Do Not Forsake Me(91)
“Yes, sir.”
Jake glanced at the six-gun Jeff wore on his hip. “Looks like a Colt .22.”
“You can tell that just by the handle?”
“I believe I know a little bit about guns, Jeff.”
“Yes, sir. Stupid question.”
“Have you tried using that thing yet?”
“No, sir. I got this one because it’s a bit smaller and lighter than a .44 and doesn’t kick. Takes more strength than I have to pull and shoot what you’re wearing.”
“We’ll stop up ahead in a gully and let you do some shooting where your bullets can’t go far,” Jake told him. “That way nobody gets hurt.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jake drew his horse to a halt and swung around to face him. “Jeff, you should know that if I get really ornery with you, I don’t want you to take it personally. It will be because I have a lot on my mind.” He lit yet another cigarette. “And the reason I’m practically chain-smoking is that I’m trying to keep myself from drinking. Randy is leaving tomorrow for Oklahoma City with Peter Brown, of all people. There is a specialist there who is supposed to be extra good at the kind of operation she needs. Peter has to go there anyway to see another attorney about pleading my case, so Randy is going with him.”
Jeff raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t know any of this, Jake.”
“Yeah, well, it was decided over just the last couple of days, and right now I’d like to drink myself into oblivion, but then God knows what that would do to me, the state I’m in. I just want you to know why I might not be exactly amiable the next few days. I don’t know where Marty Bryant is or how many men he has, I don’t know if that judge will reduce my sentence, my wife could be dying and I can’t be with her, and the man who is taking her to Oklahoma City is in love with her. My mind is flying in ten different directions right now.”
Jeff frowned. “I’m sorry, Jake.”
“Not as sorry as I am, for a lot of things.” Jake turned his horse back around and rode ahead of Jeff and Lloyd.
Jeff turned to Lloyd. “Your mother is really headed to Oklahoma City with Peter Brown?”
“She is,” Lloyd answered, lighting his own cigarette. “This won’t be an easy trip, Jeff. My father is going to go through so many different moods, we won’t be able to keep up. I just hope that if the worst happens, my mother doesn’t die down there from the surgery or something. If she dies without my dad being with her, it’s going to be really, really bad, Jeff. I’m praying she’s home when we get back, and by some miracle she’s okay.”
“Well, I sure hope for the same.” Jeff watched Jake riding on ahead alone. “Lloyd, when I asked your father what your mother meant to him, his reply was that she was the center of his universe…the very air he breathed. I thought those were beautiful words, coming from a man like Jake.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. Pa is going to be one angry, ornery sonofabitch on this trip, so beware. If I were you, I wouldn’t ask him a lot of questions. Let him open up to you when he feels like it. Otherwise, leave him alone. He’ll put on a good show of being okay. He’ll even joke around with you. But right now, he’s that nitroglycerin we talked about.” He reached into a pocket on his duster and took out a deputy marshal badge. “Here. Pa said to give you one of these.”
Jeff’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “A badge? Hell, I still don’t even know how to use a gun!”
“Pa says if you wear this, people will be less likely to mess with you—or shoot you.”
Jeff met the young man’s eyes and Lloyd winked. “Just pulling your leg, Jeff—but that badge really will make people think twice. And don’t worry about the Buckley place. You’re with Jake Harkner, remember? And he’s in a real shitty mood. You don’t take down my dad when he’s in a mood like that.” He trotted his horse forward, still leading the packhorse. “Put the badge on, Jeff,” he called back.
Jeff stared at the six-point badge for a moment, then reluctantly pinned it to his shirt. He straightened, grinning. He couldn’t wait to write home about this. Dear Father and family, I rode with Jake Harkner this week as a deputy U.S. Marshal—badge and all. And Jake Harkner himself gave me shooting lessons. He kicked the sides of his horse to catch up again.
* * *
There was a good hour of light left when Jake made camp in the gully he’d spoken about. They unloaded the horses and let them graze while they spread out bedrolls. Jake built a fire and dumped a can of beans into a black fry pan, then set it right on top of the flames. While waiting for the beans to heat up, he walked several feet away and set the empty can on a log. “Load up that .22, Jeff. Let’s see how straight it shoots.”