Miranda pulled away from him, meeting his eyes. What a good man he was. There were more lines on Jess’s face too now, put there by long years under the western sun. His sandy hair was streaked with gray, but he still had a rugged handsomeness to him. He had done his best to keep her spirits up, and he was doing it again.
“You knew I’d move to wherever they send him, didn’t you?”
“I knew.” Jess gave her a reassuring smile, but he ached inside, knowing he would never take Jake’s place in her life. As long as Jake was alive and she was able to find a way to be near him, there would be no one else. He had accepted that a long time ago. “Let’s get Evie back to the hotel.”
She nodded, wiping at her eyes again and putting an arm around her daughter. “What about Lloyd, Jess? I’m so worried about him, and angry with him too. He should have been here.”
“It’s different for the boy. As far as him findin’ us after we move from the Parker ranch, the men there will know where we are. If he shows up there, they can tell him. And he will show up, Randy. You’ll see. Besides, don’t think he hasn’t been keepin’ an eye on what’s goin’ on here. He might be pretendin’ he don’t care, but he damn well does. He’ll know where they sent his pa, and he knows that where Jake goes, you go.”
How she hated the thought of leaving the lovely home Jake had built for them in Colorado. More tears wanted to come. Jake had loved it there so much, loved his work there. Life would never be like that again. Leaving that house would be the hardest thing she had ever done, but she would do whatever it took to be near Jake. She would not let him rot away in prison alone. She had to be stronger than ever now, for the children, for Jake. If she could find a way to be near him, she could take him decent food once in a while, nurse him if he needed it, do all she could to keep his spirits up.
“I’ve got to find Lloyd, Jess. I promised Jake I would.”
“Then we will. I’ll help you. But first we’ve got to see about talkin’ to that judge and gettin’ Jake sent to Laramie. After that we’ve got to get you resettled.”
So, she thought, time to move again, from Illinois to Kansas, to Nevada and California, Colorado, and now either Illinois or Wyoming. This would be the last journey for her and Jake both. A few people stayed to gawk, and one reporter pushed his way through to Miranda. “What do you think of the sentence, Mrs. Harkner?”
It struck her then that she could finally use her real name. It seemed so ironic. For years she had wanted to be able to use it, but not this way.
She turned away, keeping one arm around Evie, and clinging to Jess’s arm with her other hand. She had to be strong for Evie, but she didn’t feel like being strong right now. It took every ounce of effort she could muster to keep from screaming. Jake! He was as much gone from her life as if he was dead.
Twenty-eight
Lloyd waited across the street from the mansion owned by David Vogel. He’d never seen a city as big as Chicago, had gotten lost several times, finally found the neat row of homes on the street where Beth was supposed to be living. Under a gaslight he looked again at the newspaper article he had spotted while in St. Louis.
Elizabeth Ann Parker, daughter of mine-owner and rancher, Zane Parker, of Colorado Springs and Denver, was wed to Mr. David Vogel, a prominent druggist from Chicago, Illinois, on Saturday, August 1. There was much more, about Parker’s wealth, about how the newlyweds planned to take a trip to Europe soon.
Why had she done this? Had she been so quick then to judge him because of his father? Was she that vulnerable to her own father’s wishes? This wasn’t Beth. She had made him promises. She would have talked to him before doing something like this, explained it to him.
He was determined to confront her. He had intended to stay around St. Louis until the trial was over, had bought himself some whiskey and camped out in the wooded hills beyond the city to wait for the big day. Pangs of guilt stabbed at him for not going to his mother and Evie, not being with them through the trial, but anger and bitterness still burned in his gut like hot coals.
Because of his father, Beth was lying in some other man’s arms. He had seen the article and had left St. Louis right away, feeling betrayed, even angrier. He hadn’t even been given the opportunity to see Beth once more, to talk about any of it. It was as though someone had ripped out his heart and he was standing back staring at it. Knowing she was with someone else was worse than if she had died.
He had loaded up his horse and taken the train to Chicago, where he had spent three days trying to find the right David Vogel, the right address. Now he was here. All he had to do was find the courage to go over to that house and get the truth out of Beth, husband or no husband. He took a fifth of whiskey from his saddlebag and took another swallow. He’d gotten to like this stuff, liked the way it soothed the pain in his heart, made the ugliness of life a little less ugly. He tried to ignore the little voice inside that told him if he really loved Beth, he’d not bother her, the voice that told him she was better off. He took a deep breath, put the whiskey back and adjusted his hat, then stomped across the street and up to the double front doors of the elegant home. Lace curtains graced the frosted door-windows. He rang the bell, and moments later a servant answered. “Yes?”
“I’m here to see Miss, I mean Mrs. David Vogel.”
“Mrs. Vogel and her husband are at the opera. Are you a friend? May I leave a message?”
“When will they be back?”
“Oh, quite late, I suppose. They’re attending a small party afterward.” The old woman smiled. “Mr. Vogel is enjoying showing off his new wife to all his friends, you know. Who shall I say called?”
Showing off his new wife? She belonged to Lloyd Hayes! No, Lloyd Harkner…Harkner…son of Jake Harkner. “Is she happy?”
“Well, as happy as a new young bride can be, I suppose. She is very young, but we’re all helping her, and Mr. Vogel is terribly kind to her.”
Lloyd nodded and stepped back. “Thank you.” He turned.
“Sir!” the old woman called out. “May I give Mrs. Vogel a message?”
Lloyd looked back at her. “Just tell her I think I understand. Tell her good-bye.”
“But…what is your name?”
“She’ll know.” Lloyd hurried down the steps and disappeared beyond the house lights. The old woman stared after him curiously, then closed and locked the door.
Lloyd walked back across the street and mounted his horse. Its hooves clattered against the brick street as he headed away from the rows of elegant homes and toward distant lights that told him there were plenty of taverns and wild women waiting in the night in a city like this.
So, she was happy, was she? Well, he wasn’t. Did she care? Maybe he should listen to that little voice. His own life was miserable enough now. Why should he make hers miserable too? This wasn’t Beth’s fault.
He rode on for several blocks, passing buggies and trolley cars, finally coming into an area where he could hear laughter and piano music. More whiskey, that was what he needed, whiskey and women, cards and a good smoke. His father had always told him to stay away from those things, especially the whiskey. Whiskey can make a man do foolish things, he had warned. Sometimes it makes him do cruel things. Had the man been talking about his father? What did it matter? If Jake didn’t want him to drink, then he would drink! He would do every damn thing his father had told him not to do. After all, the man had lied to him all his life. Maybe whiskey and whores and gambling weren’t so bad after all. Hell, Jess had taught him how to play cards when he was just a kid. If there weren’t a law in this town against carrying weapons, he’d strap on Jake’s Peacemakers. Might as well go all the way. He’d been practicing drawing those guns, was getting pretty fast at it, he thought. That was something else his father had never let him do—wear a handgun. Well, once he got out of this city, he was going to wear two pearl-handled, perfectly balanced Colt .44–.40’s,
the guns that belonged to the infamous Jake Harkner.
He rode past a telegraph office and noticed someone was inside working. He thought what a big city this was to have some businesses that were open all night. He drew his horse to a halt and tied it, walking inside. Might as well find out what had happened at the trial. “Say, mister, can you find things out from other cities, before they might hit the papers, I mean?”
“Like what?”
“There’s an outlaw being tried down in St. Louis, name of Jake Harkner. Can you find out if the trial is over, if he’s been sentenced? It should be any day now.”
“I can try, but it’s probably already been in the paper, if the man is famous enough. The name sounds familiar to me.”
“Yeah. He was a bad one.”
The man looked at his pocket watch. “Only one telegraph office is open this time of night in St. Louis. I’ll try them.” The man began tapping out a message, and Lloyd watched the nightlife through the window. Beth was out there somewhere, being shown off by her new husband to his rich friends like she was some kind of trophy. God how it hurt to think of her going home to his bed tonight. “Now we wait,” the telegrapher told him. “It should only take a minute or two.”
Lloyd nodded, walking outside and lighting a cigar. His father had loved to smoke, but he had never cared for it, until now. Now he wanted to do it all, enjoy every aspect of life he had not experienced.
“Here it is,” the man called to him.
His heartbeat quickened. Pa! He didn’t want to care, told himself he didn’t care. He walked back inside, trying to act casual. “Well?”
“Just a minute.” The man finished scribbling. “Jake Harkner sentenced yesterday on charges of robbery, murder, and rape,” he read. “Fifteen years in prison, possible parole in eight.” The man looked up at him, alarmed at the sudden pale look on the boy’s face. “You all right, kid?”
“Yeah. Sure. Where did they send him?”
“Says here he’s gonna be sent to Joliet. Hell, that’s a state prison just a few miles southwest of here.”
Lloyd reached into his pocket and laid a dollar bill on the counter. “Thanks.”
“This is too much, boy.”
“Forget it.” He walked out and untied his horse. Yes, maybe he’d leave Beth alone after all. Who was he compared to a wealthy Chicago druggist who could give her everything? He was just the son of a murdering outlaw. He’d drink away the pain, maybe get the hell out of Chicago tomorrow and go someplace where he could wear those guns. He sure as hell wasn’t going to stay around until his father arrived. What use was it to see him now? It would only be torture for them both. Jake probably didn’t want him to see him rotting in a place like that, and he didn’t want to see his father anyway.
He’d go back West. Maybe he could find the real Lloyd out there in the country where he’d grown up, maybe on some of the trails he used to ride with his father; or maybe on a different trail Jake Harkner had known, the trail of the outlaw. He needed to see that world, to know if there was a part of him that belonged to it as his father had.
His mother would probably move to Illinois now. Miranda Harkner would want to live near wherever her husband was incarcerated. How bitterly ironic that they would be living so near to Beth again, but the old friendships would be over. Nothing was the same now. Nothing.
***
Beth awoke and stretched against satin sheets, then pulled a pillow to her, wishing it was Lloyd. At least for the last few days she had not been so terribly ill, but she was still plagued with waves of nausea, and she could not eat. She told herself she must eat, that she had to start taking care of herself for the sake of the baby. This child was all she would have of Lloyd, a little piece of the love she had shared with the only man who could ever be in her heart.
What must he be thinking by now? She had no news yet of what had happened with his father. Did Lloyd know she was married? Did he hate her? Thank God David had kept his word not to touch her. He slept in an adjoining room, but he had made no attempts to come to her bed. She shivered at the thought of his ever demanding his husbandly rights. She could not let another man touch her. So far Aunt Trudy was still here, and that made her feel safer. Her father had only stayed the first few days, then had to leave. He had said nothing about Lloyd or his father, if he had heard from Lloyd. She knew that he wouldn’t tell her if he had. He was determined to try to make her forget him, but she never would. He would always be with her every time she held her baby.
The door to her room opened. “Good morning, ma’am,” her personal maid said, coming into the room with a tray of food. The old woman came closer, an ever-present smile on her face.
“Good morning, Louise.” Beth liked the old woman, who mothered her as if she were her own child. “I still don’t think I can eat.”
“Well, you must try.” Beth sat up a little, and Louise placed a tray over her lap. “Did you have a good rest?”
“Pretty good, I guess.” I would have slept better in Lloyd’s arms.
“Well, you got home so late, I didn’t have a chance to tell you about your visitor.”
Beth felt a quick rush of hope. “Visitor?”
“Yes, it was the strangest thing. He came knocking on the door late last night, and I do believe he’d had some little bit to drink. I could smell the whiskey. He asked specifically for you. When he found out you were not here, he asked the strangest question. He wanted to know if you were happy.”
Beth looked away to hide the mixture of excitement and sorrow she knew showed in her eyes. “If I was happy?” Lloyd! “What did he look like? Did he give his name?”
“No, ma’am. He was tall, quite handsome, dark eyes and dark hair, as much as I could tell in the dim light. I would guess he was twenty or so. He said to tell you, well, he said, ‘I think I understand.’ And then he said to tell you good-bye.”
Beth closed her eyes and put a hand to her stomach. “Take the food away, Louise.”
“Oh, but you really must eat—”
“Just take it away.”
“Oh, my, did I say something to upset you? Is he someone you’re afraid of? Shall I tell Master David?”
“No!” Beth lay back against her pillow, struggling against tears. “No, you must not tell him. I’ll be all right. Just leave me alone for a little while.”
The old woman sighed, taking the tray. “If you don’t eat by lunchtime, your Aunt Trudy says she will send for the doctor again. I know being newly married can be difficult sometimes, especially for one so young; but Master David is ever so kind a man. You’ll get used to being a wife and learn to run this big house for him.”
The old woman left, and Beth curled up against the pillow again. “Oh, Lloyd,” she whispered. She had no doubt it had been him. He must have wanted to talk to her and then changed his mind. He had said to tell her good-bye. What an awful thing to discover on top of the shocking news about his father, to find out the girl he loved had married someone else. What did he mean by saying he understood? Did he think she had married because she thought he was a terrible person now and wanted to be sure he left her alone? If only he knew the truth, but that was out of the question. For the sake of the baby, she had to keep up this charade of a happy marriage, had to let the baby think David was its father.
Poor, sweet, trusting Lloyd. He had no one now. Everything familiar had been taken from him. Everything. She at least had the baby to remember him by. And what would happen to his father? How his mother and poor Evie must also be suffering. Evie had been such a dear friend.
She thought how she would trade all the luxury of living here in this mansion in Chicago, as well as all the land and riches she would inherit from her father one day, all for a crude little cabin in the mountains where she could live with Lloyd, if only it could be so.
Tell her I said good-bye, he had said.
“Good-b
ye, my love,” she whispered. He would not be back. She knew it in her heart. Everything he had loved and trusted had been destroyed, and she in turn had not only lost the love of her life; she had lost her best friend. She wept into her satin pillow.
***
June 1888
Miranda waited impatiently for Jake to be brought out of the dark entrance to Wyoming’s territorial penitentiary. With each monthly visit, all that she was allowed, he looked a little older, limped a little more. Sometimes she felt she was in a prison of her own, having to watch her husband slowly die, a big man cramped into a six-foot by eight-foot brick cell for most of the twenty-four hours of every day for three years now. He would never make it another five. Of that she was certain, and every day she prayed for a miracle that would see him freed.
She had suffered her own torture through all of this, and Jake knew it. That was killing him too. She had waited nearly a year for him to be sent to Laramie. During that year she had had to pack and leave the beloved home they had shared in Colorado.
She lived in Laramie City now, worked as an assistant to young Doctor Brian Stewart, who had come to Laramie a year ago from New York with a sincere desire to come to a place where he was most needed. She had delivered babies, helped remove bullets, and knew how to stitch wounds. Laramie was one of those cities that was still rough and sometimes wild, and there was plenty of work for the doctor, who was sweet on Evie. She did not doubt that before long he would ask for her hand in marriage.
Brian was not the least bit bothered by the fact that Evie’s father was in prison. He was a good-hearted young man who in turn saw the goodness in Evie, but Miranda knew the man also was surely taken by the girl’s exotic beauty. Evie was tall and dark, a woman now at eighteen, gracious and beautiful. How she wished Jake could see her, but he had literally begged her never to bring the girl to the prison. He didn’t even want his wife to come, had asked her several times to divorce him and get on with her life.
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