It was then she noticed it on the fireplace mantel…a half-finished cup of coffee…and his uneaten biscuit.
Part Five
Forty-one
Jake watched out the window as the Southern Pacific steamed into Brownsville. Nothing looked the same. Considering the fact that he’d been only fifteen years old when he left, that was no surprise. A few motorbikes and motorized buggies chugged about, and electric poles and wiring were strung up and down the streets and alleys. It was no longer the lawless little settlement where he grew up…where a man could beat his wife and child almost daily and get away with it. That same man had even gotten away with murdering his wife and youngest son and secretly burying them, telling others they’d run off.
Didn’t anyone wonder why the man’s older son had stayed? No. No one asked questions. No one knew he’d stayed because the couple of times he did try running off, his father had made him regret it in some of the worst ways.
He’d missed Randy since the day he’d left, and right now, here in this place, he dearly wished she was beside him. “It’s been a long trip, Cole.”
“Yup.” A man of few words, Cole Decker took his dusty boots down from the back of the seat in front of him and made ready to get off the train. He’d cleaned up before leaving the ranch, and again two nights ago at a whorehouse in northern Texas, and Jake had done the same. Cole stayed all night with one of the women, but in spite of plenty of offers from the other whores, Jake had gone back to his hotel room and ached for Randy.
They’d either camped out or stayed in hotels the rest of the way, talking about ranching and cattle and women, pretty much in that order. Cole had finally admitted he’d been married…a long time ago. “It was after the war and my injury. She couldn’t handle the bum leg, and she ran off with another man. I hunted them down, and I killed him,” he admitted. “Came west, and that was the end of it.”
Both of them had a lot in common—an outlaw past that included some ugly events. Both were once wanted men. Jake knew if it weren’t for Randy, he’d be a lot like Cole. Wandering, no family, no real purpose to life other than survival, bedding a whore once in a while, getting drunk and into an occasional fight. One brave little slip of a woman had kept him from all of that. He’d tried to go back to it when he left her in California, but once a man had a woman like Randy in his bed and in his mind and heart and blood, there was no turning away from her. And no going back.
He shook away the thought. “Let’s get our horses off this train,” he told Cole.
The men got up, attracting stares. Both were well armed, both intimidating. Cole was average height, but broad-shouldered. He’d accepted Jake’s request to ride with him because he knew the mission, and Jake knew he could trust Cole with Annie if he didn’t make it out of Mexico alive. Cole was the type who’d lay with a whore every night if he could, but he’d never touch an unwilling woman or an innocent young girl. He was simply a man who’d had his heart torn from his chest by a woman whose love wasn’t strong enough to handle what war had done to him. Deep hurt sometimes made a man do things he would never ordinarily do. He’d killed his wife’s lover and had ended up a drifter, a cowboy, a man who’d given up on living any other way. And other than Pepper, who’d died in that barn fire last year, Cole was their best ranch hand. He’d been with them since they first came to Colorado to build the ranch.
They disembarked the train and walked to the cattle cars where their horses were kept, most of their gear still packed on them. It took several minutes to get them off the train.
“I have something to take care of,” Jake told Cole once they left the depot. “I’m tired as hell, but this can’t wait.”
“I understand. You want me to go with you? I know all about what you’re lookin’ for, Jake. Lloyd said he wished you wouldn’t go alone.”
Jake mounted Outlaw. “Lloyd’s a good son who worries too much.” He lit a cigarette. “I’ll be okay. You get us a room. While you’re at it, you might want to ask around about a whorehouse across the border where they keep the best girls. People need to think we’re down here looking to buy horses and cattle—might as well make it look like we’re wanting a good time on the side, so no one suspects the real reason we’re asking. And see if you can find out anything about Sidney Wayland. Tomorrow morning we’ll head into Mexico. If we’re lucky, the man will be at that whorehouse when we get there.” He held Cole’s gaze. “I meant what I said when I told you to just get the hell out of there with that girl if things work out the way I plan, Cole. Me—I’m not leaving there without killing Wayland. If he’s not there, I’ll hunt him down, but I’m not going home until he’s dead. You have no obligation to do one damn thing but get that girl back to Denver.”