"No, of course not."
She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Well, if it is, you are officially out of luck. That doesn't suit me. Believe me, I've put a lot of thought into it. Yes, I want you to stay, but that's not enough.
You
need to want to stay.
You
need to be certain. You need to be with me and with Will of your own free will, not because I coerced you with tears or because I told you I—"
She broke off abruptly, then took a deep, calming breath and finished. "You need to choose us because you know that being with us is right, you know it all the way down to your bones. Any other reason will poison what we have, and that is the one thing that would break my heart irreparably."
He had words bottled up inside him, that she could tell by the pain in his eyes, the line of his jaw, the grimace on his face. Yet, he said only, "I'm leaving, Caroline. I have to leave."
"I know that," she snapped back. "You've explained it to me. I might not agree with it, but I understand. Now, go explain it to your son."
His jaw hardened even more as he shut the suitcase and fixed the buckles. Caroline straightened her spine and squared her shoulders as he grabbed the case and walked past her. "Are you coming with me?"
"No. This is something you need to do on your own."
She remained in their bedroom as he went downstairs, his footfalls sounding heavy and loud against the wooden steps. When she heard the back screen door bang shut, she moved toward the window. Though she'd prefer not to eavesdrop on this conversation, her son's welfare compelled her to do so. She pushed the window open wider and waited.
"Will?" Logan called. "I need to talk to you for a moment."
"Yessir." Caroline watched her son stand and brush the dirt off the knees of his jeans. "I'm sorry, buddy," she murmured softly. "I wish I could have spared you this."
Logan shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Will loped up to him and asked, "Ah, man. You've got that look on your face. What did I do now?"
"Nothing. I.. .um.. .1 took a job with Wells Fargo. I'm going after the Wild Bunch."
"You are!" Will's excitement quickly faded. "I guess that means you'll be gone for a bit."
"Um.. .longer than a bit, Will. I'm off to Tennessee first, and after that, who knows."
Now Will stuck his hands in his pockets as he faced his father, the two looking so much alike that Caroline let out a little moan. "I don't understand. I thought range detectives were free to take whatever jobs they want."
"They are."
"So.. .you want to take this job?" Without giving Logan a real chance to answer, he added, "You want to leave us?"
Logan raked his fingers through his hair. "This is something I need to do."
"Because of me?" Will's voice sounded stricken. "Do you feel you have to seek revenge because of what Kid Curry did to me?"
"No, son. I didn't take the job because of you."
"Have you run out of money, then? Look, I can take some of that stuff you bought me back."
"No." Logan grimaced and frustration tightened his voice. "Money isn't a problem. I'm wealthy. I took it because.. .well.. .it was time."
"Time for what?"
"For me to leave."
"Why?" Will's brow furrowed in confusion and in pain. "I don't understand!"
"It's complicated. Look, what you need to know is that no matter where I am, I will always be your father. I am not abandoning you. You must understand that. Any time you want to contact me, let 'em know at the local Wells Fargo office and they'll track me down. If you really need me, I'll do my best to get back here for you."
"Track you down? You mean, you really aren't coming back unless I need you to?"
As Will stared up at Logan, his expression appeared to collapse in on itself. The admiration, the respect, even the love simply crumbled. Will yanked his hands from his pockets and fisted them at his sides. "I won't need you."
Logan turned his head as if he'd taken a blow to the chin.
Will took a step back, and now when he looked at his father, his gaze was a glare, his smile a grim line and the tone of his voice a scathing attack.
"Fine. I get it. I understand. It's time for you to leave. You're tired of us. It's just like the last time. You left Mama. Ben was right about you all along, I guess. I should have known. Mom warned me, but I thought she was crazy. What kind of man wouldn't want what she has—what we have—to offer? Only a fool or maybe a coward. What are you, Logan Grey? A fool or a coward? I think it's both. You're a fool
and
a coward."
Logan opened his mouth, then shut it abruptly without responding.
"I looked up to you," Will continued. "Guess that makes me a fool, too. But by God, I'm not a coward. I'll tell you what I think of you. You're supposed to be the luckiest man in Texas...well, I think that's true. It was your good luck to have my Mama marry you."
"Now that's true," Logan agreed. "Your mother is the best thing that ever happened to me. Because of her, I have you. I never thought I'd be lucky enough to have a son."
Will snorted. "A son you are happy as a clam to throw away."
"Dammit, that isn't true! Look, Will, I don't expect you to understand, but.. .well.. .the truth is that, for the most part, I'm plagued by bad luck." He threw a glance up toward the house and Caroline thought he might be looking to be rescued. Well, this time, he'd simply have to sink or swim. Will deserved to have his say.
"To but it bluntly, Pa, that's bullshit. Mama loves you! Because of that alone, you're the luckiest man on earth."
"I know that."
"Then why are you leaving her?" Will screamed, his pain and anguish ringing in his voice. Caroline knew he was trying to be strong, but his voice broke when he asked, "Why are you leaving me?"
"I don't want to, son." Logan hung his head in misery. "I just can't stay."
"Then what Mrs. Peters needs to write about in her paper is that you're also the dumbest man in Texas because you are too blind to see your good luck. You're throwing away your family. You don't want us? Well, we don't want you, either. You may be the man who made me, but you're not my father."
Logan's head snapped up. "I will always be your father, William."
"No, you won't. If you were really a father, you'd want to stay. All you are is the man who wanted to pass some time with my mama, but didn't have the guts to stay around." Will dragged his sleeve beneath his nose, wiping away the evidence of his tears, then pointed toward the horizon. "So go. Just go. To hell with you, Lucky Logan Grey. Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out."
Will turned away from Logan and ran to the back of the yard where Sly was busy digging in the dirt. Will dropped to his knees, wrapped his arms around his dog's neck and with shoulders shaking, buried his face in his best friend's fur.
Logan spat an ugly curse, then kicked the dog toy lying in the grass, sending it flying.
Caroline turned away from the window, glanced in the mirror and found a handkerchief to dab at her own watery eyes. Those two poor, brokenhearted boys.
She refused to think about her own broken heart.
As she made her way downstairs, her gaze focused on his suitcase waiting at the foot of the staircase. When a lump formed in her throat, she swallowed hard. Was she doing the right thing for this family she loved? Should she ask him to stay?
Logan entered the hallway from the kitchen looking as if Will had ripped his heart out.
Oh, Logan.
"Well, that went well," he said with a rueful, crooked smile that broke her heart all over again.
"He has a hair-trigger temper just like his mama, I'm afraid, but he gets over it quickly, too."
Logan nodded, sighed, then picked up his suitcase. "Caroline, I'm going to miss you."
"I should hope so," she said with a quick grin she didn't feel to lighten the moment as much for herself as for him. Otherwise, she might break down and bawl and that simply wouldn't do.
She went to him, hugged him hard, then pressed a quick, light kiss against his lips. "Godspeed and safe journey, Logan Grey. I hope you find Butch Cassidy and whatever else it is that you're searching for."
He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. "Thanks." He cleared his throat. "Caroline, I... Take care. You and the boy, take care. If you need me, send for me, and I'll come back and fix the problem."
Then you'll go again. You'll just keep going, keep running. You'll never stop. You'll never stay.
Her hands hidden by the folds of her skirt, she clasped them so hard that her knuckles turned white. "You'd better go or you'll miss your train."
He nodded and took two steps toward the front door before he pivoted, dropped his suitcase and pulled her into his arms. He gave her a long, thorough, heartbreaking kiss. When he finally lifted his head, he tugged his medallion from around his neck and slipped it over hers. Gruffly, he said, "Goodbye, Caroline."
Using her last bit of strength, she stood in the doorway watching as he strode down the street. At the corner, he paused and looked back. The look on his face crushed her, and Caroline knew she would remember it for the rest of her life.
He's the loneliest man I've ever seen.
Knowing what he needed from her, Caroline smiled and waved. Then calmly, she stepped inside and shut the door. That's when the pain hit, fast and furious. Holding his medallion in a white-knuckled grip, she gasped a breath, whimpered and slid down the door to the ground. Bitterly, she wept. Foolishly, she wondered. Had she made the right choice?
He would have stayed if she'd told him about the baby.
Logan wondered if he might not be growing a tumor in his chest like the one that had grown in Dair MacRae's head. Seemed like he walked around with a weight in his chest all the damned time.
He was tired in a way he'd never been before, his tail always dragging the ground. Of course, that might well be from lack of sleep. He didn't think he'd slept the night through since leaving Fort Worth. Dreams plagued him. Nightmares, really. Made him think of those awful dreams Caroline had when Will was in trouble. He'd telegraphed her the first time or two he'd suffered them, but after they became a regular fixture of his nights, he'd settled for promises from his friends to let him know if trouble occurred.
A gust of bitter wind whipped down the city street and Logan hunched his shoulders and pulled his coat tight. He hated this place, the crowded streets, the way everyone rushed to wherever they were going. He missed the wide-open spaces and the big sky and the slower pace of life. He missed the clean scent of the air and the taste of beef barbecued in a man's own backyard. A man bumped into him from behind, knocking him into a woman. He tipped his hat and said, "Pardon me, ma'am." She replied with a scathing look, then hurried on her way.
He missed Caroline.
Logan sighed as he spied the shipping office that was his destination. After running Kid Curry to ground in Tennessee, he'd picked up the trail of the Wild Bunch's leaders and tracked Sundance, Butch and his woman, Etta Place, here to New York. While he'd yet to lay eyes on the trio, he had found someone who claimed they intended to leave the United States entirely within the week. Logan had spent the morning visiting shipping offices and studying passenger lists and telling himself it wasn't really cold enough to freeze ducks to a pond in this damned overcrowded city.
Inside the office, he showed his credentials to the clerk and ten minutes later, found his men and the woman. He checked his pocket watch. "Did the
Annabelle
sail on time this morning?"
"That she did," replied the clerk. "We pride ourselves on punctuality."
"I missed them by three hours."
The clerk dragged a hand down his whiskered jaw. "The Wild Bunch, hmm? I've been reading about them in the newspaper for a few years now. It'd be really something to catch Butch Cassidy."
"I didn't catch him. I missed him."
"The Blankenship Line has a ship leaving for South America in the morning. They wouldn't be too far ahead of you."
"Great," Logan said with a total lack of enthusiasm.
"You want me to call over and secure a ticket for you? It's a woolly day out there. That would keep you from having to make the trek in the cold."
And secure a ticket commission for the clerk, no doubt. He'd already visited the offices of the Blanken-ship Line that morning, so he knew where to go. "No, thanks. I need to check with my bosses before I take off for a foreign country. Appreciate the effort, though."
As Logan opened the door to leave, the clerk called, "Good luck, sir."
Logan waved and muttered, "Luck. Hell."
He shoved his hands into his pockets and headed up the avenue in the general direction of the other shipping office. He'd lied to the clerk. He didn't need to get permission before following the Wild Bunch to Bolivia. He just needed to work up his own desire to do so.
"I don't want to go," he murmured. To be perfectly honest, he didn't care all that much if Butch and Sundance got away scot-free. They'd robbed banks and trains and stages, but they'd never physically hurt anyone. They weren't killers like Kid Curry. They were South America's problem now, not Wells Fargo's.
But if he didn't go to South America, where would he go? What would he do?
The tumor in his chest seemed to grow another pound in a heartbeat as he trudged up the street buffeted by the wind. Another tumor popped up in his throat. He coughed and muttered, "I need to buy a ticket and get on that ship."
Then a little voice whispered inside him.
You could go home. Home to your wife and son.
Logan halted abruptly. He closed his eyes and turned to one side, putting his back toward the wind.
Home. Wife. Son.
Family.
The tears trickling down his cheeks were caused by the cold, bitter wind, were they not?
The cold, bitter wind inside you.
The wind gusted, almost blowing him over, sweeping him back into the past when the wagon began to tip and his mother and sister screamed. Then from somewhere nearby came the hard bang of a shutter. It sounded like a gunshot and he was back in the house in Oklahoma, the Wilsons dead at his feet, Maria and Elena on the floor beside them. Then from out of nowhere came the echo of Will's voice.
You're a fool and a coward. A fool. A coward. The luckiest man in Texas. You're throwing away your family.