Chapter 8

My God! Sixteen dollars for taxes, and in gold or silver! Those bastards were counting from the day of Lee's surrender. Sure, we could get up $16 if we had to, but the whole idea was raw property theft. Most of the people I knew of could not put together $2 in hard cash, much less $16. The ones hit the worst were the widows, but none of those bastards in office seemed to care. All they wanted was the property, and the easiest way to get it was to buy up the tax liens.

I was so pissed off that I marched, well rode, to the county seat and stalked into the courthouse demanding to see the head tax collector. I guess that I was a long way from the first man to show up to demand that they cut out this shit. There were three guards in there with the head man, and he just laughed at me. I was sorely tempted to blow his fucking head off right then, but all I had were my two pistols, and the bodyguards were armed with sawed-off shotguns.

Well, I told the head tax collector what I thought of him and the new laws, but I managed to leave without getting myself shot. That would not have done anybody any good. I left the courthouse trying to figure out how I was going to get out of paying those outrageous taxes. Furthermore, I wondered if there was anything I could do to help the widows who were really hard up for money. Short of robbing a bank, I couldn't think of anything at the moment.

Then it came to me like a bolt out of the blue. There was something that I could do. I could get money from the state and county by becoming a bounty hunter. The bounties were always paid in hard currency, so that was the way to get the coins I needed. Most of the veterans of the Confederate Army were still struggling to make a living, and it was the hard cases who had been criminals all along who were on the wanted posters, so my conscience was clear with that. I turned around and hunted up the county clerk to pick up a supply of the wanted posters.

I only took posters with pictures on them. I was not about to mess with the vague descriptions when there was no picture. I verified that the reward money was coming from the Union, since there was little to no such hard currency left in the state or county coffers. In fact, that was the reason used to justify the requirement that taxes be paid in hard coin. Well, my plan was to use some of that Union money to pay the taxes, especially to help the widows and such to pay their taxes.

I explained my plan when I got home, and the women were just as pissed off as I was about the way the widows were being victimized. They supported my plan; in fact, Mary wanted to join me as a bounty hunter. Hell, I was tempted, but she had our son Jesse to care for, so she was committed. Mary did sulk for a few minutes when I turned her down, but she saw the truth of what I said and backed off. I did say that if the situation ever changed, Mary would be the first one I called on.

I was still so pumped up with anger at the county tax people that I had enough oomph to fuck all three of my wives that night. Fortunately, I was able to direct nothing but love at my wives, and all three were happy with what they got. We got an early start on the fucking, so I did not miss much sleep that night.

I left home with the sunrise to begin my first day as a bounty hunter. To start out, I was going to spend all of my nights at home and just make loops through the neighborhood looking for bad guys. From what I had heard, I was not going to have much trouble with finding them. I ain't sure how much stock to put into that there thought, but I was optimistic when I started out.

I knew the territory pretty well, and, being as ignorant of the bounty hunting profession as I was, I figured to stick to the main roads and stop off for suggestions at each farmhouse I came to. It was pushing toward noon by the time I approached my third planned stop, and I heard gunfire coming from that direction. My excellent hearing made that possible. I pushed my horse into a run because that was the home of the Widow Thompson.

As I came into sight of the farmhouse, I saw four White men riding around and shooting the place up. There was an occasional musket shot from the house, but I was pretty sure that the men were just toying with the woman who would have been hard pressed to defend herself against a serious attack.

I had gotten into the habit of carrying both of my sawed-off shotguns slung from my saddle horn, so I drew one of them and cocked both hammers. The way the men were carrying on, they never noticed me when I rode up at full speed. As it happened, I approached the first rider from behind, and it did not occur to me to do anything but to let him have a load of buckshot into his kidneys. I have no idea how many slugs he got, but it was enough to kill him pretty quick like.

I was at the back of the house so that Widow Thompson would not shoot me by mistake, so I halted and just waited for the next rider to show himself. He came along so quickly that it was a good thing that I had cocked both hammers. I had a reasonably steady shooting platform this time, so I aimed for the man's belly. I'm sorry to say that a few pellets did hit the horse, but the majority landed where I had aimed, and I knocked the rider right out of the saddle.

That was two down, and it looked like I might have to chance being shot at by Widow Thompson because I was sure that my shotgun blasts must have been noticed by then. I hurriedly reloaded and cocked my hammers before I rode around the corner to see if I could get a shot at the other two malefactors. (I love them big words!)

One of them was only about 15 feet away and facing the other way, so he was my obvious next target. That was so close that I could not miss, and I think that every one of the buckshot plowed into the man's back. Of course, he went down right away, but that was enough to catch the attention of the last marauder, and he threw a shot at me from his Navy Colt. He was in such a hurry that he missed, but I did not.

I called out, "Widow Thompson, it is Josh Huston. Please do not shoot me."

"Thank the Lord, Mr. Huston. I do not know how much longer I could have held out. Those creatures from Hell were going to take everything from me. I guess that they would have killed me before they left, but I ain't sure of that. Anyway, thank you for taking care of them for me. This here Mississippi Rifle ain't much use in this kind of a fight."

She walked out on the veranda and said, "Let me fix you some dinner. It ain't much after what you done for me, but it is the best that I can offer."

"I would be grateful for a bite to eat, Ma'am. All I got are some sandwiches, and a little hot food would sure be better than that."

"It will take me a few minutes to warm up some chicken. I hope that is good enough."

"Chicken would be wonderful! I do not get that much at home. Let me take a look at these dead bozos while you are warming the chicken. Who knows, I might find something useful."

She agreed to that, so I looked through the dead men's pockets and saddle bags to see what might be there. By damn! I found $34.47 among the four men. If anybody needed the money, it was Widow Thompson, so I set that aside for her. It turned out that two of the men were on wanted posters, one for $20 and the other for $15. I could take those two, and we would have an even split.

One of the men had a Henry rifle in good condition, and I managed to find a fair number of cartridges. Those I was going to give to Widow Thompson to replace her Mississippi Rifle. That way, she would have a much better chance of standing off any more raiders. At least, she would be better off than with that there muzzle loader.