“Hey, I didn’t have Lloyd for all those years that were the worst, before he was born and when he was just a kid. I think I can go sign some papers at the jail just fine on my own.”
“You know what I mean. And sometimes I get these awful, ominous feelings.”
He frowned. “Twenty-six years of living with me is wearing on you, that’s all. Someday, mi querida, I’ll be done with this job, and all this worrying will be over.” He kissed her once more and climbed off the bed. He went to the washstand, and Randy studied the now-faded scars on his back.
“Will you please go get Lloyd first?”
“No. Let him and Katie enjoy their time alone. They need time to adjust. They are both still in mourning over lost loved ones, but I think they’ll find real love and be really happy. At any rate, little Stevie will be wanting to go home this morning and spend some time with his father too. Lloyd should stay home with him. He can’t go running off, wearing guns and worrying poor Katie, on their first full day of marriage.”
He poured water from a pitcher into the washbowl, then leaned down and splashed his face. “I expect all three of them will go out to the Donavans’ soon to get some of Katie’s things. If they do, they’ll probably stay the night there.” He washed the rest of himself and pulled on knee-length long johns and denim pants, then a white shirt. “I’ll shave later or tomorrow. I’m anxious to get out there and see what’s going on.” He buttoned his shirt, leaving it open at the neck. “By the way, that reporter might want to talk to us later today. His name is Jeff Trubridge and he writes for the Chicago Evening Journal. Whether he writes a book about us is all up to you.”
Randy lay back down. “I don’t trust anyone to do a decent job writing about you, Jake. And you have never before acted as though you would even consider such a thing.”
He tucked his shirt into his pants. “Something about this one is different. I kind of like the kid. I think he’s more sincere than the others, and I suspect he’s pretty talented. I told him the decision was yours, not mine.” He ran a wide belt through the loops of his pants, then reached for his gun belt, which hung on the bedpost, where he always kept his guns at night. He buckled the gun belt.
Randy’s stomach tightened a little, watching him strap on the guns. She never quite got over the dread of what each new day could bring. It was bad enough that there were still men out there who would love to say they shot down Jake Harkner, but becoming a federal marshal had only added to his list of enemies.
“Jeff is the one who warned me about the three men in town.” He tied the holster straps around his thighs. “So I feel I owe him. I told him he could come to the house later today. I’ll look him up when I go into town.” He straightened and faced her. “What do you think?”
She pushed her hair back from her face. “I trust your judgment. You read a man pretty good.”
He walked over to the dressing table and picked up a comb and ran it through his hair. “I was just thinking—if it was handled right—a book could mean extra money for the grandkids. If my sorry-ass life leads to a book that means they can go to college and make better lives for themselves than I ever did, then it might be worth it. I’d put anything we make from it into a trust fund for you and the grandkids. We’d have to sign some kind of contract that says we have the right to approve of the thing before it gets published—something like that—make sure it’s not just a bunch of dime-novel bullshit.” He pulled on his leather vest, his badge already pinned to it.
Randy sighed and got up, pulling on a robe. “I can already see a dark mood setting in, Jake.”
“I don’t like having to look at Marty Bryant. I want to kill him and I can’t. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll give me an excuse.” He opened the bedroom door and started out.
“Jake, don’t you want breakfast?”
“No. I’ll just grab a hunk of bread on the way out and get a cup of coffee down at the jail.” He walked over to the wash pan and picked it up. “I’ll go dump this. There’s a clean wash pan below the shelf. I’ll rinse this one and scrub my teeth at the pump in the kitchen.”
“Wait.” Randy walked closer and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “I’m telling you, I don’t have a good feeling about this. Lloyd would understand if you went to get him.”
“No. Sparky will be at the jail.”
Their gazes held.
“Jake, don’t lie to me.”
He turned away. “Just stay in the house today, will you? At least until I say it’s okay to go out. I’ll come back and let you know if Trubridge is coming over later. If we do this, I’ll let you answer most of his questions. I have no doubt he’ll ask about things I’d rather not talk about.” He opened the bedroom door and left.