Outlaw Hearts

by Rosanne Bittner

  She closed her eyes, telling herself she must try to rest, but it would be nearly impossible, worrying about Lloyd and Jake both. Jake sat down and leaned against his own saddle, his revolver still worn on his hip, the magazine rifle and shotgun both close by. “Keep that pistol handy,” he advised. “You never know out here when you might need it.”

  “It’s right beside me.”

  Jake rubbed at his eyes. “I’ve got to find him alive, Randy. If we don’t reach him in time—” His voice broke.

  “He’s in God’s hands for now, Jake. You’ve got to trust in that. God didn’t bring us this far for nothing.”

  He threw his cigarette into the fire. “I’ll never learn to have your kind of faith, but then I expect you’ve got enough for both of us.”

  “You trust in me, Jake, and you’re learning to trust in yourself. Now trust in God. He’s done pretty good by you so far, considering your past, don’t you think?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I guess He has at that.”

  The wolves continued their howling, and Jake rose, walking out of the light of the fire. Miranda knew there would be no sleep for him tonight.

  Thirty-two

  They crossed the Middle Fork River, and although its waters were flowing gently, there was still a roaring sound because of the high cliffs on either side that caused everything to echo. They had been traveling for over a week now, moving through wild, gloriously beautiful country; but it was difficult to appreciate its beauty because of their worry over Lloyd. Jake pointed to a spot in the rocky cliffs that loomed over the river. Scrubby pine trees seemed to grow right out of the rock. “See that cave up there?” he called to her. “They call it Outlaw Cave. Civil War deserters used to hide up there. A prisoner once told me Frank and Jesse James used that cave to hide out after robbing a Union Pacific train in the late seventies. They killed two deputies. I knew where the cave was. Came across it when I was through this way back in sixty-nine.”

  How well Miranda remembered those two years of separation when she wasn’t sure where Jake was or if he would really send for her. He had run into Jess in this wild country. Poor Jess. How he would love to be with them now, helping Jake find Lloyd. She would feel so much better if Jake had someone besides her to back him up. She dreaded the thought of Jake trying to go after Jubal Latimer alone, wondered if Lloyd would appreciate the risk the man was taking.

  After a few hours they moved out into a wide, windy valley, where a few horses and cattle grazed. Miranda had to tie her hat under her chin to hang on to it. Jake pulled his horse to a halt and she rode up beside him. He nodded toward the stock. “Stolen, no doubt,” he said matter-of-factly. “They bring them here to fatten them up and change the brands, then resell them.” He looked above them at a steep, red-rock cliff that was flat on top. “This is Hole-in-the-Wall, such as it is. There are a few cabins up top there where someone might be hanging out who knows something about Lloyd. Trouble is, Latimer himself could be around here, so let me do the talking. Go easy on the way up. It’s a damn steep, narrow climb with steep cliffs on both sides and the path is full of loose rock. You might have to get off and lead your horse on foot.” He turned his horse and headed toward a narrow opening in the looming cliff. “This is a favorite spot because it’s so hard to get in and out,” he called to her. “One man could hold off a whole army up there.”

  Miranda followed him across the wide valley of yellow grass, bending against the wind until they came closer to the cliffs. Huge red rocks lay sprawled and scattered across the edge of the valley, pieces that had broken away from the brittle cliffs above and tumbled into the valley.

  They approached the opening, and Jake took out his rifle and raised it, waving it at someone above. With one hand he fired into the air once as a signal, then put the rifle back in its boot. It was only then that Miranda realized they were being watched. She looked up to see three men, one not far away behind a rock, two more at the top of the cliff, all of them brandishing rifles. She shivered, wondering if they could be Latimer’s men. She told herself not to be afraid. After all, this was for Lloyd, and she was with Jake.

  Once she started up the steep pathway toward the mesa above, she was sheltered from the wind. Jake had been right. The climb was treacherous and at times terrifying. There was nothing to do but depend on the sure-footedness of their horses. Miranda paid no attention to the fact that here and there a man lurked in rocky crags on the way up, silent eyes, watching. One could only concentrate on getting to the top without a devastating fall. She understood now what Jake had meant about one man being able to hold off an army here. There was room only for one man at a time to come through. No wonder lawmen seldom tried to penetrate this place. It would be suicide.

  They finally reached the top, and Jake stopped for a moment to turn to her. “You all right?”

  She breathed a deep sigh of relief. “I am now, but I don’t relish the trip back down.” She huddled into her jacket. The view up here was magnificent, but it was high and windy and cold. She noticed Jake buttoning the top button of his sheepskin jacket, and he coughed as he took his rifle from its boot again. She worried about the pneumonia returning if he breathed too much of this cold air.

  Jake took a careful look around. “Doesn’t look like there are many up here today.”

  “I saw some men watching us on the way up.”

  “They always keep a lookout for lawmen. Hell, the Wild Bunch uses these places to hide out. Probably ninety-five percent of the men you’ve seen since we got to Brown’s Park are wanted for something. Lawmen have tried getting into these places before and died in their efforts.”

  She thought about the fact that Jake was going to be one of those lawmen someday soon. She told herself she couldn’t let herself worry about it. After all, he at least knew how such men think and behave, and he was better than any of them with a gun.

  Jake was watching a man in the distance mount his horse. “Sit tight,” he told her. “They’ll want to check us out.” The man began riding toward them, and as he drew closer, Miranda shivered at the look in his eyes. He wore a long, woolen duster, with gun belts crisscrossed over his chest, a shotgun in his hand. He chewed on a thin cigar that looked like it wasn’t burning anymore.

  “Ain’t seen you around before, mister,” he snarled at Jake. “You wouldn’t be wearin’ a badge under that jacket, would you?”

  “If I was, would I have my wife with me?”

  The man’s cold, dark eyes moved to Miranda. “I expect not.”

  “Is there a man around here by the name of Jube Latimer?”

  The man looked him over. “What’s it to you?”

  “In these parts a man minds his own business.”

  The man watched Jake’s eyes. “Jube ain’t here. Him and his men are at his ranch north of here.”

  “How about Lloyd Harkner? Anybody seen him around here lately?”

  To Miranda’s surprise, a look of respect suddenly came into the man’s eyes. He lowered his shotgun. “I’ll bet you’re Jake Harkner, ain’t you?”

  “I am.”

  “Ol’ Charlie said he’d heard you was let out of prison. He also said you’d probably be comin’ through here lookin’ for your son.”

  Miranda took hope in the words, and Jake lowered his own rifle. “You’ve seen him?”

  The man nodded. “You’re a couple of days late. Latimer fetched the boy out of here day before yesterday, and it wasn’t purty. You’ll be damn lucky to still find him alive, if you can even get into Latimer’s place without gettin’ your guts blown out. Charlie might be able to help you there.”

  Miranda took hope in the word “help.” Lloyd! Latimer did have him. What had he done to her son?

  “Who’s Charlie?”

  “Charlie Tate. Said he knew you way back when you were gunrunnin’ in the war, hung around some with you and Jess York when you was out this way s
ome years back. He likes to brag that he knows you. You remember him?”

  Jake nodded. “I remember. It was a long time ago.”

  “Charlie heard you was released. He’d seen your son at Brown’s Park. Everybody knows the kid can’t handle his whiskey and is lookin’ to get himself killed. He might have already succeeded. Anyway, Charlie said if you was out of prison, you’d be comin’ here lookin’ for the boy to fetch him home. Said he remembered your woman and the boy was all you could talk about when you was in these parts them years back.” The man glanced at Miranda, looked her over. “I can understand why you’d be anxious to get back to the woman,” he added, looking back at Jake. “She’s fine-lookin’. Your boy is too. The whores love him.”

  Miranda closed her eyes and looked away, remembering a sweet, loving young man who was so much in love with Beth Parker.

  “Watch your mouth around my wife,” Jake told the man. “Where’s Charlie? How can he help me?”

  The man turned and pointed. “He’s rollin’ with the whores over there at Ella’s place.” He looked back at Jake. “He used to ride with Latimer, but it didn’t last long. He ain’t made of the same cut, ain’t mean enough. I hate to tell you, but Latimer’s as bad as they come. I seen him chop off a man’s fingers once for cheatin’ at cards. I’ve seen a lot of ruthless men, but Latimer’s got them all beat.”

  Until now, Jake thought, his fury building.

  “At any rate, Charlie knows how to get into Latimer’s stronghold because he’s been there himself.” The man leaned forward, resting an arm on his saddle horn. “I’ll tell you somethin’ else. That boy of yours ain’t got the ugliness he needs to go up against a man like Latimer. He thinks he does, but he don’t. When Latimer is through with him, he’ll wonder why he ever decided to go around wearin’ them guns of yours. I can see by your eyes that you’ve got that mean spirit a man needs for this life. The boy ain’t got it. If you can find him alive, you’d better get him the hell out of here. He’s good with them guns, I’ll grant you that. He’s strong and all that, brave too, in a lot of ways. He’d make a good lawman, maybe, but he don’t belong on the other side of the fence, if you know what I mean.”

  Jake nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Thanks for the information.” He looked over at Miranda. “Let’s find Charlie.”

  She blinked back tears and rode beside him toward the sprawling shack called Ella’s Place. Jake had never mentioned this Charlie Tate, but then she knew he didn’t like to talk about the time he spent here when he’d left California. He apparently had not been as close to Tate as he had been to Jess.

  The man in the duster rode on the other side of Jake. “Name’s Hank Downing. Me and Latimer had a run-in a few months back. Not many men around here would care if you shot the hell out of the man. If Charlie’s gonna help you, I’ll throw in my gun, if you need it. I’m pretty good myself, and it don’t bother me one bit to blow a man’s head off, especially if it’s Latimer’s.”

  Jake shoved his rifle back into its boot. “I’ll need all the help I can get, which probably won’t be much. I’ll take you up on your offer. I can pay you, and I guarantee I’ll get the job done because it’s my son that’s involved. Just make sure you leave Latimer for me.”

  Downing nodded. “I can understand that.” The man put away his shotgun, each man beginning to trust the other a little more. “A lot of men around here know about you, Jake. We might be a bunch of bastards, but we got an idea how it must feel to be worryin’ about a son. We’ve all kind of gone easy around him on account of he was Jake Harkner’s boy. Otherwise, he’d probably have been dead or at least got his ass kicked a long time ago. Like I say, he’s a strong young man and good with them guns, but he ain’t got the spirit to be a mean sonofabitch. He thinks he does on account of his pa was that way.”

  They pulled up in front of the cabin, and Miranda could hear laughter coming from inside.

  “I’ll go in and get Charlie,” Downing offered. He dismounted and tied his horse. “You stay out here with the woman.”

  The man walked up on a sagging porch and went inside. Miranda could hear piano music and a woman singing. She looked at Jake, still struggling against tears. “What has happened to our son?”

  Jake looked away. “I happened to him.” He took a cheroot from his jacket pocket and cupped his hand around a match as he lit it. He puffed on it quietly for a moment. “I can’t get sentimental about it right now, Randy, or upset over what he’s been doing. Until I get him out of there, I can’t let myself have any kind of feelings at all, so hold your tears for later.” He dismounted. “That’s what I have to do.” He glanced up at her, his eyes showing bitter pain. “I’d better warn you about Charlie Tate. His mouth runs faster than a racehorse, and the words he uses aren’t made for delicate ears, so don’t be surprised by anything he says.”

  He walked a few feet away, and her heart ached for him. If Lloyd was already dead, she would lose Jake too. He would never be the same man again. For now she understood what he was saying. Emotions could get in the way when a man was going up against someone like Latimer. For the next day or two she would hardly know her husband. To take on someone as ruthless as Jube Latimer, one had to be even more ruthless. She did not doubt the old Jake could be just that, and that was who he was now—the Jake Harkner who had shot down that bounty hunter in Kansas City—the Jake Harkner who had taken on Bill Kennedy’s bunch.

  The door to the cabin was flung open then, and a plump, burly man who needed a shave and whose hair was thinning on top walked quickly toward Jake. He wore pants but no socks and no shirt, yet he seemed oblivious to the cold.

  “Harkner! Lord Jesus, Jake, I ain’t seen you in eighteen, nineteen years!”

  Jake turned, putting out his hand. “Hello, Charlie.”

  “By God, if it ain’t the sonofabitch who cleaned my ass out at cards the last time you was in these parts. You always was one to outdo me, you bastard!” The man guffawed, and Miranda climbed down from her horse, trying to ignore his language. He was from another world, from another life Jake had led. Tate looked at Hank Downing, who had followed him out. “Hank, Jake here used to be the meanest sonofabitch you’d ever want to cross, and that ain’t no exaggeration. Back in the war he tallied up more of them Union bastards than he could count. That’s when me and him and Jess was runnin’ guns to the Rebels. Wasn’t nobody much willin’ to cross him. Nobody! He was good with his guns, good with his fists, and damn good with the women! Hell, the whores used to fight over him.”

  Jake grinned a little. “Watch your mouth, Tate. I’ve got my wife with me.”

  “Your wife! Jesus Christ, are you crazy or somethin’?”

  “No. She is!” Jake answered.

  “She must be, to have married you!” Tate glanced at Miranda, who nodded to him. He tipped his hat slightly. “Lord God, if she ain’t a looker! Hello, ma’am. Name’s Charlie Tate. I know Jake from way back when he was too damn mean and ornery for the likes of you. How in God’s name did you manage to find any good in this ol’ outlaw?”

  The man turned back to Jake before Miranda could say a word. “You must have done some fast talkin’ to get a woman like that, Jake. She’s about the prettiest thing I ever laid eyes on, and God knows I’ve laid eyes on a lot of women.” The man laughed again, finally letting go of Jake’s hand. “This the woman you was pinin’ over last time you was hangin’ around these parts? Wasn’t that right after you shot the hell out of Bill Kennedy and his bunch back in California?”

  “It was.” Jake looked at Randy, a hint of apology in his eyes for the way Charlie talked. “Jess and I both knew Charlie back during the war,” he explained. “I saw him a time or two when I came here after California.”

  Miranda nodded to him. “How do you do, Mr. Tate.”

  The man laughed again, showing tobacco-stained teeth. He was a big man, but Miranda guessed it was more fat than muscle. H
e was obviously older than Jake, but looked sturdy in spite of his big belly. “Damned if I don’t do just fine,” he answered.

  “What the hell are you doing still hanging around these parts?” Jake asked the man. “I figured you’d have moved on by now, or else got yourself shot.”

  “Hell, I ain’t fit for no place else. I help out the Wild Bunch sometimes—you know, Butch Cassidy and them—worked for the James boys back in the seventies. I rebrand their cattle for them, sell stolen goods, that kind of thing. I make good whiskey money, that’s about all, but hell, what else does a man need but good whiskey and a hungry woman in his bed at night? There’s plenty of both all along this trail. I expect you sure as hell know that.”

  Miranda reddened, turning away and walking back to her horse, again fighting old jealousies. She never had asked Jake if he had turned to any prostitutes in their two-year separation, and she decided it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered now but finding Lloyd and all of them being a family again.

  “I don’t have time for reminiscing, Charlie. Downing says you expected I’d show up. You must know why I’m here. I’m looking for my son. Downing says Latimer’s got him. I intend to get him back. Can you help me?”

  “I can help,” Charlie was saying. “Hell, I rode with Latimer myself for a while, but I got out of that bunch. They’re bad, Jake. I’ve done a lot of wrong things in my life, but I ain’t that bad.”

  Jake puffed on the cheroot, and Miranda could feel his fury. She walked back to his side. “Do you think Lloyd is still alive?” Jake asked Charlie.

  Charlie was sober now. He glanced at Miranda, back at Jake. “Could be. Latimer don’t like to kill somebody quick, if you know what I mean.”