Читать книгу Settling The Score - George McLane Wood - Страница 16

Chapter Ten

Riding west now, he had his new packhorse loaded with bacon, beans, coffee, and drinking water. He’d also bought some grain and oats for his horses. Jeff had decided to divide his fortune between his two critters. He’d also bought a small shovel, just in case the other one was gone, and a new oiled tarp to wrap his papa’s remains. He had a long ride before he got to the place where he’d buried his papa. It was now October. His traveling days was slowed down some. The weather had become downright dismal, with rain, sleet, and then the snowfall was beginning to come often.

Once Jeff had to hole up for two weeks, living in the small town of Oberlin’s only stable because of a heavy snowstorm. He’d taken his meals in the town’s only eating place, and then he’d trudged in deep snow back to the stable, pulled off his wet boots, rolled up in his blankets, and slept. He’s spent his Thanksgiving Day there. Jeff spent a snowy Christmas week in another little South Carolina town. When he’d finally left that place, he remembered he’d never even asked anybody the town’s name. February’s blustery ice-cold winds seemed to chill Jeff all the way down to his bones. It seemed like he’s rode with his face to that dang wind all the way across North Carolina. Springtime seemed like a long way off.

A day’s ride down a red dirt road brought Jeff to the small town of Hewitt, Virginia. It was Saturday, and it was crowded with wagons, horses, and people. Why do country folks always come into the towns on Saturdays? To shop, maybe to visit other folks, and to get drunk? Jeff halted his horses at the hitch post of the first watering hole he’d come to. He needed a cool beer. Jeff hooked his boot sole on the long oak bar’s bottom brass rail, pushed his cavalry hat back, let out a long breath, and ordered a cool beer from the cadaverous, garlic-breath-smelling barkeep.

“Ain’t got no cool, mister, just warm, my beer’s sellin’ faster than it can cool today what with all these extra folks in town.”

“What’cha got going on, an election or somethin’?” Jeff asked.

“Nah, we got us a hangin’ set fer this afternoon. First one since before the war. Our Judge Johnson’s gonna hang a feller fer murdering our deputy sheriff last Satiday night. The boy twern’t worth a hoot, but he was a townie, and he was one of ire’n.”

“Lieutenant Nelson!” Jeff turned to see who called him by that name. It was Sergeant Smith.

“Hello, Sergeant Smith, it’s good to see you. You live in this town, er…Smitty?”

“Hell no, I’m still on my way some where’s else, but I got delayed. You’re headed somewhere too as I remember, Lieutenant?”

“Call me, Jeff, Smitty. Yes, I’m headed home, to West Virginny. Just stopped for a cold beer and to rest my critters, ’cept this fool barkeep here says he’s out of cold ones, so after I’m finished with this warm one, I’ll be moving on.”

Smitty was a tall fella, as tall as Jeff, and skinnier than a willow switch. He wore his blond hair down past his collar. Smitty, like Jeff, was still wearing his Yankee-issued blue britches with the yellow stripes running down each leg, which marked him and Jeff as ex-Yankee patriots.

“Ain’t ya even gonna stay to see who they’re gonna hang, Lieutenant?”

“No, I don’t think so, Smitty. It doesn’t seem like something I’d wanna watch.”

“The man they’re gonna hang is our…er, he was our corporal. Bo Jenkins, you remember him don’t you, Lieu…er, Jeff?”

“Yeah, I remember him. Did Bo really do what they said he done? Did he shoot that lawman dead?”

“Yeah, ’fraid so, but that deputy was goadin’ us, Jeff. It was plainly ’cause of our uniforms too. All we wanted was a cool beer and then we was fixin’ to go on and leave this place. But that damn deputy, he kept proddin’ us. I just turned my back and ignored the SOB and kept on drinkin’ my beer. But Bo, hell no, old Bo, he wouldn’t let it alone. The feller had made old Bo plumb mad. Bo turned around and told that lawman to pull it. The feller commenced to, but Bo outdrew him and shot him dead. These townies who saw it called it murder, Jeff. Now they’re gonna hang old Bo this afternoon, I don’t want to, but I gotta stay and watch it, for Bo’s sake. You understand, don’t ya, Jeff?”

“Maybe you won’t have to stay,” Jeff said quietly. “Drink up and meet me outside.” Jeff finished his beer and went outside to his mounts. Smitty came out and stood by the hitch rail as Jeff said, “Meet me at the end of this street.” Then he got on his gelding and walked him leading the pack animal down the street. He never looked back.

Smitty stood there for two minutes. Then he was on his horse sitting next to Jeff. “What do you have on your mind, Jeff?”

“I’m thinking we could bust Bo out of that jail, if you have the nerve to try it.”

“Hot dang, you think we can?”

“Sure, if we plan it right. I say we go into the jail, masked and with guns drawn, tie up the law, and break Bo out, then we ride like the wind out of town, what ya say? You up to it?”

“Yah, let’s do it.”

“Okay, you get two horses, meet me in back of the jail.” Jeff was waiting when Smitty rode up leading a horse. “Tie up your nags. Now, we go in with covered faces, so they don’t recognize us.” Both men drew their guns and went into the jail. Two men had their backs to the door and were talking. “Don’t turn around! Raise your hands in the air!” Both men’s hands shot straight up in the air. Jeff disarmed one. The other townie had no weapon. “Into that cell, pronto, gents!” Smitty locked their cell door. Bo was standing at his cell door, grinning like a possum, as Smitty unlocked it.

“Dammit, Smitty, am I glad to see you. Who’s that with you?”

“Never mind, Bo.”

“I’ll be just outside this cell door, and if either one of you gents makes a sound, I’ll come back and kill you both,” Jeff growled in a bass voice.

Once outside, Smitty and Bo jumped on their horses. Smitty pulled down his mask and asked Jeff, “You coming with us?”

“No, you’re on your own. I’m going back to town, find me another saloon, and hopefully have a cold beer. You two better git going and ride them two nags into the ground before you stop. I’ll be seeing you both maybe, someday.”

“Thanks, Jeff.”

“Jeff?” asked Bo. “Is that our lieut—”

“Stuff a sock in it, Bo!” yelled Smitty. He stuck out his hand to Jeff. “Thank you, for both of us.”

Jeff waved it away! “Get moving you two, or you’ll both get your necks stretched today.”

Smitty and Bo galloped away, riding low in their saddles, like the hounds from hell were after ’em. They soon would be. Jeff pulled down his handkerchief and smiled. Bo hadn’t recognized Jeff’s voice.