Miranda followed him into the smoky log structure. It was late afternoon, and there were roughly twelve men there, eight of them sitting at card tables, three more at the bar, a bartender pouring one of them a whiskey. None of them was Lloyd. Twelve pairs of eyes moved to Miranda.
“Well, well, what we got here?” one of those at the table said with a grin. “My God, she packs a pistol even!”
Several of them laughed. “She knows how to use it too,” Jake spoke up, moving to the bar. Miranda sat down on a stool.
“Yeah? Who taught her?” a man at the bar asked.
“Jake Harkner,” Jake replied.
Most of them lost their smiles. “Harkner?” The man at the bar looked Jake over. “You Jake Harkner?”
Jake took a thin cigar from his vest pocket. “I am.” He lit the cigar, watching them all carefully. “The woman is my wife, so quit ogling her.”
Several quickly turned away and returned to their card playing. “We heard you was in prison,” the man at the bar told Jake.
“I’ve been set free, and I’m looking for my son Lloyd. I heard he’d been here, shot a couple of men. Any of you know about it, know where he might be?”
A man at one of the tables looked up at him. “He might be dead by now,” he told him.
Miranda gasped, and Jake slowly took the cigar from his mouth. He looked at the bartender. “Pour me a whiskey.” His voice was gruff, and Miranda knew the statement had hit him hard. The bartender poured him a shot, and Jake quickly gulped it, then turned. “You want to explain that remark?” he asked the man at the table. “What’s your name?”
The man had a hard, mean look to him, his beard full-growth, his dark hair oily and unkempt. He was not tall, but his brawny, heavyset build gave off an aura of strength. “Name’s Mark Whitney,” he answered, his steely blue eyes meeting Jake’s boldly.
Jake moved closer to the man. “What do you know about my son?”
“I know the kid drank a lot. When he drank he did and said stupid things.” The man spit toward a brass pot and missed. “I know he shot four men, two a while back, two more just recently. Them two was part of Jube Latimer’s bunch. Latimer is a pretty big man in these parts, has a gang of at least ten men, sometimes more. He came ridin’ in here a few days later, didn’t much like hearin’ about your son killin’ two of his men, or the fact that the boy took their horses after he shot them.” He bit off another chunk of chewing tobacco and stuck it between his cheek and gum. “I ain’t seen the kid or Jubal and his bunch since.” He looked Jake over. “The kid is good with them guns, I’ll say that, but I expect you’re better. Trouble is, ol’ Jube wouldn’t be impressed by that. Ain’t many who’d dare go after the son of Jake Harkner, but Jubal would. He’s got a lot of firepower. He wouldn’t be afraid of just one man.”
“Well, maybe the right one just hasn’t come along yet,” Jake fumed. “You must have some idea where Lloyd went, where this Jube Latimer and his men went.”
Whitney shrugged. “Who knows out here?” He drank down some whiskey and spit again. “’Course, money talks and bullshit walks.”
Jake kept the cigar between his teeth. “There are more things than money that can make a man talk.”
Whitney’s eyes dropped to Jake’s revolver. “I expect so, but I’m one man who knows where Jubal and his bunch generally spend most of their time when they’re not out on a job. I’ll tell you for free it’s up by Hole-in-the-Wall in the Wind River range, but it’ll cost you a hundred dollars if you want me to lead you right to it. Just don’t expect me to go in with you, not against that bunch. First off, you’d have to go up to Hole-in-the-Wall and see if your son’s been seen up there.”
“You crazy, Mark?” one of the others spoke up. “You shouldn’t oughta be showin’ nobody how to find Latimer, especially not Jake Harkner. Latimer will kill you if he finds out.”
Whitney glanced at Miranda. “Maybe.”
Jake startled everyone then when he grabbed Whitney by the lapels and jerked him out of his chair, throwing him against the bar with remarkable force, considering Whitney’s bulk. Men scrambled for cover when in an instant Jake’s revolver was pressed under Whitney’s chin. Miranda jumped down from her stool and moved back.
“How fucking stupid do you think I am, Whitney?” Jake growled. “If you know where to find Latimer, then you used to ride with him! And if you used to ride with him, you’re not about to turn on him! You’ll lead me to him, all right, so Latimer can have the pleasure of being the one to say he killed Jake Harkner and took his woman!”