of figured Sally’d like it here, Jeff. She used to come up here and pick wild flowers for her kitchen table, you remember?”
“Yeah, I remember, old friend.”
“We need to get going. It’s twenty miles to Murphy’s place, and with one horse, we should be there by late afternoon,” said Jeff.
“Yeah.” Ed fell in step beside Jeff, leading his horse and they began walking west.
They walked two hours and about midmorning they stopped under a shady cottonwood tree. They ate some jerky and drank some water for a late breakfast.
“Better save the rest of our jerky till later, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, we’d better.”
Jeff looked up at the sky and felt the beginning warmth of the day already; it felt good. “Let’s ride for an hour. Just walk him, Ed. He needs to last us until we find another horse. With luck, I’ll get me one from Murphy’s corral, after I kill him.”
Chapter Four
They moved on. Jeff wanted to be in place by sundown. His mind was busy as he rode. Then it was time to walk again. He’d spent almost three years in the pen because of Jorn Murphy. That man had stolen his home, his land and cattle, and his woman. Murphy had lied, along with his hired hand. They both put him behind bars for something Murphy had ordered done and he was about to regret it. He and Jorn had been friends at one time. That’s what Jeff had thought. Murphy was the one that ruined it. And now, Jeff was about to settle the score. Jeff’s ranch was two plus sections of good grazing land that ran clear to the river. He’d worked eighteen-hour days, seven days a week, for two years to improve it. His mind was always busy, figuring out ways to make every part of his land carry its own weight.
Ed was remembering about those past days. Jeff had built his ranch house, the barn, bunkhouse, corrals, and outhouses. He and Ed had dug a well out back of the house. Jeff had left room for a woman’s garden too. Jeff had started with a small cattle herd that had eventually become a bigger one, and his mother cows were producing seventy-five to one hundred twenty-five calves every spring. Ed had become a petty fair hand at working cattle, as well as a loyal friend. The money Jeff got every spring, from the sale of enough steers, paid to building the ranch house, plus enough for Ed’s wages and extra cowhands when they were needed. No Indians were around anymore stealing anyone’s cattle, just rustlers, so it was just Jeff and Ed and some hands who’d looked after the cattle, except during roundup and branding time. Aye, golly, those were good times that he remembered.
Jeff was remembering, too. He was building himself a sack of gold coins that would come in handy if he ever found a wife in this womanless country. Jeff had looked at the JN brand on his cattle. It’d made him feel proud of himself for all the hard work he’d done. But now his ranch house was used up and all his cattle belonged to Jorn Murphy. His two best friends were dead, Cookie was gone, and his beloved Sally was dead. Jorn had stolen everything he could haul or herd off and had killed and lied so that Jeff went to prison. Murphy and his hired hands had lied when they testified at the trial and said he killed a man. Jeff couldn’t blame the jury or the judge for what they saw as justice.
The only reason he’d sworn he’d kill Murphy was what he’d had done to Sally. Murphy was responsible for killing her. Jeff could always get himself another ranch somewhere; they were easy to come by. But Sally was different. Jeff couldn’t get another Sally, not ever. After Jeff had gone to jail, Murphy and Lester Willis had taken Sally. They’d abused her and then killed her. Ed had come to the prison and told him. He’d and her daddy had found her and buried her. Sally was the main reason Murphy was gonna die, and die very hard, after he’d suffered.
About noon, they came to a narrow creek shaded by one huge cottonwood tree. Jeff’s shirt was soaked with sweat from the heat that was radiating off the southwestern ground from the glaring sun. He sat down in the shade of a tree and pulled off his hat, boots, vest, and gun belt, and he stepped into the water with his jeans and shirt on and waded out to the middle of the small stream. He had to cool off.
“Damn, Ed, this water does feel good.”
Ed said, “I got to go find me someplace behind a bush.”
“Well, not close by. Go over yonder behind those bushes.”
Ed left, leading his horse, without a reply.
Chapter Five
As Jeff was enjoying the cool water in the shade of the cottonwood, he heard horses coming. Not ready to have some folks see him and know he was out of jail, he quickly swam over and grabbed his boots, hat, vest, and gun belt off the bank, and holding them over his head, he paddled behind some bushes that were growing down close to the water’s edge. He peered through them, watching to see who was coming. He hoped Ed kept his wits and didn’t run out to see what was going on.
Damned if he didn’t recognize one of them. Yeah, its Murphy’s segundo, his right-hand man, old Lester Willis, that son of a bitch himself, right here and now. How lucky can I get? He’s still wearing that silly looking derby that always looked out of place on a cow ranch. A man was with him who Jeff didn’t know, a tall, skinny hombre wearing his six-gun low and tied down. He looked like a shooter. The men stepped down from their mounts, stretched, and stepped over to the edge of the creek bank. Facing the river, they unbuttoned their jeans and began to piss into the stream. Lester Willis glanced around, looking both ways. They were ten yards upstream. “Damn,” Jeff swore as he pressed closer into the riverbank, hoping their piss would miss him and flow right on by.
He heard the skinny fellow ask, “When will he come, do you think?”
Lester answered, “Sometime in the next two weeks or so. I don’t know when or where, but he’s coming. You can bet on it. Jorn’s already told you why and you’re getting paid enough. You figger out the rest and just do him and do him quick when he shows up. That’s your job. That’s what Jorn wants from you.” Skinny grunted and looked away.
Jeff smiled as he thought, You bet your boots I’m coming, Lester, and when you do see me, it’ll be too late. Jeff knew he was outnumbered now, here in the water; he didn’t dare brace Lester now. With him against their two guns, they’d cut him down for sure. He’d best stay hidden and bide his time. Both men finished pissing, shook, and buttoned up. When they mounted, Skinny mounted his pony Indian style. That fellow would bear close watching.
Lester mounted next and never noticed that the left hind shoe was hanging loose on his pinto. Jeff could see it plain as day being down here at ground level. Lester won’t get too far on that pony without he’s got a blacksmith in his pocket. Jeff could see that plain enough. Both men urged their horses into the creek, then crossed and climbed out on the far bank. From there, they left at a spine-jolting trot toward Jorn’s place and headed west into the sun. That loose horseshoe would be gone in less than a mile.
Chapter Six
Jeff felt better, refreshed. That dip in the creek had helped him take the rest of that prison stink out of his nose. He put on his hat and sat down on the ground. He was pulling a boot on when Ed showed up, leading his horse. “Was that who I think it was? Was that derby hat fellow, Lester Willis? Did you talk to him about gettin’ a horse?”
“Why, hell no, I didn’t say anything to him, Ed. I stayed hidden. Murphy’s hired a man to gun me, I believe. What I heard Lester say convinced me to keep quiet, stay hidden, and wait till I have the advantage
