Lloyd felt tremendous relief at what she’d said about Jake, but he felt sick inside at what this must have done to his mother. If a child as young as Tricia actually thought her grandmother looked tired, that wasn’t good. Kids usually didn’t notice those things. “I’m just glad my baby girl is okay.”
“Those men were shooting! Bang! Bang! Bang! It hurt my ears.” Her arms flailed around as she excitedly told her story. “Grampa shot right back, and I felt a bullet whiz right by me. I know that’s what it was, ’cuz the man holding me fell down and dropped me. I wiggled away, and I laid right down on the ground like Grampa said to do. And then Teresa laid on top of me. It was funny, ’cuz she said she was scared she would smash me.”
Lloyd grinned and kissed her cheek again. He looked at Teresa, who stood watching near the hotel doorway. She was a hefty woman and laughed at Tricia’s remark. “I did not put all my weight on the little one, señor.”
Lloyd winked at her. “Rodriguez was glad to hear you’re all right, Teresa. Thank you for helping save my daughter. I don’t know what this family would do without you and Rodriguez.”
“It is your father who did the saving. I am glad he is better.”
Tricia kissed her father’s cheek several times over as Brian greeted Teresa.
“Is Jake really doing better?” he asked her.
“Sí, Señor Doctor Brian, but he will be very sore for a while.”
“I wanna see Mommy,” Tricia said with a pout. “Is she here, too?”
“Mommy had to stay home with baby Don. I’ll make sure we all get home real soon, and then you can see her and help Mommy with the baby again.”
Tricia’s bright smile returned, showing dimpled cheeks and tiny white teeth. She had her mother’s red hair, but Tricia’s was a mass of curls. Lloyd had to smile at the contrast to his own long, nearly black hair, which his father was constantly chiding him about. Too bad for Jake; Katie liked it long.
He gave Tricia another hug and buzzed her neck, making her scream and laugh. He looked at Teresa. “I didn’t know what I would find here,” he told her. “Thank you, Teresa, for watching over her and keeping her from being scared.” He handed Tricia to her uncle Brian, who gave her big hug.
“Well, now, you don’t look hurt at all, Tricia. I’m very glad.”
“Yeah, you don’t have to make me take any medicine,” she answered.
Teresa stepped closer to Lloyd. “I think your father, he will be fine. He is such a strong man.”
Lloyd removed his Stetson and wiped at sweat that had formed on his brow from the unusually warm day. “You don’t need to tell me that,” he told her. “It’s my mother I’m worried about.”
“Sí, señor. You are right to worry about her. Your father, he has been insisting that she eat. He, too, is worried. She is so thin. He says he is afraid that if he touches her wrong, she will break.”
A man holding a camera ran up to Lloyd. “Are you Lloyd Harkner?”
Lloyd scowled at having his conversation interrupted. “What’s it to you?”
“They say you’re as good with guns as your father, and when I saw you—I could tell from looking at you that you must be the son! You look just like him except for that Indian hair! You should have seen it! That shoot-out is the talk of the town! I saw the whole thing, you know. Your pa was in the street, and he suddenly started telling people to get out of the way! He shot a couple of those men right off their horses, and then more came out of the bank holding your mother and that little girl there, and two more. Most men would have been too afraid to shoot in a situation like that, but your father—”
“Slow the hell down!” Lloyd interrupted. “Who are you?”
“I’m Dick Crenshaw, a reporter for the local newspaper. Can I get a picture?”
“No! I haven’t even seen my father yet, and I’m a little upset and concerned at the moment, so go away. After last summer, my father and I don’t need or want any more publicity.”
“You mean that big shooting in Denver? You look pretty good for being shot point-blank. Boy, I wish I’d been there to see what your father did to—”
“Shut up, Crenshaw!” Lloyd barked. “I said we don’t need any more publicity, and if you think my father has a temper, keep pushing me, and you’ll find out what my temper is like!”
Crenshaw, a small man wearing a tweed suit and a white shirt with a collar that looked too tight, backed away at the look in Lloyd’s dark eyes. “Sir, I just thought—”