Logan liked Honor’s parents quite a bit, and got along well enough with her brother, but he wouldn’t be sorry to send them back to Wisconsin, either.
Settling his jacket over his shoulders, he stood before the full-length mirror on his closet door and checked his look. He’d stayed out of the wedding planning—that cluster of Cahill hens had been intimidating, frankly, what with the subtly aggressive power plays between Honor and Emma—and would have worn just about anything Honor wanted him to wear, within reason, but he was pretty glad not to be in his penguin suit. A nice jacket, shirt, and vest over good jeans, with new boots and hat for the occasion—that suited him just fine.
They were getting married here at the ranch, on the grassy expanse behind the house that served as a yard, with the mountains as the backdrop. Just as Emma and Heath had done. The oldest of them, Logan was the last to take this leap. Like his father, he hadn’t gone looking, hadn’t wanted it for the sake of it. Only wanted it with one person.
“You need one more thing,” Emma said as she pushed open the door and came in.
Logan looked over his shoulder and grinned at his baby sister. “Knock, maybe? You’re lucky I’m dressed.”
She discarded his complaint with an airy flick of her wrist. “Whatever. Look what I have.” She held up a little cluster of flowers—a purple sprig of something with a bit of yellow ribbon. The flowers, he didn’t care about, but if Emma was here to pin them on him, then Honor was close to ready.
He turned and let Emma stab his jacket with a long pin. “Is she dressed?”
“She is, and, well, she’s so beautiful she’d look elegant in saggy sweats and an old t-shirt, but oh, that dress. I thought it was too fancy for outside, but it doesn’t matter. It’s perfect.” Finished pinning the flowers, Emma straightened his lapels and smoothed her hands over his vest. She fussed with his rodeo medallion with a sigh. “I wish you’d wear a tie.”
“Honor said I don’t have to, so I don’t have to.”
“But if you saw her dress! It deserves a tie.”
Logan bent down and kissed Emma’s cheek. “I got this, Ems. She won’t be ashamed of me, I promise.”
That earned him a resigned little smile. “Nobody could ever be ashamed of you, Loge.”
He gave her a hug and let her go. “Go get my woman down to the altar for me, please.”
After Emma flounced out, Logan turned to Heath, who was wearing that dumbass grin again. “What?”
“Nothing, brother. It’s just a good day.” He chucked Logan’s shoulder. “You ready to go down?”
He’d never been more ready for anything in his life.
On their way down the hall, Logan remembered something. “Who won the pool on me getting married today?”
Heath laughed. “Nobody yet, Loge. Deed’s not done.”
“Asshole,” Logan barked—and shot out a punch to his brother’s gut. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to get him back.
Heath stopped, laughing so hard Logan didn’t know if he was clutching his side for the punch or the hilarity.
“I’m rethinking my choice of best man,” Logan grumbled. But he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. And hell, he deserved that pool. Hopefully somebody was about to hit a decent payday.
*****
Logan had wanted a real wedding, a real party, with the whole town invited—and the whole town had shown up. The ranch road was packed with cars and trucks, and hundreds of people were sitting on the back lawn, some in chairs the event company had brought and others spread out on blankets at the sides. Logan stood under an arch wound with yellow and purple flowers, with Heath at his side and Victor and Reese standing watch with them. On the other side of the town minister were Honor’s friends: Lizbet, Callie, and Emily.
There had been some complicated family dynamics to negotiate when Honor had decided not to include Emma in her bridal party. But Honor was nothing if not a master negotiator, and she quickly had Logan’s sister thinking she’d been given a special gift not to be arrayed up at the altar in a purple dress with the others. Instead, Honor had handed over most of the managing of the event, and being in charge of things like this was Emma’s favorite thing ever.
Standing at the flowery arch, on a bright June morning with the sun beaming over them, Logan didn’t care who organized the thing. It was just what he wanted. His whole life was right here. Everybody he loved, everything he needed, all he ever wanted.
And then Honor and her father stepped out of the house, onto the veranda, and that was his whole life right there. The dress was beautiful, strapless and lacy, but she could have been walking to him in sweatpants and a t-shirt and it wouldn’t have mattered.
With a kiss to both her cheeks, her father handed her over. Logan smiled down at her, and she smiled up at him. She wore her grandmother’s pearls around her neck and the ring that had been his mother’s earring on her finger. She was past and present and future. His whole life, right here.
He remembered thinking that she turned him over and shook everything he knew about himself out. That was true. He was changed, loving her. But she’d picked up all those stray bits and put them back, arranging them in the way they were supposed to be.
The minister was talking, and Logan knew he was supposed to pay attention, there were things he was supposed to say, but he couldn’t let go of this gaze they shared.
Heath cleared his throat and elbowed him. “Loge …”
“I do,” Logan said, still smiling at his woman. “I do.”
*****
They’d decided to get married in the late morning and have an afternoon reception because their plans for a honeymoon were simple: they were riding deep into the ranch and spending the night in the Cahill woods. That was it—just them, their horses, a tent, and a campfire.
And it had been Honor’s idea.
Logan had an idea of his own.
The Twisted C was so large that it would take them a good hour or more to ride in where Logan wanted to set up their camp, so after a nice lunch, a moving toast by Heath, and dancing under the sun rather than the stars, Honor and Logan went into the house to change. Emma corralled their guests to come around front, and Heath went to the stable to make sure their horses were saddled and loaded.
Honor changed in the guest room she’d used as a dressing room for the wedding. Gabe, her baby due in the late summer, waddled up after her to help her out of the lacy miles of dress.
Logan was downstairs and waiting in the front hall for a good ten minutes before Honor came down, in jeans and boots, her hair in a long braid, carrying the hat he’d bought her, his first gift.
“Hey, Mrs. Cahill. You ready to ride?”
Honor’s mother was not pleased that she was giving up her name. There had been a couple of weeks of phone lectures, and even today, when the minister announced them as Mr. and Mrs. Cahill, Samantha had scoffed audibly. But Honor lived in Jasper Ridge now. This was her home, she was a member of the Cahill family, and she wanted to embrace it. She’d considered hyphenating, and had decided she didn’t like the sound of Babinot-Cahill. So she was now Honor Cahill.
A name change didn’t make her any less powerful a woman, but it did mark her belonging here more visibly.
His name. But also hers.
She took his offered hand. “I am. Today was a good day.”
“It’s not over yet, darlin’”
He pushed open the front door and led her into a sea of their wedding guests, who were arrayed along the sides of the walk, throwing sunflower petals and seeds. Honor’s Boise Bitches were front and center.
Two horses were saddled and loaded with gear. Logan laughed when he saw that one of the hands—probably Steve, who had charge of the stable—had braided white ribbons and little white flowers into the horses’ manes and tales. Ranger bobbed his head sharply, shaking his black mane, as if he could not believe the indignity of it all.
“Who’s that?” Honor asked, frowning at the horses. Logan pulled her down the
last step, and they hurried down the impromptu aisle through their guests.
He caught the reins of the mare standing at Ranger’s side, festooned with flowers, too. A beautiful black Appaloosa with a blanket of white with black spots over her back. “Right now, her name’s Kimama, but you can change it if you like.”
Honor turned and gaped up at him. “I can? She’s …”
“Just a little thank you for marrying me. Thought it was time you had a horse that was really yours.”
Honor brushed her hand down the mare’s white blaze. She wasn’t an expert rider yet, but she’d gotten good enough that Hank wasn’t up to the challenge. This mare was young and strong but still gentle; she’d be patient while Honor’s skill continued to develop. And she had a pretty smooth stride for an Appy.
“Kimama? Is that a Shoshone name?”
“It is. I bought her from a friend of Natalie’s. The name means ‘butterfly’—you see that cluster of spots on her flank?”
“Oh, it does look like a butterfly! She’s beautiful.” She turned back to him with happiness shining over her cheeks. You bought me a horse!”
“’Course I did. Can’t have you running good ol’ Hank right into the ground. You want to mount up?”
She swung into the saddle like a pro, without the help of a block or a hand up. Feeling proud, Logan swung up onto Ranger. Their guests cheered.
Before he led them away from the compound, into the peaceful green of the ranch in summer, Logan called out, “So who won the pool?”
“’Twas me!” a rusty old voice called out. Knowing the voice, Logan peered through the crowd until he saw Jerk Harris, a leathery old fart who ran the Jasper Ridge Gas & Service.
“How’d you do?”
“Near two grand!” The crowd laughed, making such a ruckus that Kimama sidestepped and even Ranger shifted on his feet a little. Both horses settled quickly. When Logan checked to make sure Honor was well seated, she grinned at him. Yeah, she was a country queen all right.
“You owe me a beer, old man!” Logan called to Jerk.
“You sure it ain’t Honor I owe?”
To another chorus of laughter from their people, Logan nudged Ranger forward. Honor followed. As soon as they were clear of the lane and its crammed cars and trucks, Logan picked up the pace, easing them through the gaits until they were galloping through the field. Honor and Kimama seemed already in sync.
At the sound of her laughter, Logan turned up his face and whooped at the sky.
*****
Honor’s braid had come loose during their last round of wedding-day athletics, and the gentle night breeze stirred loose strands around her face. Logan gathered the mass up and drew it to lay over one shoulder, then bent down and nuzzled the skin he’d exposed. It was warm from the fire crackling before them.
Leaning against his bare chest, she let her head fall back with a sigh. “This is perfect.”
He agreed. They were deep in the woods, far away from the compound. For all they knew, their party was still going on. But here, there was only them, this fire, Cahill Creek babbling below, and the serene music of the ranch at night. The herd wasn’t too far off, enjoying one of the larger summer pastures, but they were quiet as well, dreaming their bovine dreams.
Ranger and Kimama—Honor had already taken to calling her Kiki, or just Ki—slept nearby, tethered to trees. It might as well have been 1875 out here, with no electronics, no sound of man or machine.
It was perfect.
He shifted, reclining a bit more against his saddle, and Honor went with him, her body so relaxed it was like soft clay molding to him. As he smoothed his hands over her satiny skin, she sighed again, long and slow. He could almost feel the weight rising away.
Her head slid on his bare chest as she turned to look up at him. The firelight caught in her eyes. “I love you.”
He grinned and brushed his lips over hers. “I love you right back.”
With another sigh, this one sweet and contented, she looked ahead again, into the flames. “It’s so beautiful here.”
It was dark, and the fire before them made enough warm light that outside its halo, there really wasn’t much to see. But Logan didn’t disagree. Every square foot of these many acres was known to him, and he’d picked this place for its beauty. They’d made camp in the light, so Honor knew just how miraculous the world outside the firelight was.
“You know, I bought my apartment because of the view. Every night in Boise, when I got home, I’d pour myself a glass of wine and go stand at my window to look at my view. The city lights twinkling, and the mountains off in the distance, all dark blue. The sky was always purply-pink around the peaks, even at eleven o’clock, even in the winter. Like the sun had left a little glow behind. I’d stare at the mountains and feel calm, no matter how hard my day had been. There were a lot of nights when I told myself that coming home to that was what I’d been working for. A home with a view, an office with a view. It sounds shallow, but I don’t think it was. I just needed something good to see. It helped me set the stress aside.”
Logan wrapped his arms more tightly around her and rested his cheek on hers, but he didn’t speak. He sensed that she wasn’t finished yet.
And she wasn’t. “Here, there’s something good to see in every direction. And it’s not just the view. It’s everything. Wes and Emma, Heath and Gabe, the kids, your dad, everywhere I turn, there’s something that makes me happy. In town, people smile when I meet them on the street. They stop and talk. Not everybody’s wonderful, but overall … I don’t know. I just feel calm, all the time. I don’t think the practice will ever do more than break even, but I don’t even mind that anymore. I just like working. And when somebody comes in for help like Cass Donner did, it feels good.”
Cass Donner had a small family farm about twenty miles south of Jasper Ridge. Logan knew the family, but the Donners called another small town home. He’d come into Jasper Ridge because he’d heard about Honor, and he and some of his neighbors were getting strong-armed by a corporate farming enterprise trying to grow their holding in the area. Honor was taking on their fight.
“What are you saying, counselor?”
She shrugged against his chest. “The night you proposed, you asked me how I defined success. I guess I figured it out. This is my penthouse view.”
Full of pride and love, Logan curled around her, holding her as close to him as he could. For a few moments, they rested like that, cocooned together.
“Remember the gold lode we discovered during Heath’s trial?”
Tucked snuggly in his arms, she nodded.
“We’re sitting on that lode right now. It’s probably worth millions of dollars. We don’t know for sure, because the testing we’ve done can only project. But it’s a lot of gold. Dad made us all promise that we wouldn’t tear up the land to get to it, and none of us hesitated. People think we’re crazy, and Dad and I get wild offers all the time from people begging us to mine or to sell the land and let them mine. Some people are downright hostile, like they think we’re cheating or somethin’ to leave the gold where it is.”
Logan paused, trying to understand why Honor’s musing had made him think of the gold. “If somebody develops a process that doesn’t destroy the mother that nurtured that lode, then maybe we’ll go in, or our kids’ll go in. Or their kids. But until then, that gold is just a mineral. The money people’ll pay isn’t its only worth, and the land it’s in has a greater value than the paper kind of green. Sometimes, the right thing isn’t the shiny, flashy thing. It’s easy to say, because money’s not a problem for us anyway, and maybe that’s part of it. We have the luxury to say no. But I still think it’s more than that. Success should be more than having as much as you can have. It should be feeling good about your life.”
“I always did feel good about my life. I thought so, anyway. Until it fell apart so fast, and I saw that it was made out of cardboard.”
“And now?”
She wriggled in his arms
until she’d turned fully around. “Now my life is made out of earth.”
Logan held her close and moved beneath her until she could straddle his legs. They’d been resting on his bedroll, with his saddle leaning so he could rest his back on it. Early on, as soon as they’d set up camp, they’d played around in the tent for a couple hours, consummating their marriage. Then they’d come out to enjoy the sunset and make a meal. Neither had fully dressed—Logan was only in his jeans and boots; Honor had been padding around the grassy site in only her underwear and an open shirt.
She sat now on his thighs, and her fingers found the scar Tyler O’Keefe had made on his chest. It was eight months old and didn’t bother him at all. The ones on his back—the one that came closest to his spine in particular—sometimes they ached and made him stiff, but it was just one more in a pantheon of aches and pains his outdoor life had given him. He was simply glad these new scars were on his body and not hers.
But she still felt a lingering ache of guilt for his scars, and for Debbie’s death. That would probably always ride her, just as Logan still felt guilt for holding Heath back from the burning car that had trapped his daughter. It wasn’t rational, and that was why it couldn’t be assuaged. They just had to learn to live with it.
He picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth. Tasting their campfire supper, and the fire itself, and the fragrant woods around them, and their earlier sex, all mingled on her fingers in a sensual mix that he’d remember from this day forward, he said, “We’ve faced some hard things together, and we’ll probably face more. A life doesn’t have to be perfect to be good. It just has to be right.”
She smiled and leaned in close, setting her lips on his. “This is right.”
“It sure as hell is.”
*****
Someday (Sawtooth Mountains Stories Book 2) Page 32