She looked toward the doorway again. No, she would not leave Jake Harkner. For the first thirty years of his life he had known only loneliness and desertion. She would not allow him to know those things again, and she could not bring herself to turn to Jess, as Jake had hinted she should do. Jess had remained in Laramie, worked at the stockyards in order to stay close to her and Evie. They were good friends, and she knew Jess would like their relationship to be much more than that. There were times when she had turned to Jess, only because she needed so badly to let out her grief and let someone else be the strong one. In those times he had only held her, and sometimes she felt torn between two different loves; the deep, passionate, determined love she felt for her Jake; and the gentle, abiding friendship she had with Jess, something that in another time and situation could have been much more. Jake Harkner still owned her heart. It would always be Jake, whether they could be together or not.
She rose from the bench and paced, worried about getting back in time to help Mrs. Rose at the boardinghouse with supper. Besides working for Brian Stewart, she had taken part-time jobs cleaning and cooking for the woman, in return for rooms for her and Evie, which helped keep down expenses. She also helped teach at Laramie’s little schoolhouse. She did everything she could to stay busy, so busy that she didn’t have time to think about the past and everything she had lost, no time to think about how much she needed her husband beside her, no time to think about poor Jake rotting away in that tiny cell, dying not just from malnutrition and lack of exercise, but from a broken heart over what this had done to Lloyd.
She wished that for once she had news for Jake about their son, but for three years she had heard not one word. She had promised to look for him, but she didn’t know where to begin. She had placed ads in newspapers all over the country, asking Lloyd to please get in touch with her. She had spent money on a private detective, who had come up with nothing. Jess had searched the Outlaw Trail a year ago, thinking the boy might decide to turn to men like those his father used to run with, but he had turned up nothing.
If only Lloyd would return, come and see his father, tell him he forgave him, loved him, Jake might survive this horror. It was not knowing what had happened to Lloyd that was killing him more surely than anything else, and worry over the boy was taking its toll on her own emotional health.
Finally Jake emerged from the prison entrance, four armed guards accompanying him. He limped toward her, the pain in his hip made worse by long hours in a damp cell with no exercise. She forced a smile as he came closer, and she rose from the bench to embrace him, but he just looked at her with that hopelessness in his eyes and sat down wearily on the bench.
“Why do you keep doing this, Randy?”
She sat down beside him, touching his arm. “Because you’re my husband and I love you, and I need to keep seeing that you’re all right.” It pained her to see how much he looked like the old posters now. He had a full beard, didn’t bother to shave anymore. His hair hung to his shoulders again, and the only difference between the way he looked now and when she’d first met him were the lines about his eyes, the hint of gray in his hair. “I don’t want us to be complete strangers when you get out of here,” she added.
He rubbed at his eyes. “What difference does it make? I’m not going to be around five years from now and you know it.” He moved his hand to run it through his hair self-consciously. “I hate you seeing me like this. I wish to hell you’d give up. The next time you come, I’m not coming out, so don’t even bother. This is all too damn hard on you.”
“I’ll decide what I can handle, Jake. Love doesn’t go away just because things go wrong. This would all be much worse for me if I couldn’t see you. Don’t begrudge me the only bit of pleasure I have left.”
He looked at her with the dark eyes of the old Jake, angry, full of hate for himself. “Pleasure! You call this pleasure?”
She watched his eyes, knew he was trying to discourage her. “Don’t look at me that way, Jake. I know what’s going on inside you, so don’t pretend with me.” The words were spoken almost as a command. “You say you don’t want me here, but if I didn’t show up for next month’s visit, you’d die just a little more inside.” She turned to a basket that sat on the ground. “I brought you some decent food. I’m afraid it’s been fingered over by those damn guards. They always think I’m going to sneak a weapon in to you.”
She opened the basket and took out a plate, then opened the lid of a pan inside the basket and took out two pieces of fried chicken. “Eat this,” she said, turning and handing him the plate. “I have pie too—apple, your favorite. And my homemade bread that you love so much.”
He took the plate of chicken and stared at it a moment, wishing he had an appetite. “Have you heard from him?”
Her smile faded. “No,” she answered softly. “I’ve tried everything, Jake. It’s like he vanished off the face of the earth.”
He set the plate aside, putting his head in his hands. “He could be dead. Maybe he got himself into trouble, got himself shot someplace where nobody knew who he was. Maybe he died all alone.”
She put a hand on his shoulder. “Stop torturing yourself, Jake. I am not going to lose faith that Lloyd will come back to us someday soon. He’s alive and well. I know it in my heart.”
She felt him shiver. “I can’t stand it, Randy, not knowing. He’s been haunting my dreams lately. What have I done to my son?”
She rubbed his back, resting her head on his shoulder. “Jake, the Bible says that if you raise your son right in his early years, even if he strays from you, he will always come back. He will remember the good things he was taught, the love he knew, and that will sustain him when he becomes a man. It will guide him through the bad times, and he will eventually follow the teachings of his youth.” She kissed his cheek. “You taught him well, Jake. You loved him as much as is possible for a father to love his son. He’s going to remember that. He’s going to realize that no matter what your past was, and no matter what is happening now, he had the best father a boy could have.” She began stroking his hair. “I’ll keep trying to find him, Jake; but you have to help me through this by giving me a little less to worry about. You can do that by having more faith in the love you and Lloyd shared, more faith in the goodness deep in Lloyd’s heart; and by taking better care of yourself. Please eat something. It frightens me to see you this way.”
He threw his head back and breathed deeply, wiping at tears on his cheeks. “How is Evie?”
“She’s fine, and in love. I expect Brian Stewart to ask for her hand in marriage any time.”
He picked up the plate of chicken and set it on one knee, but still he did not eat any. “You sure he can be trusted to be good to her? You sure he respects her, being the daughter of an outlaw and all?”
Miranda could not help a smile. “Jake, young women like Evie command respect no matter what their situation. A man can’t help but see the goodness in her. She’s sweet and intelligent, loving and beautiful.” She reached into the basket to take out a loaf of bread. “She prays for you every day, Jake. You have to try to get through this, because Lloyd is going to come home, and both of them will want to see you free again. We can and will be a family again, Jake. All you have to do is hang on and take as good care of yourself as possible in this place.”
He set the plate aside again, the chicken still untouched, and turned to face her. His eyes were bloodshot and watery, and they showed a look of near shock and disbelief when he met her own eyes. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
She set the bread in her lap. “Of course I believe it. I’ve told you so every month since they sent you here. What do you think keeps me going?”
He shook his head as though he was looking at something startling and wonderful. “I don’t know. I honest-to-God don’t know how you do it, or why.”
She touched his hand. “Wouldn’t you do the same if t
he tables were turned? When will you ever understand how much I love you, or that anyone could love you enough never to leave you no matter how bad things get?”
“But I know you’re out there alone, working to support you and Evie, crying at night alone over Lloyd, no one to hold you, comfort you…” He turned away. “What about Jess? Is he still watching after you?”
How could she tell him Jess had not been well? It would only make him worry more. “He’s still working at the stockyards. He visits once or twice a week to see how Evie and I are doing, and he asks every new stranger in town if they’ve ever heard of or seen Lloyd. He’s a wonderful comfort and support.”
He looked at her again, taking her hand. “You know how I feel about him, Randy. Sometimes a woman just needs the strength she can get from a man holding her in the night. I’d understand, if…” He took his hand away. “Hell, I’m not getting out of this place alive, so don’t waste yourself. You’re still beautiful and—”
“You are getting out of here! I don’t need any man but you, Jake Harkner! I love Jess, as a friend. He’s been wonderful to me and Evie both. I couldn’t have gotten through those first months of moving up here from Colorado and waiting for you to be sent out here without him; but there can’t be anything more between us, no matter how much he might want it, or how sincere you are in saying you would understand. I don’t want to hear any more about it, Jake.”
Did he sense she had weakened once since last she was here? It had been for just a moment, late one evening after Jess had visited and Evie had left with Dr. Stewart to go for a moonlight walk. She had been so tired that night, had let her faith and hope weaken, was depressed over Lloyd. Sometimes it was just impossible to hold it all in and put on a show of courage. She had broken down and wept bitterly, and Jess had held her for the longest time. He had begun kissing her hair, her eyes, finally her mouth. It was just like Jake had said…it had felt so good to give it all over to someone else, to pull strength from his still-virile demeanor, to let his strong arms enfold her and shore her up.
Jess had wanted more, knew she didn’t love him, but was willing to accept that, willing to just take Jake’s place for a while if that’s all there could be to it. He was willing to make love to her and risk the hurt of saying good-bye again once Jake was free, but she could not do that to Jess, or to herself or Jake. They had come so close, but she had made him leave. Truth was, he had not been back to see her since. That was almost two weeks ago. She understood and she ached for Jess, wished she could return his love, wished he had long ago found some other woman so she wouldn’t feel this guilt for not being able to love him the way he deserved to be loved. Now he was sick with a bad cough. Brian had told her Jess had been to see him, that he suspected the man had lung cancer. Jess! Poor, sweet Jess! And how could she tell Jake that awful news? She could only pray for now that Brian was wrong.
She looked down at the bread and broke off a piece. “Please eat something, Jake.”
She handed out the bread, and he caught her wrist. “Something happened, didn’t it?”
She kept staring at the bread. “No.”
“Randy, it’s been over three years, and five to go. It’s all right.”
She shook her head. “It’s not all right, not in my heart.” She met his eyes, her own misty. “You’re the only man I love or want, Jake. If you really love me as much as you say, you’ll stop talking like you’re not getting out of here, and you’ll stop trying to push me into some other man’s arms. My place is beside you.” She put a hand to his face. “Jake, you’re letting your father win this fight. You’re going back to being the man who thought he was no good, that he wasn’t worth being loved. You’re giving up, Jake, behaving like the little boy who would curl up in a corner after his father beat him and think maybe he deserved it. You didn’t deserve it then, and you don’t deserve it now. The strength I need isn’t going to come from some other man. It comes from these visits, but then only when I see hope and determination in your eyes; only when I know you’re going to fight to survive this and come back to me! You’re giving up, and that’s what shatters me. You fought so long and so hard to bring yourself up from the horrors of your past. You became a strong, determined man, a loving father and husband, and you released the goodness in your soul. And you smiled! You have the most wonderful smile, Jake, and someday you will smile again.”
He studied her lovingly, wanting her so. “My God,” he said in a near whisper. “I never should have ridden back into your life.”
She smiled through tears. “Oh, but just think if you hadn’t. For one thing, I probably would have died. For another, we never would have had all those years of happiness. You never would have found out what it was like to love and be loved, and you never would have had the chance to be a father and make up for all the things you missed as a child. Evie has already forgiven your past, and she understands, Jake. It will be the same for Lloyd. He just needs more time. You and Lloyd were so much closer, and a father and son share a different kind of relationship and trust. He’ll come to realize you kept your past from him because you loved him so much.” She squeezed his hand. “We are going to be a family again, Jake. You’ll see. Haven’t I been right about everything else? Didn’t I say we were meant to be, and that you could lead a normal life, and you’d love being a father? Wasn’t I right about those things?”
“Time’s up, Mrs. Harkner,” one of the guards told her.
She saw the tiny glimmer of hope in Jake’s eyes quickly vanish at the words. “You think about what I’ve said, Jake. My strength comes from your own hope and faith.”
She kissed his cheek, and he breathed in the sweet scent of her, ached for her. Five more years was such a long time. Hell, even if he lived, he’d hardly be able to walk by then. What kind of man would she have coming home to her? A near cripple. His hip was getting worse, and his right hand had healed so poorly he doubted he had the strength in his fingers to pull a trigger. What kind of work could he do? How could she keep hoping like she did, keep talking like five years was just two weeks away?
“Take care of yourself,” he told her, kissing her forehead in return. How he wanted to kiss her mouth, but that would be torture.
“Take the basket, Jake.” She put the bread back into the basket and put the chicken back into the pan and covered it again. “I can get it when I come next month. Please take this back with you and promise me you’ll eat it. Please, Jake.”
He sighed deeply, picking it up and nodding. “I promise.”
“Let’s go,” one of the four guards told him, nudging him lightly with the barrel of his shotgun.
Jake watched Miranda a moment longer. She stood there straight and sure, showing pride and strength and trying to encourage him with a weak smile. God, how he hated the sight of her standing there alone. He gave her the best smile that he could, knowing she needed to see some sign that he was not giving up after all, and even though he knew a part of him was already dead.
He turned away and followed the guards inside without looking back again. The guards led him to his tiny cell, which for the moment he was not sharing with another prisoner. He’d had to pair up a few times, and it only made things even more miserable in the small enclosure.
“Any of you want some chicken?” he asked the guards. “I don’t think I can eat more than one piece.”
One of the men opened the basket and lifted the lid to the pan. “Smells damn good. You ought to eat it, Jake. Your woman brought it for you.”
Jake took out the loaf of bread. “Just leave me this.” He turned away and sat down on his cot while one of the guards locked the cell door. The men took the basket and walked off with it, one of them already chewing on a chicken leg. Jake looked down at the loaf of bread, broke it in half and put it against his nose and mouth so he could smell it. What memories that smell brought to mind, good memories of coming home to the smell of baking bread, being gre
eted by a slip of a woman with blue-gray eyes and honey-colored hair. What he would give to hold her again in the night.
Twenty-nine
Lloyd trotted his horse along the Milk River. Being back in the United States again brought back old aches and memories, but he had vowed not to give in to them. For three years he had lived in Canada under another name, working odd jobs, learning to enjoy whiskey to the point that it had gotten him into numerous fights and landed him in jail more times than he could remember. He had thought that by going away and shedding his infamous name he could somehow find himself, discover if he had it in him to be the no-good his father had once been. He expected he had proved that he could. He’d done enough drinking and fighting to earn him some kind of bad marks; and in trying to forget Beth he’d lain with plenty of whores, taking his need for Beth out on women who meant nothing to him, some pretty, some damn ugly, most forgotten by the next morning.
He was tired of Canada. It was too damn cold there for most of the year. Montana wasn’t much better. He’d head south, maybe find a way to hook up with the kind of men his father used to ride with. He’d heard from plenty of men about the Outlaw Trail. A lot of men he’d run into in Canada were bandits and outlaws who had fled the States. They knew a lot about places like Brown’s Park and Robber’s Roost. Most of them had also heard about Jake Harkner, but he’d never told any of them he was Jake’s son.
Maybe now it was time to find out what being a Harkner really meant, how people would treat him. One thing he had learned while in Canada was how to use his father’s guns. They were damn good six-shooters, perfectly balanced, with beautiful ivory handles, and he figured he was as fast with them now as his father had once been.
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