for some ribbons, when Jeff went in to pick up his supplies. Jeff smiled and tipped his hat. She smiled back. He couldn’t help noticing she was about the prettiest woman he had ever seen. Where did she come from? He asked Jed, the clerk, after she’d left the store. Jed had told Jeff her name and who she was, and no, she didn’t have a husband as far as he knew. Jeff made a point to watch for her whenever he was in Jasper, and one day, he got his chance to talk to her. That was their beginning. “God, it’s been a long time since I was with a woman.”
“What’s that you said, Jeff?”
“Nothing that would interest you, old friend,” Jeff replied. He was looking far to the west. He squinted and pulled his hat brim down low to rest his eyes from the sun’s glare.
Chapter Ten
There, just ahead, way off, directly into the sun, Jeff could see him plainer now. He’s still walking beside his horse, his head’s down, and his poor critter’s limping too. So your pony lost his shoe, has he, Lester? Don’t look around yet, Lester. Jeff eased Winnie up to the crook of his arm where she was used to riding and he put her on half cock.
“Do you see something up ahead, Jeff?”
“Yeah, I do,” Jeff whispered, “and keep your voice low. A loud voice carries far over flat country and I wanna catch up to that hombre.”
“I don’t see nobody around us, Jeff.”
“Shush, you!”
Jeff slid off the rump of Ed’s gelding and started walking. He picked up his pace into a faster walk, and like an Indian, he was walking lightly, like a cat, and being careful so he didn’t scuff his boots or kick a rock and make noise. Ed began dropping farther back. That was okay. I won’t need him, Jeff thought. He kept gaining on Lester. Ed was trailing farther behind. Jeff kept up his rapid pace, but he stayed far enough away from his prey; he knew he’d better stay out of pistol range. Lester was walking slowly. With his head down, he’s gotta be gettin’ tired. Most horsemen are never used to walking much, and this man still hadn’t looked back. Lester’s poor pony was limping along beside him.
Lester must be in deep thought; his mind’s wrapped around my killing and how they’ve planned it. Well, old son, you’re getting ready to get your chance, only you ain’t gonna have an edge. This edge is going go to someone else this time, pard’.
Jeff turned and hand-signaled, Stay behind me and be quiet. Ed understood and did as instructed; he slowed his horse down to a stop, knowing he was about to witness a killing.
Jeff was facing the sun. Lester did have that advantage. Careful now, he cautioned himself. Jeff pulled his hat brim low, just over his eyes so the glare wasn’t so bothersome. He eased Winnie to full cock, and at seventy-five yards away, he stopped, set her butt plate against his right hip, planted both his boots square in the road, and took a deep breath. Jeff loudly cleared his throat.
Chapter Eleven
Lester dropped the reins as he whirled, placing his hand on his Colt’s handle as he turned. One second his hand was empty; the next one, it wasn’t. He was faster. You’ve been practicing, Lester. Jeff was out of pistol range on purpose. Lester glanced right and left, and seeing the long gun in Jeff’s hands, Lester knew at once he was disadvantaged.
“Hello, friend,” Jeff said.
“Wada you want, fellow?” Lester asked loudly.
He doesn’t recognize me. Well, hell, he hadn’t seen me in a spell. Jeff laughed.
“I want you, Lester.”
“What the hell are you talking about, fellow?”
“My name’s Nelson, Lester. You remember me?”
Fanning and firing his Colt, Lester’s bullets began kicking up sand at both Jeff’s boot toes. Jeff fired back, levered, sidestepped quickly to the right, and fired again, aiming for Lester’s gut, and that’s right where his heavy lead slugs caught him low, twice, just below his belly button. When the two chunks of lead hit him, they spun him around. Lester lost the smirk he’d always carried on his face. He knew something bad had just happened to him.
Chapter Twelve
Lester sank slowly to his knees in the middle of the road, both his hands clutching at the fire in his guts. Jeff closed on him, cautiously; he’d been around rattlers enough to know they could lash out quick if a body got too close. Lester was down for good, but he wasn’t out yet, and he was suffering bad. That was good! Jeff felt no pride for shooting Lester and no remorse either. It was Lester or him, plain and simple. It had been a long time since the war that Jeff had killed a man like this, but this man needed killing, and he wasn’t gonna be the last one Jeff killed, not by a long shot. Jeff kicked Lester’s shooter away, knowing he wouldn’t need it where he was going. Jeff wanted him to suffer some before he died.
“Does that hurt, Lester?” Facing him, Jeff squatted as he looked him in the face and asked, “Did you feel that? Are you hurting bad, you killer?” Jeff was hunkered down in the dirt and watching him, and Lester watched back, clinching his jaws in pain.
“You killed both my friends, didn’t you! You knifed Bo when he wasn’t looking, and you bushwhacked Smitty like the low-down dirty coward you are! You bastard. And you killed my wife, didn’t you! Are you hurting? Are you suffering, you saddle scum?’
Lester grimaced, bright-red blood was running out of both corners of his mouth, and through gritted teeth, he whispered, “I ain’t sorry, Jeff, I enjoyed her before we killed her.” Lester suffered some more until he began to puke up bright red gobs of drowning blood, and then coughing and strangling, he collapsed in the middle of the road and died.
Jeff stood up and looked down at Lester’s corpse. “I’m still suffering too, you bastard, but I’m not done killing yet,” Jeff said loudly as he reloaded Winnie’s belly with .44-40 cartridges.
“Jesus save us,” Ed moaned, turned his back to Jeff, bent over, and lost all the jerky and water he’d consumed since breakfast.
“Third chore’s done, Sally. I have two more chores to go!” murmured Jeff Nelson quietly through gritted teeth.
“Come on, Ed. Shape up, old friend. Let’s keep moving.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ed stood. He wiped the sweat from his face and brow with a red kerchief. “He ain’t gonna get buried, is he?”
“Nope,” said Jeff, and looking up, he pointed. “Those buzzards circling up in the sky, doing their lazy eights, they need some nourishment too, don’t they?” And they went on their way, leaving Lester Willis spread-eagle on his back in the middle of the hard dirt road. He was looking up at the buzzards.
Lester’s horse was no good to ride without his hind shoe. “On second thought, he’ll do,” Jeff decided. “I can walk him to Murphy’s place. He’s limping, but not too much. He won’t have to carry a man’s weight. He can pack our gear and that’ll help.”
A real easy walking horse is hard to beat, some are like a rocking chair, and that was the kind of horse Ed was
