Lincoln County Series 1-3 (5 page)

“Hey, Reverend!” Jake called, a smart grin on his sweating face.

“Yes?” Andrew lifted his brow, knowing his friend was jesting, but he liked the new name “Reverend.” Besides his graduation commencement, he’d not been addressed as such.

“Where do you want this?” Jake held up a fancy cut of wood.

“That’s for the cross. Set it down yonder under that tree.”

The crew stretched their work until the last of the light of day disappeared and fireflies began to flash about, dodging in and out of the almost finished structure. Andrew inhaled the smell of sweet maple and oak emanating from the fresh cut lumber. It was time to be done for the day. It was going to be a perfect building; a place of worship for those who put in so much time with their loving hands of labor and donations of food. Andrew vowed not to let these people down. They were expectant—he could see it through the dirt smeared, glistening faces all day—except for perhaps Jake, but Andrew had plans to work on him, too.

Jake appeared at his side, and the two men stood for a moment, taking in the stillness of the warm night.

“I wish I could offer to buy you a drink, or something.”

“No need friend.” Andrew placed his work roughened hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I’m going to sit on here awhile, savor the sight of her.”

Jake shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, well I guess I’ll see ya tomorrow then.”

Chapter Seven

The next morning Jake opened a small window to let out the smoky, bacon scent filling his kitchen. He stood and breathed in the fresh, cool air that filtered through, and scrubbed out the iron griddle, stubbornly hanging onto burnt bacon and tough grease. Jake let his eyes settle onto the endless fields of wheat that now belonged to his neighbor.

He never had an interest in farming. In his childhood years he’d fought his father every morning during chore time. He’d toss buckets, wasn’t kind to the animals, and never did anything extra. In his adolescence, he did not appreciate his father or the hard work the old man did for his family. Despite his children’s disrespectfulness, their father had done his best by them.

It was just one of the things Jake wished he could go back and do all over again—he would have been a good son. Regrets always came too late.

His sister Jenny had been too wild at heart to settle down doing women’s farm work, let alone keep house. She barely knew how to bake bread and refused to hang laundry. When his father died, Jake had to make himself stay home and protect his sister the best he could; they fought constantly.

He wished he could forget the day that Jenny was in a frenzy, her flawless, heart shaped face twisted into something unrecognizable. She threw her “unfit” clothes at her brother, screaming at him to provide better for her. Jake remembered thinking he only needed to leave her be. He’d never hit a girl before and was getting close to doing so. He didn’t come back for three days, and by then, Jenny had gone off to live on Thomas’s ranch.

Jake dried his hands, grabbed his gun belt and methodically headed to the store he owned in town.

*** *** ***

“Good morning Mr. Collins.”

“Did we have a good week?” Jake asked his employee as soon as he entered “The Gun Shop.” The sound of his boots scraped on the wooden floor as he came up to the counter. He set his hat down and ran a hand through his too long hair, something he did when he needed to get down to business.

“No sir, not much traffic through here and we aren’t getting our inventory until Monday.”

Jake was disappointed. “Go on and get out your pay, William.”

“Yes, sir.”

William shut the till and carefully laid out his pay onto the glass countertop above the large display of guns. Jake counted it out and signed the receipt.

He went into the exceptionally small room in the back of the store, which served as an office and proceeded to go over the books. An hour later he was done. He withdrew what surplus was left for his own earnings and headed for the bank.

“Mr. Collins!”

Jake cringed at the high pitched, nasally voice of Miss Evah. She was surely sentenced to be a spinster the rest of her days. He composed his nerves and turned around to face her. “Mornin’ Ma’am.” He forced a broad smile and tipped his hat to her.

“I haven’t seen you around. Are you hiding out in that lonely home of yours?” she asked coyly, doing something with her eyes that should constitute a flirt.

Jake took in her tall, shapeless body and her long, pointy nose and that voice....

“Where are you on your way to?” she queried.

His hands itched to smooth out the sound but any attempt would be futile unless he snatched out her vocal cords. “I’m going to the bank. You have yourself a good day.”

Before he could turn away from her, she linked her arm with his. “Me, too!”

She sure knew how to lock in on a man but he would go to blazes before he would hold hands with this woman. He undid his arm from hers, stepped back and said, “After you.”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “Of course.”

The moment Jake stepped inside the bank he felt a sudden, burning blow to the back of his head. Instant blackness overpowered him.

When he came to, Jake saw two men keeping watch at the window and front door where he’d just made his poor, untimely entrance. Another had a gun digging into the back of the bank teller. He counted four bank robbers and silently cursed at being outnumbered.

Kimberly, the saloon girl from Liam’s, stood flat against the wall, her hands gripping a sequined purse so hard her fingers were pasty white. A farmer Jake vaguely knew sat on the floor holding his wife, who was quietly sobbing.

The men’s faces were covered up to their eyes—hats were drawn down low. Jake listened to their voices for clues to their identity and came up with nothing.

“There’s someone coming this way. We don’t have any more time!” one of the thieves by the window exclaimed.

“We’re getting it all. Hurry up Teller-Man, ‘cause if
I
have to do it, it’ll be ‘cause you’re dead!” the bank robber who seemed to be in charge, goaded.

Jake lay there groggily and focused as best he could, keeping his eyes closed and listening. It was all he could do to lie still, but common sense warned him not to move, to feel the situation out a little longer. His gun had been promptly removed and again, he swore to himself.

“He’s fifteen paces away, he’s old—we can take him,” the robber at the window acknowledged.

“He might just be passing, bide your time, boy. We’re almost done.” The leader tossed the teller aside and finished shoving the rest of the cash into a bag. “Sit down on the floor behind the counter. You’re closed for the day.” He laughed as he cinched up the bag.

Whoever was walking outside loudly declared, “I think the bank’s being robbed… the bank’s being robbed. Somebody get Sheriff Randall!”

The ringleader cursed.

Within minutes Jake heard the sheriff making an announcement from outside. “Everybody stand back.”

It was then that a shot rang out from the bank—through the window, shattering glass. A woman inside screamed and another gunshot was heard.

“Blast it!” Ed exclaimed. “I’ve been shot.”

“What’s your plan? We can surround the place. I’ll gather up some men,” Seth, his deputy, offered.

“The only men you’re going to round up are Thomas Engel’s!”

Another shot rang out. For once in his life, Jake might be appreciative for Thomas and his gang. Problem was, if Jake could hear the sheriff’s plans, so could the robbers. He needed to make a move and soon. He cringed when he heard Ed order Lacey and Cameron to get off the boardwalk and out of the way. Just what they needed, to worry about their women.

Chapter Eight

Cameron was terrified but allowed Lacey to string her along to the scene of an actual bank robbery.

“Stay out of the way. I don’t think Thomas would take kindly to having you shot up along with me,” Ed ordered through gritted teeth.

“Thomas can throw himself down a well for all I care! I heard you were shot, Ed Randall!” Lacey hadn’t quite reached him yet though she carried her petite frame at an astonishing speed.

She turned to Cameron. “You better get out of sight. I’m going to tend to that sheriff of mine, fool of a man! Stop fidgeting. Go!”

Cameron disappeared out of sight, close enough to see, yet far enough away to keep from getting herself killed.

The door opened and Kimberly ran out holding up the front of her torn dress, racing madly in the direction of the sheriff. When he saw her coming he stood up, firing at the bank’s entrance until the door was slammed closed by one of the robbers.

“They were...they were...going to...but then Jake...” Kimberly stammered on, breathless.

“Jake’s in there?”

“He’s the one who stopped them from...”

The adrenaline coursing through Cameron caused her to shiver. Blessedly, Lacey sent Kimberly her way and they huddled together. It helped keep the fear at bay.

*** *** ***

Four to one. Jake had put up a fight but couldn’t overtake all of them in his muddled condition. His first choice had been to target the scum who decided to attack Kimberly.

He managed to bash the man’s head against the black iron wood stove and get in a few kicks to his ribs before he was grabbed by the others, throttled and beaten to a pulp. He lay still and quiet on the cool, wooden floor. He couldn’t see through his eyes if he wanted to. They had been pounded shut. The previous head injury had his equilibrium going for a spin. He had taken a beating, but it was to distract them from Kimberly, who had gotten away, making it worth the while.

The robbers began to complain of thirst. The man giving orders grabbed Evah and stood behind her while he kicked open the front door. “I want some food and whiskey brought to this doorstep or you’ll start digging graves.”

Once back inside, he discarded Evah to the side. “Sit down ugly woman!” he sneered.

Evah’s intake of breath was too much for Jake, and he felt a twinge of regret.

*** *** ***

Cameron and everyone else turned to the sound of horse’s hooves pounding the dry ground as riders came roaring towards the bank. A man dismounted and took cover next to the sheriff behind the water trough. He took in Cameron huddled behind a post and scowled at Ed. He crouched low, keeping an eye on the bank.

Cameron’s breath caught. It was Thomas. There was no mistaking it. He had the exact same eyes as her and their mama.

“Give me the numbers, Ed. How many cutthroat thieves are we dealing with?” He sized up Lacey. “Looking for some entertainment?”

She said something unintelligible and made her way to Cameron.

“I heard you want some food and drink?” Thomas hollered toward the bank. “It’s not gonna happen, so you might as well give up now. We don’t care who’s in there with you, you ain’t getting away with that money!”

“What are you saying?” Ed asked in disbelief.

“I’ll handle this now
Sheriff
—go back to your women!”

“I’m staying. I was here when it started, I’ll see it finished.”

“You’re not so yellow as I thought! Let’s get on with it then.” Thomas smacked the sheriff on his back and spoke as if this were an everyday adventure.

Cameron saw Ed wince from the pain caused by Thomas’s hand to his gunshot wound. She heard he was mean but never wanted to believe it.

They all turned still as stone when they heard a gunshot go off inside the bank. Thomas signaled Lance into position and Mack crept up the boardwalk to the bank’s broken window. Someone kicked at Jake’s broken body until it was out the front door. He bounced down each step until he’d landed with a final thud.

“Ya don’t care who’s in here, eh? Start yer diggin’!”

The robbers opened fire and the townspeople who had gathered scattered in all directions, dodging bullets.

Thomas and his men fired back. When the firing ceased, the only sound heard was Cameron weeping. Thomas held up one hand and waited. She threw herself into Lacey’s arms. “Jake’s dead, Jake’s dead!” she sobbed into Lacey’s bony shoulder before looking again at Jake’s lifeless body.

“It’s time to end this annoyance.” Thomas glared at Cameron before lifting his fingers. One, two, three. Mack turned towards the window and fired a shotgun. Jesse aimed, and with great accuracy, shot through the other.