“That’s great news! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Evie wanted to spring the news herself at Sunday dinner, so be sure to act surprised.” Randy moved an arm across his chest. “She’s a very, very strong woman, a survivor, just like you. You need to think only about your blessings, Jake Harkner, and blessing number five will be here in about six months.”
He smiled sadly. “When those two little girls put their arms around my neck and give me kisses, I wonder sometimes what they will think of me when they find out the truth about Grandpa’s past.”
“They will always know and remember you the way you are now. Your past won’t make a bit of difference, because they never knew the old Jake.” Randy leaned up to meet his gaze. “And you are going to keep your promise that all the grandchildren will know everything when they get old enough to understand. We aren’t going to hide anything from them like you did with Lloyd, Jake. We both know how that turned out.”
Jake reached up to toy with her hair. “I can’t very well avoid it, now that Jeff’s book about me is in stores. According to Jeff’s last letter, the Evening Journal is even serializing the story in weekly segments.” He sighed. “I just worry that the past isn’t through with me.”
Randy rested her head on his chest. “Jake, that book needed to be written so people would understand, and we can set the money aside for the grandchildren. It’s something you can leave them.”
“Oh, I’m leaving them with something, all right. A legacy they have to live down.”
“Nonsense. No trouble has come from any of it. If anything, it’s made people in Longmont and Boulder and Denver and anyplace else we go look at you like some famous character they want to get to know.”
He caressed her ash-blond tresses. “Yeah, well, maybe for all the wrong reasons.”
Randy kissed his chest. “The Holmses and the Larsons are good neighbors, and a lot of people we’ve met since coming to Colorado truly want to be your friend, Jake.”
“I find that questionable. My only real friends are my family, and maybe the men who work for me and Lloyd. Some of them might seem like worthless drifters to someone on the outside, but I know a good man when I see one, and Cole and Pepper and the rest of them are good men.”
“I suppose, but that cattle buyer’s wife who flirted shamefully with you when they visited the ranch a few weeks ago also wanted to be a real friend.”
Jake frowned as he rolled her onto her back, then moved on top of her again. “You jealous of that cattle buyer’s wife?”
“Maybe.”
“Hell, you know I’m a good boy. There isn’t a woman in all of Colorado who can hold a candle to you.”
“And there isn’t a woman in all of Colorado who can resist your gloriously fetching smile.” Her eyes teared. “It’s so nice to see you smile more often, Jake.”
“Well, for once I have plenty to smile about.”
Randy traced a finger over his lips. “I so love lying here in your arms, everything so quiet, me so safe right here with you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Make love to me again.”
He kissed behind her ear. “That an order?”
“Yes. You’re a hard man to give orders to, but you’re so obedient when I get you in bed.”
“I aim to please.”
“And you please me just fine.”
There was no foreplay this time, just a slower buildup of kissing and touching that led to the ecstasy of mating again. Jake took her with a little more deliberateness, his way of making sure she knew she was the only woman in his life, his only reason for existing. He loved this new peace they’d found, prayed it would not end this time and that nothing could separate them ever again. He still had trouble with blaming himself for the hell his son went through after learning about Jake’s past and losing him for the four years he spent in prison—or the guilt over what Evie suffered at the hands of his enemies back in Oklahoma.
But that was all behind them now. Surely the worst was finally over.
Two
Peter Brown set his pipe aside when he heard the jangle of the doorbell. As he rose from the mahogany-colored leather chair behind the desk in his den, his wife walked past the doorway. The several slips under the taffeta skirt of her deep blue dress rustled with each step.
“I’ll get it,” she told Peter.
“We have servants for that,” he reminded her.
“I am perfectly capable of answering a door, Peter,” she answered.
Peter smiled sadly. After losing his first wife, and then falling in love with the wrong woman back in Oklahoma—a woman who would never belong to anyone but Jake Harkner—he felt protective and possessive of Treena, a woman in her forties who was quite beautiful and who understood lost love. She’d been widowed for two years when he married her within a year after returning to Chicago—a move he’d made in an effort to forget Randy Harkner.
“Peter, it’s Jeff,” his wife called to him.
Peter walked into the hallway, over the oriental rugs that decorated the hardwood floor of the mansion he’d purchased on the north side of the city, wanting to afford Treena every luxury he could. She came from wealth, and his law business was thriving. Treena was sweet and understanding and just as lonely as he when they first realized they were both ready to love again.
Peter grinned and put out his hand to greet Jeff Trubridge, also now a married man since coming back to Chicago. Their friendship was a strange one indeed, created by the very wild adventure of being brought together because of their association with U.S. Marshal Jake Harkner back in Guthrie, Oklahoma—an experience neither of them would ever forget.
“Jeff!”
Jeff grasped his hand, smiling but also looking oddly concerned. “Peter, it’s good to see you. It’s been a year since we got together for dinner after I won that writing award.”
“And a well-deserved award it was. What brings you clear up here today? Aren’t you usually running around the city, digging up stories for the Evening Journal? And, by the way, I read your column every Sunday. Your articles about politics are very well written.”
“Thank you.” Jeff turned and hung his hat on a rack beside the door.
“Don’t tell me you’re here to ask me about my political viewpoints,” Peter joked. “I’m a lawyer, which means I can’t afford to take sides. I never know when a wealthy democrat, or a notorious councilman who is getting paid under the table, or some republican senator who is actually honest will need my services.”
Jeff adjusted his wire-rimmed spectacles, laughing lightly at the remark. “An honest politician? There aren’t many of those, either in Illinois or in Washington.”
Both men laughed, and Jeff thanked Treena as she took his hat. “Nice to see you again, Treena.”
“And you,” Treena replied as she hung Jeff’s hat on a rack beside the door.
Peter led the young writer down the hallway.
“Actually, I wish I were here about politics, Peter,” Jeff said as he walked beside him, “but it’s something—I don’t know—kind of personal in a way. Just something I wanted to share and see what you think.”
Peter noticed Jeff held a rolled-up piece of paper in his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re serving me an eviction notice.”
Jeff grinned. “From what I see here, you can well afford your home,” he answered. “This is all really beautiful, Peter. And you look happy.”
“I am.” Peter turned to put an arm around Treena. “My wife saw this place and said I want it, so I bought it for her.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Have Helen bring us some brandy, will you, dear?”
“Of course.” Treena nodded to Jeff and left them.
Peter watched her walk away, admiring her still-slim waist and her auburn hair. She had lovely skin and green eyes. But her hair wasn’t golden, and her green eyes didn’t so
metimes look gray. She wasn’t Randy Harkner.
He led Jeff into his office and closed the door. “Have a seat, Jeff. You’re looking very good…very happy.”
“I am happy. Anna is going to have a baby.”
“Well! Congratulations! When is she due?”
“In about five months. After she delivers and she’s well, I’d like to have you and your wife to dinner and let you see the baby.”
“I’d like that very much. Children are something I’ve never been blessed with. My first wife couldn’t have children, and, of course, Treena won’t be having more. I guess I will have to be a father vicariously through my good friends.”
Jeff took a seat. “And I thank you for that.” He sighed as he sat down, sobering. “I, uh…I guess maybe it wasn’t necessary to come all the way up here and bother you with this. It’s just that…well, you and I share a certain closeness with Jake and Randy Harkner that few people—actually almost no other people besides Jake’s family share. After all, you’re the one responsible for getting Jake’s sentence reduced, and you’re handling his trust, and the book I wrote about him is doing pretty well.”
Peter frowned. “This is about Jake? Has something happened to him? Is Randy all right?”
Jeff met his gaze, and Peter realized he’d given himself away. Jeff was the only person out of all of Peter’s friends who knew how much Peter had loved Randy Harkner. That love still showed itself sometimes, and Peter felt angry with himself for allowing it. He had a wife now, and he truly loved her.
“Nothing like that,” Jeff told him. “As far as I know, Jake and the family are all fine. I’m just a little worried about something, and I thought maybe you could advise me whether I should wire Jake. I hate like hell to worry him or Randy. I think they’re finally happy and at peace, but a man like Jake will probably never be able to completely rid himself of the past.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Come in, Helen.”
A heavy-set serving maid came inside, carrying a silver tray with a crystal bottle of liquor and two small glasses. “Your wife said to bring this for you, Mr. Brown,” she told Peter.
“Thanks, Helen. I’ll pour the drinks.”
The maid nodded and left, closing the door behind her. Peter uncorked the liquor and poured some into each glass, then handed one to Jeff. He walked behind his desk and sat down in the leather chair, taking his glass of brandy and holding it up as though in a toast. “I take it we both need a drink before you tell me why you are here.”
Jeff held up his own glass. “It wouldn’t hurt.”
“Well then, here’s to your new baby to come, and to Jake and Randy’s new life in Colorado.”
Both men sipped their brandy, and Peter leaned back in his chair. “So, what is the news?”
Jeff sighed, taking another sip and then leaning forward to set the glass on the edge of Peter’s desk. He unrolled the paper still in his hand. “This came across my desk yesterday. Since I’m the one who became close to Jake and was at that shoot-out when he rescued his daughter from those bastards who’d abducted her, my boss gave me the assignment to write the article about this.” He handed the paper to Peter.
Frowning, Peter unrolled the paper and read it.
Lansing, Michigan. Mike Holt, a survivor of the infamous eighteen and ninety-two gun battle with Marshals Jake and Lloyd Harkner at Dune Hollow in Oklahoma, was freed from federal prison April first, eighteen and ninety-six, after winning an appeal. A judge has ruled that there is no real proof that Holt himself brought any physical harm to Harkner’s daughter, Evita Stewart. His conviction was changed to aiding and abetting an abduction, and it was determined that Holt’s three years in prison constituted enough time served.
Peter closed his eyes. “Jesus,” he muttered.
“Yeah.” Jeff reached out and grasped the glass of brandy, leaning back and taking another sip. “Of course, being Jewish, I wouldn’t use that term. For me, it’s more like Holy Moses.” He smiled sadly, staring at the glass of brandy in his hand. “I was there, Peter. I can’t say Holt ever raped Jake’s daughter, but he sure as hell didn’t try to stop the others from doing so. What bothers me is that I remember the man threatening Lloyd. The day of the incident, Lloyd shot down his brother, because he was trying to run. Lloyd shot him in the back. None of the men there that day will testify to it. They were all so furious over what happened to Jake’s daughter that they didn’t care, but Holt isn’t going to forget. I remember the look in his eyes when he said he’d get Lloyd for what happened. He meant every word of it.” He shook his head. “I can’t blame Lloyd for it. He saw what they did to his sister, and he was crazy with a need for revenge. And as a deputy marshal, he had a right to shoot down a culprit trying to run from the law.”
Peter nodded. “And now you’re afraid Holt will head for Colorado.”
Jeff rested his elbows on his knees. “Jake is pretty famous now because of my book—not that he wasn’t already pretty well known all over the country. The man is a legend, and everybody in Guthrie knows he moved back to Colorado. That kind of notoriety will make it easy for Mike Holt to find him…and father and son are stuck together like glue. All Holt has to do is find Jake, and he’ll find Lloyd. I really, really hate the thought of the past rearing its ugly head again for either one of them.”
Peter rubbed at his eyes. “Or for Randy.”
“Yeah. Not many women would put up with or survive what that woman has.”
Peter took another swallow of brandy himself. “Jake thinks Holt went to prison for a good twenty years. He probably figured he wouldn’t live long enough to see the man get out.”
“Well, even at twenty years, Lloyd would likely still be alive, but maybe after that long, Holt wouldn’t care anymore. The fact remains it’s been only four years since everything that happened, and it’s all still pretty fresh. I just wanted to know if you think I should warn Jake.”
Peter closed his eyes. He could see her as though she were standing right in front of him: Randy Harkner, small, beautiful, elegant, gentle, totally devoted to one man. He could see Jake: tall, broad, rugged, dark, dangerous—a total contrast to his wife. And he could see Lloyd: built just like his father, sometimes getting that same look of danger in his eyes, his hair long like an Indian’s, his smile handsome and bright, just like Jake’s.
“What a pair father and son are,” he said aloud. “And what a pair Jake and Randy make. I wonder what life out there in the foothills of the Rockies is like for them. God knows men like Jake and Lloyd fit that country. And then there’s that bit of a woman they call wife and mother, living in wild country where there are wolves and grizzlies and…” He glanced at Jeff, realizing he’d given himself away again. “A woman like Randy belongs in a house like this one, going to teas and concerts and the best restaurants in the better parts of a big city. In spite of the life she’s lived as an outlaw’s wife and then a lawman’s wife, sometimes poor, sometimes on the run, sometimes completely alone while her husband would leave her, and those four years he was in prison…in spite of all that, she can be as gracious as the finest, highborn woman of society. She’d fit right in with the upper class, yet there she is, living in a log home in the Rocky Mountains with a man as far from high class as they get.”
Jeff stared at the glass of brandy in his hand. “And he loves her like no other man could. I’ve been to the J&L, Peter. I’ve seen their huge log home. Randy has the most modern conveniences a woman can have on a remote ranch. The whole house is wrapped with a broad veranda, wicker chairs, rockers, porch swings. The porch is in turn surrounded with rosebushes. You probably remember how much Randy loved roses. Jake has made sure she has plenty of them to fuss over. And he hired a Mexican woman to do all the heavy chores.”
Peter nodded. “Good. That’s good.”
Jeff sighed. “Randy is very comfortable, Peter. Their home is the finest ho
use she’s ever lived in, and it’s truly a home of their own. The J&L is magnificent. Randy and Jake’s house has several bedrooms to accommodate guests, and there are almost always one or two kids staying overnight there. The great room has a vaulted ceiling and a huge stone fireplace at each end. Randy has lovely furniture and a beautiful oak hutch filled with Queen Anne and Hepplewhite antiques. She has two Tiffany lamps, and two of her front windows are stained glass at the top. The polished wood floor is decorated with a beautiful Aubusson carpet in shades of green. Jake sits in a big, red stuffed chair near that fireplace, and he just…fits the big room. You know how he is.”
“Oh, yes, I know very well how he can take over a room when he walks into it.”
“Well, you’ll get a kick out of this. He sits in that chair with his two little granddaughters on his lap, and he tells them stories.”
“Stories?”
“Reads them fairy tales.”
Peter had just started to swallow some brandy, and he nearly spit it out when he broke into all-out laughter. “Jake?”
“Jake.”
Both men laughed hardily. “Oh, Lord help us!” Peter continued laughing as he spoke. “God knows the kind of stories he could tell them! They sure wouldn’t be fairy tales! I’m surprised he hasn’t sent them screaming to their mothers.” He poured them each another drink. “I have to visit them, because that is something I want to see!” He sobered a little. “Randy writes us occasionally and asks us to come and visit. She wants to meet Treena.” He slugged down the second drink, then just stared at the glass. “Is she really all right, Jeff?”
“You know Jake. As much as you love her, Peter, he loves her more. She is his whole reason for existing, and he is in turn her whole world. She’s protected and loved. Jake has her right up there on that pedestal he’s always set her on. She wouldn’t be happy living any other way, and you know it.”
Peter absently twirled the glass between his fingers. “Of course I know it.” Peter sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Old memories can really sting sometimes, Jeff.”
Love's Sweet Revenge Page 2
