Page 12 of Native Hawk
He gave Billy another shake. But already he was starting to realize this was no drunken stupor. His son was gone.
There was deadly silence in the saloon.
Jasper’s heart began burning like a smoldering coal. He’d broken his promise to Priscilla. He’d lost one of her boys. He’d lost her little Billy.
He clenched his teeth together hard enough to crack them. He didn’t dare surrender to the strangling ache in his throat. If people glimpsed a weak spot in him, he’d never hold sway over the town again.
So instead of a sob of grief, he snarled, “Who did it? Who did this to my boy?”
The bartender, frowning in concern from behind the bar, said, “Word is he just fell backwards and cracked his skull.”
Jasper gave him a cold stare. That wasn’t how it had happened. No boy of his was going to die from some drunken accident. Someone had to pay.
Beside him, Jim was rubbing his beard in agitation.
Harvey offered, “I saw what happened. It was Jim’s fault. He stood up all sudden-like and Billy just—”
“You’re full o’ shit! It was that half-breed!” Jim yelled. “He’s the one that did it! They was arguin’ over that poker hand, and…and…he drew his gun!” He shoved at Harvey. “Remember? Remember he drew his gun?”
“Maybe,” Harvey agreed.
Jasper nodded. That was good enough for him. Before anyone in the saloon could naysay him, he stood up with his hands raised.
“If the half-breed did this, then it’s my duty to bring him in for justice. Me and my boys are gonna go after him in the mornin’.” He didn’t relish taking his sons along, but if they were underfoot, at least he’d be able to keep them from getting killed like Billy.
“I’m deputizin’ you, Nate,” he said to the bartender.
“Sure thing, Sheriff,” Nate replied, untying his apron.
Then Jasper nodded to the doctor. “You put my Billy in a good pine box, Doc. I ain’t comin’ back till I get the son of a bitch who did this.”
Then he left the saloon and headed home in the dark, where no one could see the wet in his eyes or the vengeance in his heart.
