Love’s Sweet Revenge(134)
Kraemer drank down the lemonade, and Randy glanced at Jake. He gave her a thin smile. “Sit down, Randy. You’ve had a long day.”
Randy couldn’t help feeling nervous at the marshal’s visit. She handed out the rest of the lemonade and walked over to sit in a wooden chair beside Brian.
“You were saying?” Jake told Kraemer.
“I’m to tell you they are having a shooting contest at the summer fair in Boulder. They’d love for you to come there and show them how fast you can draw.”
Jake shook his head. “Not interested. I’m not a circus act, Kraemer. And I don’t want my grandsons thinking guns are for showing off. Besides, the last time I got in a shooting contest, it drew too much attention, and I ended up in a shoot-out with about seven men who injured my wife and tried to kidnap my son.”
Kraemer smiled. “Your son looks pretty big to be kidnapped.”
“He was only about a year and a half old at the time.” Jake drew on the cigarette and took it from his lips. “And a shooting contest and picking up mail aren’t good enough reasons for a U.S. Marshal to come all the way out here. What’s your real mission?”
Kraemer leaned back in his chair, putting a booted foot up on his other knee and hanging his hat on his foot. He drank more of the lemonade before he answered. “The Cattlemen’s Association has an offer for you, Jake. They sent me to tell you about it.”
“What kind of offer?”
“Range detective.”
Lloyd straightened in his chair. “What the hell is a range detective?”
Kraemer guzzled down the rest of his lemonade. “Pretty much what it sounds like. There has been too much rustling going on, as you well know, Jake. You’ve had a run-in with rustlers yourself. And nesters are also becoming a problem. The cattlemen have decided they need men to ride the range looking for trouble. If anyone can sniff out troublemakers and then handle them himself when he finds them, it’s Jake Harkner.”
“No!” Randy suddenly gasped.
Jake looked her way and saw the terror in her eyes.
“Jake, no! It’s too dangerous!”
Jake looked back at Kraemer. “Sounds to me like that’s work for a regular marshal like yourself.”
“Not necessarily. Only another cattleman can recognize men who don’t belong on his land and recognize which brands belong to which ranchers. We keep the law in other ways, but this is a need unique to cattlemen. You know the wide range marshals cover. We can’t be everywhere at once, Jake. Range detectives can zero in on particular ranches and handle rustlers and such. You find them, arrest them, and then bring them to us. I know that part would be hard for you, given the fact that you tend to shoot first and ask questions later, but you’d have to abide by the law of the land.”
Jake tamped out his cigarette, glancing at Lloyd.
“I need you here, Pa.”
“You run this ranch just fine without me, and it’s mostly yours.”
“It pays good, Jake. You’d make a lot of money,” Kraemer told him. “The cattlemen know how good you are, and they’re willing to pay you five hundred dollars a month. That’s a whole lot more than you ever made as a marshal, and if this ranch ever hit bad times—like a hard winter that killed off most of the cattle, or a drought that burned up your grass—you’d be able to support it by taking this job.”
“I have money!” Lloyd put in. “I inherited it from my first wife, and I’m not worried about this ranch going under. We’ll be just fine. I rode with my father as a marshal in Oklahoma, and every damn day I was scared some sonofabitch would shoot him in the back! All it got him was even more enemies—men who turned around and hurt my whole family. My father doesn’t need to be making even more enemies! Just a few days ago three of his own men—”
“Lloyd!” Jake interrupted.
Kraemer raised his eyebrows. “Did you have some new trouble out here, Jake?”
“Nothing Lloyd and I couldn’t handle. And if you’re asking if I killed anyone, I didn’t. I just hope I don’t live to regret that. I’ve learned over the years it’s better to put someone down for good than to create new enemies. But all the new laws they’re coming up with now make it hard for a man to protect his own family.” He leaned back in his chair. “Look at my wife, Kraemer.”
The marshal moved his gaze to Randy as she wiped at her eyes with a shaking hand.
“That woman has been to hell and back—with me and for me,” Jake told the marshal. “We moved out here for the peace we’ve been wanting the whole thirty years we’ve been together. We’re pretty damn close, but I’m worried about the three men I kicked off the J&L a few days ago. They weren’t exactly in good health when they left. And there is still the little matter of one Brad Buckley, a leftover from Oklahoma who is still wanting revenge because I killed his father and two brothers. I’m needed right here in case that man decides to pull something. Lloyd and I and the men who work for us will take care of rustlers and any other trouble on the J&L. The other ranchers can take care of it however they want, but I’m not interested. My wife went through enough in Oklahoma.” He took another cigarette from a shirt pocket. “Besides, I’m getting too many aches and pains from old wounds to be sitting in a saddle all day long every damn day and sleeping on the hard ground at night. I prefer my own bed, where I don’t have to fight insects and worry about a snake crawling into my boots or my knapsack while I’m sleeping. A good woman in your bed at night is a lot more welcome.”