Miranda struggled to her feet and stumbled over to her daughter, tearing her away from the two men and holding her tight, pressing her head against her breast in an effort to keep her from having to see.
“Get him in the wagon!” Gentry ordered, now on his feet again himself. The words were slurred through a bleeding, already-swelling mouth.
It took four men to lift a nearly unconscious Jake into the wagon, which looked hot and uncomfortable to Miranda. She could not control her sobs then as she watched them handcuff both of Jake’s wrists behind his back to wagon bars. He sat on a hard bench, his head hanging, blood dripping from several face and head wounds. He managed to lift his head just slightly to look back at her as two soldiers climbed into the wagon seat and whipped the mules that pulled it into motion.
“Where will you take him?” Miranda screamed at Gentry.
One of the men who had been holding Evie answered for the man. “To Fort Lyon. Authorities from Missouri will pick him up there and take him to St. Louis.”
“Then I’m going to Fort Lyon, and to St. Louis! And I’ll damn well find out who Lieutenant Gentry’s commanding officer is! He’ll know what happened here today! Arresting a man is one thing! Beating him and his wife is another!”
The soldier frowned, walking to help Gentry mount up, then mounting his own horse. The rest of the men climbed onto their horses, and they all rode to catch up with the wagon.
Miranda watched after them, feeling crazy with a need to go and help Jake. How badly was he hurt? Would they help him at all? Would he get food and water?
How could life turn so quickly? This morning she had been happily baking, planning for Jake’s return. She clung to a weeping Evie, and from inside the house she could smell her bread burning. She had been baking it for Jake. How he loved her homemade bread, loved it when the house smelled of it. She remembered the first time he’d mentioned how he liked that smell, back at her little cabin in Kansas City close to twenty years ago.
In the distance, Jake watched his wife and daughter grow smaller as the wagon bounced and clattered away. He thought how Randy was still a slip of a woman, how strangely sad it was that she had been wearing that yellow dress today.
Twenty-six
Lloyd led the palomino stallion into the corral, glancing at the Parker ranch house in the distance, anxious to see Beth again. He would have to wait until tomorrow to meet her at Fisher’s Creek, since he was dusty and sweating and needed a bath. It was already late afternoon, but in spite of his condition, he decided to at least go to the house before he left.
“It’s about time you got back, boy,” one of Parker’s men yelled out to him.
Lloyd grinned. “I know. I would have been back two days ago if the damn mare hadn’t been so stubborn. She wouldn’t let Pacer near her for three days.” He thought the man would laugh, but he only nodded, a strange look in his eyes that made Lloyd feel like he was in some kind of trouble. He had done everything as he had been requested, and he had the money Parker’s friend had paid for the stud service. He glanced toward the house again, wondering why Beth didn’t run out to greet him like she usually did. She always watched for him when he’d been gone a while.
He dismounted and took the bridle from the stallion’s head, pulled the bit from its mouth. “There you go, boy. You ought to feel damn good after making love with that pretty mare.” He patted the horse’s neck, and the animal reared and whinnied, then pranced around the corral. Lloyd led his own horse back out of the gate and locked it. He tied his horse and started toward the house when the same man called out to him.
“She ain’t there, kid! Her pa took her off someplace four days ago.” The man started toward him, taking a piece of paper from the pocket of his vest. “I’m supposed to give this to you. It’s from your ma. She’s gone too, her and your sister and Jess York—gone to Fort Lyon to be with your pa.”
Lloyd frowned, totally confused. “Fort Lyon? Why would Pa take my mother and Evie there just to sell a few cattle to the government?”
Will Brewer leaned against the corral gate, hating to be the bearer of bad news. He liked Lloyd, had liked Jake too, for that matter. He and the other men were still shaking their heads over the events of the last few days, still found it all hard to believe. “I guess you don’t know anything at all yet, do you? I thought maybe the news had got to Pueblo before you left.”
Lloyd took the folded paper from the man. “What news?”
Will rubbed at his mouth nervously. His shirt showed sweat stains, and he sported a three-day-old beard. He had never been one to shave or bathe regularly, and his eyes were always puffy from too much whiskey. Right now those pale gray eyes showed a true concern for Lloyd. “Soldiers come here about four days ago, son. They took your pa away, arrested him.”