Jess Clay a serial by Timothy Fogg

The late Mr. Fogg served up a corker of a Western in this story of a young man seeking his fortune in the wild west of the 1880s.

The year I turned 21 - The year in which I turned twenty-one, I shot my first grizzly, and buffalo, and man. I rode the wrong way down through the Bitterroots, and when I wasn't rained on, I was snowed on. It seemed like things just had to get better. If not, I would die. In the high spirits of my youth, I felt that I could equal any challenge thrown at me. Since I'm still alive, I guess I made out okay, but I have helped bury a lot of men that didn't. In the 1880's it was how we all lived. You either got tough or died.

What could I offer a woman? - I was entering country that looked like it was wrong side up. Those cliffs were steep! The good thing about this area was that an easier route could usually be found if you looked hard enough. There were very few signs of the passing of man. One stream drew attention. On the sharp turns the water had eaten right down to bedrock, and the bottom was eroded like a washboard. Any gold located at a higher elevation some was sure to be trapped here. I had worked for a while at the placer diggings on the Fraser River, and while there was gold it had been too fine and too scarce to make anybody rich. Plenty of other locations had paid off throughout the West, and I tried every new location found.

Women and kids - I worked all the next morning to make sure of my quota, then covered the actual sites of my test digs. I could only do so much, for the signs of prospecting remain for years to the experienced eye. It would not catch the eye of some passing rider, though. At least I hoped that it wouldn't. The memory of those two deer shooters was still fresh in my mind.

Here lies Opie Heskins - The two thugs exchanged glances at this. I must have guessed correctly. Stories I had heard of the gangs that hung out in Brown's Hole came to mind, and if my information was correct, a man from West Virginia named Dud Heskins was the old he-bear at this time. In the next decade Butch Cassidy and the wild bunch would come to rule the roost, Robber' Roost, that is, but for now Heskins and his clan were the bunch to be reckoned with.

Smith and Western - Dud Heskins opened the cabin door overlooking Robber's Roost, and the glare of the sun felt like a knife cutting into his head. Quickly he shut the door and sat down on the nail keg at the crude table. He had brewed that latest batch of moonshine himself, and it sure had a kick to it. The taste was terrible, but Dud was not one to worry about flavor. Maybe he should have left out the rattlesnake head.

You might be right - I rode out of Salt Lake from a side street and kept going cross country to the east. If that greedy clerk had tipped off any metal robbers, I wanted some open country to spot them in. True, the clerk could inform them of the location of my claim, but robbers tend to be a lazy sort, and I doubted they would follow me into the mountains and work a placer mine. It would not be the first time my instincts would prove to be wrong.

SWEETWATER MINING AND TRADING COMPANY - While I was sure that I could travel by the end of the day Anne insisted I stay until she was sure that I was really able. That one day stretched into five. The nick on my head didn't bother me except for a little ache, but the burn on my neck was worrisome and Anne soothed it considerably, rubbing in a cooling salve with her soothing hands.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND? - Morning dawned clear and bright, as if nothing had changed. I decided to go right in and send the trespassers on their way. Once again I eased in so as not to offer them an advantage, but I was surprised to find them actually working the placer mine. I crossed the stream below them and eased back up to a clump of bushes that screened me well but allowed me to clearly hear them talk.

If things went sour - Now that my claim was back in my own possession, I had to make some quick decisions. I needed to get my claim's registration back in the proper name, and that could be a tall order, if Nason was indeed the man that had cheated me in the first place. I also had to dig into the pocket of high grade and see how rich it might be. Perhaps I should dig out enough to see me through a lengthy court proceeding if Nason persisted in his phony scam. Could I take out enough to turn my back on this holding and buy the land that I wanted to start a future on? Probably, but it went against my grain. Even if I had enough gold to retire on I would not stand back and be so blatantly cheated.

new garb - George Nason was a man that nobody knew. Some business associates would think they did for a while, but they would be wrong. Even his appearance might change by the next week, let alone his word. He was agnostic, immoral, and thoroughly lacking in any redeeming qualities. He had none of what most people know as character.

The man's rifle - It would be dark in another three hours, and I wondered how long the marksman would wait for another shot. Did he think he had got me and I had tumbled into the stream? I didn't believe this was the case, for why would he have sent in that second shot? Also, a good long range man would be apt to have powerful field glasses which would show him evidence of a hit.

WHO DID YOU SAY? - I found a heavy set man with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up when I visited the land claims office for the second time. When I stated my name and my business, he picked up some papers from the top of his desk, for apparently this was one of the cases he was studying when I walked in.

plain as day - George Nason and Elijah Heskins were riding side by side into Jess Clay's camp. It was a highly unlikely pair to be traveling together.

a breed mare - I was exhausted, but sleep had to wait for the life of my woman might depend on it. My woman! Before meeting Anne the idea of meeting my perfect match had been like idle dreams of becoming rich or suddenly famous. These make for nice daydreams but a person doesn't really expect them to come true. It was the same way with Anne; I had dreamed of meeting a girl but the odds had just seemed to be too much against it. Now that I had met her I sometimes felt like pinching myself to make sure that I wasn't dreaming. I was surely going to free her from the ruffians in Brown's Hole or die trying.

no margin for error - George Nason and Elijah Heskins were riding side by side into Jess Clay's camp. It was a highly unlikely pair to be traveling together.

No time like the present - When Willa stepped out of the door bent on vengeance she left her charge without so much as a backward look. Her prisoner, Anne Doveling, took this opportunity to start working on an escape. Why these people had abducted her she wasn't really sure. She could only speculate. Of all the adventures that had befallen her along her way west this was by far the oddest.

the Vigillantes are at it again - Herb Crumb was perplexed. That Nason fellow sitting on top of the bluff was supposed to be an ally, and yet everybody was acting half afraid of him. Why this should be Crumb had no idea. But if Nason needed to be taken out, then he guessed he was the man for the job.

I finally killed him - I eased my way around a boulder and looked back. I had shucked out of that stupid salesman's suit and stuffed it with some brush. Now in the rising moonlight it still looked like a man still sitting on the rock watching the Hole.

Hsst. Wake up - At first he had Anne's hands tied to the saddle horn, but this country was so rough that he knew she needed more freedom of movement. "If I untie your hands will you give me your word you won't try to run away?" Amos was a good judge of character in animals and in women and he knew if she gave her word she would not break it.

better in the morning - Amos Heskins sat dead still, watching the rocks that protected the Indians. He had the patience of a cat at a rat hole, and he put that asset to good use now. Only his eyes moved as he looked for the heads that were under those feathers.

three days - I followed the Outlaw Trail east for the next few hours but found nothing to show that they had been here. Giving up I swung south in the direction of Vernal just in case Heskins was banking on doing the unusual. No dice. When I slept it was on the edge of a ravine that would echo the sounds of any riders in the night. In the morning light I climbed to the top of a nameless (to me, anyway) hill and looked across the countryside. Far to the north I could see rings of smoke.

If you're going to dance you have to pay the piper - The big day dawned bright and clear. I always believed I was immune to common nervous maladies, but I surprised myself by getting wedding day jitters. I wasn't so nervous that I dropped my guard though. The memory of Amos Heskins was all too fresh in my mind. Hid body was never found, and the Indians kept checking back to the area of the final fight. There were no buzzards.

mule is the best - When they spoke in an Indian tongue, I was almost sure they were the two friends of Peter. It's just that I wasn't positive. This was no time to make a mistake. I stepped around the corner with my forty-five in my hand but pointing down at the ground.