The Last Outlaw(144)

Randy wiped at more tears. “Yes. Even if he doesn’t make it back. He would want that. He’s never quite gotten over Treena calling him magnificent. We joke about it… I mean, we used to joke about it often. The men ribbed him something awful about that.”

Peter grinned and nodded, then turned away again. “God bless you, Randy Harkner.”

“And God bless you, Peter Brown.”

He walked out. He could hear her crying, but he didn’t dare go back inside. Damned if he didn’t feel someone watching…someone big and tall and strong and intimidating and possessive. No one would ever touch Jake Harkner’s woman. He owned her, even in death.





Fifty-four


September soon became October, and the aspen in the surrounding foothills turned a bright gold, creating glorious color against the dark pine trees. An empty feeling prevailed over the ranch as November moved in. Even the aspen seemed to reflect the mood, becoming empty and bare as heavy snows blanketed the magnificent peaks in the higher mountains.

Ranch hands took on the chores of storing feed, and Lloyd was compelled to travel to Boulder to use some of the Pinkerton reward money to buy that extra feed. It was a long trip there and back, and heavy snow slowed them down, but he made it back to the ranch. Sometimes it felt as though something were eating up his insides. His soul felt as desolate as the winter winds and the lifeless terrain.

His third child with Katie was born late December, a son they named Jeffrey Peter, after the two men who’d become such an important part of the family’s life. Family was his only reason for hanging on, and it was the same for Evie, whose husband remained her rock, along with her faith. By the time Jeffrey Peter was born, Evie was pregnant again. New babies helped them to understand that life goes on. Jake Harkner lived on, his blood running in the veins of the grandchildren.

But Randy was not quite the same and probably never would be. The hardest part of all was not even having a body to bury. She never slept upstairs again, and the line shack she and Jake had loved to visit sat unused. The woman seemed a mere shell of herself. She seldom smiled, pressing on only for the sake of the grandchildren.

Christmas passed with only light gift-giving, and then only homemade dolls and clothing for the little girls. The older boys weren’t in the mood for giving or getting gifts. They only brought in a small tree and didn’t decorate it as heavily as normal. The family struggled to make it a merry Christmas for the smallest children, but none of the adults nor the older boys felt the normal Christmas joy.

January came and went. February brought spring snows that would melt with the sun and then return. Horse Creek began to swell from snowmelt higher in the Rockies, and it came time for searching the sprawling J&L rangeland for cattle that managed to survive the winter. Soon they would have a full roundup and start sorting and branding the calves.

Randy kept herself busy baking extra bread for the men to take with them as they scattered throughout the rangeland and camped for days at a time. Several loaves sat on the table the morning it happened. It was one of those Sundays when the whole family sat around the big kitchen table for breakfast. Randy was still in her stocking feet when she heard it.

The whistle.

She’d been ready to set a plate on the table.

She dropped it.

The plate crashed to the floor.

“Mother?” Evie rose. “What’s wrong?”

“Jake! Did you hear it? That whistle?”

“Mom, the men are coming in and out all the time. Sometimes they shout and whistle.”

There it was again! This time, Evie gasped. She remembered that whistle…the morning her father had come to rescue her at Dune Hollow. It was the same whistle he used to give when he came into Guthrie with outlaws in tow, signaling Randy he was back home. She knew instantly she was safe. Jake had come.

Randy charged out the front door.

“Mom, you don’t even have any shoes on!” Lloyd yelled, running after her.

“And no coat!” Evie hollered.

Too late. Randy was off and running in stockinged feet through snow a good eighteen inches deep.

Four of the men came charging down the hill toward the houses, all of them whistling and whooping and shouting and yipping until the sound filled the sky.

“Jake’s back!”

“Mother!” Evie started after Randy.

Lloyd grabbed her arm. “Leave her be, sis.”

By then the whole family was out on the veranda, even the littlest ones, no coats or boots and not feeling a thing. Sadie Mae jumped up and down. “Grampa! Grampa!”

There came more whistles and shouts when men came tearing out of the bunkhouse, some of them standing there in only their long johns.