Free Kid Calhoun by Joan Johnston Page B

barn.
    Jake saw the cowhands stop what they were doing and turn to stare at them as they drove up. Obviously they hadn’t expected Claire to arrive accompanied by anyone. His eyes narrowed as one of the men pulled a Winchester from the boot on his saddle.
    When they reached the yard, Jake found himself the target of numerous weapons. His badge would have relieved their fears, but it was hidden beneath his jacket. He kept his hands visible and made no quick moves. He didn’t want to end up killing anyoneunnecessarily. It never occurred to him that he was the one who might end up dead.
    “You all right, Mrs. Chandler?” one of the men asked.
    “I’m fine, Tim. This is my brother, Jake Kearney. He’s come in response to my wire.” She looked for Dog to point him out to the hands so they wouldn’t accidentally shoot him thinking he was a wild dog that might be a threat to the calves. But Dog had disappeared. She settled for saying, “Jake’s dog is around here somewhere. He’s big and black and looks a little like a wolf. Tell the hands to make sure what they’re aiming at before they shoot any predators, will you?”
    Tim nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll do that.”
    Jake watched the air heave out of a half-dozen sets of lungs. Several of the men offered smiles that faded when Jake didn’t return them.
    An older, gray-haired man with a slight paunch over his belt came out of the barn and said, “You men stop gaping like greenhorns and get back to work.”
    Jake’s lip curled in pleasure at the sight of the leathery old man. “I’ll be damned.” He came off the seat of the buggy in a single graceful move. His hand reached out and was caught in an iron grip. “It’s good to see you, Shug.”
    The Window Rock foreman nodded a welcome. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Jake. Glad you showed up. Bad business here.”
    “Nobody’s going to force Claire into anything, Shug. I’ll see to that.”
    By then Claire had joined them. “Why don’t you two come inside where you can be comfortable and talk over old times.”
    Suddenly both men went still. They were reminded that it was Sam who had introduced his best friend, Jake, to his uncle, Shug, and given them a commonthread upon which to weave a friendship. Then Sam had swept Claire off her feet at sixteen and married her, making them not only friends, but relations. Now, just ten years later, Sam was dead. It would have been too sorrowful to reminisce about days gone by without him.
    Shug shifted his feet and said, “Got work to do. By the way, Claire, that Reardon fella came by to see you.”
    “Where is he now?”
    “I told him to make himself comfortable inside. See you at supper.” Then he was gone.
    “Would you like come inside and meet Will Reardon?” Claire asked.
    “I’d rather make my peace with Sam first.”
    Claire lifted her eyes and watched the sun setting. It looked like a piece of orange stained glass in the center of Window Rock. “I buried him up there. By the rock.” She turned and walked inside the house, leaving Jake alone.
    Jake untied his buckskin from behind the buggy and stepped into the saddle leather. The rangy gelding made short work of the distance between the house and the rock. The graveyard wasn’t hard to find. It had a white picket fence around it, and Claire had planted wildflowers. Jake stepped over the fence and walked up to the headstone. He took off his hat and turned the brim in his hands. He thought of all the rivers he had crossed with Sam.
    Jake listened for the wind and heard Sam’s laughter, looked for the lowering sun and felt Sam’s friendship. And missed them both. Sam was the brother he had never had. A special part of Jake had died along with his friend.
    It was Sam who had tried to convince him not to be so cynical about women.
    “Take your lead from me,” Sam had said with an irreverent grin. “You’re looking at a well-loved man.”
    “I’ll forgive your arrogance because it’s my sister