Do Not Forsake Me(37)

And you feel sorry for her because you’re in love with her. “Do you have a wife, Attorney Brown?” Jeff dared to ask.

Brown shook his head. “My wife died three years ago. I came out here from Chicago myself to get away from bad memories. I figured with the land rush there would be a need for lawyers out here. I have no children, so it doesn’t matter much where I land myself.”

“I see.”

Brown kept glancing up the street toward the doctor’s office. “I hope Jake will be all right.”

Do you? Maybe you’d like to see Randy Harkner become a widow. “Are you worried about Jake’s wife?”

Brown frowned with a quick and wary irritation in his eyes. “I’m worried about both Jake and Miranda. And don’t be reading something into my concern, Trubridge.” He stepped back a little and studied Jeff a moment longer. “Good luck getting your story. I wouldn’t want to be the one who had to ask Jake Harkner any personal questions. You never know what will trigger that dark anger inside him. I’d advise you to never ask him about his father. He did kill the man, you know.”

“I know that.”

“That remark Brad Buckley made yesterday was meant to rile Jake. You saw what happened to Brad.”

Jeff nodded. “It must take a lot of anger for a man Jake’s age to throw a two-hundred-pound man off the boardwalk like that.”

Brown tipped his hat. “That’s what I’m talking about. Everything about the man is intimidating. He is a formidable presence. You and I walk into a room and no one notices. But when Jake Harkner walks into a room, he immediately fills it up. Everyone stops talking and turns to look.” He glanced down at the guns again. “Don’t you wonder how on earth a woman like Randy puts up with the man?”

Jeff nodded. “One can’t help but wonder. But there is something special there, I can see that. And I think when he’s with his family, and especially his wife, he’s a completely different man than what I saw on the street today.”

Brown’s eyes flickered with what Jeff read as envy and despair. “Randy has said as much. The woman is still crazy about that man, after twenty-six years of hell. Go figure that one out.” Brown started to turn.

“Do you care if I use your words in my book?” Jeff asked before he could get away.

“What words?”

“About Jake being a formidable presence and filling up a room when he walks into it. I like that description.”

Brown turned away. “Fine with me.” He walked off toward his office, and Jeff watched after him, thinking that if the man was trying to hide the fact that he was in love with Jake Harkner’s wife, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Though apparently he knew better than to act on his feelings…so far.





Ten


Jeff stood at the front door of Jake’s home, fighting down nerves, when Lloyd opened the door and looked past him cautiously before he let Jeff inside.

“Trubridge,” he greeted, nodding.

“Hello, Lloyd.” Jeff looked behind him, then back at Lloyd, who looked very tired and disheveled. His hair was still loose but tucked behind his ears. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Lloyd sighed. “Just still a little wary after what happened this morning. There are more Bryants and Buckleys out there—big families, both of them. They aren’t going to be happy about what happened this morning.” He waved Jeff toward the parlor. “Have a seat.”

Jeff felt like a little kid in the presence of the tall, dark, and at the moment, still-dangerous-looking Lloyd. He noticed the younger Harkner had a split lower lip from Jake’s blow. His pants were covered with dried blood, but now he wore a shirt. He figured the shirt might be one of Jake’s, since it appeared he’d never gone home to clean up and change after his father was hurt.

“I, uh, I didn’t come here to bother anyone. I just came to return these.” Jeff held up a pillowcase. “Your father’s guns are in here. You asked me to take them off him this morning. Having them around makes me nervous. I keep thinking one of them is going to come alive and shoot me for looking at it.”

Lloyd grinned and took the pillowcase from him. “Well, Pa did modify the triggers to pull way easier than the common single-action .44. But no, they won’t explode all on their own.” He reached inside the pillowcase and pulled out the guns, carrying them to a tray-top table near a stuffed chair, then checked each one. He shook his head. “Empty,” he said quietly after opening the first gun and spinning the cartridge chamber. He turned the chamber of the second gun. “Four bullets in this one. I figured that. He’d reloaded one gun for the face-off with that hired gun. That took one bullet, and then he shot that man in the alley. That left four. That’s why I asked you to take his guns. Pa was out of his head from such a sudden loss of so much blood. I was afraid he’d grab for them again.” He shook out the remaining bullets into his hand and laid both guns back on the table, shoving the bullets into a pocket of his denim pants.