Love's Sweet Revenge (16 page)

Their gazes held as Jake slowly shook his head. “You sure have a way of climbing into my head.”

“And you need to explain things to me when you get like that, Jake. That's all that keeps you from going off the deep end. The last thing you need is for me to be upset with you, and I don't
like
being upset with you. So tell me what this is
really
about. Get it out of your system, because when you come to our room tonight, I want to see the calm and happy Jake you were before this happened.”

He sighed deeply, looking toward the distant mountains. “I've told you before that I don't think my father ever legally married my mother.”

Randy folded her arms. “And?”

“And he used to…brag to other men that she was his own personal whore. When Clem said that about you and hinted that you must have been a whore when I met you…” He turned to meet her eyes. “I saw
him
, heard
him
. It's been a long time since something happened to bring that all back.”

Randy stepped closer. “You should have told me that same night, Jake.”

He shook his head. “I was too damn mad. When you walked into that firelight, I saw a woman who was so far above those remarks…a woman I never had any right ever touching in the first place. I grew up with whores, and that's the kind of women I should have stayed with—not something as beautiful and special and educated and sophisticated as you.”

“And did you ever stop to think that I could have said no? I
did
have a choice, Jake. You offered to leave more than once, and you
did
leave more than once. Wasn't I always there waiting when you came back? My God, Jake, I need you just as much as you need me.”

He rubbed at his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. “
Lo siento, favor perdóname, mi amor. Tu eres mi vida.
”

“And you are
my
life, Jake. After thirty years I shouldn't have to keep telling you that.”

He smiled sadly. “Lloyd said pretty much the same thing. He's not real happy with me either.”

“He just gets tired of trying to climb over that wall you keep building around yourself, and so do I. It's because we love you so much that we get upset, because we can't stand for you to hurt.”

He reached out and touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “And right now I want to hold you so bad that I ache, but like Evie and everybody else keeps telling me, I'm a mess. So I'm going to ride back to the supply wagon and get a change of clothes and head on in to Denver and get a bath and a shave. Denver is only an hour or so ahead. I'll probably meet Lloyd at the stockyards and then come to the hotel.”

Randy touched his arm. “You be careful when you get to Denver. The mood you're in… I'm worried about Mike Holt.”

Jake sobered. “Don't you worry about that sonofabitch. We're going to enjoy the city, and you're going to buy a new dress, and I'll be taking the most beautiful woman in Colorado to the Cattlemen's Ball. All the women there will be jealous, and all the men will be envious. And with you on my arm, I'll be the proudest man there.”

Randy touched his chest, looking up at him. “And I'll be the proudest
wife
there. You remember that, Jake.”

“I'll remember.” He grasped the back of her neck and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I love you.”

Randy squeezed his wrist. “In spite of how difficult you make it sometimes, I love you, too.”

“I wish we were completely alone right now.”

“So do I, but you
are
a mess, so go ahead and find that bathhouse.” She looked up at him. “Just make sure it's not in some brothel.”

Jake frowned mockingly. “Now why would you think that?” He leaned down to kiss her cheek, then grinned as he turned to walk back to his horse and mount up. He looked down at her. “Will you unlock that hotel room door for me?”

Randy folded her arms and raised her chin. “Maybe.”

“You might regret it.”

“Something tells me I
will
.”

He grinned more. “Woman, you don't want to know what I'm thinking right now.” He rode back to the supply wagon to get his things, and Randy climbed back into the buggy.

“Mother, is he all right?”

Randy patted her knee. “Evie, you are the most gentle-hearted and forgiving young woman I've ever known. Like your father told you, you just worry about your husband and children and that baby you're carrying. Right now Jake is just being…Jake. The most frustrating, confusing, self-depreciating, lonely man who ever walked.” She sighed. “I'll straighten him out.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing I haven't heard before, but I know he always means it. Your father can be quite the romantic when he thinks it will soften me up, and it always does. Sometimes I just want to hug him and hit him at the same time.”

Evie smiled. “You can't stay mad at him, can you?”

“Evie, I can't stay mad at that man any more than I can stay mad at Stephen or Little Jake or Ben, which tells you how easily I see the sorry little boy in him sometimes. I don't always know which one I'm dealing with—the boy, or the man.”

Brian climbed into the buggy seat. “Ladies, I am your official driver today.”

“Then I am sitting up front with you,” Evie told him, climbing down and then getting into the front seat. She grasped Brian's arm and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You
will
dance with me tomorrow night, won't you?”

“Every single dance.”

Evie looked back at her mother. “And you'll look for a yellow dress for the ball, won't you, Mother? It's Daddy's favorite color.”

“Yes, dear, I will wear yellow.” Jake rode past them, headed for Denver.
I'll wear yellow, all right.
Randy wanted to hold him. Sometimes she wondered if in all these years she had ever really reached the deeper man, the one who, in spite of all the love he enjoyed now and all the love he gave back, was still a loner, still…lonely…in a way no one would ever be able to comprehend.

Soon he was a small dot on the horizon, and for some reason she shivered and wanted to cry. After all these years, there were times when even she couldn't penetrate that wall he'd built around his heart when he was a lonely little boy.

And that scared her more than anything.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous handsome outlaw.”

Jake turned from a mirror where he'd been adjusting the lapel of a new suit. He watched a beautiful, auburn-haired woman walk right through the curtained doorway to the clothing store's dressing room without making sure first he was even dressed.

Jake grinned, holding his arms out to his sides. “What do you think? I hate dressing up, but I need something for the Cattlemen's Ball tomorrow night. Will this do?”

The woman strutted closer and looked him over, walking in a circle around him. She stepped back then and sized him up with bedroom eyes. “I think a man like you could wear a simple farmer's cotton pants and have dirty hands and need a shave and a haircut and still make a woman…uncomfortable. Even more uncomfortable if you didn't have a shirt on. Why don't you take that one off so I can better judge?”

Jake chuckled. “Well, ma'am, underneath this shirt is an undershirt, and that stays on.” He guessed the woman to be perhaps thirty—a hard thirty years at that, but still beautiful.

“Yeah, well, according to that book about you, women like me raised you, so before you got married, I expect
plenty
of women saw that great body without a shirt. And something tells me you learned about the facts of life at a very young age.” She held his gaze. “And my God, you have a smile that could melt a woman right down to the boardwalk.”

Jake folded his arms, scrutinizing the blue eyes with lines about them. Her still-trim figure showed full breasts that mushroomed from the low-cut neckline of a blue taffeta dress with ruffles in all the right places. She wore tiny diamond earrings and a feathered hat that matched the dress. “Let me guess,” he told her. “Gretta MacBain?”

She nodded. “And how do you know my name?”

Jake removed the suit coat, hanging it on a hook. “Oh, I know your kind very well, and from the way some of my men have described you, I just figured you had to be Gretta.”

“Well, I hope they were complimentary in their descriptions.”

Jake winked at her. “
Very
complimentary.”

Gretta laughed again. The store owner hurried into the dressing room, glancing from Gretta to Jake and back to Gretta.

“Gretta MacBain, how many times do I have to tell you to stay out of this store?” The short, balding man reached over and nervously took the suit coat down. “Sir? Do you intend to buy this?”

Jake kept his eyes on Gretta. “I do. Just give me a minute.”

“I'm sorry this woman intruded on you like this,” the owner told Jake, turning to glower at Gretta over spectacles that had slid down his narrow nose.

“I don't mind at all,” Jake answered. “In fact, why don't you go out there and do whatever you need to do? I'll get the rest of this suit off and be along in a minute.”

The man sucked in his breath, then scowled at Gretta again as he walked to the curtained doorway and looked up at Jake. “Sir, are you sure you should be alone back here with…with this woman? I mean, if she's bothering you—”

Jake grinned broadly. “Am I supposed to be afraid of her? Should I strap on my guns?”

Gretta laughed heartily and deliberately gave the owner a hungry once-over. “Henry Porter, when are you going to come on over and see me? I can show you things I'll bet your wife never even thought of doing to you.”

Henry blushed. “Gretta, you
have
to stop coming in here!”

“Hell, it's good for your business.” Gretta looked him over again. “Or are you afraid people will gossip and say you spend time here in the back room with me? Maybe you really
want
to come back here with me.”

Henry sniffed. “You are shameless and…and you have a dirty mind!”

“Yeah, and I'm having fun with both.”

The man turned even redder before turning to dart through the doorway. “It's your reputation, Mr. Harkner!” he called back.

“Mister, don't you be worrying about my reputation. There isn't a damn thing anyone can say about me that hasn't been said before, and most of it is probably true.” He looked Gretta over appreciatively as he spoke, and they shared more laughter. “It's like you just said,” Jake told Gretta. “Women like you raised me. I have some very good friends who are of your…profession.”

She let out another bawdy laugh. “I'll just bet you do! What did you do—ask around the first time you came to Denver to find out who the best whores were and where they could be found?”

“I didn't have to ask. Men down at the stockyards talk.”

“Did they tell you I own a whole house full of ladies who know most of those men?”

“Something like that.” Jake removed the tie. “And how did you know who I am?”

She walked closer and took the tie from him. “Honey, do you really need to ask that? I mean,
look
at you! Everybody knows who Jake Harkner is. The only man in this whole state who might be a tad more handsome is that son of yours.” She began unbuttoning his shirt for him. “You have a way of making everything and everyone else in a room just disappear. All eyes turn to you. I did see you once last year. You were out shopping with your family. Everybody knew who you were, and I probably would have guessed, even if someone hadn't told me.” She pulled the shirt down over his shoulders, revealing sleeveless underwear that accented his muscled arms. She ran a hand over his chest and down over his stomach suggestively. “Damn, you smell good.”

“Just came from the bathhouse—got a shave and a haircut, too. I was a mess from bringing in a herd of cattle, and a couple of nights of no sleep.”

“Now why on earth would you go two nights with no sleep?”

Jake let her pull off the shirt. “Personal. And what the hell are you doing in a men's clothing store?” he asked as he pulled his hands out of the sleeves.

“Looking for men, of course.”

“Me in particular?”

“Maybe.” She licked her lips. “And unlike Henry out there, I'll bet there isn't one thing I could say that would embarrass you one little bit.”

“No, ma'am. I've seen it all and done it all.” Jake put his hands on his hips. “So, should I buy the suit?”

“Mister, when you walk in to the Cattlemen's Ball in that suit and that silver brocade waistcoat I see lying over the chair there, women will faint. And I've seen your wife. She's a beautiful woman. You will make quite a pair.”

Jake nodded. “If I make women faint, my wife will make men's jaws drop. Their cigars will fall right out of their mouths when she walks into the room.”

Gretta laughed again. “I like you, Jake Harkner. How many men would stand half dressed in front of a prostitute and talk about how beautiful their wives are?”

Jake lit a cigarette. “I would. I had my share of prostitutes a long time ago, Gretta. Then my wife came along and showed me a man only needs one good woman—although right now she's probably still a bit peeved at me.”

“Is that so? Well, I find it hard to believe that any woman, wife or not, could stay mad at
you
for long.”

Jake sobered. “Yeah, well,
believe
me, I'm not always easy to live with.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that.” Gretta leaned against the doorjamb. “Let's see…you were running from the law when you two first met, and I'm betting you were an ornery sonofabitch back then, and the last thing you wanted was a woman hanging around—a
good
woman, that is. You preferred the kind you could take to bed and leave the next morning, only that wife of yours wouldn't let go. And then there were all those shoot-outs and then prison and then putting up with the dangers of you being a U.S. Marshal.” Her gaze grew sincere. “She must be quite some woman.”

Jake leaned against the other side of the doorjamb, also sobering. “They don't come any better.”

“So, why is she peeved at you?”

Jake turned and picked up the shirt he'd worn into the store. Gretta noticed the scars at the back of his shoulders where the skin was exposed from the sleeveless undershirt.
From his father's beatings
, she thought. The man had quite a storied past—had killed his own father. She could tell there were likely a lot worse unseen scars under the shirt.

“Someone insulted her, and I beat the hell out of him,” Jake answered Gretta. “Then I yelled at her for the first time in our almost-thirty years together. I left afterward and stayed away a couple of nights because I don't like being around my wife and family when I'm that angry. She's not happy that I didn't stay and talk to her.” He pulled on his blue cotton shirt. “Let alone yelling at her like I did.” He sighed. “It's been quite a while since I was that mad, and she worries about me when I kind of turn into the old Jake, if you know what I mean.” He took another drag on the cigarette, then laid it in an ashtray provided in the dressing room.

“I can guess,” Gretta answered. “And it's easier for you to talk to somebody like me than to her when you're that way.”

Jake nodded. “You must have read that book pretty close to know so much about me.”

“You're an intriguing man, Mr. Jake Harkner. What did that man you beat on say about your wife?”

He looked at her darkly. “He called her my personal whore. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“There are a lot of women like you that I respect, but Randy Hayes Harkner is no whore and doesn't deserve to be called one in the way that man said it. It hurt her bad, and I should have stayed and talked to her, but that remark made me feel like I didn't deserve to touch her at all.”

“And you think women like me are the only kind you have any business being with.”

He picked up the cigarette and drew on it again. “Sometimes.” He grinned. “But I'll be damned if I can keep my hands off of her. She's got me tied to railroad tracks with a train coming, and I just lay there and don't even try to get loose.”

“And you'd
let
that train run right over you if it meant never hurting her again.”

“I would.”

“Lucky woman.”

Jake shook his head. “
I'm
the lucky one.” He studied his cigarette a moment. “She changed my life years ago, but changing the real me isn't so easy. Some things are just beat into you until…” He looked Gretta over. “Here we are—just now met—and I'm talking to you about things that are none of your business.”

Gretta put a hand on his arm. “Honey, I'll just bet that wife of yours never stays mad at you for long.”

Jake couldn't help a smile. “Generally not.”

She stepped closer, patting his cheek. “Of course not. You reek of sex, Jake Harkner, and she just can't resist that.”

“Reek?”

“Reek. Sex just oozes from every pore of your body.”

Jake laughed. “I've never heard it put quite that way.”

Gretta looked him over again. “You damn well know it's true. And I would give my right arm to find out what you're like in bed.”

“Ma'am, you pose a mighty strong temptation,” Jake answered with a grin. “I appreciate the offer, and I appreciate the talk, but I have a wife waiting for me in a room at the Brown Palace.”

Gretta pouted, stepping back. “How about that son of yours? He available?”

Jake set the cigarette aside again. “Lloyd is
also
happily married.”

“Woe is me,” Gretta joked.

Accustomed to women like Gretta, Jake had no qualms about removing the new suit pants in order to pull on his denim ones.

Gretta gladly studied the way Jake's knee-length long johns snugly fit firm thighs. She took a deep breath at the bulge between his legs that suggested a well-endowed man. He handed out the suit pants, and she took them as he picked up his denim pants.

“Maybe you can help me some other way,” Jake told her as he pulled on his pants.

“How's that?”

He tucked his shirt into his pants as he answered. “Let me see your hands,” he said after buttoning the pants.

“My
hands
?”

He reached out. “Your hands.”

Gretta obliged, enjoying the soft way he touched her hands and rubbed the backs of them. He felt her fingers, studying them. “Where's the best jewelry store in town?”

“Bush and Company. That's where the snobs of Capitol Hill shop.”

“Come there with me. It's our thirtieth anniversary, and I want to buy my wife the wedding ring she should have had all these years. Your hands are the same size as hers, so you'll need to try on whatever I pick out.”

She squeezed his hands, leaning in close. “And you know every inch of her body, I'll bet.”

Jake grinned. “Every inch. Intimately.”

“If you want me to help you, you owe me a kiss. Just one kiss, Mr. Jake Harkner.”

He leaned down and only kissed her cheek before pulling away and grabbing his gun belt from where it hung on a hook. “The only woman I kiss the way
you
want to be kissed is my wife. Believe me, if I kiss
you
like that, she'll know, and she won't unlock that hotel room door.” He strapped on his guns.

“So, those are the infamous .44s.”

“They're just guns.”

“Not when they belong to Jake Harkner.”

Jake tied the holsters to his thighs, then pulled on a suede jacket he'd purchased at another store earlier. He put out his cigarette in the sand-filled ashtray. “Where is that jewelry store?”

“Seventeenth Street—just a block over.”

“Let's go then. I'll have Henry fold and pack these clothes, and I'll pick them up on the way back, along with my horse and my other belongings.”

“So you're going to be seen walking the street with me…Gretta MacBain, who runs one of the fanciest brothels in Denver? It's called the Range Club, by the way.”