Do Not Forsake Me(13)

“Hell, yes. Give me some laudanum or somethin’.”

“I won’t give you anything until I check your wounds,” the doctor answered.

“It’s your damn father-in-law who should be layin’ out there in the street wounded or dead,” another grumbled.

“Shut up and let the man clean up your wound,” Sheriff Sparks yelled.

Jeff cautiously stepped inside, nodding to the sheriff.

The rather hefty man sat behind a desk, his boots up on the desk itself. “You still skulking around town, kid?”

Jeff sat down across the desk from Sparky. “I’ve only been here two days…staying at the Guthrie Inn. The Chicago Evening Journal gave me the job of coming out here to report on how things are going in Oklahoma after the land rush and all, especially since Oklahoma is thinking about statehood.”

“Yeah, well, there are some Indians bandin’ together, tryin’ to make it their own country, separate from the United States. Did you know that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There are a lot of hard feelings going around—Indians that fight each other and fight the settlers, lawless men like that bunch in there thinking they can do whatever they want because there is no law out here except locally, like here in Guthrie. Whatever men like Harkner and his son can do out there in No Man’s Land helps keep the peace, but that’s a tall order. And I know your real motive, Trubridge. You want to interview Harkner himself.”

“Harkner ain’t no lawman!” one of the prisoners shouted. “He’s no better than the rest of us except he’s bein’ paid for bein’ a vigilante outlaw. That’s what he is. A vigilante outlaw wearin’ a badge. Report that, kid!”

Trubridge made some notes. “May I sit here until the doctor leaves?” he asked Sheriff Sparks. “I’d like to talk to him because I’m thinking about more than an interview. I’d like to write a book about the marshal.”

The sheriff looked him over. “A book about Jake?” He laughed. “Kid, that’s wishful thinking. Others have tried. A few wished they hadn’t. And as far as sitting there goes, it’s fine with me, as long as you’re not armed.”

“I assure you, I’ve never touched a gun in my life. What’s your opinion of Jake, Sheriff?”

The hefty man grunted as he took his feet down from the desk. “He’s a mean sonofabitch, and mean is probably an understatement. But he can be a damn good friend, once he’s figured out you’re worth it. He’s the kind of man you want to have your back if you’re in trouble, but also the kind of man you don’t want to cross—something Brad Buckley found out earlier today. And my advice to you is to tread lightly. Jake doesn’t like people poking into personal affairs or bothering his family.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sheriff Sparks grunted again as he stood up. “Good luck to you, kid.” He lit some oil lamps as the sun began to set behind the western landscape. Jeff wondered how soon Guthrie would get electricity. The town was amazingly developed already, for being so young, but having grown up in Chicago, Jeff felt like he’d walked back twenty years coming out here.

“You all right in there, Doc?” the sheriff asked Brian.

“I’m almost done.”

“I’ll tell you about Harkner,” one of the prisoners yelled to Jeff. “He’s a murderin’ sonofabitch! Killed his own pa, they say!”

“Shut up, Marty!” Brian told him. Jeff watched the doctor jerk extra hard on a bandage he was tying around the outlaw’s arm. The man cried out, and Brian finished tying the bandage. He dug a brown bottle out of his doctor’s bag and handed it to the man called Marty. “Take a swallow of that—one swallow!”

“What about poor Brad over there?” another asked. “The kid is in a bad way.”

“I already checked him over. I think his breastbone is cracked. The only reason he’s not yelling from pain is because it hurts too much even to breathe.”

“You tell that father-in-law of yours that we’re gettin’ out of this jail, and when we do, he’s gonna have to start watchin’ his back twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week,” Marty told the doctor. “He done put my eye out a few months ago, and if that ain’t bad enough, now he’s killed my best friend.”

“He deserved it,” Brian answered as he put supplies back in his bag.

“Harkner ain’t got the right to be judge and jury! He’ll pay! He won’t be safe no place now! Same goes for his kin! Even if we don’t get the chance to get him for this, Brad will! He ain’t gonna forget what Jake did to him, or that Jake killed his pa!”