Thursday, January 18, 2024

Who Shot the Deputy?

 By Scott Jackson

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Across the mountain tops the sun barely peeked out to begin the day on a cloudy morning. I was the first one awake to make us some breakfast. My brother and I were camping on our way to collect a bounty. After a few minutes of cooking some bacon, I kicked my brother’s boot while he was still laying down. “Come on Jeb, you’re gonna miss out on some good bacon.”

Jeb moved around a bit, then stayed on his side away from me. “I’m guessing the horses will be happy to try some for the road.”

Maybe a half hour later we were both riding to our destination: the town of Johnsonville. “Hey Jeb, do you remember anything about this place we are going to?”

“Besides cheap broads and bad alcohol, nothing really.” We both burst out a hardy laugh. 

“Well remember, we are here to capture and bring back the bounty alive. Not dead,” I explained. “Goes by the name of Deputy Albert Smith, he stands about 4 foot high, in fancy clothes. He’s a deputy from another town that has gone silent or outlaw.” We both laughed after the word outlaw was said. I remembered just being twelve years old when my baby brother Jeb was born. He ended up being the best brother I ever had.

“It sure is nice out with no sun blaring down on us while riding. It’s been a bit of a rarity lately. Usually, it’s nothing but sun until winter hits,” Jeb said with Johnsonville now within sight. We both passed by what looked like a guy crawling toward town slowly. Looking back after passing him, that guy’s face looked messed up and faded pale. “That was weird.”

“Yeah. You know, we’ve been collecting a few bounties already with success, and less bloodshed than others have before us. How about we try to keep it that way here?” I asked Jeb to try to not be trigger happy.

Once in town, we set our horses outside the tavern. We thought maybe checking there would give us a lead on our bounty. My brother went to the outhouse around the back of the tavern to drop a shit. Inside, I found a table to sit at after ordering a few drinks. While I was waiting for my brother, the former Deputy Smith came up to me cracking an attitude, acting like this was his town. And he was absolutely drunk off his ass. Considering he was about two feet shorter than me, imagine how much I should have been laughing my ass off at him.

“Well, well, well. If it ain’t the infamous Johnathan Spears. Thinking you can come into town and do as you please. Where’s that brother of yours at?” The deputy laughed up a storm, then pulled out his gun badly aiming at my head. “Now listen, listen here. I’m going to give you to the count of five to get out of town and leave me be.”

Behind the deputy, Jeb picked up a spittoon and slowly approached him from behind. I stood up slowly holding my hands in the air.

“One… two… three… four…” 

Do you know the handy thing about bounties? You can bring ‘em alive or dead as a tombstone. As I stood up and grabbed my revolver, my brother came up from behind him and knocked him out with the spittoon. It left a dent in the spittoon, but it didn’t matter to us; we got our man. We tied up the former deputy explaining to the bartender and a few patrons that we were after a bounty on this guy. 

Outside the tavern I draped the tied-up Deputy Smith across the backside of my horse. Then me and my brother saw the crawling guy from earlier. He just walked right pass Jeb and attacked Deputy Smith by biting his shoulder. The deputy screamed in pain as blood was coming out.

“What the hell?” I shouted as I kicked this guy away from the deputy. “Stay away from our bounty, unless you want a bullet in the gut?”

This pale guy stumbled toward me moaning with some of the deputy’s blood dripping from his mouth.

“I warned you.” I shot the son-of-a-bitch in the gut, and he went down. People can be crazy out here. As we got on our horses, I swear I thought I heard that guy I shot moaning again.

We headed out of Johnsonville to a few towns over, Pine Hill, to collect the bounty. We knew if we were lucky, we would get to Pine Hill by afternoon, so we made a stop along the way. I checked on the deputy. He was complaining about the bite he got. I guess he had any right to be; it was a gusher of a wound now. I tried to tie a piece of cloth around the shoulder to stop the bleeding. I doubted it would work; he wouldn’t make it. We continued onward to Pine Hill, hoping to get there and get to a doctor in time. 

As we approached Pine Hill, we were greeted by a small posse of about six men just outside the edge of town. I noticed the shine in the sheriff’s badge glaring in the sunlight along with his bright red hair. He was the first to greet us as we slowed down our horses.

“Good afternoon, Sheriff. Is there a problem?” I asked him.

“That all depends,” he answered back to me.

“On what?” I responded back to the sheriff.

“Are you the varmint that shot up and snatched my deputy from Johnsonville?” the sheriff then asked me.

I began laughing, as I looked at my brother and around checking my surroundings. “News must travel fast. We didn’t shoot anything up, but I got your deputy that had a bounty on him. Which last I heard, was made by you, Sheriff Rod.”

The other members of the posse start talking among themselves as I hopped off the horse and grabbed that deputy. “Well, here he is. And now where is my collection for the bounty?” I asked.

The sheriff looked back at one of his men. “Doc!”

One guy walked up to the sheriff.

“Check on the deputy,” the sheriff instructed him, as the guy checked the face and then a pulse of the deputy. The gentleman looked back to the sheriff and shook his head.

“He was wanted alive for questioning, not dead.”

“Hey, I can’t help if the guy got bit after capture. Now then, where’s the reward?” I then demand from them.

“There ain’t gonna be a reward. We’re taking you in,” the sheriff told me.

I start giggling as I reached for my revolver and said, “You see, that is a mistake you’ll regret.”

Gunfire started as I ran over to take cover behind a waist-high rock. “Where you at, Jeb? Could use your help, brother,” I asked looking around for my partner, who had disappeared somehow. I heard gunfire hit the rock I was behind and around me. I waited for a break in the fire to peek around and return the fire. As I turned a bit around the rock my hand got shot, then I got slugged in the face, then I was down and out.

An hour later a young man with freckles and a fresh set of clothes walked into the sheriff’s office. “Hello, Sheriff. Just got back into town, and wow! What happened here?” The youngster asked me while looking at the beaten and bleeding man in the jail cell. 

“Quite a bit since you left last week, partner.” I got up from my desk with a badge and gun in hand, handing it to this youngster. “As far as this mess, we got word days ago of a crazed lunatic who claimed to be a bounty hunter in the area.”

“YOU CAN’T KEEP ME HERE! MY BROTHER WILL GET ME OUT OF HERE IN NO TIME!” The outlaw shouted at me, then spit in my direction. What a shame.

“This guy also claims to have a brother that’s his partner in collecting bounties.” We both sat down at our respective desks. “He is one Johnathan Spears, thirty-five years old, known for showing up and shooting any and everything in sight he doesn’t like. His younger brother, was one Jeb Spears. Jeb died five years ago from being hanged from killing some kids who looked at him funny and called him names.”

This youngster just shook his head in bewilderment. “Our deputy, now former, went over to Johnsonville to get some medicine a day after you left. Just this morning Deputy Smith came across Spear over in that town and got shot up, hog tied and brought over here.” I grabbed a file folder and brought it over to the youngster. “This Jacob, is one of those cases that get weirder and weirder.”

“What do you mean by weirder?” Sheriff Jacob asked me as I was now looking out the window toward the doctor’s and undertaker’s offices that were next to each other across and down the way.

“Well, after we got that lying lunatic over there caged up, our former deputy that had two gunshots in him, who was dead as a doornail, just started moving around. He was taken to Doc Martin’s to get someone to look at him, but somehow, he bit someone while being taken over there.” 

“Bit?” Jacob asked me in confusion.

“Yep.” I walked back to sit briefly at my desk. “Smith also has bite marks on his shoulder. The wound was turning a weird color.” I got up from the desk grabbing my hat and adjusting the badge. “I’m going over to check in on the doc before I head back home. Do you want to tag along?”

As we started walking down to the doctor’s office, we heard some screaming.

“Get your gun ready Jacob, just in case.”

We started running and rushed into the doctor’s office. 

 

 

About the Author


 Scott Jackson is a native of Illinois where he lives with his girlfriend and four cats. He loves video games, musicals, comic books, 80s and 90s nostalgia, Doctor Who, and overall, a good story to enjoy. After finally reaching his limits with retail work, he decided to re-invent himself by going back to school to pursue his dream of becoming a writer and teacher. In his spare time, he picks up extra roles in films, works with a local community theatre, and works on his next novels.

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