A Matter of Justice

By Larry Auerbach

This is a story of justice delayed, and how each person’s life can intersect with another, with a varying degree of impact. Jonah Berryman is a former Union sniper, who is hunting for someone out of his past. He has some unfinished business with the doctor who saved his life and allowed his cousin to die. When he went to find the doctor la

• Language: English
• Publisher: Book Vine Press
• Release date: May 16, 2019
• ISBN: 9781949574944

Larry Auerbach

Larry Auerbach is a practicing psychotherapist of twenty-three years in Pt. St. Lucie, Florida, where he lives with his wife of 32 years. He earned his Master's in Social Work from Barry University in Miami Shores, Florida, in 1991 and has maintained a busy practice ever since. He has traveled out West for numerous pack trips, re-enactment rides and his interests include chess and horseback riding. He is a collector of frontier memorabilia, and maintains an extensive library of the people, places and events of the American Wild West. He is a member of the Western Writers of America, and this is his fourth novel. He can be reached at [e-mail].

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Copyright © 2019 by Larry Auerbach.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Printed in the United States of America.

Book Vine Press

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Palatine, IL 60067

A big thank-you to all the people who love the feel of a real book and the excitement of turning a page, and for all the people who lived the lives described in these pages. For my father, who encouraged me to read; for my teacher, Mrs. Jackson, who encouraged me to write; to my brave editor, Robyn Bryant, who has the courage to change what needs to be; and most of all for my wife, Chari, who has been my biggest supporter ever since we met. Behind every successful man there is a woman, and I am lucky she is mine.

Also by Larry Auerbach

Common Threads

The Spirit of Redd Mountain

A Matter of Honor

The Troll Bridge

Mr. Wysquers

Chapter 1

Ronald Brockton woke up to the sound of hammering, his head pounding from the two bottles of bourbon he had put away the night before. He could hear the hammering even after it stopped. He rolled over and jammed the pillow over his head trying to shut out the sounds, but failed miserably. With a groan, he gave up the idea of sleeping and pulled himself upright in the oversized bed.

Brockton was the typical jolly fat man that the people of Willow Springs expected to see running an ice cream parlor. He was just barely five feet tall and almost as big around. He was florid-faced, always sweating, even in the winter. His face constantly had an oily sheen despite the constant mopping he did with his apron and red bandana he kept tucked in his back pocket. He had a red-veined nose, the result of sneezing too hard he always claimed, but most of the adults recognized it as a sign of the heavy drinking he thought he kept a secret. Ronald wasn’t married. There was a rumor he had left his wife, or she had left him—people didn’t know or care. He contributed to the church on a regular basis, which made him a good citizen in the eyes of the God-fearing people of Willow Springs. He was always ready with a donation for the needy or to help with a barn raising or any other civic event. He didn’t help with the actual work—he was in no shape for that—but he would contribute ice and sodas for the men who were and sold a little to the onlookers to make ends meet. No one ever saw him in a bad mood, and he never had a cross word for anyone. He was even known to give the town drunk a free drink during the hottest days of summer.

Ronald was in a sour mood as he hadn’t slept well in weeks. He didn’t know what was going on in this dry nothing of a town, but he could feel the tension building. Ronald was a man who avoided trouble like some men collected women.

This damn town has turned sour. There’s something sick in this place, you can feel it. It started about two years ago, and it’s been growing ever since. All these killings; there’s something and someone behind them, I know it, he growled to no one in particular as he was waking up alone. Ever since that bounty hunter rode in, everyone’s been on edge. They’re all scared that their precious secrets are going to come out in the open, and everyone’s going to know them for what they are, he muttered as he reached for the bottle on the nightstand beside him. He picked it up and looked at it, sighed when he realized it was empty and dropped it to the floor. He reached into the carpetbag on the floor beside the bed and pulled out a fresh bottle.

Taking a long, healthy pull, he lowered the level by a good two inches. After a short while, he dropped his chin and let out a loud belch. Damn! That’s good. And what’s really funny, they will. They always do. Anyone who doesn’t want their lives turned inside out, they’d better haul their ashes out of here. This town is dying—they just don’t know it yet. For two cents, I’d pick up and move on. Maybe I should go back east . . . they’ve probably forgotten all about it by now . . . or maybe on to Denver. Yeah, Denver. It’s always cool there, and I hear the people are real fancy. They’d appreciate what I have to sell. The rich always want the best, and that’s what I have. Time for this old boy to head for Denver. Guess the first thing for me to do is take an inventory of what’s left, he told himself. And while I’m out, maybe I can find out what all that damn hammering was about so damn early in the morning, Ronald grumbled as he waddled to the wardrobe to get dressed. He opened the door to the wardrobe and looked for something clean and presentable. Finally selecting the cleanest of his worn and crumbled suits, he threw it on the bed.

He dug around in his dresser drawer for a clean shirt, and having found none, returned to the closet. Holding onto the closet doorknob, he lowered himself to the floor on his knees. He rummaged around on the floor until he found a shirt that would look acceptable with the suit he had already pulled out.

Holding onto the door, he managed to pull himself up back up to his feet. He lumbered over to the bed and laid the shirt down with the suit. He went back to the dresser for a pair of socks and, finding a clean pair, sat down on the bed and put them on.

By this time, he was once again sweating from the simple exertion of getting dressed. With a real effort, he pushed himself to his feet and picked up the shirt. As he put one fat arm in the sleeve, he saw a spot on the front that was too high to be covered by his pants, too close to the center to be covered by his coat, and too wide to be covered by his tie. Ronald swore to himself. With a sigh, he took the shirt off and went to the wash basin to try and rinse it out. Two hours later, it was finally dry enough to put back on and he finished dressing. Looking into the cracked mirror, he fiddled with his tie until he had it adequately fixed around his neck in the proper style.

By the time Brockton was able to get dressed and out the door, there was no one in sight. He looked around but saw nothing new or different that caught his eye. Giving a small shrug, he dismissed the hammering that woke him and meandered on down to his store, thinking about the day’s events. The Farnum boy was supposed to have his tenth birthday party today. Ronald was thinking about the mess that was going to be left for him to clean up. Lost in his thoughts, Ronald looked neither left nor right as he walked down the wooden sidewalk to the center of town, so he saw nothing to excite his curiosity.

Had he been paying attention, he would have noticed the posters nailed to every door he passed. As he approached his ice cream parlor, Ronald looked up to see a large poster. At first he thought it was a wanted poster, but as he approached he saw it was something much different. He felt a tingle of excitement as he read the words and their meaning took root in his mind. Stunned, he pulled it free from the small tacks and read it again. Excitedly, he looked around and saw a poster on the door of the store beside his. Ronald walked quickly over to look at it and saw that while it was different, it carried much the same message. As he read it, he saw Angus McDonald walk up to his storefront in the window reflection.

I see you got one too, Angus, Ronald called out excitedly, holding out his poster.

Aye, your eyes are nae playin’ tricks on ye. It appears I did get one, Angus responded acerbically as he read his own.

The two men were exact opposites in appearance and personality. Angus McDonald was a very dour man of very slight stature. He had grey hair, sparsely plastered down over his shiny domed head. He was so thin, one local wag said that if Angus ever stood up sideways and stuck his tongue out, he would look like the letter P. He always dressed the same—a black business suit with a heavily starched high white collar. No matter what the temperature, he wore the same outfit every day—rain or shine, heat or cold. No one in the county could remember Angus ever smiling or laughing, and his parsimony was legendary.

Someone once made the joke that he would have made a great banker except he never liked to part with any of his money. Angus was not a friendly person and was known to be very frugal. He bought only the cheapest meats from the butcher and was known to argue the price even then. He seldom smiled at anyone, even to his regular customers in his mercantile. He didn’t attend either of the two churches in town and seldom entertained. He was, however, known to be a very smart businessman who could save three dollars out of two. Angus was a lot of things—cheap, humorless, friendless, and even cantankerous—but one thing he wasn’t was stupid. If Angus was able to see something in this sign that bode well for the town, everyone was going to be on board. Ronald wanted to be the first in line behind him.

So, Angus, what do you make of it? The sign, I mean, Ronald asked brightly.

Mon, ye ken the same sign as I, I can nae make it more clear than that, Angus replied frostily without even raising his eyes from the paper. He was thinking about the meaning of the sign, but in keeping with his lifelong habit of giving away nothing, he did not intend to share his thoughts about the possible financial gain to be had from this momentous news. Angus was thinking hard about how to get his share of the wealth that was coming, and he did not intend to give up even so much as a penny of profit if he could help it—and certainly not to his competition. This simpleton bothering him was taking up valuable time, time he was going to need to gather more information in order to make his plans to get his share of the wealth that was coming to Willow Springs.

Mister Brockton, I ken no more than you, sir. So I can nae give you more information than that. You can read this paper as well as I, and, unless your schooling is dreadfully below what it should be, ye can understand as well as I the meaning of these words. Now, good day to you, sir. I have my own business to attend to, as I assume you do, Angus said brusquely as he opened his door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him.

Ronald stood on the boardwalk, staring at the closed door with his mouth open. After a few seconds, he shook his head and began to grumble softly. Goddamn, foreigner! Can’t take a minute to have a civil conversation. Who the hell does he think he is anyway? Brockton muttered as he turned on his heel and walked back to his own shop. See if I give him any of my business from now on, he vowed, knowing he had little choice in the matter as Angus’s store was the only mercantile in town and the nearest town to Willow Springs was Hobbsville, a good day’s journey back and forth.

As he reached his store’s door, he looked around to see who else was reading the signs on their doors. He saw that as the town’s businesses were opening their doors and putting out their sidewalk displays, almost all the merchants were reading the signs nailed to their doors. Ronald took his pocket watch out of his vest pocket to look at the time and saw that it was but two minutes before nine. As he looked around, he saw that only the hardware store, owned by the late Keith Perry; the former Morton Welden’s land office; Anita Barlow’s dress shop; and the late Tyler Bascomb’s barber shop showed no sign of life. He wondered briefly about the dress shop, as Mrs. Barlow was usually very prompt but soon forgot about her as the Farnum family stopped by to talk about the birthday party that was to be held later that day. He folded up the paper and put it in his pocket to read again when he had a moment to himself. He was not going to risk losing his opportunity, as the letter warned if he discussed it with anyone who wasn’t a merchant.

Chapter 2

Jonah and Keefer had just finished cleaning up the office and were still brushing the dirt off their hands when the door flung open and ten-year-old Tommy Laramore rushed in, out of breath.

Marshal! Come quick! We found a bag of clothes down by the crick! he exclaimed as he grabbed for Keefer’s arm to pull him out the door.

Hang on there, son. What’s all this about you finding a bag of clothes? Sit down, those clothes aren’t going anywhere. Tell me what happened. How’d you happen to find them? Keefer asked calmly, sitting the boy down in his chair and perching on the edge of the desk in front of him.

Jonah went to the barrel and took down a cup to bring the boy a drink of water. He handed it to Tommy, who looked up and stared at him in amazement.

Are you really Jonah Berryman, mister? he asked hesitantly.

Yes, son. I’m Jonah Berryman. Now, suppose you tell the marshal what you saw and how you came to see it, okay? Jonah said patiently.

Well, Mr. Berryman, me and Teddy were out looking for shiner down to the crick, on account of it’s Saturday and there’s no school today, Tommy started his explanation, all of his attention on Jonah, the marshal forgotten.

Jonah looked up at Keefer, intending to redirect the conversation back to him, but Keefer waved him off with a smile and sat back on the desk, content to let the story be told as the excited boy wanted to tell it.

Me and Teddy weren’t getting many bites in our favorite spot, so Teddy, he says we should go upstream to a sink where the big ones sometimes like to gather. We were walking along the west side of the stream when suddenly, Teddy, he trips on a root and goes headfirst into the water. When he come up, he was holding onto a bag. Me and Teddy, we looked inside, but there wasn’t nothing in there but some ladies dresses with paper tags all over them.

What kind of paper tags, Tommy? Jonah asked. You didn’t happen to bring one with you, did you? he asked hopefully.

We weren’t doing nothing with them dresses, Mr. Berryman. Honestly! he exclaimed nervously. We was going to bring the bag in, but I tol’ Teddy not to take anything out ‘cause you and the marshal would want to see it just like we found it! Tommy said defensively.

Tommy, you aren’t in any trouble. Relax, son, Keefer told the youngster. We think you did a good thing finding that bag and we appreciate it. The only reason the deputy is asking about the tag is it might help us identify who lost it, Keefer said with a big smile. He looked up at Jonah and winked.

I don’t know his name, Marshal, but I think the owner of the bag was the dead man, Tommy told them, then took another sip of water.

Keefer stood up so fast he almost fell off the desk, while Jonah turned from the window to look at the boy who had calmly announced there was a dead man at the river. He smiled, thinking of the boy’s priorities, how finding the bag of clothing was more important than discovering a body. He decided to allow the marshal to finish questioning the boy; he was busy considering something he had just seen through the window.

So, tell me about this dead man, Tommy, Keefer said casually. I mean, how do you know he’s dead, and where did you see him? he said while he played with a piece of wire from his desk, bending it into a loop.

Well, Marshal, me and Teddy were looking in the bag—the bag with all the ladies clothing in it—because it was nice and we were kind of thinking we might get a dollar for it from the peddler who comes around now and then. We didn’t think anyone wanted it or they wouldn’t have throwed it in the river, right? So Teddy, he dumps all the clothing out so we can see what’s in it. We were going to just leave it there on the ground, but Teddy, his ma does a lot of laundry for the hotel, you see, and he suddenly says no, we should take it home to his ma, and she can wash it and maybe some of it will fit her or his sisters, Tommy said all of this in one big breath. While he stopped to get some air, Keefer tried to get him to get to the point.

Tommy, I think you need to get right to the part about where you find the body so I can get Deputy Berryman out there to look at it. You can tell me the rest of the story later. Okay? he said pleasantly, although he felt a rush of excitement as he recalled who Rafe mentioned he had seen going into Anita Barnwell’s store the day before. He wasn’t sure how this was going to fit, but he had a feeling it would fall into place somehow.

Sure thing, Marshal, Tommy said, disappointment evident in his voice. This was his big news and involvement in something very exciting—and now they were trying to keep him from the thrill of telling it his way. Maybe later he’d tell it to his friends the way he had wanted. As I was saying, Marshal, Teddy wanted to take all the clothes to his ma to clean up, so we were taking the time to dunk them in the water and swish them around a little, to get them clean, you know. And Teddy, he’s looking over at me while we’re talking, and suddenly he’s looking up the creek at a log or something slowly moving toward us. Teddy, he says ‘what’s that?’ and I say ‘it’s just a log,’ and Teddy says he doesn’t think so. So Teddy, he wades out and put his hand on the log and then let out a scream. Tommy laughed at the memory of his friend’s reaction. He screamed like Betty Wilke did last year at the county fair when Glenn Purkiss put a frog down her dress! He started laughing again so hard his eyes began to tear.

Even Jonah was hard pressed to suppress a smile at the image Tommy’s vivid description brought to mind, remembering another frog a lifetime ago. He could see Keefer was having just as much trouble keeping a straight face.

So that was Glenn that did that, huh? Keefer asked as sternly as he could manage.

The smile quickly left Tommy’s face as it dawned on him he might have gotten his friend in trouble. Well, I didn’t actually see it, Marshal, I just heard . . . he started to say.

Relax, Tommy. I’m not going to say anything to him . . . or his parents. But if he ever talks about doing that again to anyone else, I’m counting on you to talk him out of it, okay?

Okay, Marshal, you can count on me! Tommy said eagerly, relief evident in his voice.

But, Keefer held up a finger, you need to tell me everything about the body and no more shilly-shallying now, Tommy. I mean it, he said sternly, fixing his eyes on the boy until Tommy dropped his head in submission.

Yes, sir. No more shilly-shallying. We found the body in the stream down around where the creek begins to widen out. We pulled it ashore, rolled it into a hollow, and then covered it with leaves so no one would see it. Teddy’s still there, guarding it, unless he left to go home. I can take you there real easy . . . if you want me to, Tommy offered.

Deputy, can you take Tommy there and check it out? I have something to do here, if you recall, Keefer asked Jonah.

Not a problem, Marshal. Tommy, you want to ride back there with me on Sparks and show me where the body is? Jonah asked, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Ride back there on your horse with you, Mr. Berryman? Tommy asked incredulously. You betcha! Let’s go! he said excitedly as he jumped up from his chair and ran for the door, opening it and dashing through all in the same move.

Jonah looked back at Keefer, who was smiling broadly now that Tommy was out of the room. Remind me when I get back to tell you what I saw a few minutes ago.

Sure thing . . . Mr. Berryman, Keefer said with a grin. Sure looks like hero worship to me. Don’t forget your halo when you go, he teased.

Jonah just glared and went out the door, calling for Tommy to follow him down to the stable where he saddled Sparks. Finally ready to ride out, Jonah decided to put on a little show for the starry-eyed boy. Taking hold of the saddle horn, he flipped himself into the saddle and leaned over to take the boy by the arm and swing him up behind.

Wow! That was great, Mr. Berryman! Can you do it again?

Maybe next time, son. And by the way, it’s Jonah, not Mr. Berryman, okay?

I can call you Jonah? he asked, overjoyed. Gee, Jonah, thank you! Wait ‘til the guys see me ride back into town with you and then hear me call you Jonah! They’re gonna be green with envy! he said gleefully.

For the rest of the ride down to the creek, Tommy talked nonstop, asking so many questions that Jonah couldn’t keep up with them. With a sigh, he answered all of the boy’s questions, making most of it up to give him the excitement he expected, rather than telling him the dirty and boring truth about his work.

As they passed the remains of the Dove’s Nest, Jonah couldn’t help but remember who died there . . . and how. He vowed that he was going to see to it that the people who put Tom Brightner up to it would pay for their crimes. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by Tommy’s shout.

Oh! Over there, Mr.—Jonah. By that curve . . . just a little bit past that stump. Teddy! Teddy! Where are you? he called out.

Over here! came a voice from the woods. A moment later, another boy—just a little taller than Tommy—stepped out from behind a tree. When he saw Tommy on the back of Jonah’s horse, his eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped open.

Tommy smiled from ear to ear as he slipped down to the ground. Standing up as tall as he could, he walked over to Teddy and pointed back to Jonah. Teddy, meet my friend, Deputy Jonah Berryman. Jonah, this is Teddy Moore, my best friend.

Jonah decided to lay it on a little thick for Tommy’s benefit.

Well, Teddy, any friend of Tommy’s is a friend of mine. How do you do? He threw his right leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground, putting his hand out to Teddy who took it weakly, his mouth opening a little more.

Teddy, don’t be rude. Say hello to Jonah, Tommy scolded him.

He . . . hel . . . hello, Jonah, Teddy managed to get out.

I understand you boys found a body. Can you show me where you hid it? Jonah asked.

Tommy came alive and started walking toward the creek. It’s over this way, Jonah. We hid it good so no one would try to take it and no animals could get to it, he assured Jonah. It should be right around . . . here it is! He pointed to a mound of leaves and branches. He started to pull them back, but Jonah stopped him when he heard a faint rustling sound.

Tommy, I want you and Teddy to go over there . . . He pointed to a log lying in the brush six feet away. And sit down. Go over there now! he ordered.

Crestfallen, the two boys walked over to the log and sat down.

Jonah backed up and looked around for a long branch. After picking up and discarding several, he found one he liked. Hefting it for balance, he slowly walked back toward the mound covering the body. Five feet from the mound, he stopped and took the hammer thong off his .44 and slowly slid it out of the holster. He continued to move slowly, keeping his eyes on the ground and his ears tuned to any sound. When Teddy started to call out to him, Jonah raised his hand for silence. Tommy clapped a hand over Teddy’s mouth, which Teddy promptly pulled off in anger. He started to protest, but Tommy put a finger to his lips and pointed at Jonah.

Jonah didn’t look right at the mound, but kept sweeping the spot with his eyes to avoid blinding his perception from movement as he inched his way forward, listening to the rustling noise. He stopped suddenly as he realized the sound was coming from behind him and moving toward the boys. Jonah whirled around and yelled for them to jump on the log. As he frantically searched for the source of the sound, he finally saw it. The mottled, rust brown diamond pattern was beginning to coil. The snake was aiming for Tommy, who had realized his danger and frozen in fear. The rattlesnake started to strike, but never finished. The thunder of two fast shots filled the air, and the cold-eyed reptile’s head disappeared in a spatter of blood and pieces of flesh as Jonah’s bullets struck it mid-strike, instantly taking the head off. The rest of the body began writhing in abandon, as it wasn’t aware it was dead yet. Both of the boys were staring at the remains of the snake, awed by the speed of the shots that had killed the deadly snake.

Jonah had just put his gun back in the holster when he heard another whisper behind him. Tommy yelled a warning to Jonah, but before he finished his sentence Jonah had spun around and drawn his .44 and fired, taking off the head of the second snake in another two quick shots. Although Tommy and Teddy were shouting with excitement and awe, Jonah knew he had been lucky with that second shot. The snake had started to move when he took his first shot. It was the second shot that killed the snake. As he punched out the empty shells and replaced them with fresh shells from his belt loops, the boys came alive.

Man, oh man! Jonah, that was incredible! You were like lightning! Teddy gushed.

I never saw nobody shoot like that before! That was just awesome! Tommy called out, his close call quickly forgotten. Jonah! Can I have the rattles?

Sure, Tommy. One set for each of you, Jonah said with an easy smile. He reached into his boot and pulled out his knife—a long, slim-bladed affair. He put a boot on the body of the second snake and, with one swipe, cut off the rattles and tossed them to Tommy, then repeated the move with the first snake and tossed the rattles to Teddy. The boys began comparing the size of their prizes and each other’s level of bravery between shouts of laughter and derogatory jokes about the other’s reactions. As Jonah watched them and listened to their excited talk, he couldn’t help but remember his cousin Earl and his reason for being in Willow Springs.

Turning his attention back to the body under the brush, he used his branch to clear away the debris and chase off any other snakes. When he felt the area was clear, he knelt down beside the remains to take a look at what was left of the body. Fish and crabs had nibbled at the decaying flesh, but what was left was enough for a good estimate to what he had looked like in life.

The deceased had been of medium height, maybe a head shorter than Jonah who stood a hair over six foot, and had been a little heavier, though his current bloat could be due to gasses released by decomposition. He had a Vandyke-style beard and had been balding in the back of his head. It was impossible to tell what color it was, because it was darkened by the water. He was missing the third finger of his left hand, which looked like it had been recently severed in what Jonah recognized as an act designed to remove identifying remarks or a ring. His eyes were missing, likely due to a fish more than anything else.

There was one visible wound on the body, a stab wound made by a slightly triangular weapon that had pierced his heart. Jonah recognized that this killing wound was probably instantaneous, so the man, whoever he had been, had probably felt only surprise. Jonah picked up the dead man’s right hand and turned it over, looking for any clues to his identity, but saw nothing significant. Although he couldn’t prove it, Jonah was certain this was the man Rafe had seen going into Anita Barlow’s store—the man that Rafe never saw come out. With that in mind, he looked at the stab wound again and suddenly pictured a pair of scissors as the weapon. He was sure he would find the murder weapon when he went back to search her shop. That was going to be his first stop when he got back to town, and his next would be to see the man he saw her talking to when he looked out the window earlier that morning. It wasn’t the person he had suspected initially, but it made sense when he thought about it.

Suddenly aware of the silence uncommon for two excitable young boys, Jonah stood up and looked around for them. They were still there, but each was being held captive by a stranger who was holding them close to his body with one arm, with his other hand over their mouths so they couldn’t speak or call out to warn him. A third man stood between them.

The man in the middle was shorter than Jonah by about six inches and probably lighter by a good sixty pounds. He was cadaverously thin and dressed entirely in black—from his hat with the snakeskin band on it, to his fancy silk shirt and black whipcord pants tucked into shiny black mule ear boots. He had on a black leather vest with silver Conchos decorating the front. On his boots, he wore shiny Mexican roweled spurs that sparkled when the light hit them. He wore a two gun rig with the butt of the left hand gun facing forward just as Wild Bill had worn his. This was a much harder draw, but the man obviously felt sure of his skill to wear them that way. The right hand gun was in his hand, pointed at Jonah.

Well, well. Looks like the big, bad bounty hunter is caught with his guns down, the man sneered. I got the drop on you, Berryman. I heard you was supposed to be real good and not easily taken, but it looks like that was just a pile of bullshit. I don’t see you being so much of a big deal, the man continued.

Jonah didn’t say a word as he was mentally measuring the distance between them. He kept his eyes on the man talking, but shifted his weight back and forth, letting the man get used to his movements. He kept his hands away from his guns so the man didn’t do anything to harm the boys. Jonah didn’t look at the men holding the boys, as he had seen in his one quick glance that both men still had their hammer thongs in place. So long as they didn’t make a move to free those thongs, he wasn’t going to worry about them. Jonah dismissed them as a threat and concentrated on the man holding his gun on him. Jonah shifted his weight once more, this time slightly changing his angle of attack as well. He decided to let the mouthy one keep talking, building up his confidence in his having the drop on him.

Bounty hunter, you going do something about this, or do I have to tell my men to put some pressure on you to make a move? the man taunted.

I’m just curious, stranger. Why are you doing this? I don’t know you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before, so what’s your beef with me? Jonah asked, curious about the man’s motive for this showdown.

Come on, Donaldson, don’t waste time. Just get it over with and let’s get our money and get out of here, the one holding Teddy urged, tightening his grip on the struggling boy.

Donaldson . . . Donaldson . . . I don’t know of any Donaldson that I’ve ever had paper on, so— Jonah started to say, but the man named Donaldson interrupted him.

Jacoby, shut your mouth. We’ll leave when I say we’ll leave, so you just shut up and do your part. You understand me? he snarled.

Jacoby . . . Jacoby . . . Fred Jacoby? I do have paper on you, Fred. Not for murder, just a stagecoach robbery. Are you moving down the ladder of failure now? You want to add murder to your list of crimes? Right now you can ride off, Fred. I have other business to keep me too busy to look for you. You would have time to get away . . . if you leave right now, Jonah suggested helpfully.

What about me, bounty hunter? You got paper on me? the one holding Tommy asked.

That depends, stranger, I don’t know your name. Suppose you tell me and we’ll see, Jonah told him, shifting his position slightly again. He was almost at the right angle.

My name is Colter. Judson Colter. I come out of the Dakota Territory, and I’m not running from anyone, he challenged Jonah. To show his confidence, he gave Tommy a shake that almost made the boy cry, but he bit his lip and kept his fear-filled eyes on Jonah.

Well, I tell you, Mr. Judson Colter, I do have paper on you; but I’m in a charitable mood, so if you ride out now with your friend, you can go in peace. But if I see you again anywhere, I will take you in, Jonah promised evenly as he shifted position again, now where he wanted to be.

You’ve done enough talking, bounty hunter, Donaldson sneered. You got to make up your mind. You gonna draw on me or not? I admit, I got the advantage here, but I have to say, them’s the breaks, bounty hunter. Looks like your run of luck’s just about over, he taunted Jonah.

Actually, you make a good point, Jonah replied slowly as he stretched his arms out in front of him and laced his fingers together in a very unthreatening manner.

Surprised, Donaldson allowed the tip of his gun to drop just a bit. What are you talking about? he asked suspiciously.

Well, I’m thinking that you three can’t allow the boys to run free after you kill me, so I guess that means you’re planning on killing them too, he said casually.

Teddy began crying at this, but Tommy just stood up straighter and called out to Jonah in a quavering voice, Jonah, I’m not afraid. I’m not a baby. Teddy, don’t cry. Jonah will get us out of this mess, you’ll see!

Donaldson, we never talked about that! I’m not killing any kids for you! Jacoby called out, but he didn’t let go of Teddy.

If you ain’t got the sand for this kind of gunwork, Jacoby, I’ll do it and then I’ll do you, too, for being weak-kneed, Colter threatened Jacoby and shook Tommy again just for fun.

Don’t worry, boys. None of those three are going to hurt either of you, Jonah called over to reassure both boys as he dropped his arms to his side.

Donaldson looked at him hard, unsure of what he was hearing. Just how do you intend to stop us, bounty hunter? There’s only one of you and three of us, or can’t you count?

Ignoring him, Jonah called out to Tommy again. And the reason they’re not going to hurt either of you is because they’re all dead. As he finished this statement, he drew his .44 and fired three shots so fast it sounded like one long sound. With the first shot, he hit Donaldson between the eyes. The impact exploded the back of his head into a pulp of white bone, grey brain, and red tissue all over Colter and Jacoby and forced the remains of Donaldson back about five feet. His next shot caught Colter in the neck, dropping him to the ground on his knees, blood spurting out of his carotid artery between his fingers and spraying all over Tommy, who quickly backed out of range. The third shot hit Jacoby in the foot, dropping him to the ground where he rolled in pain and let loose with some very colorful language.

Shut up, Jacoby. I did you a favor. Now you have to get a new line of work, something that won’t get you killed, Jonah told him brusquely. I suggest you drag your butt over to wherever you tied your horse and get the hell out of here before I change my mind, Jonah warned him coldly as he calmly dumped the empty brass and refilled his chambers. With a groan, Jacoby reached for his pistol to put it back in his holster.

Leave it. You touch it, you die, Jonah warned him quietly.

Jacoby dragged himself off toward the brush without a word, happy to be able to move. Teddy just stood there in shock at what had happened in less time than it took for him to blink. His eyes were as wide open as his mouth.

Tommy reacted first. Wowee! Teddy, did you see that? Jonah got all three of them and that one . . . He pointed to where Donaldson lay on the ground, turning the dirt under him into a dark red mud from all the blood leaking out of what remained of his head. He already had his gun out! I tol’ ya Jonah would get us out of trouble! He’s my hero! He ran over to Jonah and wrapped his arms about Jonah’s