddie Sloan slowly stood up to face Brad Tillman. “I’m going to do you a favor,” said Sloan. “I’m going to give you a chance to apologize for your remarks and then ask you to leave the game and the saloon. Also, don’t ever sit at a game that I’m playing in, ever. If you do, I will plug you before your ass hits the chair.”
“And what if I don’t?” replied Tillman, a growing defiance in his voice.
Sloan sneered at Tillman. “Then we will have to see if you can handle that side iron better than a deck of cards.”
“I can play just fine, when everyone at the table is playing fair and with the same deck of cards.”
Sloan lowered his head a little. “Now, there you go again, saying something that you ought not to. I warned you once; I’m not going to warn you again.”
“You can kiss my ass, Sloan. I can beat you in a fair card game and I think I can beat you on the draw, too.”
“You might be making a big mistake thinking that, Tillman. You ain’t got a chance in hell of beating me. I’m telling you, if you snake that thing out, I’ll plug you before you clear leather.”
“Yeah…let’s just see about that.”
Brad Tillman went for his Colt .45. His hand reached the butt of his pistol and he had barely started to get it out of the holster when Sloan’s Colt .45 barked loudly, punching a hole right through the middle of Tillman’s chest. Tillman stumbled backwards and Sloan put another slug into Tillman’s chest as he was falling over, making sure he would not get back up from the floor. Sloan looked around the room to see if anyone else was going to challenge him and when he saw none, he simply whirled his Colt .45 back into his holster and began to sit back down and collect his pot of money when Frank Reedy spoke.
“Mr. Sloan, that was mighty impressive. I’ve seen some fast guns and you are one of the fastest men on the draw I’ve seen in a long time,” said Reedy, keeping both hands on the bar so as not to give Sloan the wrong idea.
Sloan had stopped his movement toward his seat and stood back up and looked Frank Reedy over for a moment. “You look like you might be one of them bounty hunters. Are you planning on trying my hand, too?”
Reedy shook his head. “No sir, not me. I know my limitations and I know I can’t beat you on the draw, that’s for sure.”
“Well, good, you’re a smart man to admit it. It’s too bad Tillman there wasn’t as smart,” remarked Sloan, glancing over at the now dead body of Brad Tillman. Sloan again started the movement of sitting back down in his chair and was stopped by Frank Reedy’s next statement.
“I do, however, know someone who
is
faster than you.”
That got Sloan’s attention right away and he stood straight back up. Then he smiled. “You must be talking about my boy, Tim. He’s about the only one I know that might have a chance against me and that’s because I taught him everything I know about drawing and shooting a pistol.”
“Evidently, you didn’t teach him enough.”
Sloan’s demeanor turned somewhat darker. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Tim Sloan seems to have managed to get himself killed.” replied Reedy, still keeping his hands on the bar so as not to give Eddie Sloan any reason to think that Reedy was going to challenge him.
Sloan looked down at the table, talking to himself. “I wondered why I hadn’t seen him. Hell, I thought he went out East to play poker and was having too much fun and hadn’t made it back yet…” Then Sloan looked up at Reedy with a glare. “Are you the one who killed my boy?”
Reedy shook his head no as he answered. “No, I didn’t kill your boy, but I know who did.”
“Who?” demanded Sloan.
“Your only living son,” answered Reedy, a mischievous grin on his face.
Sloan was thoroughly confused, which wasn’t something he was used to. “What the hell are you talking about? I only had one son, and now you’re telling me he was killed by my only
living
son? That doesn’t make any sense to me.” Sloan thought again for a minute and then it finally came to him. He remembered about leaving Tim’s brother back with the woman who had bore him his two sons. He had taken the one son who looked to be the stronger of the two. “I’ll be damned. I haven’t seen or heard from my other boy since he was a baby. And now you tell me that he’s gone and killed his own brother Tim?”
Reedy looked at Sloan with that same strange grin. “I know it sounds kind of crazy, but yes, that’s what I’m telling you.”
“Well, why the hell do you suppose he went and did that?”
“You’ll be able to ask him that yourself in a moment or so. He is probably walking up the street as we speak.”
“What the hell is he doing here?”
“He’s looking for you.”