Naked and lonely, like I felt at eight years old when you made me help bury my mother! John Harkner might as well have been standing right in front of him, and Jake wished he were. Because then he could beat him until he broke every bone in his body, then bash his head in with the sledge hammer. He dismounted and walked up the hill, walked around the house. He removed his hat and tossed it aside, then unbuckled his gun belt and tossed it aside also. He removed his vest, his shirt, leaving on only a sleeveless T-shirt as he let out a roar unlike Cole had ever heard, like a wild animal. He started wielding the sledgehammer against the crumbling stone walls still standing, battering them with a mighty strength Cole didn’t think the man could possibly still have in him. He slugged and pounded and hammered and battered for what must have been two hours, growling with each hit, demolishing every stone and the cement that held them until there was nothing left but a pile of rubble. He went to his knees then, tossing the sledgehammer aside. He put his hands to his head and sobbed.
Cole dismounted and slowly walked up the hill, not sure what to do or say. He picked up Jake’s gun belt and hat and clothes, then dared to step closer. “Tell me what to do, Jake.”
Jake bent over, keeping his hands behind his head as he pressed his face against the ground. “God forgive me,” he sobbed. “I had to do it. I had to do it. I didn’t mean to kill Santana. It was an accident! The bullet went right through my father and into her. I didn’t know anything about guns then!”
Cole realized Jake probably hadn’t even heard him. He sighed and stepped back, feeling like crying himself. Everybody knew the story. Everybody knew killing his father had been a weight around Jake Harkner’s neck his whole life, and the source of all his lawlessness. He wished Randy were here. She’d know what to do, what to say to him. This was the dark, ugly side of Jake Harkner that no one but his closest kin could handle.
Cole walked back to the horses and took the reins, leading them up to the big hackberry tree to give them some shade. He sat down there and waited, letting the horses graze on some soft, green grass.
Their train had arrived that morning, and it was deep into the afternoon before Jake finally got to his feet and came up the hill. He dropped to his knees in the cool grass.
“This is where he made me help bury my mother,” he told Cole in a gruff voice, “after he beat her to death and then killed my little brother. They’re buried here together. I remember this tree. I was only eight then, but I remember it.” He breathed deeply, obviously still highly distraught. “I was forced to throw dirt on their faces. He didn’t even put a blanket over them first!” He brushed his hand over the grass. “I wanted so badly to be in there with them.” He wiped at tears on his face with his fingers. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I found them. God, I need my family, Cole.”
“I know.” He’d seen Jake do some incredibly ruthless things to those who’d threatened or hurt his family. Now he understood why. Jake Harkner had lost all that was dear to him as a little boy, and he wasn’t about to lose what he’d found in his new family. This was the source of his fierce protection of those he loved. It was why he’d killed most of the men who’d so horribly abused Evie, why he’d blown Mike Holt’s head off in Denver after Holt shot Lloyd, why he’d gone after those who’d taken Randy and tortured Brad Buckley. Every time he did those things, in his mind he was probably defending his mother and brother and killing his father all over again. Pity the man who harmed any of them.
A few people had gathered at the bottom of the hill. They were pointing and staring. A man started up the hill. He looked like a lawman. “Hey, what’s going on up here?” he called.
Cole jumped up and headed down the hill to intercept him. “Don’t go up there, mister.”
“I’m the chief of police here in Brownsville, and someone said a man was destroying one of our landmarks. That’s destruction of public property! This is the house where Jake Harkner grew up.”
“That is Jake Harkner up there, mister, and the mood he’s in right now, you’d best leave and take those people with you. He’s in a killin’ set of mind, if you know what I mean. That man suffered mightily in that house as a child, and right now it’s best to leave him alone.”
The man frowned and backed away. “You get him out of here by morning.”
“I will. But he claims his ma and little brother are layin’ under the ground up there under that tree, and he was forced to bury them after his pa murdered them. I believe him. A man don’t forget somethin’ like that. Jake’s already been to see a mortician. I suspect he asked for a gravestone he’ll be wantin’ to put up there, so I suggest the city let the mortician put it there and leave it there. If I know Jake Harkner, he’ll come back to make sure it is, and he won’t be a happy man if it’s not there. When he gets in a killin’ mood, there’s not much anybody can do about it.”