“You thought wrong. The last thing this family needs is newspaper headlines all over the country again, which I’m sure has already happened. My father has enough trouble with men who are out to make a name for themselves. This kind of news just brings that much more attention.”
The reporter backed away more, and Lloyd turned to Brian. “Let’s go see my dad. Something tells me my mother needs you worse than Jake does. You know how he is. He gets meaner than a skunk when these things happen, and he’s probably worried about my mom.”
Brian handed Tricia to Teresa. “I’m worried, too.”
Still irritated over the nosy reporter, Lloyd turned to him, scowling. “Where is the doctor’s office?”
Crenshaw swallowed before answering. He turned and pointed down the street. “About a block down—that building that’s painted yellow. I, uh, I hope he’s doing better.”
Lloyd sighed, angry with himself for being so rude. “I’m sorry, Mr. Crenshaw, but I’m worried about my father.” Lloyd turned to Brian. “Let’s go.” He tied the horse and buggy to a post in front of the hotel. “Get us an extra room, Teresa,” he told the woman. “We’ll probably stay the night. I’m hoping we can take my parents home with us tomorrow. We’ll have Brian with us, so if either one of them needs a doctor, we’ll have one.”
“Sí, Señor Harkner, I will get a room.”
Lloyd walked toward the doctor’s office, lighting a cigarette on the way. He tried to remember a time when his life hadn’t been in some kind of turmoil because of his father. Leave it to Jake Harkner to walk right in on a bank robbery.
“Here we go again,” he muttered.
Eleven
Constance came into Jake’s room and leaned close to him, speaking softly. “Your son is here, Mr. Harkner. I told him to wait outside because your wife is sleeping. Are you able to walk outside to talk with him?”
Jake moved to the edge of the bed and sat up. “Of course I can,” he answered quietly. “Help me get dressed.” He winced as he took a pair of denim pants from where they lay over a nearby chair. “I can’t quite bend over yet enough to get my feet into these damn things.”
Constance smiled, kneeling down and helping him get his feet into the pants. “I’m still not used to your cussing, Mr. Harkner, but I’m trying.”
“Sorry. The words just fall out of my mouth.” Jake stood up, and Constance pulled the pants up with him. She stepped away as he buttoned them. “I have to tell you that some of my friends are very jealous that I get to care for you,” she told him. “They’ve asked some very personal questions.”
Jake softly laughed. “I don’t think I want to know what they were.”
“I told them I’ve never seen a man your age in such good shape. I’m taking great pleasure in teasing them about that.”
Jake shook his head as he pulled a leather belt through loops on the pants, then faced Constance. “We didn’t get off to a very good start, but that was six days ago, and I was in a lot more pain.” He took a shirt from the back of the chair and pulled it on. “Thanks for all you’ve done, and for looking after my wife.”
“It’s been a pleasure,” Constance answered.
Jake left his shirt open and took a gun from his gun belt, which hung nearby on the bedpost. He shoved the gun into his belt on his right side, away from his still-bandaged wound. “I’ll likely leave tomorrow, Constance. I’ll miss you.”
He walked out, and Constance glanced at Randy, who slept soundly. What have you been through? she wondered. Such a beautiful man physically, and so loving, yet he shot those men the other day without hesitation. How could any man even hope to turn out decent with a past like his? What had Mrs. Harkner seen in him all those years ago?
She began pulling covers off Jake’s bed, figuring she might as well change them. She smiled at the gasps and twitters and giggles from her friends who wanted to know all about Jake. He’s one hell of a man, she’d told them. Hard muscle everywhere, his hair still thick but with just that little bit of white in it, his smile unnerving because it’s so handsome. I envy his wife, but then again, sometimes I don’t.
* * *
Jake gingerly walked outside, where Lloyd and Brian straightened from where they’d been leaning against the railing.
“Pa!” Lloyd walked up and gave his father an embrace. “You’re walking!”
“Hell yes, I’m walking.” Jake slapped his son’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Lloyd.”