Читать книгу Settling The Score - George McLane Wood - Страница 41

Chapter Four

They moved on. Jeff wanted to be in place by sundown. His mind was busy as he rode. Then it was time to walk again. He’d spent almost three years in the pen because of Jorn Murphy. That man had stolen his home, his land and cattle, and his woman. Murphy had lied, along with his hired hand. They both put him behind bars for something Murphy had ordered done and he was about to regret it. He and Jorn had been friends at one time. That’s what Jeff had thought. Murphy was the one that ruined it. And now, Jeff was about to settle the score. Jeff’s ranch was two plus sections of good grazing land that ran clear to the river. He’d worked eighteen-hour days, seven days a week, for two years to improve it. His mind was always busy, figuring out ways to make every part of his land carry its own weight.

Ed was remembering about those past days. Jeff had built his ranch house, the barn, bunkhouse, corrals, and outhouses. He and Ed had dug a well out back of the house. Jeff had left room for a woman’s garden too. Jeff had started with a small cattle herd that had eventually become a bigger one, and his mother cows were producing seventy-five to one hundred twenty-five calves every spring. Ed had become a petty fair hand at working cattle, as well as a loyal friend. The money Jeff got every spring, from the sale of enough steers, paid to building the ranch house, plus enough for Ed’s wages and extra cowhands when they were needed. No Indians were around anymore stealing anyone’s cattle, just rustlers, so it was just Jeff and Ed and some hands who’d looked after the cattle, except during roundup and branding time. Aye, golly, those were good times that he remembered.

Jeff was remembering, too. He was building himself a sack of gold coins that would come in handy if he ever found a wife in this womanless country. Jeff had looked at the JN brand on his cattle. It’d made him feel proud of himself for all the hard work he’d done. But now his ranch house was used up and all his cattle belonged to Jorn Murphy. His two best friends were dead, Cookie was gone, and his beloved Sally was dead. Jorn had stolen everything he could haul or herd off and had killed and lied so that Jeff went to prison. Murphy and his hired hands had lied when they testified at the trial and said he killed a man. Jeff couldn’t blame the jury or the judge for what they saw as justice.

The only reason he’d sworn he’d kill Murphy was what he’d had done to Sally. Murphy was responsible for killing her. Jeff could always get himself another ranch somewhere; they were easy to come by. But Sally was different. Jeff couldn’t get another Sally, not ever. After Jeff had gone to jail, Murphy and Lester Willis had taken Sally. They’d abused her and then killed her. Ed had come to the prison and told him. He’d and her daddy had found her and buried her. Sally was the main reason Murphy was gonna die, and die very hard, after he’d suffered.

About noon, they came to a narrow creek shaded by one huge cottonwood tree. Jeff’s shirt was soaked with sweat from the heat that was radiating off the southwestern ground from the glaring sun. He sat down in the shade of a tree and pulled off his hat, boots, vest, and gun belt, and he stepped into the water with his jeans and shirt on and waded out to the middle of the small stream. He had to cool off.

“Damn, Ed, this water does feel good.”

Ed said, “I got to go find me someplace behind a bush.”

“Well, not close by. Go over yonder behind those bushes.”

Ed left, leading his horse, without a reply.