Montana Creeds: Logan (19 page)

“Okay,” Heather said moistly. Then the transformation came, startling and instantaneous; she turned a show-girl smile on
Jim. “I dealt poker in Reno for a while. Maybe I could work here next fall—maybe seven to three?”

Briana’s mouth fell open. Was the woman serious? She wanted to work with her husband’s ex?

Jim looked from her to Heather and back again.

Briana glared at Jim.

He stifled a smile. Turned politely to Heather. “Fill out an application,” he said, directing her to the customer service desk. “We have a fairly high turnover, and we’re usually shorthanded in September, after all the grad students go back to school.”

Heather nodded, smiled mistily at Briana and headed for the desk.

“Who
is
that?” Jim asked.

“My ex-husband’s new wife,” Briana said, “and if you hire her—”

Jim grinned, rocked back on his heels. Waited.

She huffed out a sigh. Like she had anything to say about hiring and firing. “I’ve got to clock in,” she said.

But Jim took her by the arm and squired her into his private office, a virtual command post full of flickering monitors. Heather waggled her fingers at them as they passed, employment application in hand.

“If Alec was hit by a van,” Jim said reasonably, once they were alone, “what are you doing here?”

“He’s not in critical condition, Jim,” Briana answered. “He broke an arm, and he and Josh are with Logan today.”

A grin quirked Jim’s mouth. “Logan’s babysitting?”

“Don’t let Josh and Alec hear you call it that.”

Jim smiled, touched Briana’s shoulder. “Go home,” he said. “We can run this place without you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Briana said.

“You can take sick leave, or vacation days.”

“I’m not sick.”

“You look sick to me,” Jim said speculatively, tilting his head to one side as he studied her.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Go,” he said. “Your job will still be here when you get things under control.”

“Things
are
under control.”

“Are they?”

“Sort of,” she said.

Five minutes later, Briana was back in the parking lot, watching Heather pull out in Vance’s van. She’d follow her to the trailer, she decided, and get their talk out of the way before going back to Logan’s to pick up the boys.

She nearly slammed into an old Corolla, she was so distracted.

Then Brett Turlow got out, smiling his smarmy smile, and came toward the truck. He’d tried to put the moves on her several times—it happened a lot, in her line of work—and so far she’d always been able to brush him off without making a big deal.

“Where you goin’, Briana?” he asked. She’d automatically rolled down the window, because the truck didn’t have air-conditioning, and now she regretted it.

“I’m taking the day off,” she said, trying to smile, anxious to be gone already, if she was going.

“That’s a pity,” Brett answered, standing so close she was afraid he’d climb onto the running board. “You sure do brighten this place up.”

Briana made a look-at-the-time motion, though she wasn’t wearing a watch. She’d forgotten it that morning, when she’d taken it off to mix up the pancakes.

Brett’s small eyes narrowed. He was only one of a dozen pests, and Briana had never been afraid of him, but she felt uneasy now.

“Gotta be going,” she said.

“There’s a new movie startin’ up at the drive-in Friday night,” Brett ventured. “We could grab some supper in town and—”

“Sorry,” Briana broke in cheerfully. “I have other plans.”

Why did she always have to be so
nice?
Brett Turlow made her skin crawl, and she wouldn’t be going anywhere with him Friday night or
any
night.

He looked petulant. Not to mention perpetually grungy. “You
always
have other plans, it seems to me.”

Briana drew a deep breath, let it out, shifted the truck into gear and got ready to hit the gas pedal. “I don’t date customers,” she said moderately.

“You didn’t mind dating Jim Huntinghorse,” Brett taunted. “And he’s nothin’ but a damn Injun.”

Something tripped inside Briana. “All right,” she said. “Get lost. Is that clear enough?”

Brett stared at her, wheeled back from the side of the truck as if she’d reached through the window and slapped him.

Briana took that opportunity to boogie.

Glancing into her rearview mirror, she saw him watching her, and felt little invisible bugs creeping up and down her spine. With a shudder, she pressed down harder on the gas.

Suppose he followed her?

She spotted Heather up ahead, in Vance’s van, stopped at a light.
Don’t be paranoid,
she told herself, but she sped up just the same. Safety in numbers.

She’d planned to stay on Heather’s bumper all the way to the trailer on the other side of Stillwater Springs,
but Vance’s bride surprised her by heading for the auto shop where he worked instead. And Briana knew the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with the conversation she and Heather would have had. Would still have to have, at some point.

All the way home, she kept checking her rearview mirror.

T
HEY STOOD AT
the fence for a while, Logan and Josh and Alec, after unsaddling the buckskin and turning him back into the corral. To Logan’s amusement, Josh had gathered up Snooks and tucked him inside his T-shirt, “so he wouldn’t get stepped on.” Now, both the dog’s and the boy’s heads were sticking out of the neck-hole. Every so often, Snooks would lick Josh’s cheek.

“Our lunches probably suck,” Alec said.

After a moment, Logan realized the kid was talking about the two brown paper bags still sitting on the hood of his rig.

“Don’t hint, butt-face,” Josh told his brother.

“Who’s hinting, jerk-wad?”

Logan grinned. “Do I have to whistle?” he asked.

Both boys shook their heads, though their eyes snapped with mischief.

“Are there really bears in the orchard?” Alec inquired, scuffing at the dirt with the toe of his sneaker as they started, by tacit agreement, toward the house.

“Sometimes,” Logan said.

“What would you do if you met one?” Alec queried, his eyes huge. His cast was starting to look respectably grubby now—Logan had added his signature, as had all the guys working on the barn restoration.

“Return to the religion of my childhood, probably,” Logan answered.

The two-headed creature—Josh and Snooks sharing a T-shirt—fell into step beside him. “Besides that, what?” Josh asked. “Would you shoot him?”

“I’d hate to do that,” Logan said. He didn’t hunt and, anyway, he’d had enough of guns in Iraq.

“But you would, wouldn’t you?” Alec asked. “If he was going to eat you, or Sidekick, or Snooks or—”

“Or you?” Josh teased, raising both hands like claws and giving a growl.

Alec blushed. Logan’s answer was important to him, that much was obvious.

He rubbed a hand over Alec’s bristly haircut. Snooks’s was almost as short, thanks to the buzz-job with the clippers. “If a buddy was in trouble, like you or Josh, here, I’d shoot the bear.”

“You’ve got a gun?”

“Several,” Logan said. “Old hunting rifles, mostly. Passed down through the family.”

“Can we see them?” Josh asked, as they climbed the porch steps.

“Some other time,” Logan replied. “Right now, we’d better rustle up some lunch. Then I thought we’d go out and see how that fence I’m building for old Cimarron is coming along.”

Logan hadn’t made too much progress on the inside of the house, but it was a comfortable place, without the charge of Jake’s alcoholic temper to keep the air sizzling. He had a bed now, and the couch from his place in Vegas, and his computer was set up in the living room.

Josh immediately zeroed in on it. “Wow,” he said. “State-of-the-art!”

Snooks started to squirm, and Josh took him out of his shirt and set him carefully on the floor, all the while gaping at the three oversize monitors and other gear.

“What do you
do
with this thing?” the boy enthused. “Run a government missile program or something?”

Logan chuckled. “Sometimes it seems that way,” he admitted. “I sold my business recently, and I’ve had to help the new people iron out a few snags.”

“Our
computer is a dinosaur,” Alec said.

“A dinosaur’s
grampa,”
Josh agreed.

“How do chili dogs sound?” Logan asked, because the current drift of the conversation made him feel as though he’d sneaked a peek at Briana’s checkbook balance or something. It had taken a lot for her to leave Alec and Josh with him, so she wouldn’t miss work and suffer a corresponding hit to her paycheck.

After lunch, Logan piled the dishes in the sink and they headed for the pasture in the Dodge. The fence was three-quarters of the way finished, but the crew was nervous.

A glance told Logan why—Cimarron no longer stayed near the distant copse of birch trees; he was in the middle of the field, snorting and tossing his head every now and then.

“Stay here,” Logan told the boys, climbing out of the truck.

They obeyed, peering over the backseat, along with Snooks and Sidekick.

“There’s nothing in my contract,” the crew boss told him, “that covers getting gored by a bull.”

“The sooner you finish, the lower the risk,” Logan answered, watching the bull thoughtfully. Damn, but that son of a bitch was
big.
Why did Dylan keep him around, anyhow? He was a freaking menace—or would be, if he ever got loose.

“I should have asked for hazard pay,” the other man joked. His name was Dan Phillips, and he and Logan had gone to high school together, though Phillips had graduated three years before he did.

“Too late,” Logan said, grinning. “I’ve got twenty head of cattle coming in a little under two weeks. The fence has to be done by then.”

“Get ‘em here early, why don’t you?” Dan retorted. “Maybe they’d keep that sucker occupied. He’s getting a little closer—and a little testier—every day. Damn near charged yesterday, when one of the guys hit a wasps’ nest driving a post-hole. Ralph started jumpin’ around, yellin’ and wavin’ his arms, and old Cimarron, he put his head down and headed straight for him. It was probably the wasps that turned him back.”

“Probably,” Logan agreed mildly.

He and Dan talked awhile longer, and then he went back to the truck.

“Gross!” Alec yelled, waving one hand in front of his face.

“You’re the one who sneaked Sidekick some of your chili,” Josh retorted.

Logan pretended to reel from the smell, which
was
pretty ripe.

Sidekick wagged his tail and looked innocent.

Alec and Josh scrambled out of the truck, Josh bringing Snooks along, out of mercy, Logan supposed.

“You should carry that spray stuff in the car,” Alec said, as they all stood waiting for the miasma to dissipate. “Mom does.”

Logan chuckled.

“Bet she’d love knowing you said
that,”
Josh hooted.

Alec flushed so red his freckles seemed to stand out on his face. “Because of
Wanda,”
he said. He looked up at Logan.
“Wanda
farts all the time!”

When it was safe to get back in the truck, they did.

“Ever seen a real teepee?” Logan asked.

The idea was a hit, so they motored for Cassie’s place. She was outside when they arrived, clad in polyester shorts and a tank top and watering tomato plants with a bent green hose.

She smiled as boys and dogs tumbled out of the rig.

Logan made introductions, but Alec and Josh barely stood still for them. They were magnetized to the teepee, and Sidekick and Snooks were right on their heels.

“Is that a dog?” Cassie asked, squinting at Snooks.

Now that he’d been shaved within an inch of his hide, the miniature mutt looked even more like a rat than before.

“That’s a dog, all right,” Logan confirmed.

“I wouldn’t take him to the pool hall or anything,” Cassie observed. “Might get you beat up.”

“Snooks and I can take care of ourselves,” Logan said, handing over a dollar for the teepee admission fee.

Cassie waved it away. “A whole busload of tourists stopped here this morning,” she said. “This one’s on the house.” She smiled. “Or the teepee.”

Logan looked around. “Nobody getting their cards read?” he asked.

“I could read yours.”

“No, thanks.”

Cassie watched as the boys and dogs dashed in and out of the teepee. “I don’t need any cards,” she said, “to know where
you’re
headed, Logan Creed.”

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged, though good-naturedly. “Where’s that?”

“Right down the aisle,” Cassie answered. But she seemed troubled all of the sudden, watching Alec and Josh. Maybe they reminded her of him and Dylan and Tyler, when they were young, playing the same kind of games. Innocent kids one day, trying to knock out each other’s teeth after their father’s funeral the next.

“What’s the matter, Cassie?” Logan asked quietly, after a long time.

She met his gaze again. “I had a dream last night. Somebody wants to hurt you, Logan. Maybe hurt Briana and those babies of hers, too, if they happen to get in the way.”

Logan would have discounted the warning, coming from anybody but Cassie. “Who?” he asked. He thought of Vance Grant, and then of Brett Turlow, and shook his head. Vance was a jerk, but mostly bluff. And Turlow was
all
bluff.

“I think it’s got something to do with Jim Huntinghorse running for sheriff,” Cassie murmured, and though she was standing right in front of Logan, she might as well have been beyond the farthest hills.

“As far as I know,” Logan said, “Jim’s the only one who wants the job.”

“Then you don’t
know
very much,” Cassie responded. “You mark my words. Half a dozen people
will be tacking signs on the power poles before Jim has the first bumper sticker printed. You’ve been away from Stillwater Springs for a while—” She held up a hand when he would have interrupted. “You don’t know the things that go on around here. I know you like Jim, but you’d be better off to keep a low profile around this election. If he’s meant to win it, he will.”