Prescott raised his chin and ran a finger under his collar. “Your Honor, I would like to call Mr. Brad Buckley to the stand.”
Jake started to rise. “Damn it, stay put!” Peter told him.
“That man shouldn’t be in the same room as my family,” Jake growled.
“Jake, please stay calm,” Randy whispered. “They want you to get angry.” She clung tightly to his hand.
Lloyd leaned forward and touched Peter’s shoulder. “That sonofabitch has nothing to do with any of this! Get him out of here!”
“Lloyd, please!” Katie grasped his arm. “You still aren’t completely well.”
“Do we have a problem, Mr. Brown?” the judge asked Peter.
Peter pushed down on Jake’s shoulder as he himself rose. “Your Honor, Brad Buckley comes from a family of outlaws Jake had to deal with in Oklahoma. His word can’t be trusted.”
“Mr. Buckley can testify as to Jake Harkner’s brutality,” Prescott insisted.
“I’d like to show him some of that brutality right now,” Jake muttered under his breath.
“I will allow Mr. Buckley’s testimony,” the judge told Prescott, “but if one person in this courtroom bursts out with disruptive argument, he or she will be evicted.” He looked directly at Jake. “I will remind you, Mr. Harkner, that you will have your turn to rebut any comments made against you.”
Jake shifted restlessly.
“Grampa, you said to sit still,” Little Jake blurted out.
The whole courtroom roared with laughter. Even the judge laughed. The whole Harkner family covered their faces and laughed, and Jake looked back at Little Jake and winked. “You’re right. Thanks for reminding me.”
Peter grinned and shook his head, scribbling the words “Score One!” on his notepaper and shoving it over to Jake. Jeff laughed as he frantically wrote down what just happened.
Randall Prescott scowled. Brad Buckley took the stand as the judge managed to quiet the crowd again. Brad glared at Jake and Lloyd, a victorious look on his face as he grinned at them.
“Hello, Jake. Good to see you and Lloyd again.”
Jake could hear Lloyd breathing heavily behind him, and he knew it wasn’t just from pain. He wanted to land into Brad Buckley, and it was all Jake could do himself to hold back.
“The witness will refrain from addressing the defendant directly,” the judge ordered Brad.
Brad just kept grinning. “Yes, sir.”
Prescott asked Brad how he knew Jake.
“He killed my pa and my two brothers,” Brad sneered. “He used a marshal’s badge to give him permission, but he killed them nonetheless—carted my pa into Guthrie wrapped up like a sack of potatoes and dumped him in the street. The man is a killing machine. He killed more of my relatives and half the Bryant family when he went after them for a robbery, and more of them when they shot it out with him in Guthrie. Jake Harkner doesn’t shoot to wound. He shoots to kill, and he doesn’t feel a thing afterward. Any man who kills his own father isn’t gonna have any feelings for any other man he kills, reason or not. And he nearly beat me to death once back in Guthrie—broke my breastbone with the butt end of his rifle and then fired that rifle right next to my left ear so’s now I can’t hear out of it. He killed a lot of men when he was a marshal back in Oklahoma. He don’t give a man a chance, and he used that badge to be nothin’ more than an executioner. Don’t let his family fool you, Judge. Jake Harkner ain’t got no heart. I didn’t see that shooting at the Cattlemen’s Ball, but I’m guessin’ he could have let Mike Holt live. Yet he went ahead and blew his brains out anyway ’cause that’s how it works with Jake.” He leaned forward, sneering. “Ain’t that right, Jake?”
A look moved into Jake’s eyes that made Brad sit farther back in the chair again.
“You see that, Judge?” Brad said. “See that look? That’s Jake Harkner, the outlaw, and if you let him go, he’ll kill again.”
And it will be you, Jake wanted to reply. He forced himself to look away and wrote something on Peter’s notepad.
Brad stood up. “If they let you go, Jake Harkner,” he shouted, “and something happens to me, everybody will know who did it, and you’ll hang!”
Again the crowd mumbled, and women drew in their breath. The judge pounded his gavel.
“That will be enough of your antics,” Judge Carter ordered Brad. “Sit down!” He turned his attention to Prescott again. “Mr. Prescott, I expect your witnesses to just state facts, not stand and point fingers and shout their personal grudges.”
Brad was still standing, and again the judge ordered him to sit down.
Brad grudgingly obeyed, glowering at Jake, who deliberately refused to look at him, because he couldn’t hide the darkness he was feeling. The judge asked Peter if he had any questions.
Again Peter remained seated, glancing at Jake’s note. “Mr. Buckley, can you tell us what you did that caused Mr. Harkner to crack your breastbone with his rifle butt? Did he do it just to be mean, or did you instigate the matter?”
Brad glanced at the prosecutor. “Answer the question,” Prescott told him.
“Well, hell, the man came riding into Guthrie with my pa’s dead body draped over a horse. Naturally I was upset—real upset! Right then I hated Jake Harkner, so I called him out. I dared him to draw on me.”
“You actually were stupid enough to challenge Jake Harkner to a gunfight?” Peter asked. “Surely you knew you couldn’t possibly beat him.”
“He’s gettin’ old. I figured I could. But before I could draw on him, he swung his rifle around and slammed it against my face and then into my chest and sent me sprawlin’ against some barrels. And then he swung the rifle around again and held the end of it right against my ear and pulled the trigger. I was layin’ there in terrible pain from the gunshot so close to my ear, and I couldn’t breathe on account of he knocked the breath out of me. On top of that, he picked me up and threw me off the boardwalk and into the street.”
“And did he say anything about why he didn’t just shoot you?”
Brad hesitated.
“Mr. Buckley?”
Brad scowled. “He said as how I was young enough to be his son, and he didn’t like killin’ somebody so young, so he knocked the shit out of me instead.”
A few snickers could be heard in the crowd.
“So Jake Harkner had enough good conscience to not want to shoot someone so young, even though he could easily have done so, and had every right to do so, because you were going to draw on him, right?”
Brad pouted. “I reckon.”
“No more questions,” Peter said. Brad made ready to rise, but Peter spoke up again. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Buckley—how much do you weigh?”
Brad shrugged. “I’m not sure. Two hundred twenty-five, something like that.”
“And you’re quite a stocky, strong-looking young man. Yet this man was able to move fast enough to knock the air out of you and keep you from drawing on him, and then was strong enough to throw you into the street like a rag doll. That doesn’t sound like an old man to me.”
People chuckled.
“I’ve seen how Jake Harkner is built,” Gretta shouted from the balcony, “and he is definitely no old man!”
More laughter. The judge pounded his gavel and ordered Brad to leave the stand. “I think it’s best that you also leave the room,” the judge added. “You have obviously been planted here to get a rise out of Jake Harkner. And I would like to warn you that you are walking a thin line. One might be led to believe you were in on the shooting that took place—that you planned the whole thing along with Mike Holt.”
“I didn’t!” Brad objected, suddenly looking very worried. “I mean, Mike told me he wanted to kill Lloyd Harkner, but he never said when or how. I swear it!”
The judge studied him closely. “It sounds to me like you would be wise
to stay completely away from Mr. Harkner while you’re here in Denver,” he told the young man.
“Your Honor,” Peter spoke up. “It might be best if Mr. Buckley was escorted completely out of Denver. Mr. Harkner has had his guns taken away from him, and his first thought is always for his family. I know he’s worried about what Brad Buckley might try, and it might be better if Mr. Harkner and his family didn’t have to worry about the man skulking around in the shadows.”
“You can’t order me around like that!” Brad protested.
“Yes, we can,” the judge told him. “I’m ordering that the bailiff go out and find a couple of policemen who will help you gather your things wherever you are staying, Mr. Buckley, and make sure you get on the next train out of Denver, either east or west, as long as you leave town.”
Brad looked ready to explode. He glanced at Jake. “Our time is comin’,” he sneered. “I know where to find you!”
“Mr. Buckley, you will leave this courtroom without another word or be arrested for contempt!” the judge shouted. “Bailiff, take that man out of here.”
Giving Jake one more scowl, Brad left. The judge looked at Prescott. “Do you have any more witnesses before you question Mr. Harkner?” he asked.
“Yes,” Prescott answered. “This is not a hostile witness, obviously, but I have a couple of questions for him. I’d like to call Lloyd Harkner to the stand.”
More gasps and whispers moved through the crowd, and Jake grabbed Peter’s arm. “What the hell does he want with Lloyd?”
“I don’t know.” Peter scowled. “Stay calm, Jake.”
“I can’t!”
Randy felt panic rising. “God, keep him calm,” she prayed.
Twenty-seven
“Leave my son out of this!” Jake spoke up. “He’s just recovered from the brink of death and is still in pain.”
“He made it to this courtroom,” Prescott reminded Jake.
Peter rose. “Your Honor, I fail to see why I should allow the prosecution to question someone who is obviously here for the defense,” he argued, “let alone the fact that it’s a miracle Lloyd Harkner is here at all. He is still far from recovered from a grave wound that should have killed him.”
“Your Honor, I don’t intend to badger the young man,” Prescott retorted. “I just have one or two questions to clear something up about Mike Holt.”
“Leave him alone!” Jake repeated. “He’s in a lot of pain!”
“It’s okay, Pa,” Lloyd spoke up. He grimaced as he stood up. Brian rose with him and let Lloyd lean on him as he walked to the stand. Lloyd sat down as people whispered and waited with baited breath to see what Prescott intended to do.
“Lloyd—let’s establish that you are Lloyd Harkner and that Jake Harkner is your father, right?” Prescott asked.
“Well, Mr. Prescott, look at Jake, and look at me. I don’t think there is much doubt about who my father is.” A few more people chuckled.
“And when you lived in Oklahoma, you rode with Jake Harkner as a Deputy U.S. Marshal, is that so?”
“I did.”
“So you learned a lot on the job, so to speak, from your father?”
Lloyd shrugged. “I already knew a lot about guns and outlaws from when I—” Lloyd hesitated. “I went down the wrong pathway myself for a while after my father went to prison. I never knew about his past, and I was angry and young and stupid. But yes, I learned a lot riding with my father. For over three years we had each other’s backs in some pretty dangerous situations.” He looked at Jake. “If you’re going to be caught going up against a gang of thieves and killers, you can’t do any better than to have Jake Harkner backing you up.”
“And did your father teach you that it was all right to shoot a man in the back?”
People gasped, and Jake went very still. Lloyd didn’t seem at all ruffled. He glared at Prescott, and the room was completely and uncomfortably silent for a few seconds.
“Hell no,” Lloyd finally answered. “I’m not even sure my father has ever shot a man in the back, so if you’re trying to accuse him of that, you’re barking up the wrong tree. There isn’t a man living who can outdraw my father straight-up! Jake Harkner doesn’t need to shoot a man in the back!”
“But you did, didn’t you? Back at Dune Hollow, you shot Mike Holt’s brother in the back, and that’s why Holt was determined to seek you out and kill you. Fact is, his brother wasn’t even armed when you shot him, was he?”
More silence. Jake straightened in his chair, his fists clenched.
Like father, like son, Jeff quickly wrote, observing a sudden darkness in Lloyd’s eyes. When Jake Harkner dies, he won’t be gone from this world at all. He’ll live on in his son.
“Answer the question,” the judge told Lloyd.
“Yes,” he said flatly, “I shot the man in the back, and he was unarmed. He’d given up his weapon, but then he decided to run, and under the law, when you run from a lawman, you risk being shot, so I damn well shot him.”
“Without hesitation?”
“You bet! He and about fifteen other men had violated my sister in the worst ways, for days, and they tortured my little nephew by burning him with cigarettes—so yeah, I shot the sonofabitch without hesitation! And that was my decision, and I was within my rights as a lawman! So don’t go trying to make this out to be a father teaching his son to kill, because it’s never been that way. My father would have preferred I never even held a gun, because he knows the heartache that can come with violence. And when it comes to being a father, there isn’t a man in here who can hold a candle to Jake Harkner. They don’t come any better, and I was proud as hell to ride with him. You got any more questions? Because as far as I know, I’m not the one who is the subject of this hearing!”
Evie was softly crying.
“I’m sorry, Evie,” Lloyd told her. “I didn’t want to bring all that up.” He glanced at Brian, who still waited to help Lloyd off the stand. “Go sit with her. I’ll make it off this stand just fine on my own.” He glared at Prescott as Brian hurried over to sit down next to Evie. He moved an arm around her, and she cried against his shoulder.
“I’d like to take my wife out of here,” Brian told the judge.
“No!” Evie straightened. “I want to stay with Daddy until this is over.”
People whispered.
“Daddy?” someone muttered. “She calls Jake Harkner Daddy?”
Evie assured Brian that she was fine, while Randall Prescott slumped a little at the realization that his attempt at making Jake out to be a back-shooting murderer had failed.
The biggest mistake the prosecutor made was to call up a family member, Jeff wrote in his notebook. I could have told him that. The man’s entire family adores him. All Prescott just did was show the kind of father Jake is.
The judge told Lloyd to step down, but Peter stopped him. “Lloyd, tell the audience what the supposedly ruthless and notorious Jake Harkner has been doing these past three weeks.”
Lloyd met Jake’s eyes. “He’s been taking care of me, night and day, sometimes with no sleep those first few days, or so I’m told. I was passed out most of that time, but I damn well felt my father with me, and I knew he was holding my hand and bathing me and changing my bandages and helping with personal things, because my wife is carrying, and he didn’t want her straining herself.” He looked at the judge. “But mostly he was doing it out of love for his son. My pa grew up in hell with a father who was Satan himself. When he became a father, I think he just decided to be the kind of father he always wished he’d had. He goes almost overboard loving us sometimes, and he wouldn’t allow my mother to ever spank us or even slap our hand, and my sister and I have never hit our own children. Pa would never stand for that.”
The room grew quiet again, and Jake squeezed Randy’s hand. She knew he was struggling with a myriad of emotions.
“So,” Peter spoke up, “I think we have established that the big, bad, ruthless ex-outlaw Jake Harkner is a loving, devoted father and grandfather who has never laid a hand wrongly on his wife or his children or grandchildren. We’ve also established that he is a faithful husband.” He leaned forward and looked over at Jeff. “That man there is Jeff Trubridge, the award-winning reporter from Chicago who wrote the book about Jake that a lot of people in this courtroom have probably read. Jeff rode with Jake for a while when Jake was a lawman. If we’re judging character, I’d like to ask Jeff what he thinks of Jake. He’s seen both sides of the man—the family man and the, yes, sometimes ruthless lawman.”
Jeff rose and faced the judge. “Your Honor, a man couldn’t ask for a better friend than Jake Harkner. It takes the man a while to warm up to you and decide whether or not he trusts you, but once he does, he’ll do anything for you, and he has friends out at the J&L who would do anything for him. Jake is the most honest, straightforward man I’ve ever known. I’ve seen the ruthless side of him, but he’d never hurt an innocent person, and he’s a wonderful family man. I’m proud to call him a friend.”
The judge sighed and looked at Lloyd. “Go ahead and sit back down with your family,” he told him. “Bailiff, come help this man back to his seat.”
Lloyd grimaced with pain as he stepped down and walked back to his seat. He sat down next to Katie and moved an arm around her.
“Your Honor,” Prescott spoke up, “before all this got out of hand, my questioning of Lloyd Harkner was merely to establish the reason Mike Holt sought him out and shot him. Lloyd Harkner had shot Holt’s brother in the back. What Holt did was a crime of passion caused by the kind of ruthless things both Harkner men apparently are capable of. And the fact remains that Jake Harkner had the better of Mike Holt the night of the shooting and could have held him there until the police came, but instead he took the law into his own hands and shot Mike Holt point-blank in front of a crowd of stunned onlookers who’d never seen anything like that before and normally never would in their lifetimes. He is no longer a lawman who can use his badge for his own form of justice, and he needs to learn that being an executioner isn’t how it’s done in today’s times. He should realize some kind of punishment for what he did, and as far as the prosecution is concerned, he should hang or at least go to prison, because when it comes to men like Jake Harkner, this could happen again!”
Love's Sweet Revenge Page 29
