Jake nodded. “I remember. It was a long time ago.”
“Charlie heard you was released. He’d seen your son at Brown’s Park. Everybody knows the kid can’t handle his whiskey and is lookin’ to get himself killed. He might have already succeeded. Anyway, Charlie said if you was out of prison, you’d be comin’ here lookin’ for the boy to fetch him home. Said he remembered your woman and the boy was all you could talk about when you was in these parts them years back.” The man glanced at Miranda, looked her over. “I can understand why you’d be anxious to get back to the woman,” he added, looking back at Jake. “She’s fine-lookin’. Your boy is too. The whores love him.”
Miranda closed her eyes and looked away, remembering a sweet, loving young man who was so much in love with Beth Parker.
“Watch your mouth around my wife,” Jake told the man. “Where’s Charlie? How can he help me?”
The man turned and pointed. “He’s rollin’ with the whores over there at Ella’s place.” He looked back at Jake. “He used to ride with Latimer, but it didn’t last long. He ain’t made of the same cut, ain’t mean enough. I hate to tell you, but Latimer’s as bad as they come. I seen him chop off a man’s fingers once for cheatin’ at cards. I’ve seen a lot of ruthless men, but Latimer’s got them all beat.”
Until now, Jake thought, his fury building.
“At any rate, Charlie knows how to get into Latimer’s stronghold because he’s been there himself.” The man leaned forward, resting an arm on his saddle horn. “I’ll tell you somethin’ else. That boy of yours ain’t got the ugliness he needs to go up against a man like Latimer. He thinks he does, but he don’t. When Latimer is through with him, he’ll wonder why he ever decided to go around wearin’ them guns of yours. I can see by your eyes that you’ve got that mean spirit a man needs for this life. The boy ain’t got it. If you can find him alive, you’d better get him the hell out of here. He’s good with them guns, I’ll grant you that. He’s strong and all that, brave too, in a lot of ways. He’d make a good lawman, maybe, but he don’t belong on the other side of the fence, if you know what I mean.”
Jake nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. Thanks for the information.” He looked over at Miranda. “Let’s find Charlie.”
She blinked back tears and rode beside him toward the sprawling shack called Ella’s Place. Jake had never mentioned this Charlie Tate, but then she knew he didn’t like to talk about the time he spent here when he’d left California. He apparently had not been as close to Tate as he had been to Jess.
The man in the duster rode on the other side of Jake. “Name’s Hank Downing. Me and Latimer had a run-in a few months back. Not many men around here would care if you shot the hell out of the man. If Charlie’s gonna help you, I’ll throw in my gun, if you need it. I’m pretty good myself, and it don’t bother me one bit to blow a man’s head off, especially if it’s Latimer’s.”
Jake shoved his rifle back into its boot. “I’ll need all the help I can get, which probably won’t be much. I’ll take you up on your offer. I can pay you, and I guarantee I’ll get the job done because it’s my son that’s involved. Just make sure you leave Latimer for me.”
Downing nodded. “I can understand that.” The man put away his shotgun, each man beginning to trust the other a little more. “A lot of men around here know about you, Jake. We might be a bunch of bastards, but we got an idea how it must feel to be worryin’ about a son. We’ve all kind of gone easy around him on account of he was Jake Harkner’s boy. Otherwise, he’d probably have been dead or at least got his ass kicked a long time ago. Like I say, he’s a strong young man and good with them guns, but he ain’t got the spirit to be a mean sonofabitch. He thinks he does on account of his pa was that way.”
They pulled up in front of the cabin, and Miranda could hear laughter coming from inside.
“I’ll go in and get Charlie,” Downing offered. He dismounted and tied his horse. “You stay out here with the woman.”
The man walked up on a sagging porch and went inside. Miranda could hear piano music and a woman singing. She looked at Jake, still struggling against tears. “What has happened to our son?”
Jake looked away. “I happened to him.” He took a cheroot from his jacket pocket and cupped his hand around a match as he lit it. He puffed on it quietly for a moment. “I can’t get sentimental about it right now, Randy, or upset over what he’s been doing. Until I get him out of there, I can’t let myself have any kind of feelings at all, so hold your tears for later.” He dismounted. “That’s what I have to do.” He glanced up at her, his eyes showing bitter pain. “I’d better warn you about Charlie Tate. His mouth runs faster than a racehorse, and the words he uses aren’t made for delicate ears, so don’t be surprised by anything he says.”