“How is he?” Jeff asked.
“Brian and my mother are in the bedroom with him now.” Lloyd shook his head. “Jeff, my pa has been wounded before, but this one—it really put him down. I think this time around was harder on my mother too. This is the closest my dad has come to dying from a gunshot. He’s been hurt before, but not like this. If Brian hadn’t been right there to move as fast as he did to stop the bleeding, Jake would be dead. But then, this is Jake Harkner we’re talking about, so you never know.” He smiled sadly, and Jeff detected tears in Lloyd’s eyes. “He’s pretty much too damn stubborn to die,” he added. “Brian says it could take several days, maybe weeks for Pa to get his strength back.”
Lloyd sat down in the stuffed chair and waved Jeff over to a paisley-patterned sofa with rolled, stuffed arms. Jeff secretly observed items in the room. The furniture was clean and neat but nothing of extraordinary value—just tidy and well-placed. Doilies graced the side tables and what looked like a hand-embroidered small tablecloth decorated the low cherrywood table that sat between him and Lloyd. A lovely lamp with a colorful stained-glass shade sat on an end table beside the sofa, the only item Jeff knew had to be expensive. A rosewood clock chimed softly from its perch on a mantel over the fireplace.
Lloyd took a cigarette from his shirt pocket. “The hard part will be keeping Pa down once he comes out of this. He isn’t much for being bedridden.”
Jeff felt nervous being in Jake’s house. His eyeglasses had slipped down a little, and he pushed them back up his nose as he again apologized for intruding. “I really don’t need to stay. I’m sure you don’t feel like company right now. I just wanted to return the guns and check on your father.”
Lloyd lit his cigarette and drew on it. “No. Stay. Peter Brown stopped by earlier today to see how he was doing. Actually, I suspect he stopped by to see how my mother was doing.”
Jeff wondered if that remark meant that even Lloyd suspected Peter Brown was in love with Randy Harkner.
“Anyway, Peter told me he talked to you after the shooting and that you’d warned Jake those men were in the jail.” He drew on the cigarette again. “I want to thank you. I’m not ready to lose my father, Jeff. I just got him back only a year and a half ago. I still have a lot to make up for, so I need a lot of years to do that. If he didn’t know those men were waiting for him inside that jail, he’d have been blown to bits as soon as he opened that door.”
Jeff was touched. Earlier today this young man had shot down one of the prisoners with no hesitation, and now he sat here talking about how much he loved his father—a man with a reputation that sent chills down most peoples’ spines. “I have to say that in just the three days since I met Jake, I find myself really liking him,” he told Lloyd, “although he still scares the hell out of me.”
Lloyd grinned again. “You don’t need to be afraid of him, after what happened this morning. I’m pretty sure after what you did, he’ll let you write that book.”
Jeff could hardly hide his excitement. “Well, I hope so, but I can’t rejoice in how it all came about. I’m really sorry Jake got hurt.” He removed his hat and set it beside him. “I hope Jake told you yesterday after the wedding that I mean to do things right—just the truth—not just about Jake but about the rest of the family…unless of course some of you don’t want to be mentioned.”
Lloyd smoked quietly, studying Jeff so intently that Jeff swallowed nervously. “Did I say something wrong?”
Lloyd shook his head. “No. I’m just making up my mind.” He leaned back in the chair. “In two words, Jeff—how would you describe my father?”
Jeff thought a moment, afraid he’d choose the wrong words and lose his chance at a book. “Well…to be honest with you, I’ve already contemplated the best words to describe the man. I came up with just one word. Nitroglycerin.”
Lloyd actually laughed lightly. “Nitro!” He laughed again. “That’s the best description I’ve ever heard.” He took another drag on his cigarette, and Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s like nitro, all right. Keep him calm, and he’s fine. Shake him up, and pow! And even nitro is harder to ignite than my father.”
Jeff grinned. “Well, I suspect you run a close second to him as far as personality and temper go.”
Lloyd smiled and shook his head. “If you want a comparison, I’m just dynamite. He is nitro. I lack my father’s meanness. It comes from way deep inside, mostly from his past.”