Love's Sweet Revenge Page 6

  “I’ll decide when the time is right to talk to her about it,” Randy told them. “She might even bring it up herself.”

  “Let me talk to Brian first,” Jake told her.

  “Katie will be none too happy about this either,” Lloyd told them. “This will scare her to death after all that happened back in Guthrie. I left her in the barn and took off without even explaining anything, but she’ll find out before I get back, and she’ll be upset.”

  “You probably should have stayed with her and let the other men come out here,” Jake told him.

  “When my parents could both be in trouble?” Lloyd tried to make light of the situation as he gave his mother a teasing grin. “I figured I’d better try to keep this old man from getting himself into more trouble. Sometimes I’m the only one who can do that.”

  Jake scowled at him. “I could make you sorry for calling me an old man, but I wouldn’t want to mess up that pretty face for Katie.”

  Lloyd grinned. “That’ll be the day.”

  Jake held his gaze, the look in his eyes softening. “It’ll be okay, Son. We have good men working for us. We just have to be extra alert for a while. For all we know, Holt will want to stay out of trouble, and he won’t show up at all.”

  “Yeah, and fish don’t need water.” Lloyd glanced at the other men as they continued rifling through the belongings of the rustlers. “Stay here with Mom. The other men and I will get these men buried.” He frowned at Jake again. “You go wielding a shovel, and you’ll start that cut bleeding all over again.”

  “Be sure to save all their trap,” Jake answered. “We’ll have one of the men take them to Denver and report this.” He saw the worry in Lloyd’s eyes at the remark. Lloyd and pretty much everyone else in the family always feared something could happen to land Jake back in prison. “I was in the right, Lloyd. They were rustling cattle. If I hadn’t shot them, they would have been hung. There won’t be any trouble over this.”

  Lloyd nodded. “I know. It’s just—”

  “The name. I know.”

  Lloyd smiled sadly. “I’m glad we found you and Mom okay. I sure as hell know this was something you could handle, Pa, but there’s always that little worry that something could go wrong this time, and I didn’t like thinking Mom could be left out here alone.”

  “So, you came back because of her, not me.”

  “Of course I did. I knew damn well you’d be okay on your own.” Lloyd grinned, and Jake couldn’t help his own smile.

  “Well, you did right,” he told his son. “Let’s get these men buried and get home. There’s a lot of rounding up and branding to do.” Jake called out to the other men. “Any of you recognize any of those men? Did you find something with their names on it?”

  “Got names off of five of them,” Cole answered, “but I don’t know any of them. Pepper doesn’t either.”

  “Any of them carry the name Mike Holt?” Jake called back.

  “Nope.” Jake watched Cole limp over to his horse. The man had an old leg wound from the war, and that was all Jake knew about his background. Cole Decker was of slender build but strong as a horse, and he tended to drink too much, but he was a happy drinker, not a mean one, so that was okay with Jake. He suspected some pretty shady doings in the man’s past, not much different from Jake himself.

  “You’d better go check out the one they couldn’t identify,” Jake told Lloyd. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find out it’s Mike Holt.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Lloyd left to take a look at the bodies, and Jake turned to Randy, keeping her close. “Okay, woman, you’re right. I don’t just love you. I adore you. I worship you.” He hugged her even tighter. “And I’m glad as hell you’re all right.”

  Randy breathed deeply of his familiar scent, then looked up at him. “Let’s go home to the grandchildren. Suddenly, I want very much to see them and get back to a normal routine. It helps me handle things like this.”

  Jake leaned down to kiss her. Randy thought how few women could have a moment like this with their husbands while surrounded by seven men he’d just shot dead. She hugged him tighter. “Oh, Jake, don’t let go for a while.”

  “I never let go of you, even when we aren’t together.” Jake watched the other men start digging graves closer to the trees. “I suppose you’ll want to pray over those no-goods,” he told Randy.

  “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “If it was up to me, I’d strip them down and leave them for the buzzards.”

  Randy laughed through her tears, needing the relief from the tense drama of what had just happened. His remark was so typical of Jake Harkner. “Oh, Jake, God is going to have a time with you when you get to heaven,” she teased, her ears still ringing from the boom of her husband’s guns.

  “Yeah, well, I think He and I will have a whole lot to talk about. Let’s just hope that conversation takes place a good ten or twenty years from now.”

  Randy hugged him tighter, unable to begin to imagine life without this man. Always there was the worry that the next gunfight would be his last. “I love you, Jake.”

  He sighed, rocking her slightly in his arms. “We’ll go back to that cabin again before summer is out. I promise.”

  “Can we stay even longer next time?”

  “Sure we can.”

  “Jake, I’m scared for Lloyd.”

  “Nothing will happen to Lloyd or anybody else in this family. I won’t let it.”

  That’s what worries me even more. Randy looked up at him, felt his lips on hers in an oh-so-familiar kiss.

  Lloyd glanced their way, then returned to digging a grave—more men dead from his father’s famous guns, and now Mike Holt was on the loose. He hated to face it, but had a sick feeling this was just the beginning of new troubles for him and his father.

  Six

  Red St. James swallowed another shot of whiskey, studying the man who’d just come into the Okie Saloon. He wasn’t a regular. For the most part, a man could pretty much figure who’d show up which nights and where he’d sit, which ones played cards, and which ones always sat at the bar and gabbed. Guthrie had its share of saloons, and most men had their favorites.

  “I won’t be in here much after this.” The words came from Red’s friend, Fenton Wales. “You know how it is for a farmer come spring.”

  Red nodded, still watching the stranger. There was something familiar about him.

  Fenton removed a rather soiled hat and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “What the hell are you looking at, Red?”

  “That stranger that just walked in. He looks familiar.”

  Fenton turned to look. The man sat at the bar, his back to both of them. “I can’t tell without seeing his face.”

  “Can I get you boys anything more?” A well-known prostitute-turned-barmaid sauntered close, her buxom figure pleasantly filling out a deep purple taffeta dress that showed just a hint of cleavage. It was obvious to any man that there was much more bosom billowing beneath her fitted bodice.

  “Dixie, the law doesn’t allow us to order what you have to offer.”

  Dixie grinned. “Now, you boys know I shut down my place months ago. I’m getting too old for that, and things weren’t the same after Jake Harkner left town with that gorgeous son of his. I am working an honest job here, boys, and just wanting to know if you want more drinks.” She looked both men over seductively. “Now, Red, you’ve got a wife at home. So even if I was still in business, and in spite of those big, strong arms and that barrel of a torso and handsome grin, I wouldn’t do business with you.” She jerked on his red beard, then glanced at Fenton. “But you, you big ole rugged farmer, if I was still in business, you’d be welcome…with open, uh, arms, if you get my meaning.”

  “I get it all right,” Fenton joked. Laughter filled the room.

  “Is it true Jake Harkner never
monkeyed around them times he visited your place?” Red asked with a wink.

  “And risk losing that wife he worships?” Dixie grinned. “Honey, I’d have liked nothing better than to have that man in my bed, but no, we were just good friends.”

  “Well, a man…or woman…couldn’t ask for a better friend than Jake,” Fenton told her.

  Red noticed that mentioning Jake’s name caused the stranger at the bar to turn and look.

  “You’ve got that right,” Dixie answered Fenton. “I hope Jake and his family have found some peace in Colorado. I have to say, though, I miss that handsome outlaw something awful, just awful. And that son of his…” She shook her head. “I never knew God could make men that good-looking. And then he had to up and get married. Life just isn’t fair.”

  “Half the town misses all of them, especially Jake’s wife and that beautiful daughter,” Fenton mused.

  Red grasped Dixie’s wrist and signaled for her to lean closer. “Hey, Dixie, go ahead and bring me and Fenton a beer,” he said, lowering his voice. “And I want you to go up to the bar and cozy up to that stranger that just walked in. See if you can get him to tell you his name. And tell him to come over here.”

  Dixie glanced the stranger’s way. He’d turned away again. “Sure, honey.”

  She sauntered away, and Fenton shook his head. “She’s something, that Dixie.”

  Red nodded as he watched the stranger. “Fenton, I know that man. I just can’t pinpoint it, but I know him, and something about him smells.”

  Dixie ordered their beers, then spoke with the stranger as she waited for the bartender. She glanced at Red and Fenton, and the stranger turned, eyeing them closely. A look of arrogance showed itself as he straightened and cast Red what seemed almost like a warning glare. Dixie brought over the beers and set them on the table, and the stranger followed her over.

  “You two askin’ about me?” His eyes were a steely blue, and he needed a shave. A tan, wide-brimmed hat covered wavy, mousy-brown hair.

  Red felt a deep dread. It was all coming back to him now—the medium build and a belly that pooched out more than it should for a man who otherwise was not that much overweight, plus…the odd Z-shaped scar on his chin. He remembered that scar. “I’ll be goddamned,” he growled. He jumped up so fast that his chair fell over. “You’re Mike Holt!”

  Everyone in the saloon turned to stare, and Dixie stepped back. “My God,” she muttered. “You filthy rapist! What are you doing in Guthrie!”

  Holt took a defensive stance, stepping back from Fenton and Red. “I was cleared of them charges, and I’m just moving on through—headed west. I ain’t from here, and I don’t intend to stay.”

  “You came here to see if it was true that Jake Harkner doesn’t live here anymore!” Red roared. “And if you’re headed west, you’re out to find him!”

  Fenton also rose, folding his powerful arms.

  “Where I go is nobody’s business!” Holt sneered.

  “How dare you come to Guthrie!” Red bellowed. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I told you they cleared me of all charges!”

  “Not all charges! Far as I’m concerned, any man who stands by and lets other men abuse a beautiful, innocent woman is just as guilty of rape as the ones doing it to her! Get the hell out of Guthrie while you’re still able to walk, Holt! A lot of people in this town were right fond of Evie and her husband—fond of the whole Harkner family! Me and Fenton were at that shoot-out. We know what happened, and you’re just as goddamn guilty as the rest of them! I don’t care what that judge decreed!”

  Practically everyone in the bar began moving toward Holt, who backed toward the door.

  “I think we ought to teach him a lesson,” one of the other patrons spoke up, “in case he’s got plans to go make trouble for Jake or Lloyd. He ought to know he’d better not try it, and he should know how we feel about what he did back at Dune Hollow.”

  “I’d like to shoot you myself,” Dixie sneered at Holt.

  Holt looked her over scathingly, his upper lip curling when he spoke. “You that whore Jake Harkner used to fuck when he was off pretendin’ to be a lawman?”

  “You bastard!” Red roared. He landed into Holt, shoving him out the door and into the now-bricked street. A man known around town for his fighting skills, he pelted Holt over and over while the rest of the men urged him on. Even Dixie screamed for Red to “beat him to a pulp!”

  Holt was no match. It took only a few punches for Red to land him flat on his back, helpless against more blows. Finally, Fenton pulled Red away.

  “You’ll kill him and go to jail!” he warned Red.

  Red stood there panting, looking down at a bloodied Mike Holt. “That was for Jake—and for his angel of a daughter!” he growled, his hands still clenched into fists.

  Hearing the ruckus, Sheriff Herbert Sparks was already on the scene. “What’s going on here?”

  “Sparky, that man on the ground there is Mike Holt,” Fenton told him. “One of them that was at Dune Hollow—that one that got released.”

  “Arrest that sonofabitch!” Holt told the sheriff, pointing to Red.

  “For beating the hell out of a filthy rapist?” the sheriff answered. “I don’t care if he kills you, mister, so I suggest you get out of Guthrie just as fast as you can, or I’ll come up with some kind of charge that warrants a hanging.” He stuck his thumbs into his gun belt, which was half hidden by his big belly. “Everybody in this town was real fond of Harkner’s daughter, Holt, so you picked the wrong place to hang your hat!”

  “I was new to Hash Bryant and his gang.” Holt put a shaking hand over his bloody nose. “I never came to Guthrie before what happened out at Dune Hollow. I didn’t figure anybody here would know who I was, ’cause I ain’t never been here before.”

  “Well, you figured wrong!” Red stormed, inching closer again.

  Holt scooted away. “I have no intention of hanging my hat here, as your sheriff puts it. Like I said, I was just on my way through.”

  “It makes no sense you’d stop here, of all places,” Red answered, “unless you were trying to find out about Jake. You can bet we’ll wire him that we’ve seen you, so he’ll be on the lookout. If you have the tiniest thought of looking that man up—or anybody in his family—you’d better think twice. That’s Jake and Lloyd Harkner you’re fixin’ to make trouble for, and there ain’t a man still livin’ who ever went up against either one of them!”

  “I’m living!”

  “Only because Jake promised his daughter he’d not murder you in cold blood! He was a lawman then, but not anymore. If he gets you alone, you’ll never live to tell about it. Now get out of Guthrie! Go back east, or north or south or wherever you choose. Just get out of Oklahoma and stay away from the Harkners! They’ve finally found some peace, and they deserve it!”

  Holt got to his knees, then staggered to his feet. “You’ve got no right telling me where I can and can’t go,” he grumbled, looking around at all of them. He ran a hand through his hair, then found his hat and shoved it back on his head. He pushed his way through the crowd and walked up to his horse, untying it and heading up the street.

  “Sparky, make note of that bay he’s riding. Make sure it’s not tied anywhere in town come morning,” Red told the sheriff.

  “I intend to do just that.”

  Red looked down at a couple of swollen knuckles. “By God, I’m getting too old for this,” he told Fenton. “But I just couldn’t help it. Soon as I realized who he was—”

  “I know.” Fenton put a hand on his arm. “Come on back inside and have another drink. We can wire Denver in the morning and warn Jake we’ve seen Mike Holt snooping around Guthrie.”

  Red nodded, glancing in the direction Holt had gone. He couldn’t see him. “I wish there wasn’t so much law and order these days,” he complained. “There wa
s a time when the town could have hung that sonofabitch, and nobody would have cared.”

  * * *

  Brad Buckley watched from the shadows. He’d walked out of a saloon across the street from the Okie when he heard the commotion outside—heard everything that was said. He stayed out of sight as he walked up the street, following Mike Holt. He waited until he was sure no one was watching, then hurried to catch up with Holt.

  “Mike! Mike Holt!” he called in a rough whisper.

  Holt stopped and turned, quickly pulling a rifle from its boot on his horse. “Who is it?” he asked.

  “Name’s Brad Buckley. I don’t mean any harm.” Brad stepped closer. “Is it really you—one of them that was at Dune Hollow?”

  Holt kept the rifle ready as he studied the big, strapping, barrel-chested young man. “What’s it to you?”

  Brad put out his hand. “I want to shake the hand of a man who was in on fucking Jake Harkner’s daughter.”

  Holt cautiously shook his hand. “And why would that be?”

  Brad shook his hand vigorously. “Mister, Jake Harkner killed my pa and two brothers four years back when he was a U.S. Marshal. And he just about killed me once—slammed his rifle butt into my chest and nearly broke my breastbone in two. I was months recovering. I hate the sonofabitch, and, well, I heard what was said back there. Are you thinking of looking up Harkner?”

  “It’s his son I’m after. Me and my brother joined up with the Bryants on that thing in Dune Hollow. My brother gave himself up, but Lloyd Harkner shot him in the back after he had his hands in the air and had put down his guns. He started to run off, and Lloyd shot him down like a damn jackrabbit. After it was all over, I told that kid I’d get him for what he done to my brother, and I intend to do just that.”

  “Can I ride with you? I have my own score to settle. I’m sick of Guthrie. My ma died last year, and I’ve got nothing left here. All I do is think about how I can get back at Jake Harkner for killing my father and causing me ungodly pain for months. I know for a fact he headed for Colorado. A man as notorious as Jake Harkner shouldn’t be hard to find just by asking around, and where Jake is, you’ll find Lloyd, too. They’re inseparable.”