Outlaw Hearts (49 page)

She looked defiantly at the prosecutor, as though to dare him to come up with something else to try to make Jake look bad. The man glowered at her. “You're a clever woman, Mrs. Harkner, but then a woman who lives with a wanted man has to learn to
be
clever, doesn't she? She has to constantly be changing her name, lying to her children and her friends. She has to pretend life has been all honey and roses to try to convince others her husband is a changed man, because if she doesn't, she might suffer at his hands.”

“I have never suffered at my husband's hands. I have suffered more these last few minutes under your questioning than I ever did in nearly twenty years of living with Jake Harkner.”

The man's face reddened as several in the courtroom chuckled. The judge pounded his gavel and things quieted again. Jake's attorney rose, smiling. “Your Honor, I was going to ask Mrs. Harkner a few more questions, but she has already answered them. I daresay her testimony just now has done more than anything else I could say at this moment. I would like her to step down and I will call Mr. Harkner himself.”

Miranda rose as deputies unlocked Jake's handcuffs but left ankle cuffs on him, making it difficult to walk to the stand. As they passed each other, Miranda touched his arm. “
Yo
te
quiero, mi esposo
,” she said softly, giving him a supportive smile. If only the girl he had rescued were here to testify. Louella Griffith, the court had said her name was, but there was no longer any trace of her in St. Louis.

For close to an hour, Jake was grilled. He refused to react with anger or violence when the prosecutor kept bringing up other facets of his past, including what had happened with his father. Miranda was proud of his composure. He fully denied having any part of the robbery in question, told his own story of how he had found Miss Griffith with Kennedy's men and had stolen her away from them and taken her home.

“Miss Griffith never said anything about anyone ‘rescuing' her,” the prosecutor put in. “It was assumed she was dumped on her parents' doorstep after you and Kennedy and the others were through with her. She suffered so much shame and horror that she was delirious. Her family moved away without a trace, probably to go somewhere where others wouldn't know what had happened to their daughter.”

“I can only tell you the truth about what I know happened,” Jake answered. “There is nothing I can do about the fact that the woman isn't here to back up my testimony.”

The questioning finally ended, and Jake returned to his seat, looking weary and beaten. The finishing arguments were given, and the jury was sent to deliberate. Miranda watched the guards take Jake out of the room and back to his prison cell, and she sat down in her seat, putting her head in her hands to pray. It was done now. His life was in the hands of twelve people who didn't know him, didn't know the kind of man he really was. Jess put an arm around her, and she allowed herself a good cry on his shoulder. She had told him that it was not necessary for him to be there, but secretly she was glad for his quiet presence and gentle understanding…glad for his silent love.

It was only two hours later that the jurors returned and the judge had Jake brought back into the courtroom. Jake turned to look at Miranda when he reached his chair. She rose and leaned forward, touching his shoulder and kissing his cheek, not caring that others watched and whispered.

“I love you, Father,” Evie told him from where she sat, her eyes puffy from crying.

Jake nodded to her. “I love you too.” He glanced around the room again, and Evie knew he was still watching for Lloyd.

“He'll come back, Father. He loves you.”

Miranda's heart ached at the words. Lloyd! Where was their son?

The judge brought the court to order. People waited anxiously, some excitedly, as the foreman of the jury rose and read each charge. “Guilty” of robbery. “Guilty” of murder. On the charge of rape, “guilty.”

Miranda gasped. People mumbled, a few sounded disappointed, others nearly cheered. It took several minutes for the judge to quiet them down. Jake turned to look at Miranda, deep pain in his eyes. If only he could hold her. Whatever the judge handed out to him in punishment, it couldn't be as bad as losing his son's love, having his marriage destroyed, knowing his daughter would go out into the world without her father's protection.

The judge ordered Jake to rise. Jake obeyed, facing the judge squarely. “Do you have anything to say, Mr. Harkner?”

Jake drew in a long, deep breath, suddenly seeing his father.
Well? What do you have to say for yourself, you little bastard?
Any little thing that went wrong was always his fault.
I
didn't do it, Pa. Honest!
“I did not commit the crimes for which I was tried here,” he said aloud, “but I rode with the men who did do them, so I suppose I should expect to be judged for that. I can only say that for the last twenty years I tried to make up for it.”

“Mr. Harkner, I have no doubt that part of your guilty verdict was based on the known fact that you did ride with the Kennedy gang,” the judge told him. “We will probably never know the truth about the day of the robbery in which innocent people died and a young woman was ruined for life; but I must tell you that since twelve people feel you were involved, it is my duty to see you get the proper sentencing. However, I also must tell you that there is as much
lack
of proof in this case as there is proof; twenty years is a long time to remember details amidst such quick violence and shock as those involved suffered that day.” The man glanced at Miranda, who sat wiping at her eyes. “You can thank your lovely, gracious wife for impressing me deeply with her testimony. I might add that your own testimony, the sincerity and love that I have seen you feel for your wife and daughter, shows me that you are indeed a changed man. But, being changed does not erase your past.”

The man cleared his throat and looked at some papers, then back at Jake. “I have given this a lot of consideration. I don't believe you are any longer a danger to society; however, that same society expects men to pay for their crimes. If they were not made to do so, this land would remain lawless, and we all know that is no longer so. Men like the Youngers, the Daltons, the James gang, are all either dead or in prison. It is true that the terrible war this country suffered had a great deal to do with giving birth to such outlaws, but a man chooses his own way, and he must answer for it. In weighing your punishment, because of your behavior the past twenty years, I am going to be more lenient than I would normally be. The punishment for your crimes would ordinarily be death or life imprisonment. However, in your case I sentence you to fifteen years in prison, with a chance for parole in eight years.”

Jake closed his eyes. He heard Miranda gasp and break into tears. He knew what she was thinking, what he already knew. At his age, living in a prison, the sentence was the same as life. He was used to the out-of-doors, to the sweet mountains and wide valleys of the West, used to riding free on the back of a horse. The arthritis that had set into old wounds would only get worse staying in a small, damp cell where he couldn't get any exercise. He would not last fifteen years, probably not even eight. He'd been in local jails more than once in his younger days, had known men who'd been to the bigger prisons, knew what hellholes they were. A lot of men died there from tuberculosis.

“I feel this is a lenient sentence,” the judge was saying, “given the severity of the charges. Your final destination will be determined at a later date, but I will request that you be sent to Joliet in Illinois, where I usually send those with long-term sentences. They have better facilities for such prisoners.” The man pounded his gavel. “This ends the matter of the State of Missouri versus Jackson Lloyd Harkner.”

The courtroom broke into loud talking, and Jake turned to Miranda. Evie was already around the railing and running to her father. She embraced him, as Miranda approached him more slowly, their eyes meeting in mutual understanding and horror. She knew that if her husband had to stay in a penitentiary for very long, she would never see him alive again.

The disappointment in her eyes tore at Jake's gut. She had tried so hard, had been so sure she could get him off with a lighter sentence. She came closer, and he drew her into his arms, hugging her and Evie both. “Let it go, Randy. End the marriage and get on with your life.”

“No! Never!” she groaned. “Something will happen. It won't end this way.”

“It's already ended.” He kissed her hair, held her tightly when he felt her body tremble in sobs.

“Let's go,” one of the deputies told him.

“No, wait,” Miranda begged.

Another man pulled her and Evie away. Jake glanced at Jess. “Take care of her.” His eyes showed their terrible grief as the deputies forced him to leave.

Jess put an arm around both women. “You two had better get on back to the hotel and get some rest. Randy, I'll bring you back tomorrow and you can see Jake. We'll find out where they're sending him. Maybe we can get the judge to send him out to the territorial prison at Laramie. There's lots of federal prisoners there. That wouldn't be such a terrible move for you, and we could maybe both find work in Cheyenne. That way you'd get to go see Jake once in a while.”

Miranda pulled away from him, meeting his eyes. What a good man he was. There were more lines on Jess's face too now, put there by long years under the western sun. His sandy hair was streaked with gray, but he still had a rugged handsomeness to him. He had done his best to keep her spirits up, and he was doing it again.

“You knew I'd move to wherever they send him, didn't you?”

“I knew.” Jess gave her a reassuring smile, but he ached inside, knowing he would never take Jake's place in her life. As long as Jake was alive and she was able to find a way to be near him, there would be no one else. He had accepted that a long time ago. “Let's get Evie back to the hotel.”

She nodded, wiping at her eyes again and putting an arm around her daughter. “What about Lloyd, Jess? I'm so worried about him, and angry with him too. He should have been here.”

“It's different for the boy. As far as him findin' us after we move from the Parker ranch, the men there will know where we are. If he shows up there, they can tell him. And he
will
show up, Randy. You'll see. Besides, don't think he hasn't been keepin' an eye on what's goin' on here. He might be pretendin' he don't care, but he damn well does. He'll know where they sent his pa, and he knows that where Jake goes, you go.”

How she hated the thought of leaving the lovely home Jake had built for them in Colorado. More tears wanted to come. Jake had loved it there so much, loved his work there. Life would never be like that again. Leaving that house would be the hardest thing she had ever done, but she would do whatever it took to be near Jake. She would not let him rot away in prison alone. She had to be stronger than ever now, for the children, for Jake. If she could find a way to be near him, she could take him decent food once in a while, nurse him if he needed it, do all she could to keep his spirits up.

“I've got to find Lloyd, Jess. I promised Jake I would.”

“Then we will. I'll help you. But first we've got to see about talkin' to that judge and gettin' Jake sent to Laramie. After that we've got to get you resettled.”

So, she thought, time to move again, from Illinois to Kansas, to Nevada and California, Colorado, and now either Illinois or Wyoming. This would be the last journey for her and Jake both. A few people stayed to gawk, and one reporter pushed his way through to Miranda. “What do you think of the sentence, Mrs. Harkner?”

It struck her then that she could finally use her real name. It seemed so ironic. For years she had wanted to be able to use it, but not this way.

She turned away, keeping one arm around Evie, and clinging to Jess's arm with her other hand. She had to be strong for Evie, but she didn't feel like being strong right now. It took every ounce of effort she could muster to keep from screaming. Jake! He was as much gone from her life as if he was dead.

Lloyd waited across the street from the mansion owned by David Vogel. He'd never seen a city as big as Chicago, had gotten lost several times, finally found the neat row of homes on the street where Beth was supposed to be living. Under a gaslight he looked again at the newspaper article he had spotted while in St. Louis.

Elizabeth
Ann
Parker, daughter of mine-owner and rancher, Zane Parker, of Colorado Springs and Denver, was wed to Mr. David Vogel, a prominent druggist from Chicago, Illinois, on Saturday, August 1.
There was much more, about Parker's wealth, about how the newlyweds planned to take a trip to Europe soon.

Why had she done this? Had she been so quick then to judge him because of his father? Was she that vulnerable to her own father's wishes? This wasn't Beth. She had made him promises. She would have talked to him before doing something like this, explained it to him.

He was determined to confront her. He had intended to stay around St. Louis until the trial was over, had bought himself some whiskey and camped out in the wooded hills beyond the city to wait for the big day. Pangs of guilt stabbed at him for not going to his mother and Evie, not being with them through the trial, but anger and bitterness still burned in his gut like hot coals.

Because of his father, Beth was lying in some other man's arms. He had seen the article and had left St. Louis right away, feeling betrayed, even angrier. He hadn't even been given the opportunity to see Beth once more, to talk about any of it. It was as though someone had ripped out his heart and he was standing back staring at it. Knowing she was with someone else was worse than if she had died.

He had loaded up his horse and taken the train to Chicago, where he had spent three days trying to find the right David Vogel, the right address. Now he was here. All he had to do was find the courage to go over to that house and get the truth out of Beth, husband or no husband. He took a fifth of whiskey from his saddlebag and took another swallow. He'd gotten to like this stuff, liked the way it soothed the pain in his heart, made the ugliness of life a little less ugly. He tried to ignore the little voice inside that told him if he really loved Beth, he'd not bother her, the voice that told him she was better off. He took a deep breath, put the whiskey back and adjusted his hat, then stomped across the street and up to the double front doors of the elegant home. Lace curtains graced the frosted door-windows. He rang the bell, and moments later a servant answered. “Yes?”

“I'm here to see Miss, I mean Mrs. David Vogel.”

“Mrs. Vogel and her husband are at the opera. Are you a friend? May I leave a message?”

“When will they be back?”

“Oh, quite late, I suppose. They're attending a small party afterward.” The old woman smiled. “Mr. Vogel is enjoying showing off his new wife to all his friends, you know. Who shall I say called?”

Showing off his new wife? She belonged to Lloyd Hayes! No, Lloyd Harkner…Harkner…son of Jake Harkner. “Is she happy?”

“Well, as happy as a new young bride can be, I suppose. She is very young, but we're all helping her, and Mr. Vogel is terribly kind to her.”

Lloyd nodded and stepped back. “Thank you.” He turned.

“Sir!” the old woman called out. “May I give Mrs. Vogel a message?”

Lloyd looked back at her. “Just tell her I think I understand. Tell her good-bye.”

“But…what is your name?”

“She'll know.” Lloyd hurried down the steps and disappeared beyond the house lights. The old woman stared after him curiously, then closed and locked the door.

Lloyd walked back across the street and mounted his horse. Its hooves clattered against the brick street as he headed away from the rows of elegant homes and toward distant lights that told him there were plenty of taverns and wild women waiting in the night in a city like this.

So, she was happy, was she? Well, he wasn't. Did she care? Maybe he should listen to that little voice. His own life was miserable enough now. Why should he make hers miserable too? This wasn't Beth's fault.

He rode on for several blocks, passing buggies and trolley cars, finally coming into an area where he could hear laughter and piano music. More whiskey, that was what he needed, whiskey and women, cards and a good smoke. His father had always told him to stay away from those things, especially the whiskey.
Whiskey
can
make
a
man
do
foolish
things
, he had warned.
Sometimes
it
makes
him
do
cruel
things.
Had the man been talking about his father? What did it matter? If Jake didn't want him to drink, then he
would
drink! He would do every damn thing his father had told him
not
to do. After all, the man had lied to him all his life. Maybe whiskey and whores and gambling weren't so bad after all. Hell, Jess had taught him how to play cards when he was just a kid. If there weren't a law in this town against carrying weapons, he'd strap on Jake's Peacemakers. Might as well go all the way. He'd been practicing drawing those guns, was getting pretty fast at it, he thought. That was something else his father had never let him do—wear a handgun. Well, once he got out of this city, he was going to wear
two
pearl-handled, perfectly balanced Colt .44–.40's, the guns that belonged to the infamous Jake Harkner.

He rode past a telegraph office and noticed someone was inside working. He thought what a big city this was to have some businesses that were open all night. He drew his horse to a halt and tied it, walking inside. Might as well find out what had happened at the trial. “Say, mister, can you find things out from other cities, before they might hit the papers, I mean?”

“Like what?”

“There's an outlaw being tried down in St. Louis, name of Jake Harkner. Can you find out if the trial is over, if he's been sentenced? It should be any day now.”

“I can try, but it's probably already been in the paper, if the man is famous enough. The name sounds familiar to me.”

“Yeah. He was a bad one.”

The man looked at his pocket watch. “Only one telegraph office is open this time of night in St. Louis. I'll try them.” The man began tapping out a message, and Lloyd watched the nightlife through the window. Beth was out there somewhere, being shown off by her new husband to his rich friends like she was some kind of trophy. God how it hurt to think of her going home to his bed tonight. “Now we wait,” the telegrapher told him. “It should only take a minute or two.”

Lloyd nodded, walking outside and lighting a cigar. His father had loved to smoke, but he had never cared for it, until now. Now he wanted to do it all, enjoy every aspect of life he had not experienced.

“Here it is,” the man called to him.

His heartbeat quickened. Pa! He didn't want to care, told himself he
didn't
care. He walked back inside, trying to act casual. “Well?”

“Just a minute.” The man finished scribbling. “Jake Harkner sentenced yesterday on charges of robbery, murder, and rape,” he read. “Fifteen years in prison, possible parole in eight.” The man looked up at him, alarmed at the sudden pale look on the boy's face. “You all right, kid?”

“Yeah. Sure. Where did they send him?”

“Says here he's gonna be sent to Joliet. Hell, that's a state prison just a few miles southwest of here.”

Lloyd reached into his pocket and laid a dollar bill on the counter. “Thanks.”

“This is too much, boy.”

“Forget it.” He walked out and untied his horse. Yes, maybe he'd leave Beth alone after all. Who was he compared to a wealthy Chicago druggist who could give her everything? He was just the son of a murdering outlaw. He'd drink away the pain, maybe get the hell out of Chicago tomorrow and go someplace where he could wear those guns. He sure as hell wasn't going to stay around until his father arrived. What use was it to see him now? It would only be torture for them both. Jake probably didn't want him to see him rotting in a place like that, and he didn't want to see his father anyway.

He'd go back West. Maybe he could find the real Lloyd out there in the country where he'd grown up, maybe on some of the trails he used to ride with his father; or maybe on a different trail Jake Harkner had known, the trail of the outlaw. He needed to see that world, to know if there was a part of him that belonged to it as his father had.

His mother would probably move to Illinois now. Miranda Harkner would want to live near wherever her husband was incarcerated. How bitterly ironic that they would be living so near to Beth again, but the old friendships would be over. Nothing was the same now. Nothing.

***

Beth awoke and stretched against satin sheets, then pulled a pillow to her, wishing it was Lloyd. At least for the last few days she had not been so terribly ill, but she was still plagued with waves of nausea, and she could not eat. She told herself she must eat, that she had to start taking care of herself for the sake of the baby. This child was all she would have of Lloyd, a little piece of the love she had shared with the only man who could ever be in her heart.

What must he be thinking by now? She had no news yet of what had happened with his father. Did Lloyd know she was married? Did he hate her? Thank God David had kept his word not to touch her. He slept in an adjoining room, but he had made no attempts to come to her bed. She shivered at the thought of his ever demanding his husbandly rights. She could not let another man touch her. So far Aunt Trudy was still here, and that made her feel safer. Her father had only stayed the first few days, then had to leave. He had said nothing about Lloyd or his father, if he had heard from Lloyd. She knew that he wouldn't tell her if he had. He was determined to try to make her forget him, but she never would. He would always be with her every time she held her baby.

The door to her room opened. “Good morning, ma'am,” her personal maid said, coming into the room with a tray of food. The old woman came closer, an ever-present smile on her face.

“Good morning, Louise.” Beth liked the old woman, who mothered her as if she were her own child. “I still don't think I can eat.”

“Well, you must try.” Beth sat up a little, and Louise placed a tray over her lap. “Did you have a good rest?”

“Pretty good, I guess.”
I
would
have
slept
better
in
Lloyd's
arms.

“Well, you got home so late, I didn't have a chance to tell you about your visitor.”

Beth felt a quick rush of hope. “Visitor?”

“Yes, it was the strangest thing. He came knocking on the door late last night, and I do believe he'd had some little bit to drink. I could smell the whiskey. He asked specifically for you. When he found out you were not here, he asked the strangest question. He wanted to know if you were happy.”

Beth looked away to hide the mixture of excitement and sorrow she knew showed in her eyes. “If I was happy?” Lloyd! “What did he look like? Did he give his name?”

“No, ma'am. He was tall, quite handsome, dark eyes and dark hair, as much as I could tell in the dim light. I would guess he was twenty or so. He said to tell you, well, he said, ‘I think I understand.' And then he said to tell you good-bye.”

Beth closed her eyes and put a hand to her stomach. “Take the food away, Louise.”

“Oh, but you really must eat—”

“Just take it away.”

“Oh, my, did I say something to upset you? Is he someone you're afraid of? Shall I tell Master David?”

“No!” Beth lay back against her pillow, struggling against tears. “No, you must not tell him. I'll be all right. Just leave me alone for a little while.”

The old woman sighed, taking the tray. “If you don't eat by lunchtime, your Aunt Trudy says she will send for the doctor again. I know being newly married can be difficult sometimes, especially for one so young; but Master David is ever so kind a man. You'll get used to being a wife and learn to run this big house for him.”

The old woman left, and Beth curled up against the pillow again. “Oh, Lloyd,” she whispered. She had no doubt it had been him. He must have wanted to talk to her and then changed his mind. He had said to tell her good-bye. What an awful thing to discover on top of the shocking news about his father, to find out the girl he loved had married someone else. What did he mean by saying he understood? Did he think she had married because she thought he was a terrible person now and wanted to be sure he left her alone? If only he knew the truth, but that was out of the question. For the sake of the baby, she had to keep up this charade of a happy marriage, had to let the baby think David was its father.

Poor, sweet, trusting Lloyd. He had no one now. Everything familiar had been taken from him. Everything. She at least had the baby to remember him by. And what would happen to his father? How his mother and poor Evie must also be suffering. Evie had been such a dear friend.

She thought how she would trade all the luxury of living here in this mansion in Chicago, as well as all the land and riches she would inherit from her father one day, all for a crude little cabin in the mountains where she could live with Lloyd, if only it could be so.

Tell
her
I
said
good-bye
, he had said.

“Good-bye, my love,” she whispered. He would not be back. She knew it in her heart. Everything he had loved and trusted had been destroyed, and she in turn had not only lost the love of her life; she had lost her best friend. She wept into her satin pillow.