“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.
“I’m sorry,” said the judge. “Don’t cause any trouble in prison, Jeff, and you’ll be out in less than three years. I’m sorry for you. I believe you got a bad roll of the dice, but your jury spoke. Good luck, son.”
The End
Book Two
A Blood Reckoning
Introduction
When a young rancher is framed for a murder and sent to prison, it’s bad enough. When his cattle are stolen, his ranch razed, and his hired hands beaten and run off, it’s becomes even worse. But when his wife is raped and killed, Jeff Nelson says you’ve gone too far. A cold-blooded reckoning is coming. When he gets out of prison, Jeff sets out to find and kill those men who took from him the one irreplaceable treasure he had, his lovely wife, Sally.
Jeff Nelson begins his hunt for those responsible for ruining his life. He tracks down one and dispatches him, and then he corners the last man responsible. His enemy waits in his lair for Jeff. Jeff Nelson’s dead set on confronting and killing this terrible man. His retribution is due, but not the way Jeff would have wanted. Jeff’s sworn he’ll die trying to avenge Sally, and he’s dead set on settling the score.
Chapter One
Jeff Nelson could see the two chimneys, one standing at each end of his white ranch house sitting atop Gun Barrel Hill. He was still a long way off. When he got closer, the view brought a smile to his lips; he was glad, and it felt good to be coming back. His ranch house was impressive; it sat on top of the broad mesa and commanded a grand view that Jeff had carefully selected. From there, he and his wife could look out and watch his cattle grazing about and admire his ranchland clear down to the Saber River. And they could see company coming when they were a long way off. He and Sally loved to sit together in their swing on the front porch and watch the sunsets. Sally had especially loved that part.
He and Jornett Murphy had come west after the war. Jeff had claimed this land to build his ranch. Murphy had ridden on farther west, and he’d chosen his land. Jeff had worked mighty hard building this ranch; he’d sweated in the summers and he’d froze in the winters. He’d hired Ed to come and work for him, and Ed had made Jeff a good cowhand and he’d become a loyal friend. Jeff’s greatest treasure was Sally, 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 and she had died right outside their kitchen door.
He and Ed White finally pulled up at the hitching post. It had been a long day in their saddles. Stepping down from their tired horses, they stretched and stomped their tired, booted feet just about the time the sun blinked, and dropped out of sight. Jeff Nelson, at age thirty-four, was a six-foot-tall. He was lean and rugged and tougher than a hickory nut. Most of his life he’d been used to eighteen-hour workdays and lately busting rocks and light meals had kept him on the slim side. He’d always kept his face clean-shaven, and his chiseled features made most women turn their heads to have another look at him. Jeff’s prison clothes they’d kept, and he’d been given a new pair of blue denim jeans and a long sleeve gray flannel shirt. They’d saved his boots and his leather vest and that pleasured him to get them back. His holsters and two Colt .44 single-action revolvers minus the bullets, of course, were waiting outside at the gate.
Jeff’s hired hand, Ed White, was on the portly side, even though he’d seldom got the chance to eat regular meals, and he was short, right over five feet tall. His horse was a sturdy critter and that was a good thing too because the poor animal didn’t have to suffer as much as a skinny nag when Ed sat on him for long periods of time. Ed was a true-blue friend to Jeff, and he’d been patiently waiting with a horse for his boss at the prison gate because Jeff had sent a message to Jeff’s banker.
The message said to locate Ed and give him enough of Jeff’s money to buy two horses and tell him to be there at the prison when Jeff walked out of that gate. Ed had been there. As the heavy metal gates clanged shut, Jeff climbed aboard the buckskin mare, and the two men had ridden hard all day to get to his ranch. This would be Jeff’s starting place. From here, he’d begin his plan of retribution.
Jeff had sworn to God in heaven, Sally’s killer would pay up, if he had to track him all the way to hell’s burning fires. All that Jeff had owned, all he’d held dear, had been lost right here. He’d