Do Not Forsake Me (10 page)

Interesting
, Jeff thought. The man seemed far more concerned about Randy than Jake. “She's fine. Badly shaken, but fine.”

“Jake?”

“Bad shape. He took a bullet in his right thigh. I guess it went through but it hit a vein or something. He lost a lot of blood and they had to cauterize the wound. It was a pretty ugly thing to see. They took him to the doctor's place to sew up what's left of his skin.”

“I'm surprised he even was shot. Harkner is too good in these situations to let himself get hit.”

“One of his grandsons ran into the street and got mixed up in the mess out there. That changed everything. Jake ran out into the street to protect him—took a chance getting shot to death doing it.”

Brown sighed. “I'm not surprised.”

“Actually it could have been a lot worse if I hadn't been up and out earlier. I saw those men go into the jail, and I figured they were up to something, so I told Jake. They were ready to blow him to pieces the minute he walked into the jail this morning. I sure didn't want to see that happen, so I told him they were inside. He actually had the drop on them until Little Jake showed up.”

“Well, I'm just glad the kid and Randy are both all right, although I'm sure Randy is beside herself with worry.” The man frowned and studied Jeff. “And you know my name, but I don't know yours. You're new in town.”

“Jeff Trubridge. I'm a reporter from Chicago, here to write a book about Jake. I'd shake your hand, but I'm holding Jake's guns.”

Brown glanced down at the guns. “Rather formidable, aren't they? How in heck did you get hold of them?”

“Jake was out of his mind from loss of blood. I think he's probably mostly in shock. His son yelled at me to take his guns—afraid he'd start shooting randomly, I guess.” He looked at the guns. “Feels kind of weird to hold them. These guns are pretty famous.”

Brown looked at them again. “Yeah, I suppose so.” He rubbed at his neck. “Did you say you were writing a book about Jake?”

“I'd like to.”

“Well, good luck with that. It won't be an easy project. After today you'll have a heck of a time getting Jake to talk about anything. He shuts down when anything happens involving his family.”

“Oh? You must be pretty close to them to know that.”

“I'm not really close to any of them, but Randy has told me a few things. When Jake is gone, I think it makes her feel better to talk about him—and the family in general.”

“Yes, she must get pretty lonely. From what I can tell, there were times when Jake was gone from her life for two years or more.”

Brown folded his arms. “Well, that was back when the law was after him. Now he
is
the law, so things are a little better, but being a federal marshal still takes him away for longer than Randy would like.”

And
you
feel
sorry
for
her
because
you're in love with her.
“Do you have a wife, Attorney Brown?” Jeff dared to ask.

Brown shook his head. “My wife died three years ago. I came out here from Chicago myself to get away from bad memories. I figured with the land rush there would be a need for lawyers out here. I have no children, so it doesn't matter much where I land myself.”

“I see.”

Brown kept glancing up the street toward the doctor's office. “I hope Jake will be all right.”

Do
you? Maybe you'd like to see Randy Harkner become a widow.
“Are you worried about Jake's wife?”

Brown frowned with a quick and wary irritation in his eyes. “I'm worried about
both
Jake and Miranda. And don't be reading something into my concern, Trubridge.” He stepped back a little and studied Jeff a moment longer. “Good luck getting your story. I wouldn't want to be the one who had to ask Jake Harkner any personal questions. You never know what will trigger that dark anger inside him. I'd advise you to never ask him about his father. He did kill the man, you know.”

“I know that.”

“That remark Brad Buckley made yesterday was meant to rile Jake. You saw what happened to Brad.”

Jeff nodded. “It must take a lot of anger for a man Jake's age to throw a two-hundred-pound man off the boardwalk like that.”

Brown tipped his hat. “That's what I'm talking about. Everything about the man is intimidating. He is a formidable presence. You and I walk into a room and no one notices. But when Jake Harkner walks into a room, he immediately fills it up. Everyone stops talking and turns to look.” He glanced down at the guns again. “Don't you wonder how on earth a woman like Randy puts up with the man?”

Jeff nodded. “One can't help but wonder. But there is something special there, I can see that. And I think when he's with his family, and especially his wife, he's a completely different man than what I saw on the street today.”

Brown's eyes flickered with what Jeff read as envy and despair. “Randy has said as much. The woman is still crazy about that man, after twenty-six years of hell. Go figure that one out.” Brown started to turn.

“Do you care if I use your words in my book?” Jeff asked before he could get away.

“What words?”

“About Jake being a formidable presence and filling up a room when he walks into it. I like that description.”

Brown turned away. “Fine with me.” He walked off toward his office, and Jeff watched after him, thinking that if the man was trying to hide the fact that he was in love with Jake Harkner's wife, he wasn't doing a very good job of it. Though apparently he knew better than to act on his feelings…so far.

Jeff stood at the front door of Jake's home, fighting down nerves, when Lloyd opened the door and looked past him cautiously before he let Jeff inside.

“Trubridge,” he greeted, nodding.

“Hello, Lloyd.” Jeff looked behind him, then back at Lloyd, who looked very tired and disheveled. His hair was still loose but tucked behind his ears. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Lloyd sighed. “Just still a little wary after what happened this morning. There are more Bryants and Buckleys out there—big families, both of them. They aren't going to be happy about what happened this morning.” He waved Jeff toward the parlor. “Have a seat.”

Jeff felt like a little kid in the presence of the tall, dark, and at the moment, still-dangerous-looking Lloyd. He noticed the younger Harkner had a split lower lip from Jake's blow. His pants were covered with dried blood, but now he wore a shirt. He figured the shirt might be one of Jake's, since it appeared he'd never gone home to clean up and change after his father was hurt.

“I, uh, I didn't come here to bother anyone. I just came to return these.” Jeff held up a pillowcase. “Your father's guns are in here. You asked me to take them off him this morning. Having them around makes me nervous. I keep thinking one of them is going to come alive and shoot me for looking at it.”

Lloyd grinned and took the pillowcase from him. “Well, Pa did modify the triggers to pull way easier than the common single-action .44. But no, they won't explode all on their own.” He reached inside the pillowcase and pulled out the guns, carrying them to a tray-top table near a stuffed chair, then checked each one. He shook his head. “Empty,” he said quietly after opening the first gun and spinning the cartridge chamber. He turned the chamber of the second gun. “Four bullets in this one. I figured that. He'd reloaded one gun for the face-off with that hired gun. That took one bullet, and then he shot that man in the alley. That left four. That's why I asked you to take his guns. Pa was out of his head from such a sudden loss of so much blood. I was afraid he'd grab for them again.” He shook out the remaining bullets into his hand and laid both guns back on the table, shoving the bullets into a pocket of his denim pants.

“How is he?” Jeff asked.

“Brian and my mother are in the bedroom with him now.” Lloyd shook his head. “Jeff, my pa has been wounded before, but this one—it really put him down. I think this time around was harder on my mother too. This is the closest my dad has come to dying from a gunshot. He's been hurt before, but not like this. If Brian hadn't been right there to move as fast as he did to stop the bleeding, Jake would be dead. But then, this is Jake Harkner we're talking about, so you never know.” He smiled sadly, and Jeff detected tears in Lloyd's eyes. “He's pretty much too damn stubborn to die,” he added. “Brian says it could take several days, maybe weeks for Pa to get his strength back.”

Lloyd sat down in the stuffed chair and waved Jeff over to a paisley-patterned sofa with rolled, stuffed arms. Jeff secretly observed items in the room. The furniture was clean and neat but nothing of extraordinary value—just tidy and well-placed. Doilies graced the side tables and what looked like a hand-embroidered small tablecloth decorated the low cherrywood table that sat between him and Lloyd. A lovely lamp with a colorful stained-glass shade sat on an end table beside the sofa, the only item Jeff knew had to be expensive. A rosewood clock chimed softly from its perch on a mantel over the fireplace.

Lloyd took a cigarette from his shirt pocket. “The hard part will be
keeping
Pa down once he comes out of this. He isn't much for being bedridden.”

Jeff felt nervous being in Jake's house. His eyeglasses had slipped down a little, and he pushed them back up his nose as he again apologized for intruding. “I really don't need to stay. I'm sure you don't feel like company right now. I just wanted to return the guns and check on your father.”

Lloyd lit his cigarette and drew on it. “No. Stay. Peter Brown stopped by earlier today to see how he was doing. Actually, I suspect he stopped by to see how my
mother
was doing.”

Jeff wondered if that remark meant that even Lloyd suspected Peter Brown was in love with Randy Harkner.

“Anyway, Peter told me he talked to you after the shooting and that you'd warned Jake those men were in the jail.” He drew on the cigarette again. “I want to thank you. I'm not ready to lose my father, Jeff. I just got him back only a year and a half ago. I still have a lot to make up for, so I need a lot of years to do that. If he didn't know those men were waiting for him inside that jail, he'd have been blown to bits as soon as he opened that door.”

Jeff was touched. Earlier today this young man had shot down one of the prisoners with no hesitation, and now he sat here talking about how much he loved his father—a man with a reputation that sent chills down most peoples' spines. “I have to say that in just the three days since I met Jake, I find myself really liking him,” he told Lloyd, “although he still scares the hell out of me.”

Lloyd grinned again. “You don't need to be afraid of him, after what happened this morning. I'm pretty sure after what you did, he'll let you write that book.”

Jeff could hardly hide his excitement. “Well, I hope so, but I can't rejoice in how it all came about. I'm really sorry Jake got hurt.” He removed his hat and set it beside him. “I hope Jake told you yesterday after the wedding that I mean to do things right—just the truth—not just about Jake but about the rest of the family…unless of course some of you don't want to be mentioned.”

Lloyd smoked quietly, studying Jeff so intently that Jeff swallowed nervously. “Did I say something wrong?”

Lloyd shook his head. “No. I'm just making up my mind.” He leaned back in the chair. “In two words, Jeff—how would you describe my father?”

Jeff thought a moment, afraid he'd choose the wrong words and lose his chance at a book. “Well…to be honest with you, I've already contemplated the best words to describe the man. I came up with just
one
word.
Nitroglycerin.
”

Lloyd actually laughed lightly. “Nitro!” He laughed again. “That's the best description I've ever heard.” He took another drag on his cigarette, and Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. “He's like nitro, all right. Keep him calm, and he's fine. Shake him up, and pow! And even nitro is harder to ignite than my father.”

Jeff grinned. “Well, I suspect you run a close second to him as far as personality and temper go.”

Lloyd smiled and shook his head. “If you want a comparison, I'm just dynamite.
He
is nitro. I lack my father's meanness. It comes from way deep inside, mostly from his past.”

“That first day I saw him, I realized that he can back a man down with just a look. When he's angry, there is fire in those eyes. It's unnerving.”

Lloyd nodded. “True.” He nodded toward the front door. “At least outside that door. Oh, he has a few friends, is amiable to most people, but don't cross him and don't mess with his family and don't do something that means he has to come after you. And don't abuse a kid or a woman. That's part of the reason he brought those prisoners back in such bad shape. It wasn't because they robbed a bank. It's because they holed up at a ranch where they raped a fifteen-year-old girl. My dad went nuts.”

Jeff dared to ask, “Does it have anything to do with his father?”

Lloyd shot him a dark look that said he'd gone too far. “Probably, but let's not talk about that.”

“I'm sorry,” Jeff quickly covered. “I should have known better than to ask.”

“You're right, and if you ever dare to ask Pa, you'd better pick the right time. Better yet, let
him
bring it up, and then hope he's not in a bad mood when he does.” Lloyd leaned forward, studying his cigarette as he spoke. “My dad seldom drinks. I'll bet you are surprised at that.”

Jeff frowned with curiosity. “I am.”

Lloyd continued to stare at the cigarette. “You want something for that book of yours. That's something. He'll down a beer or two—sometimes a shot of whiskey, but not around my mother or my sister or the grandkids. Only once or twice in my whole life have I seen him actually come close to getting drunk…but even then, he seemed to know when to stop…and those couple of times were only when we were out on the trail. The man is terrified he'll turn into his father if he gets drunk, so you'll never see him pull a cork when he's here at home. He made me promise a long time ago never to drink either. When I ran off on him and tried to defy everything he ever taught me, I drank a lot, but I quit after that.” He stopped to smoke. “Jeff, there is a war going on inside Jake Harkner, between his father's cussed mean blood and his mother's goodness. Pa says she was beautiful—and he still wears rosary beads that were hers. There's a beautiful crucifix on the end of the beads.”

“Really? That's strange, for a man who won't step foot into church.”

Lloyd grinned sadly. “Yeah, well, that's a bone of contention between him and my mother. But I don't think it means he doesn't believe there's a God.” He kept the cigarette at the corner of his mouth as he spoke, just as, Jeff noted, Jake would do.

Like
father, like son, in looks, actions…

“Pa's mother was Mexican,” Lloyd continued, “and her name was Evita. My mother named my sister after her, and Pa says Evie looks a lot like his mother. He loves her more than anything, because
she
always had his back no matter what.”

Lloyd set his cigarette in an ashtray and cleared his throat. “I've said way too much—more than he would have wanted me to tell you. Don't let him know. Just let him tell you what he wants, when he wants.” He rose. “I'll get you some coffee.”

“You really don't have to—”

“It's okay.”

Lloyd walked into the kitchen. “Want anything to eat?” he called back to Jeff. “Half the town has stopped by with food.”

“No, thank you. I'm fine.” Jeff took another look around the very pleasant but small house. Lace curtains graced the windows and front door, wool mosaic rugs decorated the wide-plank hardwood floor, and knickknacks and plants were appropriately placed. He thought how the house did not fit the big, often violent man who lived in it.

Lloyd came back with two cups of coffee, and Jake's gun belt hanging over his arm. He handed a cup to Jeff and laid the gun belt on the sofa, then sat down. “No, I can't just leave it there. You see, Pa worships the ground my sister walks on—calls her his angel. To him, she walks on water, and to her, he is just one step down from Jesus Christ himself. Pa is going to feel awful for yelling at her like he did this morning. He's never once raised his voice to her or Mom or the grandkids. Pa and I have had words—like any father and son, I guess—but I know he loves the hell out of me. Still, Evie is the one who stuck by him when he went to prison. I'll never forgive myself for leaving, but Pa forgave me—”

The bedroom door opened then and Randy stepped out along with Brian. Again, Jeff was struck by how lovely Randy was, though pale and tired-looking now. Her light blue dress was covered with bloodstains, as was Brian's suit.

So, all three of them have been with Jake this whole time, never even changing clothes.

Jeff couldn't help feeling sorry for what Randy Harkner must have been through in her life, yet there she stood, lovely and composed. He jumped up and nodded to her. “Ma'am?”

“You're that reporter, aren't you?” she said, stepping closer and putting out her hands.

“Yes, ma'am.” He found himself trying to figure out if her eyes were green or gray. Should he take both her hands? She offered, so he did. She squeezed his hands warmly. Was this lovely creature really married to Jake Harkner? “You grabbed on to me when they were treating Jake out there in the street, Mrs. Harkner. I don't think you even knew who I was.”

She shook her head. “I don't even remember that. All I know is that Peter Brown visited earlier and told us about you warning Jake this morning.” She smiled softly through eyes that looked slightly puffy from crying. “Jeff Trubridge, right?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Well, I don't know what to say but thank you, Jeff.”

“Ma'am, I was just lucky to see those men before Jake got there.”

Brian also stepped forward and shook Jeff's hand. “Thanks for your help.”

Lloyd rose. “Is Pa awake?” he asked his mother.

As Randy let go of Jeff's hands, he could see the devastation in her eyes. “No,” she answered, turning to face her son. “After all these years, this is the worst I've ever seen, even worse than finding him beaten up and suffering pneumonia in prison.” She looked from Lloyd to Brian. “I want both of you to go home to your wives. Brian, poor Evie probably wants to come over here and sit with her father for a while, but she'll just have to wait. Tell her he's still unconscious, and there is nothing she can do. And tell her I know without a doubt that Jake didn't mean to yell at her like he did. He was losing blood and not in his right mind, and he was devastated that Little Jake could have been hurt.”

She turned to Lloyd. “And you—please go home to Katie, Lloyd. This has been a terrifying first day of marriage for her.”

Lloyd glanced at the bedroom door. “What if he needs me?”

“
Katie
needs you. Take it from a woman who knows what it's like to have her husband in constant danger. She's never experienced something like this before.”

“But what if he—”

“Are you listening to me, Lloyd?” Randy spoke the words more firmly. “I know what she's going through right now, and you need to be there. Jake would tell you the same thing. He'll understand if you aren't here when he wakes up. For heaven's sake, that's why he didn't ask for your help this morning. He wanted you to stay with
Katie
.”