Outlaw Hearts(215)

Jake quickly rolled away, but one fork gouged across his upper back, leaving a deep gash. Jake forced himself to ignore the pain, rolled to his knees to see the pitchfork coming at him again. He managed to grasp it at the base of the tines and push up. He could hear gunfire, knew Charlie was doing his best to keep whoever was left inside the house right where they were. He had no idea if anyone else was in the barn and could only concentrate on the huge, determined man who had attacked him. The man kicked at him, caught him in the chest, but Jake hung on, managed to get to his feet.

The two men wrestled for the fork then. The bear-sized man managed to whirl the pitchfork around so that he held the handle crosswise in both hands. He forced Jake to his back, tried to shove the handle of the pitchfork against his throat. Jake grabbed on and pushed back, using his fury over the fact that these men might have killed Lloyd to draw on an inner strength he himself didn’t even know he still possessed. In spite of the decreased strength in his crippled right hand, he managed to shove back and roll his attacker off him and onto his back.

Now it was Jake who pushed, just enough to make the bigger man think he was going to try to choke him the same way. Instead, Jake suddenly yanked upward, jerking the pitchfork right out of the man’s hands. In an instant he whirled the weapon forward and plunged it into the man’s belly.

His attacker, so big that he had been too slow to roll out of the way, grunted, staring wide-eyed at Jake then. He began to tremble violently. Jake jerked out the pitchfork, his dark eyes on fire with the ruthlessness of the old Jake. “This one is for my son,” he growled. He plunged the pitchfork again, deep into the man’s throat, and blood spurted onto Jake’s shirt. “You fat, murdering bastard!” Jake shouted, enjoying the gruesome sight. He left the weapon where it was and went to pick up his revolver and rifle.

It was then he saw her. Miranda was crouched behind a watering trough, gaping wide-eyed at the pitchfork sticking out of the man’s throat. Jake ran to the trough, crouching down beside her. “What the hell are you doing back here!” he demanded.

She just stared at him a moment, as though she didn’t know him. “I…I followed Charlie. I thought if I stayed back here, out of the way, maybe I could still help somehow.” She looked again at the pitchfork. “I was going to try to shoot him, but I was afraid I would hit you instead.” She began to tremble. “I never saw anything like that. When he came at you with that pitchfork…” She looked at him again, her eyes dropping to the blood on the front of his shirt.

“I told you before we left there would be no room for mercy in this! God only knows what they’ve done to Lloyd. All I can hope for is Latimer’s lying about him being dead. I’m going for Latimer! You stay put this time!”

The look in his dark eyes almost frightened her. “You’re hurt.”

“Not bad enough to keep me from killing Latimer!”

A sob caught in her throat. “I killed two men, Jake. One found me back at the waterfall.”

His eyes moved over her. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. He put a hand to the side of her face, reminding himself what killing meant to someone like her. “I’ve killed nine men so far,” he said firmly. “You can’t think about it, Randy. You do what you have to do. Now stay here! Promise me!”

She nodded her head. Jake left her then and moved inside the barn, quickly searching through stalls, looking up then to check the loft area. The building was empty. “Just the house now,” he mumbled, teeth gritted. “And Latimer.” He leveled his rifle through a barn window, aiming it toward the house. “You’re the only one left now, Latimer!” he yelled. “You and whoever is in there with you! Come on out!”

“You’re a liar!”

“I got nine of them myself. Go ahead and call out! Nobody will answer! The big one is lying at the back of the barn with a pitchfork in his throat! You screwed up when you decided to hurt my son!” He began firing, rapid shots that tore through windows and ripped into the back door so fast that those inside didn’t have a chance to shoot back. He charged out of the barn and headed toward the house. Charlie fired into two side windows from the bunkhouse, giving Jake more cover.

Miranda closed her eyes and covered her ears, hoping the bullets were coming only from Jake’s and Charlie’s guns and not from men shooting back. The barn was between her and the house, and she couldn’t see what was happening.

Jake reached the back door, setting the rifle aside then and pulling out his revolver. He burst into the house then, firing instantly at a man who lurched into a doorway between the kitchen and another part of the house. The man went down, and Jake heard someone running, heard a door open. He charged through the house to the front door, aiming his revolver. “Latimer!” he roared.