Do Not Forsake Me(32)
Everything fell silent for a moment except for someone shouting down the street. “Someone’s shooting down there!”
“Stay away! Stay away!” another yelled.
“Jake Harkner, you bastard!” someone inside the jail yelled. “How did you know we were in here? Was it that four-eyed shrimp of a reporter who told you?”
Jake recognized Bo Buckley’s voice. “No one needed to tell me,” Jake yelled back. “I saw your man on that rooftop and figured you might be stupid enough to wait inside for me. You’ve trapped yourselves, Buckley, so come on out and give up your guns!”
“Fuck you, Harkner! Come in and get us!”
“If I have to come in there, you’ll die, Bo. That’s a promise. If I go down, you’ll go down with me. Is that what you want?”
Someone threw open the jail door, but no one stepped out. “Come on in, Jake! Me and the boys don’t mind sharin’ a cup of coffee before we blow you to pieces!”
“What have you done with Sparky, Bo?”
“He’s okay—just locked up. It ain’t Sparky we want to kill!”
“I’ll give you one more chance, Bo. You know me. You know I’ll get at least two of you before you have a chance to fire your guns. Stop this now and all it means is a little jail time. At least you’ll be alive.”
“You won’t get off one shot before we blow your ass into the street, Harkner.”
“You willing to bet on that?”
“Gordy, Ted, Marty, and Stu are with me—all armed.”
“Dell didn’t come along?”
“My little brother? He’s too young to blow a man’s head off, but we’ll teach him right and proper.”
“Who was on the roof?”
“A guy we hired last night in a saloon—said he’d throw his gun in with us. Hell, I don’t even remember his name.”
“Well then, at least I shot a stranger and not a kid. I don’t like having to shoot men as young as Dell. That’s why I just smashed Brad’s chest in, rather than blow his brains out.”
“Well now, ain’t that kind of you?”
“I thought it was.”
The men inside laughed.
“Jake Harkner, kind and thoughtful toward kids, and a ruthless, murderin’ sonofabitch toward everybody else.”
“Something like that,” Jake answered. “You try anything, or hurt Sparky, and you’ll see the ruthless, murdering-sonofabitch side of me.”
Five men against one. Jeff wondered how he would manage to find his next breath.
“What about the hired gun, Bo?” Jake yelled. “Who is he?”
“Pierce Henry. He’s out in the street somewhere, waiting to shoot your ass if we can’t do it. One way or another, you’ll die today for killin’ Jack, and for what you done to Brad. The kid is hurtin’ real bad, Jake. He might not live.”
“He made his choice,” Jake yelled back. “Now come on out of there, unless you’re ready to die! Give it some thought.”
It was then that everything changed. A little boy came running down the street on short little legs. “Gampa! Gampa!”
Jeff froze in terror. My God, it’s Jake’s grandson!
“Jesus Christ!” Jake swore.
After that, all hell broke loose. Jeff’s eyes widened at the sight of Little Jake Harkner, still in his pajamas, running toward his grandfather. Jake charged off the boardwalk and literally leaped over a hitching post. He ducked and rolled his way toward his grandson while guns blazed from inside the jail. Jake grabbed Little Jake and rolled the both of them toward a large crate sitting on the boardwalk in front of the hardware store. He kept the boy in one arm while firing his six-gun with his other hand.
Someone inside the jail cried out. Jake stood long enough to literally throw Little Jake into the crate. When he did so, a bullet hit his thigh and Jake went down.
“Oh my God!” Jeff muttered.
Little Jake began screaming and kept trying to climb back out of the crate. “You stay in that crate, Little Jake!” Jake roared at him. He was on the ground but had both guns blazing. Two more men ran out of the jail. Jake fired twice more and that’s all it took. Both men went down.
“Stop! Stop!” someone called from inside the jail.
By then, Jeff saw Lloyd Harkner running from up the street toward his father, wearing only denim pants—no shirt and no shoes, his hair hanging long and loose instead of tied back the way he usually wore it. He was carrying one six-gun, and another was stuffed into the waist of his pants.
“Pa!” he yelled, noticing Jake on the ground.
“Stay the hell back!” Jake yelled.