“Yeah, I’m good, let’s git.” Ed poured the remaining coffee on the fire and followed Jeff outside. He stowed the coffeepot and two tin cups in his saddlebag. The sun was up now, with a few scattered clouds. No rain fell last night. That was good; the creeks would still be low enough to cross. It had the beginnings of a judgment day, a day of reckoning.
Both men stood at the corral watching the mare; she was still favoring her off front leg. “She’s not doing so good. See there, she can’t put all her full weight on that leg.”
“Yeah, I see,” replied Jeff. “I think we’d best leave her here. Take her over to the water trough, take off her halter, and leave her on her own. She’ll mend herself in time,” he added.
“She is a damn fine little pony, easy riding and very gentle. I hate to leave her. That hole she stepped in almost done her in. She was darn lucky she didn’t break her leg.”
“Yeah, she would’ve broke it for sure if we’d still been riding hard. It was a lucky thing for us we was only trotting, huh, Jeff?”
“Yeah, and we’re lucky she was close to the ranch when she hurt it. You did really good, Ed, picking out these two horses.”
“She’ll be okay here, lonesome maybe, but she’s got plenty of water and there’s good grazing. She has the barn for shelter if she needs it. Maybe she’d be here when we return, if we do return.”
“Damn it, Jeff, don’t say such dreadful things. What about your saddle?”
“Leave it here,” said Jeff. “Put it in the barn, out of the weather. I’ll come back for it, someday. You saddle your horse. We’ll ride double some, and I’ll walk beside you some. Maybe we’ll come across another horse.”
“Before we leave, I want to see Sally’s grave, Ed. Show me where you and her papa buried her.”
“Sure, Jeff, just follow me, I’ll show you.”
They walked a short way from the ranch house; there was a small wooden cross marking her grave.
“Well, I’ll be, her daddy musta done that, Jeff. It wasn’t me, but I like it, don’t you?”
“Yeah, it’ll do for now. I like this spot, Ed. I’ll be able to see her stone from the kitchen window. You and her papa put her in a real nice place. Thank you.”
“Yeah, I kind 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