Читать книгу Settling The Score - George McLane Wood - Страница 48

Chapter Eleven

Lester dropped the reins as he whirled, placing his hand on his Colt’s handle as he turned. One second his hand was empty; the next one, it wasn’t. He was faster. You’ve been practicing, Lester. Jeff was out of pistol range on purpose. Lester glanced right and left, and seeing the long gun in Jeff’s hands, Lester knew at once he was disadvantaged.

“Hello, friend,” Jeff said.

“Wada you want, fellow?” Lester asked loudly.

He doesn’t recognize me. Well, hell, he hadn’t seen me in a spell. Jeff laughed.

“I want you, Lester.”

“What the hell are you talking about, fellow?”

“My name’s Nelson, Lester. You remember me?”

Fanning and firing his Colt, Lester’s bullets began kicking up sand at both Jeff’s boot toes. Jeff fired back, levered, sidestepped quickly to the right, and fired again, aiming for Lester’s gut, and that’s right where his heavy lead slugs caught him low, twice, just below his belly button. When the two chunks of lead hit him, they spun him around. Lester lost the smirk he’d always carried on his face. He knew something bad had just happened to him.