Love's Sweet Revenge (25 page)

Someone knocked on the door then, and Jeff called to them. “Randy, Jake says to come to Lloyd's room. He's standing up!”

Randy sucked in her breath with surprise and joy, letting go of Peter and rushing to fling open the door. She hurried out, and Jeff glanced at Peter.

“Kind of hard to face certain old memories, isn't it?” Jeff asked him.

Peter nodded. “Jeff, this has to work—for
her
sake.”

“Jake is really moved that you came, Peter. It's hard for him to admit it to you, but in spite of the fact that he knows why you are doing this, he is really grateful. He told me he can hardly believe you came all this way to help out.”

“Well, I'm not sure I'll be any good at all, but it isn't just for Randy. I've never met a man I wanted to hate so much but
liked
so much. He's the kind of man you have a lot of trouble imagining being gone from this world.”

“A lot of people would miss him, Peter—even those of us who only see him once in a while.”

Peter sighed and left with him, going into Lloyd's room to see Lloyd sitting on the edge of the bed with Jake's arm around him for support and Katie on his other side. Brian was getting something out of his medical bag. Lloyd wore cotton pants and no shirt, heavy bandages around his chest. In spite of his condition, his impressive muscular build was obvious.

Lloyd met Peter's gaze, and in that moment, Peter saw Jake Harkner. The resemblance was uncanny. Evie had her arms around her mother, and the whole family was teary-eyed with joy. Peter wished the judge could see them. This was not the Jake Harkner who'd held a man down and fired point-blank into his head.

He shivered at the thought. That would not be easy to defend.

Peter turned to Jeff, who was already scribbling something down on a pad of paper. It wouldn't be long before half the country knew Lloyd was going to live. Everyone would be watching the headlines then to see what would happen to his notorious father. “Jeff?” he spoke up. “I am suddenly feeling a very heavy weight on my shoulders—something about six feet four inches tall and weighing probably two hundred forty pounds or so.”

Jeff just smiled.

Randy brushed out her hair, still damp from a long bath. She breathed deeply against the anxiety of knowing that the hearing would finally take place tomorrow. She dreaded it. In the past two weeks, Jake had come to their room only three times to sleep. He'd kept a nearly constant vigil with Lloyd, sleeping in his and Katie's room at night to make sure Katie did not overdo herself by trying to help Lloyd on her own. Jake was adamant she not do any heavy lifting.

Randy could tell without asking that Jake ached more than he was willing to admit from caring for his son day after day, but Lloyd had made great progress. He could get out of bed on his own now and had begun to fully dress each day and go for walks up and down the hallway, supported for most of those walks by his father.

Everything they did was under the watch of Denver police, who had taken Jake's guns in a very tense moment of showing Jake a judge's order that he not be armed until after the hearing. Peter came with them, urging Jake to turn over his guns without any trouble, to show the judge he was not dangerous. They had taken Lloyd's guns also so Jake could not get to any weapons, and when Peter and Jeff visited to talk about the hearing, they were always searched.

The Brown Palace, though the most beautiful hotel in Denver, had become their prison. From their windows they could see the crowds gathered in the streets every day, hoping to get a look at the famous Jake Harkner. The two grandsons and Ben arrived three days ago, running to Jake and nearly tackling him to the floor in their enthusiasm, but breaking into tears that their father and grandfather might go back to prison…or worse. Stephen cried all the first day after seeing his father bedridden, scared he would die.

Now that Lloyd was better, waiting for a hearing date was agony, and the boys were growing restless. Little Jake, of course, was the biggest problem. Pepper and Cole were kept busy finding ways to entertain him, including playing cards and marbles. Jake insisted the boys stay in the hotel, because he didn't trust the crowds outside. It still concerned him that Brad Buckley could be out there somewhere.

All three boys clearly sensed the gravity of Jake's situation. Ben hardly left Jake's side and insisted on sleeping on the floor right beside Jake's cot in Lloyd's room at night. And Stephen wouldn't leave his father, so he slept in a stuffed chair near Lloyd's bed. Little Jake insisted on sleeping beside his grandfather too.

No one had any privacy. Jeff and Peter each took a room of their own, and to relieve too much crowding in Lloyd's room, Jeff kept Ben and Stephen in his room the last two nights. The whole situation had created a bit of family chaos, but the kind of chaos that was heartwarming and supportive. Randy thought how incredibly close they all were, their family unity only strengthened by all that had happened. She set down the brush, wondering if and when she and Jake would get back to a normal life, if ever. Her heart ached at the memory of that line shack where they had shared such a beautiful, quiet time alone…so happy. Jake was so much fun when he was like that, but that handsome, genuine smile was gone now. There was no joy in those dark eyes except when he saw his son walking on his own.

She glanced at the door when she heard it being unlocked.

“Jake?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He quietly came inside and closed the door. “Ben and Stephen are with Jeff, and Little Jake is with Brian and Evie. I left Katie with Lloyd. He's sleeping pretty hard, so she should be all right.”

He set the key aside and walked over to the bed and sat on it to remove his boots. He grimaced as he began wiggling his feet out of them. “I ache everywhere. Thank God Lloyd can do most things on his own now.”

Randy watched his every movement, wondering if this was her last night to see and touch him. She watched as he jerked off his boots. She loved his arms, still so strong and hard. She studied his broad chest when he removed his shirt and a sleeveless undershirt, noticed how flat and hard his stomach still was when he rose to unbuckle his belt and remove his denim pants and his socks. Unlike most men his age, there was nothing soft about him. He was as hard as a rock, and sometimes he liked to pretend he was hard on the inside, like he was doing now. It terrified her that he could go to prison. He'd nearly died from beatings and pneumonia those four years he did time, and he was younger then. When he was wild and free and working the ranch, he was in his own element, but the poor food and medical care of prison life could kill a man his age.

“I appreciate what Peter is doing,” he told her as he finished stripping to his long johns, “but we both know the real reason he's doing it. You'd fit right in at that palace of a home he owns back in Chicago. When I think about the kind of life you could have had—”

“All I want is a big log home in the foothills of the Rockies,” Randy interrupted, “and a big, strong man taking care of it all—a man who can handle himself in any situation and protect and defend me and his family, a man who needs nothing more in life than
me
and his family.”

Jake looked away, rising and laying his clothes over a chair. He walked to the window. “I know I'm not an easy man to live with, Randy.”

“Jake, don't try to sell me on what a good life I could have without you. I know what you're doing. You're trying to make what might happen tomorrow easier on me.”

He stood there quietly, studying the streets below, lit up by gaslights. “I'm still not sure it's good for the boys to be at the hearing,” he said then, obviously trying to avoid the inevitable.

Small talk
, Randy thought. He was going for small talk. Casual,
I'm okay
talk.

“They are going to hear things tomorrow maybe they shouldn't hear,” he added. “Peter wants them there, says it will impress the judge to see the family, but I hate for those boys to hear what that prosecutor will say about me and my past.”

“They know about your past,” Randy reminded him. “Nothing will surprise them. And I think Peter is right. We have a beautiful family, and the judge should see that. And when he sees how those boys look at their grandfather with so much love, it will give him reason to pause in deciding what to do about you.”

“Maybe. Who knows? I'm just worried what it will do to the boys if I'm hauled away right in front of them.”

“I have to believe you won't be, or I'll go crazy.”

“Yeah, well, my biggest hope is Evie. She's praying for me. If God doesn't listen to her, then there
is
no God.” He sighed deeply. “What I hate most about tomorrow is Evie will be there, too. What happened at Dune Hollow is sure to come up, and that's not good for her
or
the boys.” He glanced at Randy, his gaze raking over her brushed-out hair and the silk robe she wore. “You look extra beautiful tonight.”

Randy struggled not to break down in front of him, but it was becoming impossible. “Probably because…because you think this could be our last night together for a while.” Her lips quivered, and a tear slipped down her cheek. She looked away, feeling sick inside, wanting to stay strong for him. “They sent up your suit, cleaned and pressed.”

“Good.” The room hung strangely quiet for an awkward moment. “I'm not sure how Brian and Evie are going to keep Little Jake in line tomorrow,” Jake finally commented.

Randy felt as though both of them were just searching for a way to avoid the terror. If the judge wanted to be truly famous and felt it was time to rid the “new” West of its “old” outlaws, he could sentence Jake to be hung.

“He's so full of energy,” Jake continued. “I'm worried he'll fidget around and distract things and irritate the judge. Nobody can control that kid.”

“Except you.” Randy faced him again. “He worships the ground you walk on.”

“Yeah, well, that admiration is a bit misplaced. He'll understand that when he's older.”

“He will
always
love his grandpa. And all you have to do tomorrow is give him orders to sit still, and he'll do it—for you. Just tell him it will help you if he's very, very well behaved.”

Jake smiled sadly. “I'll do my best.”

“He's such a good and loving little man. He's just full of vinegar and sass—like someone else I know. And right now I need that someone's arms around me.”

Jake smiled sadly. “Maybe that someone needs
your
arms around
him
.”

Randy couldn't help the tears that came then. “Jake, I can't do this anymore! I can't pretend to be strong about this. This is different from when you left to chase after outlaws in Oklahoma,” she wept. “At least then you had your guns and your skills and the ability to fight back.”

Jake walked over and reached for her. She took his hand, and he led her to the bed. “This time we just have to fight back a different way,” he told her. He sat down on the bed and pulled her onto his lap.

“You can't lose your temper on that stand tomorrow, Jake,” Randy reminded him.

“Peter has made sure I am well aware of that.” Jake kissed her hair as he held her tight. “Let's not talk about tomorrow,
mi esposa
. Let's talk about tonight. Let's pretend there is no tomorrow.”

He pressed a big hand to the side of her face, and Randy met his lips. They kissed hungrily, almost savagely, as he laid her back on the bed. They didn't bother turning down the covers. There wasn't time. It seemed as though there wasn't near enough time for anything—for this, for talking, for looking at each other, for touching, for remembering, just for being.

Jake pushed open her robe, and they kissed…desperately.

They touched…desperately. In moments they were both fully undressed and on the bed making love…desperately.

Randy grasped the bed rails as her husband took her. He seemed to be everywhere on her body, having intercourse with her, then stopping to kiss his way down her body to her belly, her legs, running his tongue inside her until she gasped in a climax, then back to intercourse, taking her…desperately.

Randy thought how strange it was that they seemed to have come full circle. He started out a wanted man, and their first time was just as desperate thirty years ago in a covered wagon somewhere on the plains of Nebraska…or was it the Dakotas? Maybe Wyoming. She couldn't remember. She couldn't think at all.

Now this. It had all come around to this. In a sense, he was a wanted man again, and it was tempting to think about running again…but now there was a whole great big family to think about. Back in that wagon all those years ago, they never dreamed it would come to two children and four grandchildren with more on the way—an adopted son—a fifty-thousand-acre ranch…all from that one night in a covered wagon when they were so much younger.

Jake moaned as he climaxed inside of her with several hard, pulsating pushes, and she whimpered his name. She kept her legs wrapped around him.

“Don't stop,” she whispered, grabbing him around the neck and kissing him wildly.

“My God, Randy, I love you so damn much,” he groaned. “I'm hurting you. I'm so afraid this is our last time to be together like this that I'm moving too fast and not being gentle enough.”

“No!” She kissed his neck, his throat, his chest. “I
want
it to hurt. I want to remember this.”

He met her mouth again, searching deep until he was swollen yet again with the want of her, the desperate need of her, the aching realization that this truly could be their last chance to do this—after all the years; after all the other separations and all the worry and all the gunfights and all the running and all the places they had lived and all that homemade bread he loved coming home to; after the past four years on the J&L when, for the first time in their married lives, they thought they could be happy and at peace the rest of their lives; after that lovely time at the line shack.

Randy grasped the headrails again as he raged inside of her, and she arched up to him as though she couldn't get enough of him. Jake finally slowed down and rocked against her in the way he knew, stroked her in the right places until he felt her climax intensely yet again, the pulses pulling him deeper so he took her harder again, licking at the tears on her cheeks, keeping hold of her bottom with strong hands in an almost forceful crush she couldn't have gotten out of if she'd wanted to—and she most certainly did
not
want to.

“I don't want the night to end, Jake,” she groaned. “I wish we could stop time.”

He took her slowly, wanting to savor every lovely moment, wanting to fulfill her every need, wanting the night to last forever as much as she did. Sometimes he wondered how he could literally crave her with just as much intense desire as he'd felt back in that wagon all those years ago. She was his life. She'd
saved
his life. He loved being inside of this woman who never should have settled for the likes of Jake Harkner. Yet here she was, still wanting and pleasing him after all he'd put her through. He loved returning that pleasure, loved knowing that if the day came when they couldn't do this anymore, it wouldn't matter. All that mattered was being together and being able to hold and to touch and to love.

He grasped her hair and kissed her deeply as again he released inside of her with erotic thrusts that made him realize it didn't get any better than this. He stayed on top of her, and they clung to each other for several minutes until he reached down and grasped the bedclothes from the side and pulled them over them, rolling her over so they were wrapped up in them side by side. Randy smiled.

“I feel like we're in a cocoon.”

Jake managed to move a hand to her breasts in spite of the tight wrapping. He ran a thumb over one nipple while kissing her forehead. “When we emerge from this cocoon, a beautiful butterfly with ash-blond hair and green-gray eyes and the body of a nymph will show herself.”