“That first day I saw him, I realized that he can back a man down with just a look. When he’s angry, there is fire in those eyes. It’s unnerving.”
Lloyd nodded. “True.” He nodded toward the front door. “At least outside that door. Oh, he has a few friends, is amiable to most people, but don’t cross him and don’t mess with his family and don’t do something that means he has to come after you. And don’t abuse a kid or a woman. That’s part of the reason he brought those prisoners back in such bad shape. It wasn’t because they robbed a bank. It’s because they holed up at a ranch where they raped a fifteen-year-old girl. My dad went nuts.”
Jeff dared to ask, “Does it have anything to do with his father?”
Lloyd shot him a dark look that said he’d gone too far. “Probably, but let’s not talk about that.”
“I’m sorry,” Jeff quickly covered. “I should have known better than to ask.”
“You’re right, and if you ever dare to ask Pa, you’d better pick the right time. Better yet, let him bring it up, and then hope he’s not in a bad mood when he does.” Lloyd leaned forward, studying his cigarette as he spoke. “My dad seldom drinks. I’ll bet you are surprised at that.”
Jeff frowned with curiosity. “I am.”
Lloyd continued to stare at the cigarette. “You want something for that book of yours. That’s something. He’ll down a beer or two—sometimes a shot of whiskey, but not around my mother or my sister or the grandkids. Only once or twice in my whole life have I seen him actually come close to getting drunk…but even then, he seemed to know when to stop…and those couple of times were only when we were out on the trail. The man is terrified he’ll turn into his father if he gets drunk, so you’ll never see him pull a cork when he’s here at home. He made me promise a long time ago never to drink either. When I ran off on him and tried to defy everything he ever taught me, I drank a lot, but I quit after that.” He stopped to smoke. “Jeff, there is a war going on inside Jake Harkner, between his father’s cussed mean blood and his mother’s goodness. Pa says she was beautiful—and he still wears rosary beads that were hers. There’s a beautiful crucifix on the end of the beads.”
“Really? That’s strange, for a man who won’t step foot into church.”
Lloyd grinned sadly. “Yeah, well, that’s a bone of contention between him and my mother. But I don’t think it means he doesn’t believe there’s a God.” He kept the cigarette at the corner of his mouth as he spoke, just as, Jeff noted, Jake would do.
Like father, like son, in looks, actions…
“Pa’s mother was Mexican,” Lloyd continued, “and her name was Evita. My mother named my sister after her, and Pa says Evie looks a lot like his mother. He loves her more than anything, because she always had his back no matter what.”
Lloyd set his cigarette in an ashtray and cleared his throat. “I’ve said way too much—more than he would have wanted me to tell you. Don’t let him know. Just let him tell you what he wants, when he wants.” He rose. “I’ll get you some coffee.”
“You really don’t have to—”
“It’s okay.”
Lloyd walked into the kitchen. “Want anything to eat?” he called back to Jeff. “Half the town has stopped by with food.”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.” Jeff took another look around the very pleasant but small house. Lace curtains graced the windows and front door, wool mosaic rugs decorated the wide-plank hardwood floor, and knickknacks and plants were appropriately placed. He thought how the house did not fit the big, often violent man who lived in it.
Lloyd came back with two cups of coffee, and Jake’s gun belt hanging over his arm. He handed a cup to Jeff and laid the gun belt on the sofa, then sat down. “No, I can’t just leave it there. You see, Pa worships the ground my sister walks on—calls her his angel. To him, she walks on water, and to her, he is just one step down from Jesus Christ himself. Pa is going to feel awful for yelling at her like he did this morning. He’s never once raised his voice to her or Mom or the grandkids. Pa and I have had words—like any father and son, I guess—but I know he loves the hell out of me. Still, Evie is the one who stuck by him when he went to prison. I’ll never forgive myself for leaving, but Pa forgave me—”
The bedroom door opened then and Randy stepped out along with Brian. Again, Jeff was struck by how lovely Randy was, though pale and tired-looking now. Her light blue dress was covered with bloodstains, as was Brian’s suit.