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The Blood of Jeb O'Hearn, Part I
In open Nebraska, eighteen eighty-six, lived a man named Floyd Belgard. Only twenty years, he lived with his pa, a ranching man named Richard. Richard had moved out this way about seven long years before. After loosing his wife and dry-goods shop, he'd given up on keeping stores. Instead he'd found out on the plain, working long be it dusk or dawn, That he had a skill at riding hard, working both the cattle and the hogs. Not that far from Floyd's ranch home another couple did live handsomely. A young couple and daughter, staring out: William and his sweet wife Beverly. They had a young girl, only two, raven-hair like her mother she had. A friendly pair, Will worked for Richard, The two riding daily 'cross the land. One night in fall a ruckus arose, Shouts and whinnies loud from the barn. Richard rode out to see to it all, but the man didn't get very far. A figure appeared, his guns a-blazing, riddling Richard with nary a word. Floyd saw him clear as he rode on, Twas the wanted rustler Jeb O'Hearn! Three more ride riders soon did appear, and they put up quite a merciless fire, shooting up both homes, Floyd dove low, the situation growing ever more dire. And then it just stopped, quiet and cold Until a loud neighing filled the night. The horses they stole, drive them away Soon vanishing far out of sight. Floyd ventured out, found his pa dead, Laid low and lifeless by the fiend. Then echoed out a torturous wail, a piteous, and broken girl's scream. He dashed over to William's house, his stomach a cold knot of dread. He found lying bloody, with lifeless eyes, the form of William, shot full of lead. He heard the poor widow Beverly sobbing as she stroked William's face, Floyd's mind froze and he backed out, Then spent the night in a long, restless pace. At morning light Beverly emerged, in her arms her young daughter Mary, she walked up to Floyd where did pace and near him she then chose to tarry. He looked at her, her blue eyes all red, His stomach it roiled and churned. He said aloud,"I swear not to rest until I spill the blood of Jeb O'Hearn!" The widow's eyes went wide with fear. "Please, don't go act like a fool! You're not a killer raised on the gun, you are no man fit to fight duels! "And with your father and my Will gone on now to the next life, I have no way to make ends meet, no family or man to provide..." CONTINUES IN PART II.
Copyright © 2020 David Welch. All Rights Reserved