Do Not Forsake Me(78)

Randy appeared a bit stunned. Jeff could tell she’d had no idea Jake had been thinking about these things.

Peter finally spoke up. “Jake, what does all this have to do with me?”

“I want you, or some lawyer you know who’s good at criminal justice, to petition the judge in St. Louis who sentenced me and ask if my sentence can be reduced. He gave me five years. I’ve already served close to two. I want to ask for the sentence to be reduced from five years to three. I want to take my whole family and get out of this goddamned, dusty, lawless hellhole of a territory and hang up my guns for good. The only firearms I want to use are my rifle or my shotgun for hunting. I want the whole family to come with us. Randy and I will be buried there, and Lloyd and Evie will take over, and someday they’ll lie beside us, and then the grandkids will take over. I want that grave site on a hill under a great big tree, and it will be beautiful and green and peaceful. I want peaceful, Peter—a peaceful life. Will you do that for Randy? She deserves to have some peace at last.”

“Jake, I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t fine. God knows you’ve had enough stress in your life to kill you off, and now this. Maybe knowing there is light at the end of this tunnel will help you fight whatever is wrong now.”

Peter looked at Randy with obvious love and concern. “That’s the second time Jake has mentioned something being wrong, Randy. What is it? Is it serious?”

“I…no. I mean, I don’t know. It’s personal.” She looked at Jake. “Jake, you never told me all this before.”

Jake sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’ve put up with enough. You’ve been through too many years of hell, thanks to me.”

“I’ve been loved like most women wish they were loved!” Randy answered sternly. “I’ve been treasured and respected and adored. I’ve been given two beautiful children and two wonderful, loving grandsons. You did that!”

Jake reached for a cigarette from a pocket inside his vest. “I did a lot of things.”

“Jake, where is all this coming from?”

“You know where it’s coming from. But this thing about moving to Colorado is something I thought about long before we found out you could be…” He hesitated. “Jesus,” he muttered, stopping to light the cigarette.

“Randy?” Peter asked.

“Look, she needs surgery for something that could be cancer,” Jake told him. “We won’t really know until she sees Ed Rogers.”

Peter closed his eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake.” He leaned back in his chair again. “I’m damn sorry. Damn sorry—for both of you. I know what you share, and neither of you deserves this.”

Jake looked at Peter as he took his first drag on the cigarette. “Do you think there’s a chance I could get this marshal job over with sooner?”

Peter still watched Randy with great concern. He moved his gaze to Jake, and Jeff could see the continuing challenge there. “I can try. I know that you were cleared of what you went to prison for, so what’s the excuse the judge used to sentence you to this in the first place? Why didn’t he just set you free?”

Jake smoked quietly for a moment. “You name it, I’ve done it,” he finally answered. “Except for abusing women. That never happened. But just the fact that I rode with the Kennedy bunch and they robbed and murdered and they kidnapped and raped a woman once was enough to put me away for life. The judge felt that because I’d gone unpunished for all the other crimes I’d committed, I should still serve some time, but he also saw an opportunity to fill the need for federal marshals in the West. It’s a lousy job most men don’t want. Since I’d turned my life around and had a family, the judge decided I should be free, but that I should still do time, so he sentenced me to something that would let me be with my family but still use my expertise with guns—for good instead of bad. He figured since I once ran with outlaws, I’d know how to track down the same kind of men.”

“Well, he was certainly right about that, wasn’t he?” Peter wrote on his tablet again. “Who’s the judge?”

“Robert Mitchell. He’s in St. Louis.”

Peter made a few more notes. “I’ll get the paperwork done for the book and the trust, but I’ll see about petitioning for a lesser sentence first. That’s more important.” He glanced at Randy, who was quietly crying. “Are you all right, Randy?”

She nodded. “I just…didn’t know Jake was thinking about this. I don’t want to get my hopes up about Colorado.”