Outlaw Hearts(111)

“No, Jake,” Miranda sobbed. “Kennedy did this. Not you. All you did was defend yourself.” She sat there in her bloody dress, holding Lloyd close. She had taken the gag from the boy’s mouth, and he clung to her, screaming. Jake went to his knees, reaching out to touch the baby’s dark hair, and Miranda supposed she would never forget the look in Jake’s eyes when Lloyd curled up tighter against her, still seeming terrified of his own father.

Jake closed his eyes and put his head down against the earth. Miranda wept his name, moving to touch his hair. “It’s not your fault, Jake,” she repeated. She looked up at the crowd of people that had gathered. “Please find a doctor.”

“I’m right here,” the town doctor spoke up, pushing his way through the crowd. He knelt over Jake, who rolled to his side, grimacing with pain.

“Help my wife first,” he groaned. “Juan…stabbed her…I think.”

“Somebody help me get them over to my office,” the doctor barked. “And bring those other two wounded men.”

A few people began moving to help them, everyone acting slowly as they came out of the shock of what they had just witnessed. Four men picked Jake up, and two others helped Miranda get to her feet. Betsy came running up to her, trying to take Lloyd from her, but the still-crying child would not let go of his mother. They walked past Hetta Anderson, who stood looking helplessly at Miranda, her eyes full of questions and disappointment and not a little animosity.

“I’m so sorry, Hetta,” Miranda said, her throat aching with grief.

“That won’t bring back my Joe. You lied to us! And now my husband is dead because of your lies!” the woman sobbed.

The words cut deep. Hot pain pierced Miranda’s right side, and nausea grabbed at her stomach. She felt the whole world closing in on her. The day had started out so happy and peaceful. Now it was all destroyed, the friendships she had valued, the love they had felt in this little town. Maybe she would even lose the precious baby in her womb, the baby none of these people even knew about yet.

And Jake. What would this do to him? It had taken so long to teach him that he could be as good as the next man, that he could have a happy life, a family, love. These people would turn against them now. She knew it in her heart. His prize stallion lay dead in the corral, and his son had recoiled from him, terrified of the look on his own father’s face. More than the fair had been ruined. Lives had been ruined. Perhaps some of these people would even hold Jake prisoner after his wounds were tended to, take him back to Missouri and collect the reward on him.

Jake had been right. Bill Kennedy was a damn good tracker. The only good thing that had come out of this day was that the man and those who rode with him were dead and could never hurt them or anyone else again. But the way Jake had cold-bloodedly killed the two wounded ones had surprised even her. In that moment she had seen the worst of the old Jake. Could she ever get back the man she had loved these last three years? Could life ever be as sweet and peaceful for them again? Maybe he wouldn’t even live. Maybe he had hung on just long enough to kill Kennedy and his men and make sure they could never hurt her or little Lloyd.

People surrounded her, talked among themselves. She kept hearing Jake’s name, heard someone else crying in the distance. She felt consciousness slowly leaving her as the loss of blood drained her of strength. Finally her world went black and Lloyd slipped away from her. Someone took him and someone else lifted her. She slipped into a kind of dreamworld, where she saw Jake coming toward her, holding Lloyd. Both were smiling. Jake reached out to her and enfolded her into his arms with their son. She was safe there, wasn’t she?

Yes, everything was fine. She would wake up and find out none of this had happened. They would have their picnic and sell their horses and Jake would win the shooting contest. They would take the hundred dollars and go home to the ranch they had built together, where they had always been so happy.





Eighteen


Miranda could hear the doctor talking in a loud voice somewhere outside. “Let them rest for now!” he was shouting. “You can all settle this later.”

“We’ll settle it all right! And we’re waiting right here until they can talk to us!”

She recognized Jack Stewart’s voice. Jack owned the livery in town, had been a good friend to Jake. She did not doubt now that that friendship was over, not because Jake would want it to be, but because Jack and probably everyone else in town hated Jake for the bloodshed that had taken place this morning.

She opened her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts. What time was it? It felt like late afternoon. She had drunk a lot of laudanum before the doctor began stitching up the stab wound in her side, and she felt groggy. She raised her head to see little Lloyd sleeping soundly on the cot next to hers. Her heart ached for the child, who had been so confused and terrified by this morning’s events. His little face was still stained from a mixture of dirt and tears, and there were red spots near the corners of his mouth from the cruel gag.