Love’s Sweet Revenge(17)

Randy closed her eyes with relief, unable to accept killing a man as easily as her husband did.

Jake came back and pulled her close again, hugging her so tightly she could barely breathe. “That’s it. You’re not coming with me again.”

“Jake, you can’t judge by this.” Randy hated realizing the spell was broken. The trip had been so beautiful, until now.

“I mean it, Randy.”

Still shaking, Randy broke into tears. “I don’t want the morning to be spoiled. You promised me we’d go back to that line shack. It’s so beautiful and peaceful there.”

“We’ll figure out a way. You’re just upset right now. All I know is that I can’t bring you with me this time of year, when the men are so spread out. You’re safer at home when I have to go this far.”

“I hate it when you’re gone.” Randy clung to him.

“Well, I’m here right now.” He sighed, keeping her close. The far riders came closer. “Lloyd is coming, and he has more men with him.” He rubbed her back. “It’s okay, Randy.”

Randy pulled away, wiping at tears with a shaking hand. “Lloyd’s coming? How did he know there might be trouble?”

Jake kept an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know. I’m just glad he’s here.”

Randy kept her arms around his waist as the riders drew nearer. Lloyd charged up the hill to where they waited, dismounting before his horse even came to a complete stop. “Pa! We heard there might be rustlers in this area. You okay?”

“We’re all right,” Jake told him. “A bullet ricocheted off the rocks and ripped across my back, but there’s no bullet in me that I can tell. I think it’s just a gash.”

Lloyd touched Randy’s shoulder. “You all right, Mom?”

She closed her eyes and pulled away from Jake. “I’m just a little shaken up. I shot at one behind us, and the shotgun slammed pretty hard against my shoulder. I have a feeling I’ll be bruised by morning.” She began to cry then. “It’s just that I never know when I’ll lose your father to something like this.”

Lloyd pulled her into his arms. “Mom, you know that mean sonofabitch doesn’t go down easy.” He leaned down and kissed her hair and turned to Jake, keeping an arm around his mother.

“Thanks for the kind names you call me,” Jake quipped.

“Just saying it like it is,” Lloyd told him, loving to trade barbs with his father, who never spared words himself when voicing exactly what he was thinking. He gave his mother a gentle squeeze. “You’ve turned this woman into a nervous wreck over the years.”

“Lloyd, I’m fine,” Randy objected. She pulled away. “Take care of your father.”

Lloyd frowned, walking around to see that the back of Jake’s sheepskin jacket was soaked with blood. “Take off your jacket and let me look at that wound.”

“I’m fine.”

“Damn it, Pa, you’re bleeding worse than you think! I saw enough blood after that gunfight back in Guthrie. I don’t need to see you nearly bleed to death again. For all you know, you need stitches.”

“And who will do that? You?”

“Hell yes. I would take great pleasure in yanking a needle through that wound and hearing you yell.”

Jake scowled at him as he removed the jacket. “I’ll just bet you would.”

“Turn around, old man. Let me at least put some whiskey on it.”

Jake sighed. “Thanks for coming,” he told Lloyd, sincerity moving into his eyes. “If something had gone wrong, they would have gotten ahold of your mother.” He winced when Lloyd tore open the back of his shirt. “Go through those men’s gear and see if you can find some identification,” Jake called out to Pepper and Cole.

“The bleeding is slowing. I’ll put whiskey on it anyway, just for safekeeping.” Lloyd walked over to his horse and took a flask from his saddlebag, along with a roll of gauze.

Jake glanced at a shaken Randy. “You really all right? You’re not hurt anywhere?”

She walked up to him and leaned against his chest as he moved an arm around her. “I’m fine.”

Lloyd returned with the supplies, and Randy felt Jake jerk when Lloyd doused the deep cut with whiskey, then pressed the gauze against the wound and held it there a moment.

“I’d rather drink some of that whiskey,” Jake told him.

“I expect you would.”

“I suppose I’ve added another scar to my back,” Jake grumbled.

Lloyd glanced at his mother. Randy saw the pain in his eyes at knowing the scars on his father’s back were nearly all put there by Jake’s own father when Jake was just a little boy—by the buckle end of a belt. “I suppose so,” he answered quietly, “but I don’t think it will have to be stitched up. We’ll let Brian look at it when we get back.”