Do Not Forsake Me(123)

Everything seemed quiet, the rest of the main street eerily empty, even for early morning.

“Jesus,” Lloyd muttered. He charged past them and up the street, practically screaming Katie’s and Stephen’s names. He dismounted and ran into his house, still yelling, but there was no one inside the wrecked dwelling. He came back out and began running up and down the street, as people began emerging from doorways. In the distance, Jake could see someone running from the preacher’s house.

“Lloyd!”

It was Katie! She ran toward Lloyd, Stephen close behind. Jake watched Lloyd wrap his wife and son both into his arms, all of them crying. Jake looked at Jeff, looked back at his house…Brian’s house…looked up the street again.

“They took her, all right,” he told Jeff, his voice scratchy from grief and too many cigarettes. “They took Evie…and if Little Jake was here, he would already be running out to me, so they took him too. And Randy…if she was here, she’d be waiting at the house for me, even though it’s half-destroyed. That means she’s not back yet. Maybe she isn’t even alive.”

Jeff didn’t reply.

Jake urged his horse forward. As he approached the jail, he noticed more windows shot out, bullet holes sprayed all over the front of the jail. People began emerging from businesses and homes. Some nodded to Jake but didn’t speak. When he looked at them, they stepped back. When Jake neared Sadie’s place, Sadie and Mary Ann stepped out, both looking ready to cry. Seeing Mary Ann reminded Jake of the day Randy remarked to the young woman about her cleavage. Randy…his beautiful wife. If she was alive, she’d probably been told about this by now. She was in hell, just as he was. What if she was dying? He should be with her—and he needed to go after Evie. But there was only one of him.

The door to the boardinghouse opened and Brian stepped out, a strip of gauze wrapped around his head, blood showing near his forehead. The devastation in his eyes was painful. Brian…a good, good man…caught unawares and probably thinking he’d failed to protect his family. But how could a man who didn’t even own a gun stand up against someone like Marty Bryant and his filthy cohorts in a surprise attack?

More people began assembling to watch. Jake dismounted and walked up to Brian, who closed his eyes and turned, grasping a hitching post to keep from going to his knees.

“They took her. And they took Little Jake.”

“I know,” Jake said gruffly. “I tried to get here before they did. When did it happen?”

“Three days ago. They burned buildings to distract attention, shot up the town…shot Sparky…made a mess of all three of our homes…shot out all the windows…barged in. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do. One of them landed his gun barrel into my head and I…heard Evie screaming as they dragged her off…and Little Jake was crying for his ‘gampa.’”

Jake forced back the part of him that wanted to scream…and scream…and scream. If he didn’t stay in this dark, angry place, he would be of no use to Evie.

“Get her back, Jake,” Brian groaned. “You’re the only one who can do it. Get my Evie back.”

Jake had to swallow to keep from vomiting. “How many were there?”

“I have no idea…ten…twelve. I think…maybe there were even more, waiting outside of town. There could be close to fifteen of them. Katie got one of them, but he’s not talking.”

“Katie?”

“She managed to get to her rifle, because they came for us first, so she had time. The damn woman barricaded herself in the bedroom and shot the first man who came through the door. I guess that made them give up on her and just take Evie and Little Jake.”

“The man she shot is still alive?”

Brian nodded. “He’s at Dr. Keller’s office, under guard.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to pay him a visit.”

He left Brian and walked toward Lloyd and Katie. He lifted Stephen and hugged him tight.

“You’ll get them back, won’t you, Grampa?” Stephen asked, tears in his eyes.

Jake closed his eyes and held him close, smelling his hair, the familiar scent of his card-cheating grandson. He took one hand and wrapped his fingers into the child’s thick, dark, uncombed mane, remembering how Randy hated it when he messed up the boy’s hair. He needed to touch him, smell him, remind himself that Stephen was real and alive. “I’ll get them back, Stephen. I’ll get them back.” He turned toward Lloyd and Katie. Lloyd took the boy back into his arms.

“Have you heard anything about Randy?” Jake asked Katie.