“Still planning to talk with Josie?” Logan asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I guess you might want to mention that I’m following you home tonight.”
She looked over at him. “You are?”
“Of course I am. Once you’ve said something to Josie, you won’t be able to get rid of me. I’ll spend the night with you and then we’ll drive into Jackson together in the morning. Besides seeing your grandmother, we’ll stop at a drugstore so I don’t have to manhandle the condom machine at the Spirits and Spurs anymore.”
She smiled at him. “I see you have it all worked out.”
“I have the next twenty-four hours worked out. Beyond that, I’m still struggling.”
“I didn’t provide you with a plan B like I promised, did I? I was thinking about that while we rode home. How do you feel about becoming a sportscaster?”
He sighed.
“That sigh says it all. You don’t want to.”
He paused at the bottom of the steps and turned to her. “It’s just that so many ex-players go into broadcasting. I don’t know if I have the personality for it, either. Alex does, but he’s not an athlete. Some combination of Alex’s talent behind a microphone and my sports knowledge would be terrific, but we happen to be two different people.”
“I think you’d be good at it. You obviously know the game and the players. And you’d look great on camera.”
“Why, thank you, ma’am. You’re probably biased, but I’ll take that vote of confidence that I’m photogenic.”
“It’s not bias. I saw your picture dozens of times on the internet. The camera loves you.”
“Yes, but would I love it back?” He shook his head. “It’s a thought, and I shouldn’t dismiss it. I know my agent is exploring that possibility. He wants me to capitalize on whatever fame I’ve achieved.”
“And you should. You’ve worked hard for it.”
He wondered if he’d ever met somebody so unselfish. Some women who had a wealthy man paying attention to them would be trying to convince him to settle down with them and make their lives easier. Logan was virtually certain that his money made no difference whatsoever to Caro. She just sincerely wanted him to be happy.
“I promise to think about the TV angle more seriously,” he said. “It makes sense. I just have to get used to the idea.”
“You’d be terrific. If you end up doing that, I might have to start watching sports on television.”
Now there was a depressing thought—him stuck in a broadcast booth somewhere and Caro in Shoshone watching him on TV. It was a realistic scenario, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s go inside and make nice with the man who’s buying Last Chance ponies. Then we’ll reward ourselves with some quality time under your homemade quilt.”
“That sounds wonderful, but I just thought of something. If you’re going to spend all that time with me, when are you going to work on Josie and Jack’s cradle?”
“While you’re tending bar, I’ll come back here and work. It shouldn’t take me that long, anyway. Besides, the longer I spend on the cradle, the longer I can stay at the ranch.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah, I agree.” But he was no fool. He knew the longer he stayed at the ranch the deeper he’d get into this relationship. He should probably set a limit on his time here by booking a flight out. A smart man would do that.
Lately, though, he hadn’t been acting very smart.
CARO FELT A LITTLE MUSSED and underdressed to be a dinner guest at the Last Chance, especially with a horse buyer in attendance. But she told herself that nobody would be paying attention to her, anyway. Logan would be the man of the hour.
She knew he would rise to the occasion. She’d seen him in action behind the bar, juggling martini shakers. He might not think he was a showman, but he had the makings of one.
He could be anything he wanted, really. He had the intelligence and coordination to master whatever he set out to do. She just hoped that whatever it was, he loved doing it. He deserved to be happy in his work.
As they walked into the living room of the ranch house, she admired the casual elegance of the place. Large Navajo rugs hung on the walls, and a wooden staircase spiraled up to the second floor. The furniture was large and leather, befitting a ranch. It was grouped in front of an immense rock fireplace, although no fire burned there on this warm August afternoon.
Sarah sat in one of the brown leather armchairs, and a tall, gray-haired man wearing a white cowboy shirt and obviously new jeans sat in a chair across the round coffee table from her. She held a glass of red wine, and he was drinking what looked like Scotch on the rocks.
Both she and the man stood when Caro and Logan walked in. “There you are!” Sarah put down her glass and came forward. “Caro Davis and Logan Carswell, let me introduce Peter Beckett.” She gestured to the man behind her.
He set down his drink and walked toward them. “Miss Davis, Mr. Carswell, it’s a pleasure.” He shook Caro’s hand first, and then Logan’s.
Caro appreciated that, considering how the guy’s eyes lit up when he saw Logan. Next to him, she could fade into the background easily, so at least Peter Beckett had manners. He was nice looking, too, with kind blue eyes and a wonderful smile.
She’d guess he was probably in his sixties, and obviously very prosperous. His boots appeared to be custom made and his watch looked as if he could use it to contact James Bond if necessary. She hoped he’d bought a lot of horses and given the ranch a hunk of his money in return.
“What can I get each of you to drink?” Sarah hurried over to the liquor cabinet. “I have wine, beer, bourbon, Scotch, brandy…”
“Whatever wine you’re having is fine with me,” Caro said. She hoped wine wouldn’t make her too loopy considering how little sleep and food she’d had today. She thought of the cookies she and Logan had scattered for the birds, and wished she’d eaten more of them.
“I’ll take a beer, whatever kind you have,” Logan said.
Sarah opened a door in the cabinet to reveal a small refrigerator. “Bud, then.” “That works.”
“Go ahead and sit down. Have some chips and salsa.”
Caro took her cue and positioned herself on the leather sofa near the chips. So long as she ate those, she shouldn’t embarrass herself with one glass of wine.
Logan sat next to her, but not so close that anyone would think they were a couple. He turned toward Sarah’s guest, who’d remained standing. “So, Mr. Beckett, do you live nearby?”
“Not too far away. About thirty miles. I have a place outside of Jackson. And call me Peter.”
“Peter came to the open house we had in June,” Sarah said as she brought over Caro’s wine and Logan’s beer, along with a couple cocktail napkins. “He didn’t buy anything then, but I think he’s ready to now.”
“Absolutely.” The man waited until Sarah was seated before levering his tall frame into the chair opposite her. “But that’s not the only reason I’m here.”
“Oh?” Logan took a sip of his beer.
Caro felt him tense and knew he was afraid that he was the other draw.
Peter swirled the ice cubes in his glass. “I’m trying to talk Sarah into going along with a new venture of mine.”
“And I’m still thinking about it,” Sarah said. “Peter’s involved with a program to help troubled teens, boys mostly, and now that I have so much empty space in this big house, he’s asked if I’d take some in and help provide a work experience for them.”
“Of course, I’d pay for the privilege,” Peter said. “My investments have worked out well and I can afford to underwrite this program. I thought about creating a ranch from scratch on the land I own, but here’s one ready-made.”
Logan gazed at Sarah. He’d been here only a few days, but he could see what a big change this would be. “So what do you think, Sarah?”
“Well, Archie and Nelsie named this place the Last Chance because it was th
eir last chance to make a go of things during the Depression. That’s been sort of a mantra around here ever since. This would be in keeping with that idea. I have to consult the boys, of course. I’ll talk to Jack and Josie tonight when they come to dinner.”
“But this place is so beautiful,” Caro said. “I’d worry that the kids might—”
“They’d sign a contract before they ever set foot on the property,” Peter said. “Coming here would be an incredible privilege, and one step out of line would mean the end of their stay. I’ve seen it work in other places.”
“And I raised three active boys here.” Sarah sipped her wine. “There’s nothing delicate about this house. And we had a runaway teen girl here for a few years. Roni’s married and off on the NASCAR circuit now, but she was trying to hot-wire one of the trucks when we asked her to stay. It’s not like we don’t have a precedent for this.”
“It could be really great.” Peter leaned forward, his glass held loosely between his big hands. “On top of that, when I heard you were here for a visit, Logan, I had another brainstorm.”
Logan put down his beer. “What’s that?”
“I know you’re not playing anymore.”
“No—no, I’m not.”
Caro hoped she was the only one who heard the emotional undertones in that answer, emotion that Logan tried so desperately to conceal. She held her breath, not sure what was coming next.
“I’m sure you have plans, lots of irons in the fire.”
“A few.”
Caro wanted desperately to touch Logan, to give him support as he braved this through. “I’m certain the TV networks will want him,” she said. “He’d make a great sportscaster.”
“Yes, he would.” Peter nodded. “And if you go that route, Logan, you probably can’t do what I have in mind.”
“Which is?”
“I’d love to have you help run the program each summer. Kids love their sports idols, and you would be worshipped by the boys. You could do team building with them. If Sarah agreed, we could lay out a ball field in one of the meadows. You’d be a tremendous asset to the program. Of course, I doubt I could pay what the networks could pay.”
Logan picked up his beer but didn’t drink. “I appreciate the offer, and money isn’t really the issue, but—”
“You have other plans,” Peter said. “More exciting plans. I understand completely. It was just a thought.”
“It’s not only that. You’d also want me to be a positive psychological influence on those kids and I’m not sure I would be.”
“Nonsense. Of course you would. You’ve achieved so much, and I know you had to have a great deal of self-discipline to do that. You could pass that on to them.”
Logan shook his head. “I don’t know that I could. Your plan’s a good one, but I’m not a guy who could inspire anyone right now.”
Peter gazed at him in silence for several seconds. “It’s too soon. I can see that now. Forgive an old guy for rushing his swing. I’m so excited about the project that I barrel ahead even when I should go slow.” He shrugged. “Besides, I still have to talk this lovely lady and her three sons into going along with my zany plan.”
“It’s not zany,” Sarah said, her cheeks pink. “I think Archie and Nelsie would have loved the idea.”
Caro couldn’t say for sure about that, because she hadn’t known the two people who’d created the Last Chance Ranch. But Peter Beckett’s project gave her a new perspective. Logan had turned down his offer, but mostly because his self-confidence wasn’t in the best shape right now.
But he was improving in that area. She’d seen progress in the short time she’d been a part of his life. For the first time since laying eyes on Logan, Caro nursed a tiny flame of hope that he might not be out of reach, after all.
11
LOGAN HAD BEEN RELUCTANT to lay himself bare like that, but somebody with Peter Beckett’s good heart deserved the truth and not some trumped-up excuse. He’d expected Beckett would want to talk baseball. He’d been unprepared for a job offer.
As the four of them sat in the living room talking about Beckett’s plans for the program, Logan was glad he’d refused the offer. Maybe someday he’d feel that he was qualified to guide young kids, but not now, or in the near future. He was having enough trouble figuring out his own life, let alone helping some teenagers figure out theirs.
Jack and Josie arrived and were told about the project. Josie was immediately enthusiastic, while Jack, typically for him, apparently, was more reserved. The group moved from the living room down the hallway, through the large dining room that seated all the hands during lunch, and into the small family dining room.
“The kids could eat in the big room with the hands during lunch,” Josie said as they took their seats at the table. “And then they could gather here for dinner.”
“What about family dinners on Friday nights?” Jack asked. “When we have the whole family here, we fill the place.”
“I know exactly what we’ll do.” Sarah’s eyes were bright as she looked over at Peter, seated to her left. “Friday nights will be an old-fashioned cowboy cookout down by the bunkhouse with the hands. I’m sure Watkins can handle that.”
“Indeed, he could.” The ranch’s cook came through the door with platters of ribs. “And that would get him out of my hair for the time being.”
Jack laughed. “Come on, Mary Lou. We all know you don’t mind having Watkins around all that much.”
Mary Lou rolled her eyes. “Depends. Sometimes he’s a royal pain in the patoot.”
Logan had talked a couple of times with the stocky wrangler, who sported an impressive handlebar mustache worthy of vintage baseball players. Logan had also heard the rumors that Watkins and Mary Lou were pretty tight. In fact, Watkins had been known to make regular nighttime visits to Mary Lou’s apartment, located right off the kitchen.
“In any case,” Sarah said, “we could put Watkins in charge of a cookout, which would free up the family dining room on Friday nights. I really like Peter’s whole concept. I hope Nick and Gabe do, too.”
Jack cleared his throat. “Hang on a minute, Mom. I haven’t said I was in favor.”
“Aren’t you?”
Jack looked over at Peter. “I’d need to see some figures.” Then he turned back to Sarah. “And what about Emmett’s daughter, Emily? She’s renting one of the upstairs bedrooms right now.”
“Yes, she is, but unless I’m misreading the signs, she and Clay Whitaker will be married before next summer. She’ll have moved out by then.”
Jack picked up his fork. “We’d have to change the bedroom furniture, maybe put up some bunks.” He glanced at Logan. “Built-ins make the most sense. If this is going to fly, we sure could use your carpentry skills.”
“Well, I—”
“I’m afraid Logan’s got other plans,” Peter said.
Logan wasn’t ready to be a project leader, but the bunk beds sounded like a fun thing to do, and he didn’t want Peter speaking for him, either. “Depending on when you need them, I might be able to help with the bunks.” He looked at Caro. Yes, he might have to return to Chicago soon, but the prospect of a future trip sounded good to him. Her quick smile told him she thought so, too, and his heart warmed.
“Excellent.” Sarah beamed at Peter. “See how this is coming together?”
Logan thought something else might be coming together. According to Alex, Sarah had been a widow for almost two years, and Logan thought she was showing more than a friendly interest in Peter.
“So what does Mrs. Beckett think of the idea?” Josie asked.
Logan used his napkin to hide a smile. Count on Josie to cut to the chase.
“I’m sure she’d have loved the idea,” Peter said. “She passed away three years ago.”
Everybody around the table murmured their regrets, but glances darted with new interest to Sarah and Peter. It would be entertaining to stick around and see how this all turned out. Logan began to see the Las
t Chance as a continuing story, one that would never quite end, unlike his baseball career. He had to admit he was drawn to that aspect.
But he had more immediate concerns. Through some jockeying, Caro had arranged to sit next to Josie. Now they had their heads together, and Logan knew exactly what, or who, they were talking about. Josie kept looking at him, and he had to pretend not to notice.
Gradually the meal came to an end. Coffee and dessert were served and consumed. Chairs scraped back, and goodbyes started to circulate.
Logan glanced across the table at Caro, and she gave him a carefully disguised thumbs-up. Joy rushed through him and he fought the urge to suggest leaving immediately. Instead he lingered, waiting for the dining room to empty out.
Finally Josie made it around to his side of the table. “I’ve had an interesting conversation with Caro,” she said in a low voice.
“And?”
“Just so you know, if you cause that girl any distress whatsoever, you’ll answer to me.”
He nodded. “Understood.”
“She thinks you hung the moon, but I know better.”
“Do you have to be so hard on me, Josie?”
“Not if you’ll stick around and build cradles and bunk beds.”
“That’s not what you’d call a career path.”
“No, but it beats wallowing in self-pity.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“I hope not, Logan. I sincerely hope not, both for your sake and Caro’s.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Be good to her. She’s a special person.”
“I know.” His response was automatic, but he was still stuck on her “wallowing in self-pity” remark. That sounded a whole lot worse than trying to get his bearings, or searching for a new direction.
He was still considering that when Caro came to stand beside him.
“I think we’re cleared to leave,” she said. “Whatever vehicle you’re borrowing, you should get it now if you’re planning to follow me home.”
Cowboys Like Us Page 10