“Well, thank you, Jeff,” Randy told him.
“Stood by him?” Sadie frowned. “Have you really looked at the man? What woman wouldn’t stand by that? I wouldn’t have had any trouble doing it. And that son of his is even better looking.”
Jake picked up his coffee cup. “Sadie, you’re worse than that waitress of yours.”
“Yeah? Well, if anything ever happened to this wife of yours, half the women in this town would be showing up at your door with food and anything else you need, and you know it.”
Jeff noticed Jake sobered a little too much at the remark. “Well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen anytime soon, because I’d just as soon keep the woman I’ve got.”
Then Jeff remembered Jake’s remark about Randy having some unusual pain of late. Brian was supposed to come and see her yesterday. Had they learned something new?
Sadie laughed and touched Jeff’s shoulder. “Mr. Trubridge, you look like a nice young man who just might do a fine job of writing that book. You just be fair about it. Jake isn’t as bad as some folks say, and not as bad as he pretends to be. Otherwise this beautiful woman with him wouldn’t have stuck it out so long, handsome or not.”
“I already figured that out,” Jeff told her.
“Jeff’s breakfast is on me, Sadie,” Jake spoke up.
“Jake, you don’t have to—”
“Sure I do. I’d be dead if you hadn’t warned me those men were waiting for me inside that jail.”
“You mean you saved that no-good’s life?” Sadie asked Jeff.
Jeff shrugged. “In a way, I guess.”
“Well then, your breakfast is on me,” Sadie told Jeff, patting his shoulder. “What will it be?”
They gave their orders. While they waited, more well-wishers came forward, including Juan, who came inside with a heavyset Mexican woman on his arm.
“Jake!” He walked over and shook Jake’s hand, rattling off a conversation in Spanish. Juan’s wife reached out to Randy and Randy grasped her hand.
“Señora, Jake will be all right now, sí?”
“Sí, Rosa.”
“I am glad. Juan, he thinks Jake walks on water, you know?”
Randy squeezed her hand. “Oh, I can assure you, he doesn’t.” Both women laughed. “Juan is a good friend,” Randy added.
“Sí, señora.”
Their food arrived. Juan and his wife sat down at the table next to them, and Jeff watched the interaction between Jake and a few more townspeople who greeted him as they arrived at the restaurant.
More people like the man than he’ll admit, he noted. As intimidating and vicious as he’d been that first day Jeff saw him, as well as the day of the shooting, Jake was now affable and relaxed. They were nearly finished and getting ready to pay when everything changed.
The door opened, and a big man with a beard and a shotgun walked inside. He wore a floppy hat and a wool coat, and he walked right up to Jake’s table. Everyone in the restaurant quieted and Jeff lost his smile. The big man nodded to Randy.
“Mrs. Harkner.”
Randy looked up at him, and Jeff caught the disdain and dread in her countenance. “Good morning, Hash.” She looked at Jake, definite worry in her eyes.
Jeff swallowed. He had a pretty good idea this man was related to the Buckleys or the Bryants. The man turned his attention to Jake.
“Jake,” he said in a near growl. “Jessie Buckley sent me to fetch Brad for her.” He said the words slowly, deliberately. “I’m told he’s got to go home in a wagon because he still can’t stand up—on account of you practically killing him all them days ago when you brung in Marty and Jack and the others. You know by now that Marty Bryant escaped, and you can bet you’ll pay now for what you’ve done to both families.”
Jake stayed right where he was, glancing at Randy with a look that told her to stay calm. “Those who died deserved what they got, Hash, especially in the shoot-out that took place later.” The handsome smile was gone and the darker Jake began to show himself.
“My son didn’t deserve to be kicked out of the jail and thrown into that prison wagon the way I’m told he was. Lloyd had no right abusin’ him like that.”
Jake leaned back, studying his coffee cup. “My son makes his own choices. I wasn’t there.”
Hash backed up a little, still holding his shotgun but not pointed at anything. “You wasn’t there because you was wounded. I hope it was one of my boys who did it—one of my poor, dead boys!”
Jake sighed. “Hash, why don’t you just take Brad home to his family and lay low for a while…till you cool off a little?”
Hash just watched him a moment, as though contemplating what he’d do next. “I’m thinkin’ that if you’re wounded, this might be a good time to beat the shit out of you, Harkner.”
People whispered. One couple got up and left.
“Might be,” Jake answered. “I don’t doubt you’d have an easy time of it, the condition I’m in right now. Then again, you might be surprised. You saw what happened to Brad, and he’s heftier and a whole lot younger than I am. It all depends on how upset I am, Hash, and right now I’m real upset about a lot of things.” He rose. “Including the fact that your worthless third son helped kill innocent men escaping from that prison wagon and that you probably know where he is.”
“I don’t know nothin’ about it. And you’re a low-down, murderin’ bastard, Harkner! Everybody knows it. They smile to your face, but they know you’ve got no right wearin’ a badge. Wasn’t long ago you was on the other side of a badge, rottin’ in prison for robbery, rape, and murder!”
Everyone froze. Jeff had no idea why, but he felt compelled to reach over and take Randy’s hand. He was surprised at how hard she gripped it when he did so.
Jake remained casual and chewed on a toothpick as he spoke. “Hash, there are other people in this restaurant, including women and children, who don’t need to hear your trash talk. Why don’t you just go home?”
Hash Bryant raised the shotgun.
Jake rested his right hand on his gun. “Don’t even think about it, Hash,” he warned. “Not in here. I don’t intend to make a mess of Sadie’s restaurant. She’s a nice lady.”
The restaurant became so silent, Jeff could hear water boiling somewhere. He noticed Randy close her eyes. Her grip on his hand was beginning to hurt.
“I’m thinkin’ that when I beat you within an inch of your life, Harkner, I want it to be when you’re healed up. A man can’t brag about beatin’ on somebody who’s wounded.”
Jake folded his arms. “Well, that’s very gentlemanly of you, Hash. I didn’t know the Bryants had a sense of honor, considering what your sons did to that fifteen-year-old girl they holed up with after robbing that bank. I’ve done pretty much everything people say I’ve done, but I’ve never abused a woman, Hash. And after what I saw out there when I arrested your boys, I have no problem with my son abusing your son, as you put it.”
Hash squinted his eyes, never moving from Jake’s gaze. “I’ve lost two sons on account of you! Two! Ted and Gordy both, and both by your gun! I’d say that requires some payback. Your son is still livin’!”
Juan muttered something in Spanish. Jake just glared at Hash Bryant, keeping his arms folded. Jeff had a feeling that if it weren’t for his leg, Jake would launch into Hash Bryant right now and drag him out into the street.
“I’d suggest that once you leave town with Brad, you stay out of town, Hash. It would be best if I didn’t see your face again, understand? If I see you in town anytime soon, I’ll throw you in jail just for being here.”
The water kept boiling, and Jeff could hear a clock ticking on the wall behind him.
“This ain’t over, Harkner.”
“Maybe not. But your wife has lost two sons because they were thieves and rapists. I’m sure she mourns them anyway, but don’t add lo
sing her husband to the picture. Go home and stay there. Make any more trouble, and I’ll come after every damn one of you. And if anyone in my family gets hurt, I’ll kill every last Buckley and Bryant who are left.”
Hash Bryant looked around at others in the restaurant. “You hear that? A lawman who executes his prisoners.” He turned back to Jake. “Maybe that’s somethin’ my Marty is willin’ to risk.”
Jake stiffened even more. “Where is he, Hash? Where is Marty?”
“I got no idea.”
“The hell you don’t! I’ll find him, and if I find you with him, you’ll die right along with your son! It would go easier on you if you owned up right now where I can find Marty.”
“Find him yourself, Harkner,” Hash sneered. He glanced sidelong at Randy. “And keep your family in town where it’s safer while you’re at it.”
Jake stormed toward him and ripped the shotgun right out of his hand. “Get out, Hash! You are truly pushing your luck. I am real tempted to change my mind about not leaving body parts all over this restaurant!”
The look in Jake’s eyes was enough to make a snake crawl back into its hole.
Hash Bryant backed up. “I’ll go, but only because I aim to have it out with you when you’re healthy, so’s people know who the better man really is.”
“Fine with me, as long as it’s face-to-face and not behind my back!”
Jeff heard footsteps on the boardwalk then, someone running. Lloyd came charging through the door.
“Stay there!” Jake ordered. “It’s all right.”
Hash turned to glance at Lloyd. “Well now, ain’t it nice how loyal the son is to the father.”
“Pa isn’t healed yet, Hash, and there are innocent people in this restaurant, including my mother!” Lloyd seethed.
Hash turned his gaze back to Jake. “Oh, I’ll leave for now. I’m savin’ your pa for when he’s better, so’s I can rightfully beat the life out of him. I might not be able to take him in a gunfight, boy, or you either…but I damn well can take him another way.” He glanced at Randy. “There’s plenty of ways to take a man down without a gun.” He turned and walked to the door. Lloyd stood in his way.
“Let him leave, Lloyd,” Jake told him. “The sooner he’s out of my sight, the better.”
Reluctantly, Lloyd stepped aside.
“Ain’t you just the lovin’ son?” Hash sneered at Lloyd before walking out.
Jeff felt Jake’s rage. It filled the room.
Jake turned and pulled some money from his pocket and threw it on the table. “Let’s go.” He took his hat from where he’d laid it on an extra chair and put it on.
“Jake, maybe this isn’t a good time to go see Peter,” Randy objected, still clinging to Jeff’s hand.
“There will never be a good time, so let’s go before I go after Hash Bryant and bleed to death beating the hell out of him!” He headed for the door, still holding Hash’s shotgun. Lloyd followed him out.
Randy finally let go of Jeff’s hand. She pulled on her gloves and rose.
Juan grasped her arm. “Señora, it is all right. That Hash Bryant, he is a bad hombre. Everybody in here, they understand that.”
Randy nodded. “His being a bad hombre is what worries me.” They left the restaurant. Outside, Jake was leaning against a porch post lighting a cigarette while Lloyd paced angrily.
“If I’d known he came into town this morning, I never would have let him look you up, Pa!”
“I know that. I just had better not see his face in town again anytime soon.”
“Maybe you’d better go back home and cool down a little,” Lloyd suggested.
“No! I have more to talk to Peter Brown about than Jeff’s book or a trust fund. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re not fine at all, Pa! I know you. You’re so damn mad, you want to hit something, or better yet, go after Hash Bryant. Go home before you open that wound up all over again or do something to get you fired and thrown back into prison.”
Jake pushed back his hat and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m not canceling this appointment. What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I couldn’t sleep because of Marty Bryant’s escape…and I’m worried about Mom.” He glanced at his mother, who remained silent. “I got dressed and went down to the jail and found out Hash had been there, and came looking for you.”
A few people came out of the restaurant, moving away from Jake, knowing what he was like when angry. Juan, however, walked right up to him.
“Señor, Dios se encarga de todas las cosas. Él los protegerá a usted y su familia. Confía en él, señor.”
Jake nodded and seemed calmer.
Lloyd walked closer to Jake. “What did Brian say? Is Mom all right?”
Jake glanced at Randy. “She just might need some surgery, that’s all. She’ll be fine.”
Lloyd looked at his mother. “He’s lying, isn’t he?”
Jeff just stood there listening in wonder and worry.
“We don’t know for sure, Lloyd. I have to see Dr. Rogers first.”
Lloyd suddenly looked like a lost little boy.
“Go talk to Brian,” Jake told him. “He’ll explain.”
Lloyd kept watching Randy. “Mom?”
“I’ll be all right, Lloyd. Your father is right. Go talk to Brian.”
“How long have you been sick?”
“Lloyd, it’s most likely something that can be fixed.”
Lloyd looked back at Jake. “I’m here for both of you. You know that.”
Jake nodded. “I know.”
“So is Evie. You keep that in mind. I mean if—”
“Don’t say it,” Jake warned. “Everything will work out. Let’s take one thing at a time. Right now I have an appointment with Peter, so you go do whatever you have to do, and we’ll talk later.”
Lloyd turned to his mother again. He seemed to be at a terrible loss to know what to say or do. He walked up to her and embraced her. “You get yourself well. I don’t want to have to deal with that sonofabitch of a husband of yours if something happens to you.”
“I’m sure I’ll get better, Lloyd. Do what your father says and just go take care of whatever you need to do today. Jake will be fine.”
Lloyd pulled away, glancing at Jake again.
“Go on. We’ll talk later.” He handed Lloyd Hash’s shotgun. “This belongs to Hash. Unload it before you give it to him. I’d prefer it if you just aimed it at him and gave him both barrels, but we have to obey the goddamn law!” He turned to Jeff as Lloyd took the shotgun. “I left my duster in there. Go get it for me, would you? This leg is starting to give me some real pain.”
“Sure, Jake.” Jeff went back inside to retrieve Jake’s coat.
A frustrated Lloyd glanced at Jake once more. “This thing with the Bryants and Buckleys won’t end anytime soon, will it?”
Their gazes held. “Probably not. But there is nothing we can do about it today other than make sure Hash leaves with Brad. Go make sure that happens, and remember you’re a lawman, Lloyd.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Lloyd reluctantly left, and Jake sighed, moving beside Randy and putting an arm about her waist. “Come on. Let’s keep that appointment with Peter.”
“Be nice.”
“I will.”
Jeff hurried out after them to see Jake suddenly lift his wife with one arm and carry her across an alley.
“Jake Harkner, put me down! You’ll break that leg open.”
“My leg is fine.” They reached the next boardwalk, and Jake leaned down to give his wife a quick kiss.
You don’t fool me, Jake, Jeff thought. You just don’t want your wife to worry. You’ve got plans for Hash Bryant. Or maybe you’re just worried that Hash Bryant has plans for you…or your family.
He followed them to Peter Brown’s
office.
Nineteen
Jeff felt sweat breaking out under his shirt as they entered Peter Brown’s office. Suddenly his tweed jacket and silk vest seemed too warm in spite of the morning’s chill. He entered first to see the very dapper Peter Brown sitting behind his desk, his slightly gray hair perfectly combed, his suit obviously well cut and expensive, his blue eyes fixed on Randy when she entered. The man rose to greet all three of them and put out his hand to Jake.
“Jake, it’s good to see you up and walking around.”
Jake shook his hand. Jeff watched. A firm handshake, but not the painful one Jake had given Brown after church that first Sunday. “Still a lot of pain, but I’ll survive.”
“A little laudanum should help. Surely your son-in-law can give you some.”
“No, thanks. I don’t drink around my wife, and laudanum is even worse. It’s just whiskey mixed with opium. I don’t intend to find out what that mix might do to me. I’m mean enough sober.” He glanced at Randy. “Is that what Brian gave you last night?”
Randy gave him a warning look but grinned at the same time. “Stop it.”
They both laughed lightly, and it was obvious to Jeff they were sharing a very personal joke. He turned his attention to Peter, who watched the two of them with a painful sadness.
“I told your wife we could put this off a few more days,” Peter told Jake. “I’m not that busy this week, and I’m guessing you really shouldn’t be walking on that leg yet.”
“Convincing Jake to stop doing something he shouldn’t do is like talking to a wall,” Randy commented. “We have a grandson who also does not like to be told no.”
Peter looked back at Jake, and Jeff could feel the tension between the two men. “Yes, well, that stubborn little grandson created quite a ruckus…when? It’s been over three weeks, I think. You made all the local headlines, Jake, and by now you’ve probably been featured in stories in newspapers in a lot of other towns, probably even other states. I’m glad you and Little Jake are all right. I mean that. Seeing that kid out in the street had to be awful for you.”
“Thanks for your concern,” Jake answered, a hint of sarcasm in the remark. “Little Jake is apparently aptly named. He’s stubborn and determined.” Jake turned to Jeff. “Peter, this is Jeff Trubridge,” he added, “the reporter from Chicago.”
Do Not Forsake Me Page 19
