Do Not Forsake Me (20 page)

The words were spoken with such wrath that Peter literally backed up his chair. Jeff froze in place. He wanted to make notes but was afraid to even move his hand. Peter's secretary tapped on the office door.

“Is everything all right in there, Mr. Brown?”

Peter watched Jake, who glared back at him. “
Is
everything all right, Jake?”

“Jake, you're hurting my hand again,” Randy told him.

Again he let go. Randy got up and went to stand behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Everything is fine, Nancy,” she called to Peter's secretary.

“If you say so, Mrs. Harkner.”

Randy pressed her fingers into Jake's shoulders. “I say so.”

Unbelievable
, Jeff thought.
If
she
can
control
that
man
when
he's like this, she could probably walk into a cage full of tigers and make them all lie down.

Jake closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He reached up and grasped one of Randy's hands. “Sit down,” he told her.

“After you apologize for yelling at Peter. Your past isn't his fault, Jake. He's just doing his job, and you're the one who asked for this meeting.”

Jake squeezed her hand. “Sit down, Randy.”

She sighed deeply and took her chair. Jake ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands behind his head, squeezing them together so tight that Jeff noticed his knuckles turn white.

“I'll make a deal with you, Peter. If you can accomplish the other thing I came here for, I'll tell you my father's name and you can do all the research you want. And I had already considered having to tell Jeff…what happened…and owning up to my grandchildren. It's just…I feel like it's no one's goddamn business…but I know I can't die with it either, because then no one will ever know the truth.”

“Randy knows,” Peter said. “I can tell by the look on her face. And I'll bet Lloyd knows too, doesn't he? But they love you so much that if you tell them never to speak of it, they won't.”

“Lloyd doesn't know his full name.” Jake stared at the hardwood floor. “Only Randy knows all of it, because I owed her that. For some ungodly reason, she chose to spend her life with me. Before I could let her do that, she needed to know all of it so she could be damn sure she really wanted to live with a wanted man with a madman's blood in him.” He took a deep breath, still staring at the floor. “Suffice it to say for now, I was fifteen and…I had no choice.”

The room hung silent for what seemed hours.

Jake finally straightened, a dark, intimidating look in his eyes. “I am having a lot of trouble not coming across that desk right now and putting my hands around your throat, Peter, but for my wife's sake, I won't. Besides that, you don't deserve it for asking what you have a right to ask, and for that I do apologize. Maybe I can get you the name later.”

Peter nodded. “You don't need to apologize. It's something that's hard to talk about, and I sure as hell don't blame you.”

“I had a run-in with Hash Bryant this morning that didn't go too well, and my wife isn't well, and I'm not real happy about coming to you of all people for help—and we both know why
that
is—so combine all of it together, and this is the best job I've ever done of controlling my temper.”

“Jake—”

“He knows what I'm talking about, Randy, and so do you.”

Jeff still sat frozen in place.

Peter sighed, resting his elbows on his desk and putting his head in his hands. “Jake, please explain then why you
did
come to me. Guthrie is growing by leaps and bounds, and there are at least fifteen or more other lawyers in this town. The only thing growing faster is the number of saloons.”

Jake remained quiet again for a moment. “I came to you because I trust you with this. I trust you because whatever you do, it won't be for me. It will be for Randy, because I firmly believe you care about her happiness over your own feelings. Because of
that
, I'm trusting you to try your best to do something else for me…for
us
…Randy and me.”

Peter glanced at Randy, who blinked back tears and looked at her lap.

“What is it you want, Jake?” Peter asked.

Jake took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “You know that I'm a federal marshal because a judge
sentenced
me to it, but most federal marshals aren't married men. When I was given this job, I didn't take into consideration how hard it would be on my wife and family, let alone the danger they'd be in for even being related to me. It's bad enough being Jake Harkner, but when you're a United States Marshal, you make a lot of new enemies—something I sure as hell
don't
need. This thing that happened a couple of weeks ago was extra hard on Randy, and my little grandson could have been killed. Lloyd is only doing this because he's a devoted son who insists on staying by my side out of loyalty. I know he'd rather be doing something else, and he has the money to buy a ranch or whatever else he'd like to do. Looking death in the face practically every day is not exactly a fun way to live, Peter, and we're both only human. Someday the right bullet will hit the right spot and that will be the end of it. It almost happened this last time. If Jeff hadn't gotten to that jail before me and warned me he saw Bryant and his men go inside, I'd already be a dead man.”

“What are you getting at, Jake?” Randy asked.

Jake glanced sidelong at her, then turned away and rubbed the back of his neck, obviously still very tense. “You and I were happiest those years back when I had that ranch in Colorado, before all hell broke loose and I landed in prison.” He faced Peter again. “We loved it there. I want to go back. I want to take Randy to some little mountain town where no one gives a damn who I am and there is hardly any crime. I want to lie in bed with my wife till noon, if we want, with no goddamn reason to get up. I'm in a lot more pain from old wounds than even Randy knows, and I refuse any kind of painkiller because they are all mostly whiskey. I can face ten men with guns, but I'm scared to death that if I drink, I'll end up an alcoholic—the rotten,
mean
kind, like…” He didn't finish. “And I'm damn tired of never being able to step outside the door without wearing guns and wondering when some bastard's stray bullet meant for me will end up hurting or killing someone I love. I want to build us a cabin in the foothills and raise horses again. And on the side, I can clean and repair guns and even customize them for people. I customized my own .44s to shoot smoother and faster.”

Randy appeared a bit stunned. Jeff could tell she'd had no idea Jake had been thinking about these things.

Peter finally spoke up. “Jake, what does all this have to do with me?”

“I want you, or some lawyer you know who's good at criminal justice, to petition the judge in St. Louis who sentenced me and ask if my sentence can be reduced. He gave me five years. I've already served close to two. I want to ask for the sentence to be reduced from five years to three. I want to take my whole family and get out of this goddamned, dusty, lawless hellhole of a territory and hang up my guns for good. The only firearms I want to use are my rifle or my shotgun for hunting. I want the whole family to come with us. Randy and I will be buried there, and Lloyd and Evie will take over, and someday they'll lie beside us, and then the grandkids will take over. I want that grave site on a hill under a great big tree, and it will be beautiful and green and peaceful. I want peaceful, Peter—a peaceful life. Will you do that for Randy? She deserves to have some peace at last.”

“Jake, I'm fine.”

“No, you
aren't
fine. God knows you've had enough stress in your life to kill you off, and now this. Maybe knowing there is light at the end of this tunnel will help you fight whatever is wrong now.”

Peter looked at Randy with obvious love and concern. “That's the second time Jake has mentioned something being wrong, Randy. What is it? Is it serious?”

“I…no. I mean, I don't know. It's personal.” She looked at Jake. “Jake, you never told me all this before.”

Jake sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You've put up with enough. You've been through too many years of hell, thanks to me.”

“I've been loved like most women
wish
they were loved!” Randy answered sternly. “I've been treasured and respected and adored. I've been given two beautiful children and two wonderful, loving grandsons.
You
did that!”

Jake reached for a cigarette from a pocket inside his vest. “I did a
lot
of things.”

“Jake, where is all this coming from?”

“You
know
where it's coming from. But this thing about moving to Colorado is something I thought about long before we found out you could be…” He hesitated. “Jesus,” he muttered, stopping to light the cigarette.

“Randy?” Peter asked.

“Look, she needs surgery for something that could be cancer,” Jake told him. “We won't really know until she sees Ed Rogers.”

Peter closed his eyes. “Oh, for God's sake.” He leaned back in his chair again. “I'm damn sorry. Damn sorry—for
both
of you. I know what you share, and neither of you deserves this.”

Jake looked at Peter as he took his first drag on the cigarette. “Do you think there's a chance I could get this marshal job over with sooner?”

Peter still watched Randy with great concern. He moved his gaze to Jake, and Jeff could see the continuing challenge there. “I can try. I know that you were cleared of what you went to prison for, so what's the excuse the judge used to sentence you to this in the first place? Why didn't he just set you free?”

Jake smoked quietly for a moment. “You name it, I've done it,” he finally answered. “Except for abusing women. That never happened. But just the fact that I rode with the Kennedy bunch and they robbed and murdered and they kidnapped and raped a woman once was enough to put me away for life. The judge felt that because I'd gone unpunished for all the other crimes I'd committed, I should still serve some time, but he also saw an opportunity to fill the need for federal marshals in the West. It's a lousy job most men don't want. Since I'd turned my life around and had a family, the judge decided I should be free, but that I should still do time, so he sentenced me to something that would let me be with my family but still use my expertise with guns—for good instead of bad. He figured since I once ran with outlaws, I'd know how to track down the same kind of men.”

“Well, he was certainly right about that, wasn't he?” Peter wrote on his tablet again. “Who's the judge?”

“Robert Mitchell. He's in St. Louis.”

Peter made a few more notes. “I'll get the paperwork done for the book and the trust, but I'll see about petitioning for a lesser sentence first. That's more important.” He glanced at Randy, who was quietly crying. “Are you all right, Randy?”

She nodded. “I just…didn't know Jake was thinking about this. I don't want to get my hopes up about Colorado.”

“Giving you some peace is
all
I think about,” Jake told Randy. He sighed deeply. “Are we done here?” he asked Peter.

Jeff glanced at Peter, who watched them a moment with obvious pain in his eyes. “I think so—for now. Go ahead and take Randy home. In fact, there is a buggy tied outside with a pinto horse rigged to it. It's mine. I'm leaving soon for a meeting with some people outside of town. Have Jeff use it to drive you two back to your house. It's five blocks away and you need to get off that leg, and your wife needs some rest. Jeff can take you home and bring the buggy back to me.”

“Thank you, Peter,” Randy said softly, wiping at her eyes.

Jake nodded to him. “I appreciate anything you can do about the sentence. If it means paying a higher fine, I'll pay it. I still have money in a bank in Denver from when I raised horses in Colorado. We used some of it to help support Randy and Evie when I went to prison, but there is enough left to make a new start, and Lloyd has quite a bit of his own money. I know he'll help pay the fine if necessary. And he'll want to go to Colorado with us.”

“I'll do my best,” Peter told Jake. “I have a few connections that might help.”

“Thanks for whatever you can do for Randy.”

Peter folded his arms. “Believe it or not, part of me wants to do it for you too, Jake.”

Jake looked him over. “I'll let myself believe that, and I thank you for trying. We'll wait to hear from you. Lloyd and I have to head out on rounds in a week or so, and I don't want Randy working for you while I'm gone.”

“Jake—” Randy started to protest.

“I'm not saying that to be rude.” Jake kept his eyes on Peter. “No offense, but it's because I want Randy to rest and spend time with Evie and Katie and the grandsons.”

Peter nodded. “I understand. I have no problem with her taking care of herself. I just hope things turn out for the better rather than worse.”

Jake drew on the cigarette and put it out in the ashtray on Peter's desk. “Yeah. Well, I can't live without her, so it
has
to turn out for the better.” He rose and took Randy's arm, moving his own arm around her as she walked around her chair to join him. She thanked Peter again and left with Jake.

Jeff looked at Peter Brown. “Do you need anything more from me?” He actually felt sorry for the man. Peter looked devastated, and Jeff realized that helping Jake get out of being a federal marshal so he could move back to Colorado meant Peter would never see Randy Harkner again, something that had to hurt. But the man would do it—for Randy—which showed Jeff just how much Peter loved her. And hearing she was sick had apparently hit him hard.