Читать книгу Settling The Score - George McLane Wood - Страница 38

Chapter One

Jeff Nelson could see the two chimneys, one standing at each end of his white ranch house sitting atop Gun Barrel Hill. He was still a long way off. When he got closer, the view brought a smile to his lips; he was glad, and it felt good to be coming back. His ranch house was impressive; it sat on top of the broad mesa and commanded a grand view that Jeff had carefully selected. From there, he and his wife could look out and watch his cattle grazing about and admire his ranchland clear down to the Saber River. And they could see company coming when they were a long way off. He and Sally loved to sit together in their swing on the front porch and watch the sunsets. Sally had especially loved that part.

He and Jornett Murphy had come west after the war. Jeff had claimed this land to build his ranch. Murphy had ridden on farther west, and he’d chosen his land. Jeff had worked mighty hard building this ranch; he’d sweated in the summers and he’d froze in the winters. He’d hired Ed to come and work for him, and Ed had made Jeff a good cowhand and he’d become a loyal friend. Jeff’s greatest treasure was Sally, his wife; she was the most wonderful person he’d ever known. He’d found her and married her and brought her here to live and she had died right outside their kitchen door.

He and Ed White finally pulled up at the hitching post. It had been a long day in their saddles. Stepping down from their tired horses, they stretched and stomped their tired, booted feet just about the time the sun blinked, and dropped out of sight. Jeff Nelson, at age thirty-four, was a six-foot-tall. He was lean and rugged and tougher than a hickory nut. Most of his life he’d been used to eighteen-hour workdays and lately busting rocks and light meals had kept him on the slim side. He’d always kept his face clean-shaven, and his chiseled features made most women turn their heads to have another look at him. Jeff’s prison clothes they’d kept, and he’d been given a new pair of blue denim jeans and a long sleeve gray flannel shirt. They’d saved his boots and his leather vest and that pleasured him to get them back. His holsters and two Colt .44 single-action revolvers minus the bullets, of course, were waiting outside at the gate.

Jeff’s hired hand, Ed White, was on the portly side, even though he’d seldom got the chance to eat regular meals, and he was short, right over five feet tall. His horse was a sturdy critter and that was a good thing too because the poor animal didn’t have to suffer as much as a skinny nag when Ed sat on him for long periods of time. Ed was a true-blue friend to Jeff, and he’d been patiently waiting with a horse for his boss at the prison gate because Jeff had sent a message to Jeff’s banker.

The message said to locate Ed and give him enough of Jeff’s money to buy two horses and tell him to be there at the prison when Jeff walked out of that gate. Ed had been there. As the heavy metal gates clanged shut, Jeff climbed aboard the buckskin mare, and the two men had ridden hard all day to get to his ranch. This would be Jeff’s starting place. From here, he’d begin his plan of retribution.

Jeff had sworn to God in heaven, Sally’s killer would pay up, if he had to track him all the way to hell’s burning fires. All that Jeff had owned, all he’d held dear, had been lost right here. He’d kill Murphy for her and for himself and for everyone who has ever lost everything on account of someone like this bastard. He had ridden hard, directly from prison, intending to kill this man. He planned to kill Jorn Murphy in cold blood.

Jeff’s ranch house had been abused, and they’d done it on purpose, for pure spite. But hell, they’d had plenty of time, hadn’t they? He’d been gone almost three years. All the front window glass had been busted out or shot out; one front door was hanging on by one hinge, and they’d even shot to pieces the glass doorknobs.

Jeff walked into his ranch house as dark was beginning to settle into the front room. Glass from the windows was scattered about the floor and crackled under his boot soles. The room was empty; all his furniture, he guessed, had been divided up, carried away, and was sitting in some house, he reckoned. The front room’s ceiling had been shot several places, and the rain had leaked in some time ago by the looks of the water stains on the wooden floors. Someone had used the fireplace for cooking something besides firewood, from the looks of the mess of feathers they’d left behind. There was still enough light for Jeff to see as he entered his study. His books were gone; the shelves were empty. The windowpanes had been shot out, and someone had taken his trophy elk head that had been hanging on the wall.

“This is a room I enjoyed.” He stood there looking about. “But I guess the bedroom musta been the best room in this house though.” He smiled, remembering. Jeff was used to talking to himself. The time he’d spent in prison had taught him that he was his own best company to talk to. “Yep, and I’m damn good at listening to myself,” he muttered.

Ed walked up behind him. “I wouldn’t doubt that for a minute. Say, Jeff, your mare is still favoring her leg a right smart. I done all I knowed to do. I rubbed it good with liniment, and I fed both of ’em their oats. We’ll have to see how she puts her weight on that leg in the morning, won’t we?”

“Maybe we’ll have to find you another horse…You listening to me? Jeff?… Dammit… Jeff?”

Jeff turned his head. “What?”

“I said—”

“Yeah, I heard, Ed,” Jeff replied.

“You said my mare’s lame, so we’ll have to see if she’s still lame in the morning, won’t we? And if she is, we’ll leave her here and saddle up another. Or if we can’t find me a horse, I’ll walk,” Jeff replied.

“Say, would you rustle us up some firewood? Make sure it’s dry wood. It’s overcast some. Those are rainclouds in the sky. We may get some rain tonight. It feels a might chilly too. I’ll check around in here while you’re gone and make sure there aren’t any rattlers sleeping in here.”

“Please do that, boss, I’d ’preciate it. I’m plenty scared of them varmints,” he added as he lit a candle and placed it on the fireplace mantle. It added a nice, soft glow to the room, Ed thought. He then left to follow Jeff’s instructions. Jeff was a good boss to Ed and the only true friend that he’d ever been able to depend on in this world.