Settling The Score. George McLane Wood

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Settling The Score - George McLane Wood

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all day and Smitty allowed the cowboys a day playing cards in the dry bunkhouse.

      The next morning just after daylight, Mack rode into the ranch’s horse corral, where Smitty was supervising the JN branding of some new cow ponies and notified him that about forty head of prime steers had disappeared. They’d been grazing in the lush pastureland close by the Saber River. Cow tracks led down into the river.

      “Now what, boss?” Smitty asked.

      “We go find our cattle on Jorn’s ranch.”

      “They wouldn’t be in plain sight, would they?”

      “Course not, Willis has them hidden someplace till he can drive them over into Mexico and sell ’em.”

      An hour later, Jeff rode into Jasper and asked the county clerk to see all the ranch surveys. He paid little attention to most until he looked at Jorn Murphy’s spread. He noticed some low hills and a small valley south of Jorn’s ranch. It was open range. Jeff took out his pocket compass and plotted that area’s logistics and then rode back to his ranch.

      “I have a hunch where our cattle may be hidden,” he told Smitty. “You stay, watch the ranch and your back. I’ll take Ed with me and leave at first light.”

      “You think I oughta know where you’re headed, boss, just in case you don’t return? Then I’ll have some idea where to start looking for your carcass.” Jeff drew Smitty a map where he and Ed were headed.

      Jeff and Ed left the JN Brand at first light. They headed due south, crossed the Saber, and then headed west. When they were plumb south of Murphy’s ranch, Jeff headed them due south until he came to the low foothills. Beyond where he was sitting his horse was all open range. And on the other side of those low hills would be the secluded valley.

      “Ed, there may be a guard who’ll see us if we both go riding over these hills. I want you to stay right where you are. You hunker down and guard our horses. Don’t make any noise. I’ll just slip over that hill and take me a look-see.” Jeff crept to the top of the hill, removed his hat, and peaked over the hill. He saw nothing. Oh well, it was a good idea. He started to stand when color caught his eye. Wait. There, off to the left, about two hundred yards out, he saw yellow. A man in a yellow shirt? Then he saw the herd of cattle.

      Jeff estimated about one hundred to one hundred fifty head. A man in a yellow shirt was sitting on a rock nearby the herd. At his feet was a small fire; it looked like he was about to drink a cup of coffee. Jeff was glad he’d thought to bring the spyglass he’d found one day after a battle with some Confederates. He looked through his glass; he could see the brands. Some cows belonged to Hobie Gilbert, his neighbor, some to another neighbor. Then Jeff saw some of his own JN cows. Okay, cattle, we’ll come back tomorrow and drive you home.

      Jeff slithered back over the hill where Ed sat and leaned against a rock. He was sound asleep.

      “Ed, wake up, we’re going home.”

      “Was I asleep, Jeff?”

      “Yeah, you was, cowboy. Let’s ride.”

      Back at the ranch, Jeff sent a rider to ask the owners of the other cows to come to his ranch. “Tell them I know where their stolen cattle are.”

      “Herb Maddox of the Slash M and Hobie Gilbert of the Double Bar G were the owners of the other cows. They agreed to send five drovers each, go with Jeff’s five punchers, and drive the stolen cattle back to Jeff’s spread. From there, each owner would drive his cattle home. They agreed to meet at Jeff’s ranch and leave at first light. Smitty wanted to go and Jeff agreed. Ed was instructed to stay close to Sally and guard the ranch. When the seventeen riders came to the bottom the hill, Jeff divided them. He sent five men around to ride in from the south end, five from the east side and five from the west side. Jeff would give a gun fire signal, and he and Smitty would ride in from the north. He wanted the guard taken alive if possible. Jeff fired the shot; that was the signal. The guard in the yellow shirt jumped on his horse to ride away, but when he saw he was surrounded, he sat there and waited.

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      “These your cattle, mister?”

      “No, sir.”

      “Whose are they?”

      “I don’t rightly know.”

      “What are you doing here, then?”

      “I’m watching after them.”

      “Who for?”

      “A feller.”

      “Look, hombre, we’re gonna hang you in five minutes unless you tell us who told you to stay here with these cattle.”

      “My boss told me.”

      “What’s his name?”

      “He’ll kill me if I tell you his name.”

      “That cottonwood tree over yonder will kill you if you don’t. But if you tell us his name, we’ll take you to the sheriff. You can tell him your boss’s name too, and then you can leave this territory. That way that fellow can’t kill you, can he? Now…What’s your boss’s name?”

      “Lester Willis.”

      “Okay, that’s good enough for me. Tie him up, Smitty. We’ll take him to the sheriff in Jasper after we get these cows home. All right, men, let’s get these cattle moving.”

      “How’d you know where those cows were, boss?” Smitty asked Jeff.

      “I just got lucky, Smitty. I got it right the first time. I figured they wouldn’t keep ’em on Jorn’s spread, so I looked around to see where that stupid Lester Willis might hide ’em. If they hadn’t been where I found ’em, I’d kept looking around until I did find ’em.”

      “You telling me the truth, boy?” the judge asked.

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Okay, boy, you’ve told it. Now, I suggest you get on your horse and hightail yourself outa this state as fast as he can gallop if you want to keep on breathing. The feller you’ve accused has a bad reputation for seeing folks dead if he don’t have a fondness for them.”

      “Yes, sir, I’m gone!”

      “Well, son, you’ve got your and your neighbor’s cattle back. You’re still out your other cattle money unless you wanna take it out in Lester Willis’s hide. I’ll turn my head if you do. You know, you’d make us a right good range detective if this county could afford you. Maybe you’ll run for our sheriff someday if we can ever retire our present excuse for a peace officer. Sheriff Sizemore, do your duty. Go arrest that rustlin’ outlaw, Lester Willis, and bring him into my court, pronto.”

      Jorn Murphy’s thieving foreman thumbed his nose at the law once more. The jury acquitted Lester Willis because the witness who testified against him couldn’t be found and brought back into court and questioned by the defense. The law had to release Lester Willis. The judge had screwed up. Or had he?

      “Damn it to hell, Lester, you can’t seem to do anything right for us anymore. How the hell did Nelson

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