Читать книгу Settling The Score - George McLane Wood - Страница 55

Chapter Eighteen

Someone screamed a rebel yell, then the window on the west side of the ranch house blew out—a shotgun blast! A big man, one that only could be Jorn Murphy, leaped through the burning window, hit the ground rolling, jumped up, and vanished noisily into the bushes. Jeff shot, once, twice, then twice more. Then there was quiet.

“Damn, the son of a…got away. He couldn’t get too far on foot though,” opined Jeff, “or maybe he could, but the barn ain’t his tonight. We got the horses, and come sunup, in a couple hours, catching up with him will be an easy chore that I’m gonna enjoy.”

“Jorn Murphy,” Jeff added, “you are long overdue for a reckoning.”

“Ahh, shit!” yelled Ed.

“You hit?”

“Hell, no! But I landed in a pile of it when I hit the ground.”