Do Not Forsake Me(105)

Jake returned and rode up beside them. “Can you ride, or are you too worn-out?” he teased.

Jeff pulled on his jacket and frowned as he strapped on his gun belt. “I can ride just fine,” he answered. He kissed Rosie once more and mounted up. “And if you and Lloyd are going to rub it in all the way till we make camp, I’d just as soon stay behind the two of you.”

Jake laughed. “Welcome to my world, Jeff Trubridge.” He turned his horse and rode off.

Lloyd rode up beside Jeff and handed him the reins to the packhorse. “You look like you still need some sleep, Jeff.” He grinned and followed after Jake.

Jeff looked down at Rosie. “Thank you. You were very…accommodating.”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Get going, Jeff. Jake isn’t the kind of man who waits around for anybody. But I hope you come back some time.”

“I just might do that.” Jeff turned his horse and rode off, deciding Jake had been right about learning what to do with a woman. It was definitely enjoyable. In fact, he’d not done any of the writing he’d planned to do. The next time they made camp, he’d have to try to catch up a little with his notes. He kicked his horse into a faster gait to catch up with Lloyd, thinking how he was getting some aches and pains in all the wrong places from so much riding. He’d never in his life been on a horse more than a few hours a month, and this trip was going to last a good eight or ten days, maybe longer. He was determined, however, not to complain. For him, this was a dream come true—actually traveling with Jake Harkner, of all people, and winning his friendship. The man’s friendship meant more to him than writing his story. If he never got to publish this book, it didn’t matter. He could brag that he once rode with the famous outlaw turned lawman.

He reached Lloyd. “Sorry I was late.”

Lloyd just grinned. “I understand.”

“Is Jake okay? I mean…I was kind of preoccupied last night, so I never saw him again after he walked out of the kitchen last night with Dixie.”

Lloyd didn’t answer right away. “I never saw him again either. He told me he just had a good talk with her. I believe him. He slept in her bed, but he was just exhausted from worry. I think he had kind of a breakdown, but don’t put anything like that in your book. And don’t mention to him that I told you.”

“I won’t.” Jeff adjusted his hat against the angle of the bright sun that was already warming the day. “I’ve come to really like him, Lloyd.”

“Yeah, well, Pa can be real likable as long as he senses you’re genuine and not out to exploit his reputation or brag that you know him…and not out to kill him.”

Jeff grinned. “I have no intention of that. I happen to be in very good health and intend to stay that way.”

Both men laughed quietly.

“And I’ve been praying every day that your mother will be all right.”

Lloyd nodded. “I thank you for that. I’ve been doing the same.”

“Does Jake ever pray?”

Lloyd took a cigarette from his shirt pocket. “I don’t know, Jeff. I honestly don’t know. He wears his mother’s crucifix, and I think he believes, but I don’t know if he prays.”

“I talked to him just a little bit about faith on the church steps that Sunday you came back to announce you were marrying Katie. I got this feeling, Lloyd, that a little part of him kind of wanted to go inside. He got quiet a couple of times when he could hear the hymn singing. I’d love to know what was going through his head.”

Lloyd smiled. “Can you picture Jake Harkner standing at the pearly gates? God would ask him, ‘Jake Harkner, how many men have you killed?’ ‘Lord, I’ve lost count.’ ‘And how many whores have you slept with?’ ‘Lord, I lost count on that too.’ ‘Well then, how about cussing?’ ‘Cussing? Hell, I cuss all the damn time, Lord.’ ‘And has your heart ever been filled with hate and anger?’ ‘Lord, my heart is full of hate and anger about twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.’”

Both men couldn’t help laughing at the vision, but then Lloyd sobered. “Then God would ask if he’s been a good husband and father. ‘I tried to be the best at both, Lord,’ he’d have to say. And God would ask him if he ever loved anybody, and he’d have to answer that he loved my mother and his son and his daughter with every fiber of his being—and that he saved my mother’s life when he took her from that awful trading post where he found her—and that he saved my life and risked his own doing it when he came for me up along the Outlaw Trail. He’d have to say that he loved his mother and his little brother. ‘But you killed your own father,’ God might say. And my pa would have to tell him that all he did was try to get rid of Satan himself, because that was who his father was. And I think God would tell my pa that he did a good job of loving his family, and he’d see that my pa has a good heart, and he’d let him through those gates, even though he never stepped foot into a church.”