Cole reached him. “Jake! Goddamn it!” He dismounted and tried to get Outlaw to move off Jake’s leg, but the horse wouldn’t budge.
“Shoot Outlaw and get the hell out of here!” Jake screamed at Cole. “I told you not to stop for anything. Get back across the river! They won’t follow you into the States!”
Outlaw screamed and squirmed again. Jake cried out at the pain in his leg. Cole shot the horse in the head, then fired a few times at the oncoming riders to keep them at bay. “I can’t leave you here, Jake!”
“You have to! Get back across that river and take her home, or they’ll come for her! Goddamn it, Cole, go, or this is all for nothing!” Jake handed him his .44s. “Give these to Little Jake. I promised them to him! And tell Randy…I love her.”
More bullets whizzed past as the riders came closer.
“Damn it, Cole. Go! Get the hell out of here! Hurry up! Annie’s coming back across the river! Don’t let her!”
“Fuck it, Jake, I can’t leave you here for them!”
“You don’t have any choice! Get over there before they kill you and force that child into a living hell. Don’t make this all for nothing! Get the hell out of here!”
His eyes tearing, Cole stumbled backward. “Damn you, Jake!” He shoved Jake’s guns into his belt, then mounted up and headed for the river, meeting Annie halfway across and grabbing the packhorse’s bridle. “Get back across!” he roared at her.
“Jake! No! We can’t leave him!”
“We have no choice!” Cole forced her horse back to the United States side of the river as more bullets flew past both of them. He charged both horses up the bank and behind huge boulders on the other side. They ducked behind the boulders as more bullets came at them.
Cole grabbed his rifle off his horse and began firing at the men who were circling around Jake. He managed to get two of them before three others began a volley of shots that pinged and sang against the rocks and kept him behind the boulders. When he looked again, men had tied ropes around Outlaw and dragged him off of Jake. He was surprised when Outlaw moved and whinnied. A shot was fired. Cole knew they’d just shot the horse again. Outlaw had been the best horse a man could own. He wanted to vomit then at the sound of Jake’s chilling screams of pain.
“Jesus God, I think his leg’s broke,” he groaned.
“Oh, dear God, Cole, they’re tying a rope around Jake! They’re dragging him away! They’ll kill him! They’ll kill him,” Annie wept. “Oh, my God, he did this for me!” She broke into uncontrollable sobbing. “Jake! Jake! God help him! God help him!”
Cole watched Jake being dragged off. He sank against the boulder and wept right along with Annie. She was right. Jake didn’t have a chance. The worst part was hearing his screams as they dragged him off. How in hell was he going to tell Lloyd and Evie about this? And Randy. How could he tell Randy her husband wasn’t coming back to her?
Annie wept uncontrollably. “He did this…for me,” she sobbed. “Why?”
Cole pulled Jake’s guns from his belt and stared at them. “Because he can’t stand a woman abused. He’s Jake Harkner, and I guess you could say he’s America’s last outlaw.” Damn you, Jake. Damn you! Why did you pick me for this? He’d never wept over another man’s death, but he couldn’t help it this time. He broke down and shed his own tears, sure Jake’s screams of pain as he was dragged off would haunt him the rest of his life.
Forty-eight
Peter watched Little Jake stack wood next to the fireplace in the great room. The young man had remained very defensive during his visit, telling Peter early on that the big, red-leather chair beside the fireplace was his grandfather’s and that no one except Randy could sit in it—Little Jake’s way of telling Peter to stay out of that chair. It was sweet, and a bit comical. The rest of the family was kind and accepting and seemed to understand his visit was probably good for Randy…except, of course, Lloyd, who scowled at him almost as often as did Little Jake.
Three days had gone by since Peter had arrived. Since he’d gotten here, grandchildren and Ben were almost constantly underfoot whenever he visited Randy. He spent his nights at Evie’s home, the always-genteel, gracious, kind Evie, who accepted his presence as good for her mother. But heaven forbid he should stay at Jake and Randy’s house. And Ben and both older grandsons always stayed the night, as though they had been ordered to run interference in case Peter should decide to sneak over after dark and steal their grandmother away.