After glaring at Jake a moment longer, Brady suddenly looked almost ready to cry. “I’ll leave,” he finally said, “but only because I don’t want to break up your saloon, Clete.”
“This place will be just fine, Clete,” Jake roared. “Nothing gets broken when all you have to do is pick a man up and throw him out into the street, except maybe a few of that man’s bones!”
Brady looked at Jake. “I’m complaining to the Cattlemen’s Association about the J&L,” he warned. “Us ranchers ought to help one another out, and you won’t even share a little meat.”
“You’re no goddamn rancher, and by sharing meat, you mean rustling my cattle! You go right ahead and complain, Brady! The Cattlemen’s Association has asked me more than once to be range detective. Maybe I’ll take the job. I could keep a lot better eye on your place and make sure you don’t steal some of our grassland or water. If they found out I’d already caught you leading one of my steers to your place, I wouldn’t have to hang you myself. They would do it for me!”
“Haven’t you heard what happened to seven cattle thieves on Harkner land last year?” Sonoma asked Fillmore, swaying her hips as she stepped from behind the bar. “You don’t mess with the Harkners, especially not this one.” She looked Jake over seductively, but his attention was fully on Fillmore.
“They tried to steal Harkner cattle and soon regretted it,” Bill Tucker explained. “If I was you, I’d get the hell out of here. The last man that messed with Jake got his head blown off last summer in Denver.”
Brady Fillmore gave Jake one more dark look, feigning a brave challenge. “You’re a fucking murderer, that’s what you are! You killed your own pa!” He quickly left after his last remark.
The room hung quiet for several seconds before Jake finally glanced at the men who still stood around the card table. “You know, boys, I just came in here to have a beer while my wife does some shopping. Damned if I don’t always run into trouble without asking for it.”
A few laughed nervously.
“No problem, Jake.” Till Medley pushed Brady’s chair away from the table with his foot. “Have a seat. We’re all proud to know you—and to take your money in a card game.”
More men laughed, and most returned to their chairs as Jake sat down. “I don’t have time to get into a game, but thanks for the offer.” He leaned back and took his beer from where he’d set it on another table. “And that thing in Denver…that was a bad situation. My son had been shot point-blank, and I thought he was dead. The man I killed deserved what he got. My son wasn’t even armed.”
“Oh, we all followed that story closely. Nobody at this table blames you for what you did, although it’s not exactly something the average man would do.”
“Yeah, well, most people say I’m not your average man.”
The other men laughed again, still obviously nervous.
“There’s an understatement,” Bill Tucker commented.
Till Medley dealt out more cards. “Jake, before you came in here, me and some of the others were wondering if you’d be interested in a little shooting contest we’re planning for the big fund-raiser in a couple of weeks. We heard you were in town, and one of us was going to look you up.”
Jake glanced at the doorway where Brady had gone out. He was worried Randy might run into the man, and he’d say something hurtful to her. “No thanks.” He finally faced Till Medley. “I appreciate the invite and your intentions, but I don’t get into things like that. Believe me, it only brings trouble, and that statement is from experience. And I sure as hell don’t need any more trouble.”
“Oh, it will be well managed. Hell, you’re famous now, Jake. You’d be quite an attraction. The money is for a good cause, you know—the modernization of Boulder. Bring in famous speakers, actors, singers—real culture.”
Jake slugged down his beer, suddenly anxious to find Randy. “Thanks for the offer and the compliments…or at least I think that’s what you meant.”
The card players all laughed again. “Yes, that’s what we meant,” Medley told him.
Jake set down the empty beer mug. “Yeah, well, I don’t think watching an ageing ex-outlaw shoot off his guns has much to do with culture. I’ve never been one to be linked to modernization to begin with.” He rose. “I’m old school, boys. Still getting used to electricity and to seeing those damn motorized buggies running around town. Things are changing, and there’s not a lot of room for men like me. I’ll stick to the peaceful life on the J&L.”