back of the house. Jeff had left room for a woman’s garden too.
Now Jeff’s greatest treasure was Sally. She’d agreed to be his wife. She was the most wonderful person he’d ever known. He’d found her and married her and brought her here to live. Someday he and Sally planned to have children, many children, sons and daughters who’d give him grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Jeff wanted to live a long time, to grow old beside Sally, and enjoy their future children and grandchildren together.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“I understand Jeff Nelson’s got himself a new segundo. You know his name and can recognize him?”
“Yeah, his name’s Mack. I knew him in Fort Davis.”
“Bushwhack him as soon as you can set it up. I want Jeff to deliver his steers to the fort himself, then you can cripple him bad, but don’t you dare kill him or I’ll have your hide. That boy owes me. I want him out of this valley. I want his cows, I want his ranch, and I want his woman.”
“All right, Jorn, I’ll get on it, but once we take over Nelson’s operation, I want a bigger cut, you hear me?”
“Don’t threaten me, boy, don’t you ever threaten me, ya hear me!”
“Sure, Jorn, I understand. I’m not threatening you. I’d like a bigger cut if you’ll agree to it. Okay?”
Saturday rolled around, and thirty-old Jeff Nelson asked Sally if she wanted to go to town with him. “No,” she replied, she wanted to bake a cake and she had mending to do, and she promised Ed she’d sew a button on his good shirt. Jeff went to the barn to put together a team and wagon for his trip to town, and about the time he was ready to hook up the team. Hobie Gilbert from the Double Bar G rode into Jeff’s compound.
“Ready for that ride into town?”
“Yeah, pard! Jeff finished hitching up his wagon for the short ride into Jasper. “Let’s do it,” he replied. Hobie tied his horse behind Jeff’s wagon and they were off.
“Any news about the silver mine you and your friend were gonna get?”
“No, I haven’t talked to him lately. He ain’t come by my ranch and I ain’t seen him in town, but he’s got a mine, I’ve seen the silver. It’s lovely. Jeff, it’s truly lovely.”
“What’s your friend’s name, Hobie? Maybe I know him.”
“Name’s, Davis, Dan Davis, you know him, don’t you? He’s old man Henson’s son-in-law. You know what I wanna do, Jeff? After we have us a few snorts at the saloon, let me and you go find Dan Davis, and if he still wants to me to partner with him, I’ll sell you my ranch, lock, stock, and barrel.”
One hour after Jeff left for town, Mack came out of the bunkhouse and began walking toward the horse corral. He was gonna ride around the pastures and check on the cattle. As he reached the corral, a shot rang out. A heavy .44-40 slug hit Mack in the back headband of his Stetson hat and blew out the front part of his skull. Poor Mack was dead before his body hit the hard ground. Two cowboys ran out of the bunkhouse at the sound of the shot; they saw Mack lying by the corral.
As they ran toward him, they too fell dead from the assassin’s bullets. Ed White was next. He watched the two cowboys fall. He grabbed a carbine and ran out of the bunkhouse door and squatted down behind a water trough. A bullet plowed into the top board on the trough. Ed kept his head down. He’d located the shooter; he was shooting from up in the barn’s hay loft. Ed took a deep breath and ran zigzag toward the small door at the rear of the barn, and opening it, he paused. The silence was deafening. Ed dived into the barn, landing on his belly. He recovered and knelt next to the stall wall beside the ladder leading up to the loft.
“I got you covered, hombre,” he yelled, “you just as well throw down your guns and give yourself up!” Silence. “You hear me, come down here and I will hold my fire!” No sounds came from the loft.
“What do I do now?” Ed muttered.
The barn’s front double doors swung open, and two cowboys appeared. No sound came from above. “Is he dead? Did you shoot him, Ed?”
“Nah, I think he’s done gone, fellers.” A cowboy climbed the ladder to have a look-see. “Yeah. He’s fled boys, he was shooting at us from up here though.”
Chapter Thirty
Jorn Murphy sat looking out the two-story hotel room window at the dusty street of Jasper below and was delighted to see Jeff Nelson and Hobie Gilbert ride into town in a wagon. They tied up at the hitch post and entered Emilio’s Saloon next door to Jim Budgher’s Mercantile Store.
“Well, lookee here, look who just rode into our spiderweb.”
“Who rode in?”
“Did you take care of Mack at the JN like I told you, Lester?”
“Yeah, Jorn, I got him, and two more of his friends, and the rest of Jeff’s hands will soon light out for a safer place to work, I’ll betcha.”
Jeff and Hobie went inside Emilio’s and ordered a beer, which led to two more beers. Jeff excused himself, went to the Budgher’s next door, and gave Jim his supply order. Jeff told him to take his time filling the order, and he’d come back and get it about four o’clock. It’d been awhile since he and Jim had visited, so Jeff struck up a conversation with Jim and they talked for about thirty minutes.
Jorn Murphy was watching when Jeff went into Jim Budgher’s store, so he hurried down the back stairs of the hotel, came into the saloon through the side door, and said, “Hey there, Hobie, long time no see. How you been getting along?”
“Say, Hobie, I was just in Jim Budgher’s store, and I heard Jeff Nelson telling everyone that he just bought himself a half interest in Dan Davis’s silver mine, and he’s laughing and telling them folks that he’s made a fool out of you. If it’s true, I feel sorry for you old pard’. How about I buy you a whiskey?”
“Yeah, “I heard him say that, too”. One of Jorn’s ranch hands appeared and sided with Jorn. “I just heard him telling that same story, too. Wish I could buy half of a silver mine. That Jeff Nelson ought a make you mad, Hobie.”
By the time Jeff returned to Emilio’s Saloon, Jorn Murphy had accomplished his dirty deed, and he and his flunky were gone. Hobie was mad drunk from Jorn’s lies and full of too much free whiskey. As soon as Jeff stepped up to the bar, Hobie slugged him hard on his left ear.
Jeff reeled back against the bar, it kept him from falling, and Jeff clinched his friend as he shook his head to stop the bright lights and purple stars from swirling before his eyes. Then Jeff stepped back. “What the hell, Hobie? What’d I do to you, my friend?”
“You know damn well what you’ve done to me, you damn snake.” And Hobie’s right fist again connected solidly to Jeff’s chin. This time Jeff went down, and he stayed down. When Jeff awoke, Hobie was dead. He’d been knifed through his heart, and Jeff Nelson was in the Casper County Jail in Jasper. He was charged with Hobart Gilbert’s murder.
A jury of his peers found Jeff Nelson guilty of manslaughter for killing Hobie Gilbert. The judge sentenced him to two to three years in prison at Huntsville.
