Outlaw Hearts

by Rosanne Bittner

  “I should have done it, Outlaw,” he said then, thinking what a useless life he had led. He could have done one good thing for once and taken Miranda Hayes to Nevada like she asked.

  Maybe he still could. He could go back and see if she had left yet. If she had, even though he would risk being seen and identified, he could go to Independence and see if he could find out who she had ended up traveling with, which route she had taken. It was dangerous for him to go to any town in Kansas or Missouri, but since when had danger bothered him any? He only knew he could not go on like this, wondering, feeling that it would be his fault if anything happened to the woman. Maybe she was still in Independence looking for a guide. Was there still time to catch up with her?

  Hell, he thought, the sun would be up soon. There was no time like the present to change his mind. He took the coffeepot from where he had set it beside the fire and set it over the coals, opening the lid and pouring some water into it from a canteen. He added a few crushed coffee beans, then set a fry pan on the coals, getting some bacon from his supplies and slapping some into the pan. He had sliced the bacon from a side of ham a farmer had hanging near his smokehouse, a few miles back. Jake had stopped and asked for some of the meat, paid for it, even got the man to pack it in lard for him so it wouldn’t spoil. There was a time when he might have just held a gun on the man and demanded all the food he wanted, but since spending those few days with Randy, such notions didn’t seem right anymore. He grinned at how she would have reacted if he had stolen the meat.

  That’s not why I saved your life, Jake Harkner, so you could go back to stealing from other people. He could just hear the words, and he knew that something had changed inside him since knowing Randy, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what felt different.

  “Might as well eat an early breakfast, boy,” he told Outlaw. “We’re heading out, see if we can find that Mrs. Hayes and still help her get to Nevada. I just hope I don’t get recognized. Maybe it’s like Randy said. Maybe if I leave these guns off in town and stay cleaned up and shaved and smile like an ordinary happy man, I won’t get caught. It’s pretty bad when you have to shave off a beard to disguise yourself.”

  Lord, he suddenly felt good inside, better than he had felt in a long time. It didn’t matter if Miranda didn’t need his help anymore. He knew somewhere deep inside that he wasn’t even doing this just to act as a guide or to repay her for helping him. He was doing it because he couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing Miranda Hayes again. Something felt unfinished, and he knew that whatever it was, it would stay unfinished if he didn’t find Randy.

  ***

  Miranda followed the Reverend Wilbur Jennings to the docks on the banks of the Missouri River. The little gathering of travelers was made up of Jennings’s wife and children, two brothers, his father, a nephew, a brother-in-law, and a friend, all headed for Miranda’s own destination—Virginia City, Nevada.

  Upon arriving in Independence, Miranda had been directed to a local Presbyterian church, where “good, Christian people” gathered who wanted to travel together to points west. The minister there, a Reverend Harold Bishop, had told Miranda about his fellow Presbyterian minister, Wilbur Jennings, from Missouri, who was headed with his family to the “wild silver town” of Virginia City to “bring Christ to its wayward, sinful citizens.”

  “The town is growing,” Reverend Bishop had told her. “We have received letters from a former church member who went there to preach the word, and he tells us there is a great need there for missionaries and the like, people who can build a church and bring some order and civilization to what he calls ‘Hell on Earth.’ The Reverend Jennings has volunteered to take his entire family there and see what he can do about the sin and corruption that abound there.”

  What better kind of people to travel with than dedicated Christians led by a minister, Miranda thought. Reverend Bishop agreed with her before she could voice the words. “Not many heading for Nevada these days but prospectors and drifters,” the reverend had warned her, “single men looking for gold or silver or the profits to be made from miners needing supplies or a night of drinking and women. And the only women heading there are the kind with whom a decent woman should never be seen, painted women who welcome single men into their dens of iniquity.”

  Bishop had invited Miranda to meet the Reverend Jennings and his family at a church potluck being held just two days after she’d arrived in Independence via a short train ride from Kansas City. Church members had found various ways to raise money to sponsor the trip, and Miranda was welcome to go along so that Reverend Jennings’s wife would have a woman companion. They were also pleased that Miranda had a background in medicine that could be of help to them on the way, as well as in Virginia City.

  The fact that Miranda had bravely shot the notorious outlaw Jake Harkner made her even more welcome. The citizens of Kansas City had made an embarrassing fuss over that fact once more before she left, throwing her a huge farewell party and saying she would be one of their most famous citizens. “You’ll go down in the history books,” one man told her, “especially once Harkner’s body is found.” Again a feeling of traitorousness had plagued Miranda as she accepted everyone’s best wishes, gifts of quilts and food for her journey, and even money that had been collected for her.

  The news about the shooting had traveled to the Independence newspapers, and someone at the church where she had been directed recognized her name. Again she became a celebrity, and the Reverend Bishop had given a sermon about how sometimes God’s children are forced into violence. “Perhaps it was God’s hand that directed Mrs. Hayes that day, ridding Kansas and Missouri of a man who was a plague to society.”

  Miranda’s heart only ached at the very words Jake would probably use on himself, words she felt now were so unfair. What did these people know about how or why a man turned out the way he did? A few weeks ago she would have been as quick to judge as they were, but no longer. Her only secret redemption was the fact that she had been able to help the very man whose possible death these people were celebrating.

  She was glad that finally it was time to head for Nevada. There would be no more probing questions, no more praise for her bravery; she wouldn’t have to talk about Jake Harkner anymore after today, bear the guilt of not telling these well-intentioned people the truth, that because of her, Jake Harkner was alive and well, or at least she hoped that he was. She had told the Jenningses that she would rather put the whole incident behind her. Once they left Independence, it was to be forgotten; and they all wisely agreed that it was best no one in Nevada heard about her exploits. Virginia City was not a town where a proper and available young lady wanted any extra attention drawn to her.

  Miranda watched the steamboat that would take them upriver to Omaha, where she and the Jennings family would all depart by wagon to travel the Oregon Trail west. She remembered the trip she had taken with her father and brother across Missouri by steamboat over four years ago, when they first came to Kansas from Illinois. It was strange how people could move in and out of one’s life, could be so important, like Mack and her father, and then be taken away again. She wondered if that was how it would always be for her. Maybe she would never find Wesley. Maybe she would always be alone. Strangely, she had not thought so much about loneliness until Jake had left. Why had his departure left this unwarranted void in her soul?

  The Jennings family all greeted her pleasantly, although there was an aloofness about them that left Miranda feeling like an outsider. It irritated her a little that they seemed to pity her “poor, lost brother,” and were already sure his soul needed redemption after living with other “wayward men” in a “town of sin.” They did seem to admire her own courage in going to find him, and Miranda felt embarrassed sometimes over the way they fussed over her because she was the woman who had bravely faced the outlaw Jake Harkner. She didn’t want to be fussed over and she didn’t feel brave at all. She had shot
Jake out of pure defensive reflex, and she was going to find Wes because she was just plain lonely, desperate to find what was left of her family and her identity.

  When she thought about the stories she had heard about Indian trouble everywhere out west, she felt even less brave; but she was determined to do this. There was no turning back now. She could only hope that the Jennings clan would be able to take care of themselves along the way. She was grateful that even though they thought him an “un-Christian, wayward man,” they had hired a guide for the journey, a trader named Hap Dearing, who had been to Nevada twice and was making another trip with supplies and four other men who appeared to Miranda to know how to use the rifles they carried.

  The Reverend Jennings helped his brothers carry more gear onto the steamboat, and Miranda thought how much safer she would feel if she could have made this trip with Jake. How odd that she would have been less afraid with one man than with this big family and Hap Dearing and his men.

  Her thoughts whirled as she thought about the dangerous trip she was preparing to make. The day she left the farm and her father’s grave had been one of the saddest she could remember. She had become a woman there, had loved and lost so much. But what hurt the most now was the memory of those last few days when Jake was there. Had it been fate, was it somehow “meant to be,” that she should shoot the man and then find him lying in her own house and save his life? She couldn’t help thinking there had to be a reason for all of it.

  The entire Jennings family was gathered at the docks now, all eleven of them, as well as their close friend, Adam Hummer, a single man who at thirty-eight was going to Nevada to farm food he intended to supply to miners, grocery stores, and restaurant owners. Hummer smiled and nodded to Miranda, and Reverend Jennings’s wife, Opal, who was thirty-two, put an arm around her waist and welcomed her. The woman was quickly surrounded by her fourteen-year-old daughter, Loretta; her two sons, Chester, eleven, and David, eight; and her baby daughter, Sara, only three. Sara clung to her mother’s skirts while Reverend Jennings came back off the boat and urged the family to form a circle for prayer before starting their journey.

  Included in the clan were the reverend’s two brothers, John, twenty-eight, and Bernard, twenty-seven, both single men who were also going into the ministry. The reverend’s father, Clemson, who Miranda worried was too old for the journey, was also going along, since his wife was dead and he wanted to be with his sons. Also going with them was a nephew, Clarence, only eighteen, and the only family member Miranda did not care for. He seemed always to be staring at her, always stood closer than necessary when talking to her. Even now, Clarence was the one who pushed his way beside her so that it was his hand she had to hold while they prayed. James Gaylord, Clarence’s father and the reverend’s brother-in-law, was also coming along. Clarence’s mother, who was the reverend’s sister, had died several years earlier in childbirth.

  As they prayed together on the docks, Miranda thought how all the Jennings family looked alike: tall, lanky men, the older ones with nearly bald heads, the younger ones with hair so thin it was obvious they, too, would lose their hair at a younger age than most men. What hair they all did have was blond, and all but John Jennings had blue eyes.

  The brother-in-law, James, and the friend Adam Hummer were the only ones who looked different from the rest. James was a short, stocky man with thick, graying hair and bags under his eyes even when he was rested; Hummer was tall but much more rotund than the Jenningses, with dark, wavy hair. They all dressed in plain black suits with plain black hats and knee-length black boots, and the reverend nearly always carried a Bible.

  Miranda was not completely comfortable with these people, but they seemed to her to be the best of the few choices she had. At least they seemed trustworthy, people of moral character and a Christian background. She decided she would simply avoid Clarence as much as possible.

  The reverend finished his prayer, and Miranda struggled against a feeling of sudden panic and regret. She reasoned she could still change her mind, but a stubbornness had set in now, a determination that would not let her give up. She reminded herself that there was nothing left for her here but sad memories. She had taken all her personal possessions, sold most of her furniture. All she had with her now was her trunk, with its quilts and towels, a few dishes, and her clothes. Her father’s Winchester was in the trunk, her trusty little derringer in her handbag. She had not forgotten Jake’s warning that she keep both guns handy. Once they left Omaha by wagon, she would carry the Winchester in the wagon where it would be easy to get hold of.

  Jake. It seemed her thoughts always came back to him, and she knew now that she had been hopelessly, foolishly falling in love with the man, and she had a feeling he knew it. That was why he had left before he was really ready to travel. She prayed he was all right, felt guilty for being partly responsible for his leaving too soon.

  She boarded the riverboat with the Jennings clan, her thoughts on an outlaw. She actually smiled at imagining the reaction of this family if she told them what she had done the last few days before leaving Kansas City. She could not help thinking how she might actually have enjoyed this trip if she could have gone with Jake. She felt desperately alone, in spite of the company and kindness of the Jennings family. Their friendship was not the same as what she had felt with Jake, in spite of his attempts at making her think he was not worth her time.

  The steamboat gave off two long whistles from its stack as it drifted away from the dock and the huge paddle wheels at either side began churning through the water. Again Miranda felt the tears wanting to come as the sight of Independence gradually disappeared when the steamboat made its way around a bend.

  “Got an exciting trip ahead of us, don’t we?”

  Miranda felt a hand against her back in a too-familiar gesture. She turned to see Clarence Jennings standing beside her, his blue eyes sparkling with eager youth. His gaze dropped to her breasts for a moment, and he rubbed her back lightly. “Don’t you be worried, Mrs. Hayes. My uncles and I will look after you.”

  Miranda moved away, feeling a chill at his touch. “You look after yourself and your father, Clarence. I can take care of myself.”

  The young man shrugged, looking her over again. “Must be hard, being a widow, alone and all. I just wanted you to know we care.” He grinned at her. “Anything you need, you just let me know.”

  Miranda did not miss the suggestive tone of his remark. “If there is anything I need, I will talk to your aunt or your uncle,” she answered. “Right now I would like to be alone.”

  His smile faded, and Miranda was surprised at the hostile look that came into his eyes. He nodded to her. “Whatever you want, ma’am. Once we head out by wagon across Nebraska, you won’t get much chance to be alone then, will you? We’ll all be herded together like the Lord’s sheep.”

  He gave her a wink and left, and Miranda shivered. She pulled her shawl closer, and the sickening feeling that she had made the wrong choice after all returned to plague her; but her determination to find her brother was stronger. She set her lips tight, gritting her teeth and telling herself she could do this. If Clarence Jennings tried to give her any trouble, she would quickly put him in his place. The steamer gave off another lonely sounding whistle, and she turned to go and find Opal Jennings. Thank goodness there was another woman along.

  She turned away from the sight of things left behind. She must not think about Mack or her father, or the lonely little cabin at the farm, the grave behind it. And she must not think about Jake Harkner. All those things were in her past now. She had to be strong, think about the future, finding Wes. She had told everyone she could do this, that she could take care of herself. Now she had to prove she was right.

  Seven

  Jake tipped his hat and nodded politely to an elderly woman who was stepping off a boardwalk to cross the street. “Morning, ma’am,” he told her, giving her his best smile. He hoped Miranda
was right when she said he looked very different when he was clean and shaved and smiling.

  “Good morning, sir,” the woman replied, responding to his smile with one of her own. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” What the hell had gotten into him, risking his neck like this, sweet-talking an old lady, all to find a woman who probably would rather he didn’t show up in her life again now that he was out of it. “I’m wondering if you might tell me where a man could go to find out about others traveling west. I figure most come here to Independence first. I’m looking for someone who would have needed to find decent, Christian traveling companions. Where might she have gone for that kind of help?”

  The old woman squinted at the sun that was at Jake’s back and eyed his horses and gear. Jake had purchased an extra horse from a farmer, loading part of his gear onto it so he could hide his rifles under blankets and keep them from being noticed. Besides that, he needed the packhorse for the extra supplies he had gathered for his journey. His revolvers were also put away, and he felt naked as a jaybird without them, but he wanted to look like a common traveler, and he knew Miranda was right about that too. He couldn’t expect to go unnoticed when he wore two six-guns and packed a Winchester and a shotgun besides. Once he got out of civilized areas like this, he decided he would at least carry his revolvers again. Being without them made him too damn nervous.

  “Well, sir, if a person is looking to find good, Christian folks to travel with, they would surely see the Reverend Bishop at the Presbyterian church just up the street,” the old lady was telling him. “He helps good people find traveling companions. Otherwise, the person you’re looking for might have just gone to the docks along the river and asked around, or north of town there’s a big area where people with wagons gather. Some start right out from there by wagon, others with a little more money take the steamboats up to Omaha first.”