Читать книгу Settling The Score - George McLane Wood - Страница 42

Chapter Five

As Jeff was enjoying the cool water in the shade of the cottonwood, he heard horses coming. Not ready to have some folks see him and know he was out of jail, he quickly swam over and grabbed his boots, hat, vest, and gun belt off the bank, and holding them over his head, he paddled behind some bushes that were growing down close to the water’s edge. He peered through them, watching to see who was coming. He hoped Ed kept his wits and didn’t run out to see what was going on.

Damned if he didn’t recognize one of them. Yeah, its Murphy’s segundo, his right-hand man, old Lester Willis, that son of a bitch himself, right here and now. How lucky can I get? He’s still wearing that silly looking derby that always looked out of place on a cow ranch. A man was with him who Jeff didn’t know, a tall, skinny hombre wearing his six-gun low and tied down. He looked like a shooter. The men stepped down from their mounts, stretched, and stepped over to the edge of the creek bank. Facing the river, they unbuttoned their jeans and began to piss into the stream. Lester Willis glanced around, looking both ways. They were ten yards upstream. “Damn,” Jeff swore as he pressed closer into the riverbank, hoping their piss would miss him and flow right on by.

He heard the skinny fellow ask, “When will he come, do you think?”

Lester answered, “Sometime in the next two weeks or so. I don’t know when or where, but he’s coming. You can bet on it. Jorn’s already told you why and you’re getting paid enough. You figger out the rest and just do him and do him quick when he shows up. That’s your job. That’s what Jorn wants from you.” Skinny grunted and looked away.

Jeff smiled as he thought, You bet your boots I’m coming, Lester, and when you do see me, it’ll be too late. Jeff knew he was outnumbered now, here in the water; he didn’t dare brace Lester now. With him against their two guns, they’d cut him down for sure. He’d best stay hidden and bide his time. Both men finished pissing, shook, and buttoned up. When they mounted, Skinny mounted his pony Indian style. That fellow would bear close watching.

Lester mounted next and never noticed that the left hind shoe was hanging loose on his pinto. Jeff could see it plain as day being down here at ground level. Lester won’t get too far on that pony without he’s got a blacksmith in his pocket. Jeff could see that plain enough. Both men urged their horses into the creek, then crossed and climbed out on the far bank. From there, they left at a spine-jolting trot toward Jorn’s place and headed west into the sun. That loose horseshoe would be gone in less than a mile.