Читать книгу Settling The Score - George McLane Wood - Страница 36

Chapter Thirty

Jorn Murphy sat looking out the two-story hotel room window at the dusty street of Jasper below and was delighted to see Jeff Nelson and Hobie Gilbert ride into town in a wagon. They tied up at the hitch post and entered Emilio’s Saloon next door to Jim Budgher’s Mercantile Store.

“Well, lookee here, look who just rode into our spiderweb.”

“Who rode in?”

“Did you take care of Mack at the JN like I told you, Lester?”

“Yeah, Jorn, I got him, and two more of his friends, and the rest of Jeff’s hands will soon light out for a safer place to work, I’ll betcha.”

Jeff and Hobie went inside Emilio’s and ordered a beer, which led to two more beers. Jeff excused himself, went to the Budgher’s next door, and gave Jim his supply order. Jeff told him to take his time filling the order, and he’d come back and get it about four o’clock. It’d been awhile since he and Jim had visited, so Jeff struck up a conversation with Jim and they talked for about thirty minutes.

Jorn Murphy was watching when Jeff went into Jim Budgher’s store, so he hurried down the back stairs of the hotel, came into the saloon through the side door, and said, “Hey there, Hobie, long time no see. How you been getting along?”

“Say, Hobie, I was just in Jim Budgher’s store, and I heard Jeff Nelson telling everyone that he just bought himself a half interest in Dan Davis’s silver mine, and he’s laughing and telling them folks that he’s made a fool out of you. If it’s true, I feel sorry for you old pard’. How about I buy you a whiskey?”

“Yeah, “I heard him say that, too”. One of Jorn’s ranch hands appeared and sided with Jorn. “I just heard him telling that same story, too. Wish I could buy half of a silver mine. That Jeff Nelson ought a make you mad, Hobie.”

By the time Jeff returned to Emilio’s Saloon, Jorn Murphy had accomplished his dirty deed, and he and his flunky were gone. Hobie was mad drunk from Jorn’s lies and full of too much free whiskey. As soon as Jeff stepped up to the bar, Hobie slugged him hard on his left ear.

Jeff reeled back against the bar, it kept him from falling, and Jeff clinched his friend as he shook his head to stop the bright lights and purple stars from swirling before his eyes. Then Jeff stepped back. “What the hell, Hobie? What’d I do to you, my friend?”

“You know damn well what you’ve done to me, you damn snake.” And Hobie’s right fist again connected solidly to Jeff’s chin. This time Jeff went down, and he stayed down. When Jeff awoke, Hobie was dead. He’d been knifed through his heart, and Jeff Nelson was in the Casper County Jail in Jasper. He was charged with Hobart Gilbert’s murder.

A jury of his peers found Jeff Nelson guilty of manslaughter for killing Hobie Gilbert. The judge sentenced him to two to three years in prison at Huntsville.

“I’m sorry,” said the judge. “Don’t cause any trouble in prison, Jeff, and you’ll be out in less than three years. I’m sorry for you. I believe you got a bad roll of the dice, but your jury spoke. Good luck, son.”

The End