Love’s Sweet Revenge(8)

Peter also rose. “No doubt about that. There isn’t much of anything Jake Harkner has patience for, except for his wife and those grandchildren.” He walked around the desk and shook Jeff’s hand again. “We had quite a time back in Guthrie, didn’t we?”

“We sure did. You don’t run with a man like Jake Harkner without it leaving some pretty vivid memories.” He squeezed Peter’s hand. “And you don’t meet up with a woman like Randy without her leaving one hell of an impression.”

Peter didn’t reply. He felt as though someone was physically squeezing his heart. He released Jeff’s hand and headed for the door. “Thanks for the information, Jeff. And if you need me for anything—anything at all—let me know. I’m glad you told me about this. Please keep me updated on anything you find out, will you?”

“You know I will.”

Peter opened the door and walked out with Jeff, who first took his hat from the stand at the door. The two men looked at each other once more, vivid memories swimming between them. “You let me know about that baby,” Peter said.

“I will.” Jeff turned and left.

Peter watched him climb into the carriage that had brought him there, and the driver snapped a small whip, urging the horse into a trot. The horse’s hooves echoed on the brick driveway as they drove off, reminding Peter of another horse—a big, black horse that held a big, well-armed man back in Guthrie, Oklahoma. In some ways, it seemed a lifetime ago.

“Peter? Are you all right?”

He turned to see his wife standing there, watching him.

“What did Jeff want? You look upset.”

Peter smiled sadly and reached out to embrace her. “He just wanted some advice on something,” he told her. “Nothing to worry about. Why don’t you go start changing for that benefit we’re attending later? I’ll be up in a minute.”

Treena leaned up and kissed him lightly. “All right. But you are clearly upset. When you’re ready, you tell me what’s going on, Peter Brown.”

He kissed her cheek. “I will. I promise. Go on with you.” He watched her turn and go up the wide, winding staircase to the bedrooms, then walked back to his office, going over to a bookcase. He took out a hardbound book, staring at the title.

Jake Harkner: The Legend and the Myth.

Legend for sure, but no myth. The man was very real, and Peter had no doubt he could still be very dangerous—and ruthless. If Mike Holt had any intentions of finding revenge for the shoot-out at Dune Hollow, he’d be wise not to act on them. Jake Harkner might be a little older, but a man like that never got softer, and he sure as hell still knew how to use those guns.





Three


Lloyd led his horse into one of several whitewashed board-and-batt barns on the J&L, weary from a long day of herding cattle into pens and sorting cows and their calves from the breeding bulls. Among the male calves, some would be castrated and fattened up for slaughter. Grown steers ready for market were separated into their own holding pens in preparation for the new herd that would be coming in after spring roundup. They’d already found one bull they called Gus, the meanest of them all. The ornery animal had nearly managed to gore Lloyd’s horse earlier in the day.

“Ole Gus is one mad bastard, Sammy,” Lloyd told his horse, patting the animal’s flank. “Good thing you’re so good at what you do. Things will get a lot livelier once we head out for roundup and bring in more cows and their calves. There’s a lot of hard work ahead for you and me both.”

Cattle splintered into every direction through the winter, and finding all of them on fifty thousand acres was a daunting task every spring. Lloyd thanked God that he’d found several new calves already, all healthy and alive. It always hurt to find those who’d not survived the wolves and the deep snows. Every time he came across a dead bull or steer it made him feel lonely. It brought back memories of Beth, buried back in Guthrie after bleeding to death from a miscarriage. At least he had Stephen, a part of Beth he could keep forever. Sometimes he had to fight the old urge to blame Jake for all the years he lost with Beth, but it was really his own fault for running off in anger when he learned the truth about his father’s past. If he’d stayed…

Lloyd forced his mind away from that old pain. He wondered at his own ability to feel sorry for a dead animal when he could shoot a man down with no remorse. Routing out the scum of the earth day in and day out as a U.S. Marshal did that to a man. It was even easier for Jake, who long before becoming a marshal had lost count of how many men had met the wrong end of his gun. Yet there was so much goodness in him, and a kid couldn’t ask for a better father. When he feared he was losing Jake to death after the shoot-out back in Guthrie, that’s when he knew more than ever how much the man meant to him. He’d not leave him again—ever.