Forty-Four Caliber Justice Read Free

hand and put his hat back on, pulling it level on his head. “Mr. Hewitt, Bo, Luke, Toby, I appreciate all your help. Mr. Hewitt, it’s getting late. You folks might as well head back home.”
    Hewitt said, “Clay, why don’t you come on over to the house tonight, and stay as long as you want.”
    “No, thanks. I’ll spend the night here. I’ll be over tomorrow, and we can close the deal on the ranch and cattle.”
    Hewitt shook his head and waited for a moment. Finally, he said, “Come on, boys, let’s get home.” He turned his horse out of the yard with Toby alongside, Bo and Luke following.
    It was twilight in the hill country. The sun had set over the western hills. Shadows were slipping across the yard as darkness overcame daylight. Clay walked over to Blue and rubbed his neck, scratching him between the ears. The western light cast an eerie pall over Clay’s face. A face too grim to be so young. “We got a long trail ahead of us, Blue, boy. But we’ll see those devils dead before we quit. Every last one of them.”

CHAPTER TWO
    C lay stepped into his ma and pa ’ s bedroom. He grasped the bloody mattress and pillow, and pulled them into the yard. He did the same with the bedding from the other rooms. He checked for a breeze. There was none. Burning embers wouldn ’ t be a problem. He pulled a match from his pocket and lit it on the butt of his .36 Remington. The match flared in the growing darkness and settled to a miniature blaze, the smell of sulfur drifting into the air. He tossed it onto the bedding.
    The mattresses burned quickly, giving off a bright light in the early evening darkness. Clay stood silently and watched. The future he had dreamed about drifted up to the heavens with the tendrils of smoke. The fire cast a stark light across his face and body. No longer did he look seventeen. The weight of duty now rested on his shoulders.
    His father had taught him to be a kind man and help those who were less fortunate. Clay had always been slow to anger, his temper roused seldom. But when it reached its zenith, he became deadly. Not the hot-tempered anger that stepped in swinging at one and all, but the cold fury that wouldn’t stop until he was either knocked out or pulled off his unfortunate opponent. He had never killed a man. He had never even contemplated taking the life of a fellow human being. But now, with Ma and Pa and Slim in the ground, Clay was cold with anger. He knew what he had to do. He also knew he was young and inexperienced. He would have to be careful.
    He turned back to the house and entered the kitchen. The burning bedding cast shadows across the sitting room. Clay stopped for a moment. He could feel the spirit of his ma in the room with him. He looked around the room. He could hear her playing the violin, the sweet notes drifting across his mind.
    He sighed, the spell broken, and walked to the fireplace. Kneeling, he picked up kindling, put in some sticks, and then a couple of logs. He struck a match and slipped it under the kindling. Slowly, the flames took hold and licked up through the kindling to the sticks. Clay walked over to the kerosene lamp on the counter and lit it, adjusting the flame for maximum light. He started picking up books and putting them back in the bookcase. Both Ma and Pa set great store by books. I guess I got that from them. He loved to read. They’d want me to take a few of these with me. Grandma and Grandpa can have the rest.
    After straightening the books, Clay picked up the lamp and headed for the barn. The mattresses had burned down to embers. He hung the lamp on a nail once he reached the barn. He lifted the pitchfork from its place on the wall, walked to the haystack, and started pitching hay. By the time he had cleared a path to the back wall, sweat glistened on his face and neck. He moved the lamp to a hook on the back wall of the barn, careful to keep it away from the hay. With the lamp hanging over the area he had just cleared, he knelt down