Outlaw Hearts(229)

Jeff couldn’t imagine why any man would want to challenge Jake Harkner this way. In fact, the second man behind Brad also backed away, putting his hands in the air. “Leave me out of this,” he told Jake. He turned and ran back into the saloon, leaving Brad standing there alone, sweat stains on his shirt.

The marshal stepped even closer, still holding his rifle in one hand. “Last warning, Brad. I’m goddamn tired and don’t want any of this. Be on your way.”

“You worried, Harkner? Age catchin’ up with you?”

The air hung silent. “You don’t want to find out,” Harkner answered. “And I really don’t want to kill you. You’re no older than my own son.”

“Yeah? I’ll bet he loves his pa like I loved mine! That’s where we’re both different from you, ain’t we, Harkner? We loved our fathers!”

Miranda Harkner gasped. “Oh my God,” she said softly.

No one expected what happened next.

In one quick movement that gave Brad no time to react, Harkner slammed the butt of his rifle into the younger man’s chest with a violent punch that sent the kid flying backward. He landed against a stack of barrels, which crashed and rolled over the boardwalk and into the street. The marshal kicked more barrels aside and slammed the rifle butt across the side of Brad’s head. In a flash, he swung his rifle around and pressed the barrel against Brad’s forehead.

“Don’t do it, Jake!” Jeff heard Miranda Harkner say softly.

Jeff was sure Jake would pull the trigger right then and there and blow the young man’s brains all over the boardwalk. The stunning attack had been so quick and vicious that Jeff felt a sudden need to urinate in his fear.

“You’re goddamn lucky we’re in town and I have to abide by the law, kid!” Harkner growled. He moved the rifle aside and fired it into the boardwalk, right beside Brad’s ear.

Everyone jumped at the gunshot, and a couple of women screamed and ran into a store. Harkner reached down with his free hand and grasped the younger man by the shirtfront. He jerked him up and slammed him against the remaining barrels, sending more of them flying. “Thank your God you’re still alive, kid!”

Brad stood there shaking and sweating. He opened his mouth, and Jeff realized the young man couldn’t breathe. The blow to his chest had probably knocked the air out of him.

“Take his gun, Sparky,” Harkner ordered the sheriff, seemingly unaffected as Brad’s face started going white with the struggle for air. A huge split in the skin at the right side of his face bled profusely, and the whole side of his head was already turning purple.

The sheriff ran up and took Brad’s gun from its holster. Still using only one arm, Harkner threw Brad violently off the boardwalk and into the street. “When he can breathe again, somebody help him up and take him over to the jail,” he ordered.

Brad rolled over with an ugly gurgling sound. He held one hand to the ear that had taken the brunt of the rifle shot, blood dripping into the dirt from the gash at the side of his face. Harkner glanced up then, his dark eyes boring into Jeff’s. Jeff stood there frozen in place as the man stalked closer.

“You’ve been watching me. Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

Jeff swallowed. “I…my name is Jeff Trubridge, and I’m…I’m a reporter…from Chicago. I didn’t mean any harm.” He held out his arms, his small pad of paper in one hand and a pencil in the other. “I don’t even own or know how to use a gun.”

Harkner glanced over at Brad, who was now crying as he got to his feet with the sheriff’s help, then crumpled to his knees again. The marshal turned back to Jeff. “I’m not in a very good mood right now, Trubridge, so whatever you want, it will have to wait a couple of days.”

“But—”

“Monday!” Harkner growled. “Tomorrow my wife goes to church, and I need some time with my family.”

“Yes, sir.” Jeff was glad to realize the man actually meant to hear him out. He felt a now-painful need to urinate as he watched the marshal walk away. His wife approached him with a devastated look on her face. Jeff could see the love there and realized her concern was over how Brad’s remark about fathers might have hurt her husband. Jeff started after him, but the young man with the doctor’s bag put out his arm.

“Leave him alone,” he warned. “This isn’t a good time. Surely you can see that.”

Jeff faced the sandy-haired and very handsome young man of medium but sturdy build. The doctor’s blue eyes showed deep concern and something else. Love? For his father-in-law? Jeff found all of it hard to believe—his wife’s loving concern, the doctor’s, the friendly manner in which Sparky and the Mexican spoke with Jake Harkner… “Are you Jake Harkner’s son-in-law?”