Outlaw Hearts

by Rosanne Bittner

  “I’d better go out and start looking for your brother and for a job,” Jake spoke up, as though he read her thoughts.

  She raised her head and looked at him. “I wasn’t sure you were awake.”

  “With you crawling all over me? How can a man sleep through that?”

  She smiled, and both of them relaxed in the luxury of being safe and warm and living in something that didn’t have wheels. He rolled on top of her, and Miranda closed her eyes as he entered her softly, gently. She thought how they just seemed to know each other’s minds sometimes, how lovemaking with him could sometimes be a desperate, grasping, urgent need; or just a gentle “good morning,” like this. They were both relaxed and warm, snuggled into the feather mattress with a down-filled blanket covering them, their body heat shielding them against the cold room, their coupling building that body heat. The potbellied stove in the corner needed stoking, but for the moment they would stoke the fires in their souls.

  “I could stay right here all day,” Jake told her, kissing her eyelids.

  “I wouldn’t mind,” she answered. She ran her hands over his broad chest, toyed with his nipples.

  Jake drew in his breath and pushed harder, wondering at how easily she could make him want her, loving her to the point of worship. What a sweet feeling it was to wake up with Miranda beside him, wanting him this way. Now that they had this place to stay and a little privacy, he could teach her all of the delicious ways of making love, show her the things she had said she wanted to learn.

  He had always figured proper women like Miranda would be stiff and unsatisfying in bed, but she had surprised him with the bold offering of her body to him for his pleasure. He loved knowing she was his wife, loved possessing her, claiming her, proving to himself she really belonged to him.

  She drew the life from his depths, and it seemed that each time he did this she took a little more of the old Jake Harkner away and filled him with more of the new man. He belonged to her now as much as she to him. She had made him open up to her, share his deepest horrors and ugliest memories. Somehow she had made them easier to bear. Nothing must ever be allowed to destroy what he had found with this woman, yet he feared sometimes that the destruction would come from himself and not from outside forces. Could he really do this? Could he really leave the past behind and be a proper husband for her? Hell, he had no experience with this, no background to teach him how to do it right. The only thing he had going for him was her sweet, loyal love, the passion they shared, and his own desperate need never to be without her.

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead, then rolled away from her, stretching and lying on his back. “I’ve got to get going, find work.”

  “Maybe I should go with you. After all, I know what Wes looks like.”

  He tousled her hair. “No, ma’am. The best way to find him is to hit the saloons and the mines, and I won’t have you seen either place. You remember what happened that first night we got here. If you want me to stay out of trouble, you stay right here with Mrs. Anderson and help her out like we agreed on. I’ve got Wes’s picture. That’s all I need.”

  “I hate for you to be out there at all.” Miranda stroked his arm and kissed it. “Everything out there represents the old Jake. Maybe you’ll go out there and never come back to me.”

  He grinned. “Hell, I hope you have more faith in me than that.”

  She smiled and caressed his chest. “It’s the troublemakers and the prostitutes I don’t trust.”

  He turned to her and moved down to kiss at her breasts, then her neck. “You’re more exciting than any woman I’ve been with, and you make it beautiful because you love me.” He kissed her lightly.

  She touched his face. Was he ready for the additional responsibility he would face in a few months? “Jake, before you go, I have to tell you something. I put it off until now because I wanted to get that trip over with first. You had so much to worry about just getting us here.”

  He frowned. “You saying there’s something new to worry about? You think your brother is in trouble or something?”

  “No, it isn’t that.” She breathed deeply for strength, not quite sure what the news would mean to a man like Jake. “I’m going to have a baby, Jake. My guess is around next April you’ll be a father.”

  She watched him closely, saw the familiar fear fill his eyes. He sat up and looked her over, touched her belly.

  “You sure?”

  “I haven’t had my time for three months now, ever since our wedding night. You were too tired and busy keeping us alive to notice.”

  He closed his eyes and turned away, throwing back the covers and rising to pull on his long johns. “I’ve got to wash up.” He walked into the small, curtained-off room where a washstand and a chamber pot were kept.

  Miranda waited, wondering if the news would send him running back to that old life because he was too afraid to face being a father. He emerged from the washroom, turning to pick up his shirt. She studied the scars on his back, inflicted on a small boy by a vicious man who was his own father. He pulled on the shirt and buttoned it, then stepped into his trousers. “I’m no material for being a father, Randy.” He tucked in his shirt. “I guess I knew in the back of my mind it would happen, but somehow I hoped it wouldn’t.”

  “Hoped?” She sat up, keeping a blanket over her breasts. “Jake, when a man and woman get married and make love, babies usually follow. It’s a fact of nature. I’m sure the women you’ve known have ways of avoiding such things, but I don’t know how to do whatever it is they do to keep from getting pregnant; and I certainly don’t believe in letting quack doctors do horrible things to women to abort their babies, so I’m having this one. You’re going to be a father whether you want to or not.”

  He began pulling on socks and boots. “It isn’t a matter of whether or not I want to be a father. I can’t be one.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  He rose and walked to a nightstand where Randy had left her brother’s picture. He put it into his shirt pocket and took his gun belts from a nearby chair and began strapping them on. “It means that because of my own childhood, I can’t turn around and be a father to a lad of my own. What if the kid makes me mad and I hit him? What if I find out I’m just like my own pa?” he said bitterly.

  She watched him tie the rawhide holster-straps around his thighs. “Jake, that’s ridiculous. You would never be like that. Don’t you understand? This is your chance to make up for all the terrible things your father did to you. I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll make a better father than most men would, because you remember all the things you wished you had in your own father. Of course there will be times when he’ll be naughty and need a spanking. That isn’t the same, Jake.”

  He took his sheepskin jacket from a hook on the wall and put it on. “And what if a spanking turns into something more? I’d rather shoot myself.” He put on his hat. “I figure I can handle settling and being a husband, Randy, but not a father.” He turned to the door.

  “And just what do you propose we do about it, Jake? This baby is going to be born, no matter what.”

  He kept his back to her. “I don’t know. I need to think.”

  “I love you, Jake. I want this baby to know its real father, to experience the love I know you’re capable of showing him, probably more than most men.”

  He hesitated at the door. “You, uh, you need a doctor or anything like that?” His voice was gruff with emotion.

  She felt an anxious panic at his leaving without settling their discussion about the baby. “I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t mind you finding out if there is a real doctor in this place, so I’ll have one when the baby comes.”

  “Fine. I’ll check it out. Between that and looking for your brother and for work, I expect I’ll be gone most of the day, maybe all night. Don’t worry if I don’t show up.”

&nb
sp; All night? He was running! He was scared to death and running! “Jake! Is that the only reason you might not be back? Do you think you can run from this baby by going out there and getting right back into the kind of life you used to lead, pretend this isn’t happening? It is happening, Jake! You’re going to be a father, and I know in my heart you’ll be a good father. Don’t give up trying to change at the first sign of too much responsibility. I can help you. We can do this together. We can make a home for our children, like the home you always wanted yourself!”

  He sighed deeply and opened the door. “Get some rest.” He walked out, and Miranda slumped back into the bed, refusing to let the tears come. Surely he wouldn’t go out there and get into trouble. Did he think that would make her stop loving him, make her leave him and find some other man?

  You’re the only man I want, Jake Harkner, the only proper father for this baby.

  She rose and pulled a blanket around herself, then walked to a window. Their room faced the street, and she parted a curtain to see Jake walking across the street. “You’ll be back, Jake,” she said softly. “You’ll be back because I can give you more than that life out there. You’ve had a taste of love and you want so much more. I’m the only one who can give it to you, me and this baby you made inside of me.”

  ***

  Jake lit another cheroot, glancing up at the sign over the saloon that read Silver Shoes. He had been in practically every saloon in town asking about Wes Baker and showing the picture. In most of the taverns, he had encountered the expected one or two men ready to challenge a newcomer, either with whiskey or cards or by bellowing about how strong they were or how good with a gun. After a second look, they had all backed down from him or decided to be friendly. Jake figured it must be the look in his eyes or the way he wore his guns, slung low, like a man who knew how to use them.

  He decided it was mostly the look in his eyes. He was angry today, and he expected men could tell. His anger was not at Randy or over the baby, but at himself for just leaving the way he had, without settling what was really bothering him. Part of him wanted that baby as much as Randy did, but another part of him told him he wasn’t worthy of being a father. Who was Jake Harkner to think he should deserve the honor of having a small child call him Pa? And what if that child found out the truth about its father, that he had been a killer, a man who whored and drank and gambled and raided innocent farmers; worst of all, a man who had killed his own father, the child’s own grandfather!

  Somewhere in the back of his mind he had considered the possibility of being a father, and every time it happened, he had not allowed himself to dwell on it, had refused to discuss it with Randy. How could he have been so stupid as to think he could put it off forever? For all his skill with his fists and guns, for all his wild daring and fearless exploits, he was a damn coward when it came to the thought of being a father. How did he know he wouldn’t be just like his own father? And if the child found out about his past, just think of the shame he would see in his son or daughter’s eyes. He couldn’t bear that look, couldn’t stand the thought of his child hating him and being ashamed of him the way he had hated and been ashamed of his own pa. And if he did turn out to be a crummy father, think what it would do to Randy. He would lose her. No woman chose a husband over a child. She would surely take the kid and leave him.

  He walked up the steps and into the saloon. It was nearly dark now, and the place was packed with every sort of lowlife imaginable. Including me, he thought. Lowlife was right, for the way he had walked out on his wife, a good woman, devoted. She had taken a big risk marrying a man like him, and already he was proving she had made a mistake.

  God, how he wished he could just stay away, stick to his first idea that maybe she should get rid of him right now and find some other man. But life without Randy would be the worst hell of all, worse than what he had suffered as a child, worse than taking a bullet or being cornered by Kennedy and his bunch. He couldn’t live without her, and that was that. He’d have to face this father thing and own up to his responsibilities; but if he ever hit that kid, ever found himself even wanting to hit him, hell, he wouldn’t want to live.

  He walked up to the bar and asked for a whiskey, and a pretty blond prostitute sauntered his way, her breasts almost fully revealed by the low bodice of her purple satin dress. Her diamond earrings dangled nearly to her shoulders, and she was a little more pleasant to look at than most whores. He thought how at one time he would have grabbed this one up and enjoyed her for the night. Now she didn’t interest him in the least. She wasn’t Randy. There was nobody like Randy. He’d never gotten such pleasure from being with a woman as he got from his wife, and he supposed it was because he was really making love.

  “Buy you a drink, mister?”

  Jake allowed himself a look at the low neckline. “No, thanks,” he answered. “I’m just looking for someone.”

  She smiled, rubbing up against him and moving her hand to his rear. “If you’re looking for a good lay, you’ve just found her. My name is Mellie.”

  Jake picked up his shot of whiskey and downed it. Yes, it would be so easy to go back to this. He’d played a few hands of poker at one of the other saloons, as a way of getting to know the men better, finding out about the different mines and trying to determine where Wes might be. But all the while he had been unable to get his mind off of Randy.

  “You’re a big man, right handsome too,” Mellie purred. “I like those big guns you wear.” She moved her hand to his privates. “You got another one in there?”

  Jake took hold of her wrist and pulled her hand away. “That’s for my wife to know.” He gave her a wink and she looked disappointed.

  “She must be some woman. Not many married men turn me away.”

  Jake let go of her wrist. “I don’t expect they do. And if I wasn’t married, I’d be whipping out my money right now.” He swallowed the second shot of whiskey, then turned to scan the room, always wary of walking into a saloon in a town like this, where there wasn’t much law. Some men who regularly frequented favorite taverns had a kind of possessive feeling about the place, didn’t like newcomers.

  A few glanced his way, looked him over. One in particular looked awfully interested. He was young, maybe eighteen or twenty. His blond hair hung nearly to his shoulders, and he sported a poor semblance of a beard and mustache. Jake pegged him as a boy who thought he was a man. He even wore a gun on his hip and he was giving Jake a challenging look. Jake hoped the kid wasn’t stupid enough to try to start something.

  He looked back at Mellie and pulled out Wes’s picture for what seemed the hundredth time that day. “There is one thing you can do for me,” he told her, handing her the picture. “His name is Wes Baker, and he’s about twenty-two. He’s my wife’s brother. We came here to find him. His last letter was from Virginia City. You know him?”

  Mellie’s mouth fell open as she studied the picture for several seconds. When she looked up at Jake, he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. “Yes. He used to come in here a lot.” She looked back at the picture. “He was a nice kid. He used to say I was his favorite and we, I don’t know, we got to be pretty good friends. He was sweet, liked to drink and gamble a little too much, never had any money because he gambled away his earnings every weekend.” She looked back up at Jake. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Wes Baker is dead. He was killed in a mining accident last year.”

  Jake felt like someone had hit him in the chest. Dead! How the hell was he supposed to go back to Randy with news like that? “Maybe you’re mistaken. A lot of men hang out in these places. Maybe you’ve got him mixed up with somebody else.”

  She studied the picture again. “No. That’s my Wes, all right. There’s no mistaking it. I mean, that was his name, and this is his face. He even used to tell me about a sister he had back in Kansas City. I expect I knew more about him than anybody. In a place like this, men don’t generally share too
much about where they came from and all.” She wiped at her eyes. “I’m the one who made sure he had a decent burial. The men where he worked told me his body had been brought down to town, so I went and saw it for myself. There were five or six mine workers at the funeral, and me.” She handed back the picture. “I guess I should have maybe tried to find his sister, maybe sent a letter to a Miss Baker in Kansas City or something. He never even told me her name. I wasn’t sure she’d get the letter and I sure as hell knew she wouldn’t want to know he’d been hanging around with the likes of me.”

  Jake took the picture. “Sorry I upset you. You want a drink yourself?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” She called out to the bartender and asked for a whiskey. “I’m awful sorry, mister, your wife coming all the way here from Kansas just to find him.”

  Jake sighed, shoving the picture back into his pocket. Poor Randy. Here he’d walked out on her this morning when she was trying to share something wonderful with him, wonderful to her at least. She probably thought he didn’t want the kid, maybe even figured he wasn’t coming back and she was stranded here alone. Now this. He’d have to go back and tell her Wes was dead. Wes was all the family she had left. It didn’t seem right, when folks had decent family, that they should have to lose them. And now he was all she had left, him and the baby. She would need him now more than ever.

  Mellie sniffed and swallowed the whiskey, wiping at her eyes again. Jake noticed the kid with the blond hair had moved closer. He approached Mellie. “This guy giving you trouble, honey?” he asked, a possessive ring to the words.