Читать книгу Settling The Score - George McLane Wood - Страница 58

Chapter Twenty-One

Ed handed Jeff the reins and went back into the barn. Jeff climbed aboard a buckskin gelding from Murphy’s corral. He pulled his hat low on his forehead and was admiring the horse Ed picked out, as Ed came out mounted on his own horse and leading a packhorse loaded with their goods plus grain and canteens he’d filled from the well.

“Okay, let’s ride,” said Jeff. They headed west, and soon they were picking up Jorn’s boot tracks easily. Jorn was moving fast by the looks of his stride. Jeff and Ed tracked him till noon. He was headed straight for Jasper it looked like.

Two hours later, when they rode up to the Henson cabin, Jeff knew in his gut they had lost Murphy. The corral gate was standing open. No animals were in sight. A big black shaggy dog lay by the front gate. It had most of its head blown away at close range by a shotgun. Nobody had to tell Jeff who had done that. The front door to the cabin was standing open. Old man Henson sat almost in the doorway, leaning against the door frame with his legs spread out. He’d been shot twice, once in his guts; he was dead.

His head was hanging down between his legs as if he was studying his brains, which were splattered on the boards in front of him. Someone had finished him as he sat there. They’d put a pistol barrel close to the back of his head and blown away the old man’s forehead. Jeff stepped by the old man and entered the house with his Colt drawn while Ed held the horses. Jeff knew in advance what he was about to find. When he came out, his face was pale. A grim line showed where his lips ought to be. Ed noticed right off. He had seen that look once before, that day when Jeff was told about Sally.