Outlaw Hearts (55 page)

You
can
blow
a
man
in
half
with
that
, he had told her when helping her learn to load and shoot the shotgun. When it came to using guns, and to being the kind of man it took to face up to other men in these parts, part of him had reverted to the old, hard Jake.
You
never
hesitate
, he had warned.
You
never
feel
sorry
for
the
man
you're shooting at, because he won't be feeling sorry for you. One second's hesitation, and he'll shoot first. You remember that. How in hell do you think I've stayed alive all these
years?

He had practiced himself, discovering that just as the judge had suggested, the old speed and accuracy were still there once he got rid of the “rust” of several years without holding a gun. He had amazed Brian and Evie with his target practice, drawing and shooting his handgun left-handed with speed and perfection, grabbing up the magazine rifle and getting off another round of bullets with astounding speed, hitting every single target Brian had set up for him. He was able to fire the rifle and the shotgun with his right hand, although it made his hand ache fiercely. Brian had fashioned a brace for the hand that helped the pain considerably.

They were well armed now, and with Jake along, Miranda did not worry about the kind of people they would face here. Jake knew them well, and he could handle them; but as long as they were in such dangerous territory, she knew he would not be the same man. He was Jake Harkner the outlaw now. He would think like these men, act and react as they would. Part of the old Jake had reared up and come into action, and she would have to live with that side of him until this was over.

He motioned for her to ride up beside him, and she rode Lady to the edge of a canyon, seeing below what looked like some kind of settlement. “Brown's Park,” Jake told her. “They even have a school. A few of the outlaws are married, mostly to ex-prostitutes. There is just about everything down there that any town has, except a jail. There is only one law in places like that: whoever has the fastest gun sets the rules. You ready?”

“Yes. This is the last place that prisoner saw Lloyd. It's all we have to go on.”

Jake led her down a steep, winding path that trailed down the side of the canyon wall in a precipitous grade that made Miranda worry about the horses losing their footing. Tiny rocks scattered and tumbled before them as the horses made their way precariously on loose gravel, and she breathed a sigh of relief when an hour later they reached bottom. They moved through a cluster of juniper and wound through some brushy overgrowth and toward two huge red-rock formations.

“Hold it!” someone called out. They both looked up to see a man appear at the top of one of the rocks. “Who the hell is it?”

Jake rested his hand on his revolver. “Jake Harkner! I've come to find my son. Last word was he was here at Brown's Park.”

The man lowered his rifle. “Harkner? I thought you were in prison.”

“Not anymore. I'm coming through. Don't give me any trouble.”

The man waved him on, and Jake and Miranda rode into an excuse of a town that was nothing more than a collection of rough cabins and stores. “At least we can get a few supplies,” Jake told her, “although most of them were probably stolen from someone else.” He rode up to a little building that read
Saloon
. “Best place to get information,” he told her. “You keep that pistol handy.” He dismounted and walked back to her horse, taking its reins and tying it. He grinned inwardly at the sight of the small holster Miranda wore at her right side. It carried the deadly pistol he had taught her to shoot. On her horse she carried his old lever-action Winchester, still a damn good gun.

Miranda dismounted. She wore a brown suede riding skirt and a yellow blouse, and Jake took pleasure in how good she still looked; but it also made him extra watchful. Not many decent women who looked like Miranda came to places like this. Her honey-blond hair was pulled back into a tail at the back of her neck, and she wore a wide-brimmed, brown leather hat.

“Don't pay too much attention to anything you see or hear,” he told her. “Some of these men don't care what they say or how they behave in front of anyone. I wouldn't even take you inside, but I don't want to leave you
out
side alone, either.”

Miranda followed him into the smoky log structure. It was late afternoon, and there were roughly twelve men there, eight of them sitting at card tables, three more at the bar, a bartender pouring one of them a whiskey. None of them was Lloyd. Twelve pairs of eyes moved to Miranda.

“Well, well, what we got here?” one of those at the table said with a grin. “My God, she packs a pistol even!”

Several of them laughed. “She knows how to use it too,” Jake spoke up, moving to the bar. Miranda sat down on a stool.

“Yeah? Who taught her?” a man at the bar asked.

“Jake Harkner,” Jake replied.

Most of them lost their smiles. “Harkner?” The man at the bar looked Jake over. “You Jake Harkner?”

Jake took a thin cigar from his vest pocket. “I am.” He lit the cigar, watching them all carefully. “The woman is my wife, so quit ogling her.”

Several quickly turned away and returned to their card playing. “We heard you was in prison,” the man at the bar told Jake.

“I've been set free, and I'm looking for my son Lloyd. I heard he'd been here, shot a couple of men. Any of you know about it, know where he might be?”

A man at one of the tables looked up at him. “He
might
be dead by now,” he told him.

Miranda gasped, and Jake slowly took the cigar from his mouth. He looked at the bartender. “Pour me a whiskey.” His voice was gruff, and Miranda knew the statement had hit him hard. The bartender poured him a shot, and Jake quickly gulped it, then turned. “You want to explain that remark?” he asked the man at the table. “What's your name?”

The man had a hard, mean look to him, his beard full-growth, his dark hair oily and unkempt. He was not tall, but his brawny, heavyset build gave off an aura of strength. “Name's Mark Whitney,” he answered, his steely blue eyes meeting Jake's boldly.

Jake moved closer to the man. “What do you know about my son?”

“I know the kid drank a lot. When he drank he did and said stupid things.” The man spit toward a brass pot and missed. “I know he shot four men, two a while back, two more just recently. Them two was part of Jube Latimer's bunch. Latimer is a pretty big man in these parts, has a gang of at least ten men, sometimes more. He came ridin' in here a few days later, didn't much like hearin' about your son killin' two of his men, or the fact that the boy took their horses after he shot them.” He bit off another chunk of chewing tobacco and stuck it between his cheek and gum. “I ain't seen the kid or Jubal and his bunch since.” He looked Jake over. “The kid is good with them guns, I'll say that, but I expect you're better. Trouble is, ol' Jube wouldn't be impressed by that. Ain't many who'd dare go after the son of Jake Harkner, but Jubal would. He's got a lot of firepower. He wouldn't be afraid of just one man.”

“Well, maybe the right one just hasn't come along yet,” Jake fumed. “You must have some idea where Lloyd went, where this Jube Latimer and his men went.”

Whitney shrugged. “Who knows out here?” He drank down some whiskey and spit again. “'Course, money talks and bullshit walks.”

Jake kept the cigar between his teeth. “There are more things than money that can make a man talk.”

Whitney's eyes dropped to Jake's revolver. “I expect so, but I'm one man who knows where Jubal and his bunch generally spend most of their time when they're not out on a job. I'll tell you for free it's up by Hole-in-the-Wall in the Wind River range, but it'll cost you a hundred dollars if you want me to lead you right to it. Just don't expect me to go in with you, not against that bunch. First off, you'd have to go up to Hole-in-the-Wall and see if your son's been seen up there.”

“You crazy, Mark?” one of the others spoke up. “You shouldn't oughta be showin' nobody how to find Latimer, especially not Jake Harkner. Latimer will kill you if he finds out.”

Whitney glanced at Miranda. “Maybe.”

Jake startled everyone then when he grabbed Whitney by the lapels and jerked him out of his chair, throwing him against the bar with remarkable force, considering Whitney's bulk. Men scrambled for cover when in an instant Jake's revolver was pressed under Whitney's chin. Miranda jumped down from her stool and moved back.

“How fucking stupid do you think I am, Whitney?” Jake growled. “If you know where to find Latimer, then you used to
ride
with him! And if you used to ride with him, you're not about to turn on him! You'll lead me to him, all right, so Latimer can have the pleasure of being the one to say he killed Jake Harkner and took his
woman
!”

The revolver slammed across the side of Whitney's face, cutting into the man's cheek and sending him sprawling with a howl. He hit the floor hard and lay still. Jake holstered his revolver and turned to Miranda. “Come on. We're heading north to the Wind River range. Maybe somebody up there has seen Lloyd.” He started to lead her out when he heard a click. In an instant Jake whirled, his gun out and fired before Whitney, who had already drawn his, could even pull the trigger. Jake opened a hole in the man's head, and Whitney just stared at him a moment, then slumped into death.

Miranda let out a little groan and turned from the sight. Jake held his revolver on the others. “Anybody else?”

“No, sir,” they answered almost in unison, all of them stepping back. A prostitute came out from a back room, stark naked, and screamed at the sight of Whitney's body lying on the floor and Jake standing there with a gun in his hand. She ran back inside and slammed the door.

“Go mount up, Randy!” Jake ordered.

She quickly ran out of the smoky, smelly little establishment, glad for the fresh air. Jake soon followed, untying his horse and swiftly climbing into the saddle. “Let's go. We can make a few miles yet before nightfall.”

Miranda did not question his judgment. She followed, wondering for the first several yards if she would feel a bullet in her back, but when she looked behind her, no one had even dared exit the saloon for fear of being shot. She shivered. From Whitney's brief description, Jubal Latimer sounded like one of the worst, and he rode with a lot of men. Not only had Lloyd killed two of them, but now Jake had killed another. Her ears still hurt from the explosion of his powerful revolver.

Was it true that Jubal Latimer was after Lloyd? Whitney was probably right. Lloyd could already be dead. She knew Jake was thinking the same thing, knew that was why he had so quickly lost his temper with Whitney. If they had come this far and found Lloyd dead, Jake's new freedom would mean nothing.

***

The night sky was filled with millions of stars, and wolves howled from seemingly every direction in the surrounding mountains. Miranda thought how frightening it would be in these mountains, if not for Jake. Not only did wild animals lurk beyond the light of their campfire, but wild men. She buttoned the top button of her wolf-skin jacket. The nights were cold in the mountains, even in early summer.

She glanced across the flickering flames at Jake, who had said barely a word since leaving Brown's Park. He was quietly smoking, watching the fire, holding a cup of stiff, black coffee in his hands. As though aware she was watching him, he glanced at her.

“I'm sorry about the things you saw and heard today.” He looked back at the flames. “I didn't really figure on having to shoot anyone. I guess I went a little crazy when that sonofabitch said Lloyd could be dead, blurting it out like that as though he was talking about some stranger.”

“You had to shoot him, Jake. He was going to kill you.”

He took the cigarette from his mouth and drank some of the coffee. “He wouldn't have tried if I hadn't hit him.” He put the cigarette back between his lips. “I just wonder if it's true that Jube Latimer could be after Lloyd. I know what it's like to be hunted by outlaws. It's a lot worse than having lawmen after you. Lawmen have to treat you civilly once they catch you. Outlaws live by a different code. If it's true, this Latimer might take his time killing him…” His voice trailed off and he rose, tossing down the coffee cup. “Damn it! It will take us a week or more to reach Hole-in-the-Wall. What if he really is in trouble?”

“Jake, you've got to get help if Latimer rides with that many men.”

“Three of them are dead now.”

“And he's probably already replaced the two Lloyd shot. You told me once yourself that men like Bill Kennedy pick up followers here and there, that their numbers are always about the same. Latimer probably isn't much different.”

He took the cigarette from his mouth, squinting at her with dark, brooding eyes. “And here you are caught in the middle of all of it. I don't like any of this. I shouldn't have let you come.”

Wolves began their wailing again, this time sounding closer. Miranda sighed. “Well, I'm here, and there certainly isn't anyplace out here you can leave me. You didn't teach me to shoot for nothing, and if it's possible Lloyd could be hurt, I wouldn't stay behind even if you
could
find a place for me to stay. I'll help all I can, Jake. I won't get in the way.”

“I'm not worried about that. I'm worried about what could happen to you if I go down this time.”

A sick feeling moved through her. She had never heard him talk about “going down.” It hit her then how serious this could be. He knew the kind of men he might be going up against much better than she. The vision of seeing him shot to pieces sent a chill down her spine. She could lose her husband and her son both.