Chapter 12

I didn't faint from the blow to my kidney, but I wished that I had. I didn't have time to move from the crouch the blow to my kidney had forced me to before there was another blow to my side which rolled me over. I found out later that a kick was being aimed to my head (which could have been fatal) when the pistol shot rang out, and a huge body fell to the ground beside me. The next thing I knew was that I was lying on the bar and a very angry Joe was facing half a dozen toughs. He had his Walker in one hand and his LeMat in the other. "All right, ya bastards, who wants ta die first? Y'all might git me, but I'll remind ya that ya're facing a shotgun in my left hand. It's loaded with .30 caliber balls and can't miss at this range. I 'spect that I'll take out 3 or 4 of y'all, at least, afore I go down, so what's it gonna be?"

The galoot on the extreme right must have been a complete idiot, because he reached for his gun when the boss in the back of the room yelled, "GIT THE BASTARD! HE CAN'T KILL ALL OF Y'ALL!" Joe plugged him first and squeezed off the LeMat shotgun next. He was right about the shotgun—4 of the toughs fell from that and the first bozo was down from the Walker, so only one was left standing when Joe shot him. I could tell Joe was mad from the amount of red that I could see on the back of his neck! He raised the Walker and carefully sighted on the corpulent gentleman who was now standing at the rear of the saloon in front of his table. Joe squeezed off a shot that caught the man in the chest, and Joe was so agitated that he put another bullet into the man before he hit the floor.

Joe glared at the amazed crowd and snarled, "OK, anybody else want to try his luck?"

There was a mad exodus from the saloon, and I was surprised that nobody was hurt during that. By this time, I had recovered as much as I was going to without at least 24 hours of bed rest. I had struggled up to rest on my elbows when Joe turned back to me. "Dammit, Jake, ya scared the piss an' shit right outta me! I nearly broke a leg jumpin' up when I saw that galoot follow ya outta the saloon. How are ya doin'?"

"I'm doin' right well, Joe, everythin' considered. I may have a couple of busted ribs, but I don't think so. He'p me ta sit up an' I'll check." Joe helped me to sit up with my legs hanging off the bar, and I pushed gently on my ribs to feel if any moved, or if I could feel any cracks. "No, it seems OK, but I'm gonna be sore as hell fer a bit. Ya go ahead an' reload while I sit here fer a minute."

Joe had just finished reloading his shotgun when the marshal strolled in. I knew I didn't like him as soon as I saw him, but I didn't know quite why. I found out later that he had been taking pay off money from the loan shark to look the other way whenever his boys were "talking" to a customer. Anyhow, he looked at the 7 bodies scattered around the saloon and made a move like he was going to draw his gun. I said, "This here dust up was self defense, an' I'll blow yer fuckin' head off ifen ya try ta arrest that man!" By then, I was holding my cocked LeMat and pointing it at the marshal.

"No, No, ya misunderstand. I was reaching fer my handkerchief. Shit! Don't be so touchy. Now, please tell me what happened." Joe described the action while I sat there still holding my pistol, cocked and ready to shoot. "OK, it shore looks like self defense ta me. I'll take care of cleanin' up the mess."

Joe picked up the ledger and a cash box that was on the floor next to the over sized chair. He brought it to the bar and we looked inside the cash box. There had to be $4,000-$5,000 in there in paper and gold! We took the ledger and cash box and skedaddled before the marshal got back. He sure was going to be pissed when he couldn't find that cash box!

Joe helped me on my horse and we rode SLOWLY back home. Lupe helped me into bed and fixed me a warm bath to soak in. Joe washed my back, and I felt a hell of a lot better. He dried me off and helped me to bed. I fell asleep immediately and slept for 16 hours, straight, before I woke up ravenously hungry. I called to Joe for help, and he helped me put on a robe which I wore to eat a monster breakfast; Lupe fixed all of my favorites.

I was amazed that I didn't hurt more than I did. I guess being in nearly perfect physical condition made the difference. I was a little stiff and sore, but not so much that I couldn't function in my normal manner. I asked Joe to bring in the ledger and we laid it out on the table. I knew a little of accounting, so I was able to puzzle out the loan shark's affairs. He had been charging 50% interest per week, with a penalty added whenever a customer missed a payment. Dammit, load sharking paid a hell of a lot better than bank robbery! None of the customers had borrowed more than $50 to begin with, but every one owed several hundred dollars at each payment each week. There was no way an honest man could make that kind of payment even once, much less, week after week.

As soon as I could ride, I wanted to tell the people that their debts were canceled and give them back some of the money that had been stolen from them. This experience settled it, I was going after loan sharks as much as I could. I could easily make more money this way than I could bounty hunting, especially since I couldn't travel far and stay in the doctoring business. This going after loan sharks certainly fit into the modern Robin Hood mold. Besides, if I could get far enough ahead, maybe I could go into the honest loan business. I figured that, considering the high level of risk, charging 2% per week interest would be fair. I'd have to decide whether or not I would compound the interest each week.

After seeing the possibilities, Joe agreed to join me in my crusade. Since we could not be in every town every week, we would have to find agents we could trust. I was afraid that tying their income to their rate of collections would be too much of a temptation, so we decided to put them on a salary. We figured that $12 per week would be a good starting rate. We could raise their rate as business picked up. Joe said that we should run a pilot program in Willow Run to learn how to operate the business, and I agreed. Our first step was to find our first agent.

As Dr. Horton, I already knew almost everybody in Willow Run, so I should not have any problem in knowing whom to trust. However, I thought that Joe should be the titular head of the operation, since people were more likely to go to a man for financial help.

On Monday morning, Joe and I went into Willow Run to recruit our agent and talk up our new business. The best place for any sort of recruiting involving a man was a saloon, and Willow Run had 3, so we figured to spend most of the day among the saloons as we looked for our man. We got a nibble that afternoon when we were approached by operator of a general store who was successful at it, but always looking for ways to expand his business. We talked for a while and decided to give Jim Harris a shot at the job. His general store gave him a place to operate from, and his clients made a good start for a customer base. Besides, we knew that he wasn't likely to take off on a whim—he had too much invested in his existing store.

Joe and Jim went to see my lawyer about a contract and whatever they needed to do to get the business all set up with any legal technicalities taken care of. Meanwhile, I went around to tell the bartenders that the job was taken. When I saw Joe and Jim later, they said that the one thing that we had forgotten to do was select a name for our new company. They had decided on Parson County Financial Company as the name, unless I objected. I couldn't think of anything better, so I agreed to that. So, now we were officially in business. We advanced Jim $100 as a stake for his first loans and asked him to print up some handbills advertising the new business. We promised to cover his expenses in operating the company office; we would settle up each week on Saturday.