I’m holding Jake Harkner’s guns, he thought. They had just been used to kill five men, faster than the eye could follow. One of them, the man in the alley who’d dared to stir, had been shot as casually as blinking. He couldn’t get over the contrasts in Jake Harkner—a murdering wild man one minute and clinging to his grandson the next.
He had a lot of things to process, and he decided the best thing he could do was to go back to his room and write all this down while it was still fresh in his mind. He headed for the Guthrie Inn, still carrying Jake’s guns, which were far heavier than he thought they would be. How did the man draw and fire them so easily, let alone actually hit his targets?
He passed a man standing on the boardwalk and studying the bloody scene in the street. It was the same man Jake had had a few words with on Sunday when he came out of church holding Randy Harkner’s arm. The man reached out to stop Jeff.
“Did you see what happened?” he asked.
Jeff looked down the street where the wagon was stopped in front of Brian’s house. “Yes.” He looked back at the man Jake had called Peter. He had blue eyes and sandy hair that showed a touch of gray at the temples. He was very good-looking for his age, clean shaven, his hair perfectly combed—a man Jeff guessed to be close to Jake’s age, maybe a little younger. He wore what Jeff recognized as an expensive suit, the kind normally found only in bigger cities.
“You’re Peter…Brown, is it?” Jeff spoke up. “I saw you yesterday after church, when you were talking to Jake.”
Brown studied him quietly for a moment, then nodded. “Randy Harkner works for me off and on, mostly when her husband is gone. It keeps her busy. At any rate, I’m good friends with the woman. Is she all right?”
Interesting, Jeff thought. The man seemed far more concerned about Randy than Jake. “She’s fine. Badly shaken, but fine.”
“Jake?”
“Bad shape. He took a bullet in his right thigh. I guess it went through but it hit a vein or something. He lost a lot of blood and they had to cauterize the wound. It was a pretty ugly thing to see. They took him to the doctor’s place to sew up what’s left of his skin.”
“I’m surprised he even was shot. Harkner is too good in these situations to let himself get hit.”
“One of his grandsons ran into the street and got mixed up in the mess out there. That changed everything. Jake ran out into the street to protect him—took a chance getting shot to death doing it.”
Brown sighed. “I’m not surprised.”
“Actually it could have been a lot worse if I hadn’t been up and out earlier. I saw those men go into the jail, and I figured they were up to something, so I told Jake. They were ready to blow him to pieces the minute he walked into the jail this morning. I sure didn’t want to see that happen, so I told him they were inside. He actually had the drop on them until Little Jake showed up.”
“Well, I’m just glad the kid and Randy are both all right, although I’m sure Randy is beside herself with worry.” The man frowned and studied Jeff. “And you know my name, but I don’t know yours. You’re new in town.”
“Jeff Trubridge. I’m a reporter from Chicago, here to write a book about Jake. I’d shake your hand, but I’m holding Jake’s guns.”
Brown glanced down at the guns. “Rather formidable, aren’t they? How in heck did you get hold of them?”
“Jake was out of his mind from loss of blood. I think he’s probably mostly in shock. His son yelled at me to take his guns—afraid he’d start shooting randomly, I guess.” He looked at the guns. “Feels kind of weird to hold them. These guns are pretty famous.”
Brown looked at them again. “Yeah, I suppose so.” He rubbed at his neck. “Did you say you were writing a book about Jake?”
“I’d like to.”
“Well, good luck with that. It won’t be an easy project. After today you’ll have a heck of a time getting Jake to talk about anything. He shuts down when anything happens involving his family.”
“Oh? You must be pretty close to them to know that.”
“I’m not really close to any of them, but Randy has told me a few things. When Jake is gone, I think it makes her feel better to talk about him—and the family in general.”
“Yes, she must get pretty lonely. From what I can tell, there were times when Jake was gone from her life for two years or more.”
Brown folded his arms. “Well, that was back when the law was after him. Now he is the law, so things are a little better, but being a federal marshal still takes him away for longer than Randy would like.”