Free Forty Times a Killer by William W. Johnstone

dreaded that John Wesley might become a monster.
    If he wasn’t one already.
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    Wes saddled Smalley’s sorrel horse then turned to me. “Should we wait for Stakes to get back?”
    â€œNo. Best we get the hell out of here.”
    Was gave me his petulant look. “He sassed me, Little Bit. Just like Jimmy boy did.”
    â€œI know. But Stakes is a state policeman, Wes. Chances are you’ll run into him again.”
    John Wesley brightened at that. “Yeah, you’re right. Hell, he might come back here with a bunch of sodbusters.”
    â€œMaybe so.” To flatter him, I added, “Sodbusters are a real probability. A lot of folks want to shake the hand of John Wesley Hardin.”
    Wes took the compliment with a smile. “And I ain’t near done with my shootist career or started in on my Wild West show yet.”
    He swung into the saddle, gave Smalley’s body an indifferent glance, then grinned. “Damn it all. I’m gonna charge through life at a gallop and be a great man.” His blue eyes glowed in the gloom as I kneed my horse beside his. “Ain’t that right, Little Bit?”
    And me, weak, craven creature that I was, once again hitched my wagon to my friend’s malevolent star. “The greatest.”

CHAPTER TWELVE
A Strange Encounter
    A wise man once said that fate is the friend of the good and the enemy of the bad. Looking back, I can only conclude that he was right.
    We were destined to make a clean escape, and we did.
    Wes was determined to head south through friendly country and visit with his mother and father who were residing in Mount Calm, a tiny hamlet struggling for life at the ragged edge of nowhere.
    We rode through the dark of night, constantly checking our back trail for any sign of pursuit. There was none and that pleased Wes enormously.
    â€œNed Stakes’ hoss was tuckered. He won’t come after us until first light, if he comes at all.” Wes drew rein, then kneed his horse close to mine. “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll lie low for a spell, eat Ma’s good home cooking and grow fat and sassy. Maybe even spark a girl, if there’s any to be found in Mount Calm. Once everything blows over, I’ll get back to organizing my Wild West show.”
    Of course, Wes hadn’t organized anything so far, but I wasn’t about to pop his bubble.
    â€œI can get started on the business proposal for Sam Luck,” I said. “Seems to me all we’ll have at Mount Calm is time.”
    Wes was far away, staring through the tree canopy at the black sky with nary a star in sight. He turned his head to me. “What did you say, Little Bit?”
    â€œI said I should draw up the business proposal for Sam Luck.”
    Wes nodded. “Yeah, you do that. Good idea.”
    I hesitated before I spoke my mind, but asked finally, “Wes, you sure your folks will make us welcome?”
    â€œOf course they’ll make us welcome.” He reached into his coat pocket and produced a crumpled scrap of paper. “This is the last letter I got from Ma. Well, a piece of it. I tore off and kept the good part.”
    He passed the paper to me and I glanced at the small, crabbed handwriting. “It’s too dark for me to read it, Wes.”
    â€œNo matter. I know it off by heart, memorized it, like.” He turned his face to the sky again. “Come quickly, Johnny. If you are in Pisgah, come. If you are in Groveton, come. Return home to Ma. I want to tell you so many things and see your sweet face, ere long. Come home, my own John. Come home, Johnny.”
    Wes dashed away a tear with the back of his hand. “Damn, but that’s purty. Ain’t it, Little Bit?”
    â€œSure is. I reckon your ma wants you to settle down.”
    Wes nodded. “She does, but it’s way too early for that. I’ll walk a wide path before I’m done.”
    We let the horses pick their