Outlaw Hearts (46 page)

He walked past her, unbuckling his gun belts one at a time as he walked toward the soldiers and the waiting prison wagon.

“Jake,” she whimpered. How was she going to go on without him? She left the horse behind and followed him, picking up first one gun belt, then the other. He took a knife from his boot and dropped that too. She picked it up and pressed the guns to her breast.

“Father!” As Jake drew closer, Evie started to run from the house to hug him. Two soldiers held her back. Jake glared at Gentry. “Let her go, you bounty-hungry sonofabitch! I've dropped all my weapons!”

Gentry smiled victoriously. “I give the orders from here on. You're too dangerous, Harkner. I remember just
how
dangerous, when I used to buy stolen rifles from you back during the war.”

Jake looked him over and nodded. “So, that's why you looked familiar to me.”

“I just didn't stand out enough for you to remember good enough. You, on the other hand, are a man not easily forgotten. Now, get in the wagon.”

“Just one thing first.” Before Gentry realized what was happening, a big fist slammed into his jaw and sent him sprawling to the ground in a cloud of dust. “That was for my
wife
,” Jake growled. He grunted and crumbled then when another soldier smashed a rifle butt into his lower back. The rest of the soldiers joined in then, kicking and punching. Miranda dropped the guns and ran toward them, Evie's screams of terror and horror ringing in her ears.

“Stop! Stop it!” Evie shrieked.

Jake fought back viciously, but ten men against one were odds no unarmed man could handle. Miranda tried to push some of them away, but a fist landed in her stomach and landed her on her rear so hard it knocked the breath out of her. Evie also tried to help, but the two soldiers holding her kept their grip, laughing at the sight of her father being beaten bloody. “He deserves it,” one of them told her. “A man's got to pay for his sins sooner or later.”

Miranda struggled to her feet and stumbled over to her daughter, tearing her away from the two men and holding her tight, pressing her head against her breast in an effort to keep her from having to see.

“Get him in the wagon!” Gentry ordered, now on his feet again himself. The words were slurred through a bleeding, already-swelling mouth.

It took four men to lift a nearly unconscious Jake into the wagon, which looked hot and uncomfortable to Miranda. She could not control her sobs then as she watched them handcuff both of Jake's wrists behind his back to wagon bars. He sat on a hard bench, his head hanging, blood dripping from several face and head wounds. He managed to lift his head just slightly to look back at her as two soldiers climbed into the wagon seat and whipped the mules that pulled it into motion.

“Where will you take him?” Miranda screamed at Gentry.

One of the men who had been holding Evie answered for the man. “To Fort Lyon. Authorities from Missouri will pick him up there and take him to St. Louis.”

“Then
I'm
going to Fort Lyon,
and
to St. Louis! And I'll damn well find out who Lieutenant Gentry's commanding officer is! He'll know what happened here today! Arresting a man is one thing! Beating him and his wife is another!”

The soldier frowned, walking to help Gentry mount up, then mounting his own horse. The rest of the men climbed onto their horses, and they all rode to catch up with the wagon.

Miranda watched after them, feeling crazy with a need to go and help Jake. How badly was he hurt? Would they help him at all? Would he get food and water?

How could life turn so quickly? This morning she had been happily baking, planning for Jake's return. She clung to a weeping Evie, and from inside the house she could smell her bread burning. She had been baking it for Jake. How he loved her homemade bread, loved it when the house smelled of it. She remembered the first time he'd mentioned how he liked that smell, back at her little cabin in Kansas City close to twenty years ago.

In the distance, Jake watched his wife and daughter grow smaller as the wagon bounced and clattered away. He thought how Randy was still a slip of a woman, how strangely sad it was that she had been wearing that yellow dress today.

Lloyd led the palomino stallion into the corral, glancing at the Parker ranch house in the distance, anxious to see Beth again. He would have to wait until tomorrow to meet her at Fisher's Creek, since he was dusty and sweating and needed a bath. It was already late afternoon, but in spite of his condition, he decided to at least go to the house before he left.

“It's about time you got back, boy,” one of Parker's men yelled out to him.

Lloyd grinned. “I know. I would have been back two days ago if the damn mare hadn't been so stubborn. She wouldn't let Pacer near her for three days.” He thought the man would laugh, but he only nodded, a strange look in his eyes that made Lloyd feel like he was in some kind of trouble. He had done everything as he had been requested, and he had the money Parker's friend had paid for the stud service. He glanced toward the house again, wondering why Beth didn't run out to greet him like she usually did. She always watched for him when he'd been gone a while.

He dismounted and took the bridle from the stallion's head, pulled the bit from its mouth. “There you go, boy. You ought to feel damn good after making love with that pretty mare.” He patted the horse's neck, and the animal reared and whinnied, then pranced around the corral. Lloyd led his own horse back out of the gate and locked it. He tied his horse and started toward the house when the same man called out to him.

“She ain't there, kid! Her pa took her off someplace four days ago.” The man started toward him, taking a piece of paper from the pocket of his vest. “I'm supposed to give this to you. It's from your ma. She's gone too, her and your sister and Jess York—gone to Fort Lyon to be with your pa.”

Lloyd frowned, totally confused. “Fort Lyon? Why would Pa take my mother and Evie there just to sell a few cattle to the government?”

Will Brewer leaned against the corral gate, hating to be the bearer of bad news. He liked Lloyd, had liked Jake too, for that matter. He and the other men were still shaking their heads over the events of the last few days, still found it all hard to believe. “I guess you don't know anything at all yet, do you? I thought maybe the news had got to Pueblo before you left.”

Lloyd took the folded paper from the man. “What news?”

Will rubbed at his mouth nervously. His shirt showed sweat stains, and he sported a three-day-old beard. He had never been one to shave or bathe regularly, and his eyes were always puffy from too much whiskey. Right now those pale gray eyes showed a true concern for Lloyd. “Soldiers come here about four days ago, son. They took your pa away, arrested him.”

“
Arrested
him! What the hell for?”

Will watched his dark eyes. “For a lot of things. They had an old wanted poster with them showin' your pa was an outlaw back in Missouri during and after the war. On the poster he was wanted for bank robbery and murder, and rape.”

The man watched the blood drain from Lloyd's face. He suddenly grasped Will's shirt and shoved him against the gate. “You're lying!”

Will grasped his wrist. “Don't be pushin' me around, boy! I'm tellin' you the truth! I liked your pa. Why would I lie about it?”

Lloyd glared at him, then released him and stepped back. “My pa would
never
murder and rob and rape!” he growled.

“Maybe not, but there's a lot of people back in Missouri who seem to feel otherwise, so much so that the wanted poster was still good on him after pretty near twenty years. It was that Lieutenant Gentry who arrested him. He knew your pa from the war, bought stolen rifles from him, found out he was still wanted.”

Lloyd stared at the man, dumbfounded. His father, a wanted man? An outlaw?

“Word is he rode with a real bad bunch led by a man called Bill Kennedy,” Will continued. “Kennedy raided settlers during and after the war, robbed trains, banks, you name it, took women hostages. Apparently Kennedy and your pa had some kind of fallin' out, had a big shoot-out out in California a few years back. It was after that your pa went to work for Mr. Parker, then sent for you and your ma and your sister. He's been hidin' here on the ranch under a different name.”

A sick feeling engulfed Lloyd. Beth! Did she know? Did she hate him now because of this? He struggled against a growing panic. “A different name?”

“His real name is Jake—Jackson Lloyd Harkner.”

“My…mother knew?”

“I reckon so. She decided to stay by your father's side through his trial and all—wrote that letter for you and left it with me. She knew you'd likely stop here first thing when you got back from Pueblo. Your pa is probably on his way to St. Louis by now. I ain't sure if they hang men anymore in Missouri, but—” The man halted midsentence when he saw the look of horror in the boy's eyes. “Sorry about that. You just ought to know things don't look good for your pa. I'm sorry you have to come back to all of this, but I figured I might as well get it out right away, seein' as how you were headed for the house. Parker done took Beth away somewhere. Most likely it was to keep her away from you and all the scandal. He wouldn't want a daughter of his seen with the son of an outlaw. Mind you, now, I don't think any the less of you for it, but some people will.”

Lloyd looked toward the house, then back at Will, tears of anger and frustration forming in his eyes. “Where did he take her?” He stepped closer and shouted. “
Where?
”

Will shook his head. “He wouldn't say. I reckon that was his way of keepin' you from findin' out so you couldn't go after her.”

Beth! He had to find her! They had sworn that nothing would keep them apart. He headed toward the house again.

“I wouldn't bother, boy. Ain't none of the servants inside know where they've gone. You'd best read your ma's letter. It's your own family who'll be needin' you right now.”

Lloyd looked down at the folded letter in his hand. Was this some kind of joke? Some kind of nightmare? What the hell was going on? How could his father do this to him, hide such a lawless, sinful past? All his life Jake had taught him about honesty and truthfulness. He had preached to him about doing the right thing, wouldn't even let him touch a gun until he was fourteen, and even then only because he had practically begged for it.

The sick truth began to sink in, bringing literal pain to every nerve in his body. He felt betrayed, humiliated. Suddenly it was difficult to remember what time of day it was,
where
he was. Nothing around him seemed real. He was supposed to come home and see Beth, then go home to a cozy house and a happy family, talk to his father about his trip to Pueblo, eat one of his mother's good meals, joke with Evie. He was supposed to clean up, put on the new clothes he had bought in Pueblo and visit Beth tomorrow down by Fisher's Creek, hold her again, make love to her.

“I'm sorry to be the one to tell you,” Will was saying. His voice sounded far away. “Me and some of the boys, we was told to stay out of it, but we rode out to catch up with Gentry and his men to see if it was true they was arrestin' your pa. By then they already had Jake in a prison wagon. That's when Gentry told us what all he done, showed us the poster. Your pa was in a pretty bad way. Looked like them soldiers had beat up on him pretty good. I reckon' your ma got in on it too, on account of when we rode out to your place, she had a pretty nasty bruise by her eye. Jess was there by then. Bein' your pa's best friend and all, he's lookin' out for your ma and your sister, stayin' with them through the trial.”

Lloyd slowly opened the letter, nausea gripping his stomach.

“There's, uh, there's one more thing maybe you should know, before you hear it some other way,” Will told him.

Lloyd turned dark, angry eyes to the man. “What is it?”

Will scratched at his beard. “I hate tellin' you these things, son, but you've got to know. That Gentry fella, the lieutenant, he said your pa killed his own father some years back.”

Lloyd stared at him in wide-eyed horror. “That
has
to be a lie!”

Will shook his head. “One of the men asked your ma if it was true. Your sister started cryin', and your ma just looked him straight in the eyes and said as how he didn't understand all of it; but she didn't deny it.”

Lloyd let out a gasp, turning away again, finding all of this incomprehensible. “Go away, Will,” he said quietly.

The man reached out and patted his shoulder, then left him. Lloyd blinked back tears so he could see to read his mother's letter. His hands trembled as he opened it.
My
dearest
son,
it read.
By the time you read this letter, you will have heard the awful news that your father has been arrested. I would give anything to be there when you come home, to explain all that has happened myself but your father needs me. I have no idea how much longer I will be able to see him, talk to him, whether he will be imprisoned or executed. There is so much you need to know, and I hope that when you do know, you will find it in your heart to
forgive.

I
wanted
Jake
to
tell
you
everything
long
ago, but he was so afraid of losing your love, something he treasures beyond life. Through you, he has been able to heal terrible wounds from his own battered youth, to make up for all the love he never knew as a child. Please don't blame your father or turn away from him in this, his hour of need. All your life he has been there for you, has loved you as much as is humanly
possible.

Please
come
to
St. Louis. Check at Fort Lyon first to make sure we are not still there. Come as quickly as possible. There may not be much time left to see Jake once more, and he very much needs to talk to you. I need to see you too, to know that you're going to be all right through all of this. I am so sorry you have to bear this news alone. We love you, Lloyd. Poor Evie needs her brother. Life is going to change for us, and we need to stick together. Please don't judge your father until we have had a chance to
talk.

God
be
with
you. We will be waiting for you in St. Louis. Love,
Mother.

He choked in a sob, wadding the letter into his fist and throwing it on the ground. He threw back his head and groaned deeply, loving his father, hating him. How could he do this? Why had he bothered to marry and have children, knowing the legacy he could one day burden them with? Why had he lied to him all these years?

So many things made sense now—the way his father always avoided details about his past, the reason he was so good with guns, the shoot-out back in California that he had first thought was just a dream. Now he understood why his father reacted so emotionally when he shot that squatter four years ago, why he had ripped the gun from his hands. He was afraid his son would turn out just like him, would grow to enjoy killing. Was that how it had been for Jake? Did he enjoy it? His own father! How could anyone shoot his own father? How was he going to live with that kind of shame, the son of a murderer, a thief, a rapist? That was the hardest to understand. His father had never been anything but gentle and respectful of his mother and Evie, a pure gentleman to any women he met.

Still, there was that mean streak he had seen just a couple of times. He remembered the night the man had shot up those squatters, downing them with a cold gleam in his eyes that was rare, but there, nonetheless. How many innocent people had he killed in raids and robberies? He'd been a gunrunner in the war. Maybe it was true that he was innocent of the charges he was wanted for; but that didn't negate the fact that he had done a lot of other terrible things. That much had been admitted.

What must Zane Parker think? That he had the potential to be just like Jake Harkner? Did he consider him a “bad seed” now? Maybe he was at that. It was already obvious Parker was going to make sure he didn't get anywhere near Beth. He wouldn't want her mixed up in this dirty business, and maybe the man was right. Beth was too innocent for this, too refined and well-bred. Why would she want to be married to the son of an outlaw?

God, the ache of it! He loved her so much. She was everything to him. He'd never find another woman like Beth, never feel that way about anybody else. He suspected that if not for her father, sweet Beth would be right by his side in spite of this ugliness; but her father was going to keep her away, and right now, for her sake, maybe that was best.

He felt as though everything his father had done had been laid on his shoulders. He never dreamed he could feel this way about the man. He had lost Beth, and it was Jake's fault. He would probably even lose his job here at the ranch. They would lose their home. Parker wouldn't want them there now. His mother had talked about forgiveness, but how could he feel anything but hatred? In a few short minutes his life had been shattered by a past he'd never known existed. He had trusted his father, looked up to him, held him up as a kind of hero, only to find out he was nothing more than a common, murdering outlaw who had even killed his own father!

He stumbled to his horse. Yes, he would go to St. Louis, but not for the reasons his mother wanted.
She
had betrayed him too. All these years she had known! Why had she even married the man? He would go to St. Louis and get some answers. He would confront his father with all of this. Maybe, just maybe, this would all get cleared up, and he would still have a chance with Beth, if he could find her. It all depended on what happened at the trial, what was done with his father, what other ugly things would come out about the man.

He headed his horse toward home. He would need to clean up and change, repack. It made him sick to think of going to an empty house, all the laughter and happiness and togetherness gone. There would be no more nights alone in the mountains with his father, no more hunting together, working together, sharing their feelings.