Forever and Always

by Leigh Greenwood

  “If you want to talk like that, both banks are in the family. That’s even more true since Jared decided to divide his business equally between the two banks.”

  Naomi’s surprise was clear. “Why did he do that?”

  “You’ll have to ask him, but it was Logan’s idea. He said it wasn’t fair to favor one cousin at the expense of the other.”

  “I think I’d better get to know more about this man,” Colby said. “For a stranger, he’s made an unusually strong impact in a short time. I’ll drop by the bank tomorrow.”

  “I’ve told him to take some time off,” Sibyl said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him—he won’t talk about it or agree to consult Dr. Kessling—but he’s a very sick man. He has frequent bouts of weakness and nausea. You can see what it’s done to his face. Sometimes I feel guilty for letting him work for me, but it seems to lift his spirits.”

  “Are you sure it’s not you who lifts his spirits?” Naomi asked.

  Sibyl refused to be discomfited by Naomi’s question. “I make no secret of the fact that I admire him. He refuses to accept any pay though he works as long and hard as any of us. I think he’s a man of character, but if you want an enthusiastic endorsement, ask the children. Kitty talks about him all the time.”

  “Peter’s just as bad,” Naomi said. “He insists on telling me all of Logan’s stories, sometimes two or three times.”

  “Now I know I’ve got to find out more about him,” Colby said. “I can’t have my son thinking more of a stranger than of his own father.”

  Both women laughed. “That’s not likely to happen as long as you continue to spoil him,” Naomi said. “He leaves the discipline to me,” she told her cousin.

  “I’m gone too much,” Colby said. “Besides, you’re much meaner than I am.”

  Naomi pinched her husband so hard he yelped.

  “I think it’s time for Kitty and me to go home,” Sibyl said. “I’ll check in tomorrow morning to see who’s the winner.”

  “It’ll be Naomi.” Colby gave his wife a kiss. “I can’t deny her anything.”

  Sibyl left quickly. Watching Naomi and Colby act like lovesick teenagers made her jealous. Why couldn’t she have found a man to love her like that? He didn’t have to be as big and outgoing as Colby. He could be a man like Logan—kind, thoughtful, and sweet despite being a hero. She could so easily have loved a man like that.

  Or did she already?

  * * *

  “Is Logan going to die?” Kitty asked her mother as she was being tucked into bed.

  Sibyl wasn’t sure how to answer this question because she didn’t know how Kitty was dealing with Norman’s death. She hadn’t asked any questions after being told what had happened in the bank. She hadn’t asked any questions about the funeral. Once she knew she wouldn’t be sent away to boarding school, she seemed to forget about Norman. She had always liked Colby and was learning to be comfortable around Jared, but her relationship with Logan was different.

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “He’s sick,” Kitty said. “I wanted to take him to the doctor, but he won’t go. Peter says he’s going to swell up and bust.”

  Sibyl tucked the single sheet around her daughter and smoothed her hair from her forehead. “You know better than to listen to what Peter says.”

  “Esther says Peter is just telling stories because I’m little and will believe him.”

  “Esther’s a smart little girl.”

  “I didn’t believe Peter. Does that make me a smart little girl, too?”

  Sibyl laughed. “It certainly does. And you’re a very thoughtful little girl to be so worried about Logan.”

  “I like him, but he seems sad. Do you think he’s sad?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Do you know why?”

  Naomi said Peter always had to know the why of everything. It used to worry Sibyl that Kitty never asked why about anything. She had attributed that to Norman’s influence. She was relieved to see that now Kitty might be coming out of her shell.

  “I expect it’s because he’s sick.”

  “Esther says it’s because his face is swollen.”

  “I’m sure she’s right. How would you feel if your face looked like that?”

  “Peter said if his face got all puffed up, he’d run away and become an outlaw. He said it would scare people into giving him their money.”

  Sibyl thought Peter was an amazing little boy, and she was happy to let Kitty play with him and Esther, but she thought it was about time he had a little more supervision. “Peter likes to exaggerate.”

  “Do you think Logan is going to die?” Kitty asked again.

  “I don’t know,” her mother replied, “but I hope not. He’s a very nice man. Now go to sleep and stop worrying about him.”

  “Peter says he’s going to die because he’s too old to be chasing wagons.”

  “He was tired. All he needs is a couple days of rest, and he’ll be as good as new.”

  “Peter says—”

  “I’ve heard enough of what Peter says. You need to stop paying attention to everything he says.” She had to lower her voice. There was no point getting angry over anything Peter had said, and she had no right to be upset at Kitty. They were just as worried about Logan as she was.

  “I like Peter,” Kitty said. “He’s funny.”

  Forcing herself to speak calmly, Sibyl said, “I like him, too, but he’s a silly little boy to speak every outrageous thought that comes into his head.” She kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Sleep well. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Mama.”

  Those were the sweetest words in the world, and Sibyl never tired of hearing them. She already regretted the time when Kitty would grow up, marry, and move into her own home. She’d never thought much of what would happen when that day arrived, but Norman’s death had caused her to think of many things for the first time.

  Having washed up after supper and put everything away, she had nothing she had to do, but it was too early to go to bed. She didn’t feel like visiting even if she’d been willing to leave Kitty by herself. She wouldn’t think about the bank until morning, and the house was clean and dusted. She was restless, her mind unable to concentrate, her nerves feeling jumpy. Was it because of Kitty’s question?

  She supposed she’d accepted that Logan would die. It was unlikely a man as sick as he appeared to be would recover his health, but it was something she hadn’t thought about. He was a stranger, an unknown, someone with whom she had no connection.

  But that had changed. Every day she spent working with him, everything she heard about him, all the things he did without thinking they were unusual, the way he accepted his illness without complaint or expecting special consideration—it all came together to create a man unlike any she had known. As unlikely as it would have seemed two weeks ago, she had started to think of him as someone she cared about. Yet it was the way she cared about him that was taking her by surprise.

  She’d started to have feelings for him. She didn’t bother trying to convince herself it was just friendship. They were feelings! How could she have expected that? How could it have happened? She had no doubt he was a man of character, but she was a recent widow, so recent she still found herself expecting Norman to walk in the door and tell her she’d been dreaming. And despite what she believed, she actually knew nothing about Logan. He could be married, the father of half a dozen children. He could be escaping punishment for some kind of improper activity, running from debts, fleeing for his life. He could really be a drifter or a small-time thief. It didn’t matter that she didn’t believe any of these things. It only mattered that she had no proof they couldn’t be true.

  Restless, she needed to go outside for a breath of air. She couldn’t sit on her front porch because somebody was bound to come along and want
to talk to her. She needed solitude, quiet, time to think. Kitty would be fine if she was gone only a few minutes.

  Most of the houses in Cactus Corner had been built off the main street with the Mogollon Rim rising in the distance behind them. Towering cottonwoods vied with sycamores while junipers and willows hugged closer to the ground. The early evening was punctuated by the sounds of birds seeking a roost for the evening and the sounds of human voices floating from the main street and neighboring houses. Their presence was comforting, their distance soothing. Sibyl took a seat on a bench built in the center of what would someday become a shady grove of oak trees. The dry night air was disturbed by drafts sweeping down from the rim that created eddies of cool mixed with warmth. An occasional breeze wafted through the trees, but the night was almost eerily still. And in that stillness she felt like an island, adrift with no port in sight.

  Had she been so dominated by Norman she had no thoughts of her own? No, but her whole existence had turned into a day-to-day struggle to find ways to survive her life as his wife. Now that he was gone, the life she knew had disappeared. So had the person her marriage had forced her to become. Who was she now, what did she want, and what was she going to do about it? Was it that uncertainty that had caused her to think of Logan as more than just a man who was helping her? Was she reaching for a steadying influence, a kind of guidepost for what to do with the rest of her life? Did she want a relationship with a man, even one that was no more than friendship?

  She couldn’t be sure about the answers to any of those questions, but she was sure her feelings for Logan were rapidly moving beyond friendship. Maybe it was the contrast between him and Norman. Except for being a knowledgeable businessman, he was everything Norman hadn’t been. He was kind, quiet, competent, generous, and giving to a fault. And that didn’t take into account acts of bravery that seemed to show complete disregard for his life. There was a goodness about him that found its way in everything he did. That was something the children had noticed before anyone else. Oddly enough, his disfigured face and weak spells generated her sympathy rather than antipathy. She knew what it was like to feel that her life had slipped beyond her control.

  But that wasn’t entirely true. At the time of her marriage to Norman, she hadn’t cared what happened to her. She had melodramatically declared that she wanted to die, but she hadn’t meant it. She was in such pain she couldn’t think. Marrying Norman hadn’t seemed such a bad thing. It was only later that she’d discovered how wrong she had been.

  Logan’s wife would have had an entirely different life. Sibyl had dreamed of how wonderful it would be to wake up next to the man she loved, a man who loved and valued her for herself rather than how well she could cook or manage a household. Norman hadn’t cared about love, only his position as a married man. He would probably have been happier with a housekeeper. In reality, that’s all she’d been.

  After the first year, that’s all she’d wanted to be.

  Disgusted with herself, she got up and walked back to the house, but she stopped when she’d mounted the steps. She leaned against the post and turned back. The night was so quiet, the Rim in the distance so peaceful looking. That should have quieted some of the turmoil inside her, but the sheer beauty of it made her unhappiness weigh more heavily. She was twenty-three years old, and she could barely remember being happy. Or feeling loved. Her father had always wanted more children, specifically sons. Her mother had been unhappy because her sister had produced two boys. Sibyl had never been able to understand why Aunt Annabelle having two sons should be Sibyl’s fault, but her father’s coldness had made her feel that way. Things had only gotten worse when they disapproved of the man Sibyl fell in love with.

  But he had been killed, and Sibyl had been talked into marrying Norman.

  She’d done all she could to push those old memories from her mind. She’d been mostly successful until Norman’s death. Now everything had come streaming back to bedevil her over events she couldn’t control. She even felt guilty about the ones she hadn’t seen coming.

  She wondered if her interest in Logan was simply an exercise in wishful thinking, imagining how her life could have been if she’d married a man like the man he seemed to be. There was no logical reason for this attraction. Regardless of how she might feel about him, she could only guess at the quality of his character, the depth of his integrity, the steadiness and dependability of his nature. Because of his illness, there was little about him that was physically attractive, yet she did find him attractive. She knew that didn’t make sense, but knowing it didn’t change anything. Maybe it was that she liked the person she saw inside. Norman had been a handsome man on the outside, and a vile one on the inside. Could she be intrigued because Logan was the opposite?

  She had no answers, and trying to find some was giving her a headache. She turned and went inside, being careful to lock the door behind her. Norman had insisted it wasn’t necessary, that there was no one in Cactus Corner who would be a danger to them, but Sibyl was alone now, something that weighed heavily on her mind. Even though she didn’t get along with her father and had disliked Norman, the men had been protection against potential danger. Maybe it was all a matter of changing her thinking, but she felt uneasy. She’d made the journey from Kentucky to the Arizona Territory, surviving Indian attacks, lightning storms, flooded rivers, and physical exhaustion. She’d lived in a wagon, cooked over an open fire, and worn clothes permeated with dirt because there was no way to wash them. Yet during all of that, there had always been a man around who was responsible for protecting her. Now there was no one.

  Did she need protection? Or did she just want someone by her side?

  Tired of all this fruitless thinking, Sibyl turned down the wick on the lamp in the parlor and picked up the smaller lamp on the hall table. She ascended the stairs with slow but firm steps. Norman’s death had turned her life upside down, had forced her to assume responsibilities for which she was unprepared, but she wasn’t going to back away. She had something of great value that she’d never had before—control of her own life. It might take a while to learn how to manage it, but she intended to make the most of it.

  * * *

  Logan absently rubbed the dog’s head. A week ago, he’d waked to find Trusty sleeping next to him inside the tent. When he reached over to pat the dog, he responded by snuggling closer. From that moment on, the dog had never left his side until he got to the edge of town. At the end of the day, he was waiting for Logan in the same spot

  “This is a nice place up here,” he said to Trusty. “Quiet, cool, and nobody to bother us.”

  The dog moved closer to give Logan better access.

  “You’re a slut,” he told the dog. “You’ll do anything for food and a little scratching. You gotta have more pride.”

  Trusty whined, looked up with complete trust in his eyes.

  “I know,” Logan said. “It’s nice to have a friend, even if it’s only for a little while.”

  Is that how he felt about Sibyl—that she was a friend he would have only a little while? He knew better than to ask the question, but he’d decided not to be afraid of the answer. It was safe to let himself feel anything he wanted, imagine anything he could, hope for everything he lacked because no one would ever know about it.

  “Except you,” he said to the dog. “It’s good to have someone to talk to who won’t argue or tell me I’m a fool. Outcasts deserve to have some of what we want even if it’s only in our imaginations.”

  Trusty’s stare remained unbroken.

  “Nobody’s as good as you think I am,” Logan said. “I fed you because I had food I didn’t need. I let you stay because you used to guard the camp before you started hanging out in town waiting for me to come home. You ought to stay here. Think of all the squirrels you could chase. You could even do the hunting. It would be nice to come home and find a couple of rabbits all ready for the cook pot.”

&
nbsp; Trusty whined and smacked his lips.

  Logan laughed. “I swear you know when I’m talking about food. Makes you hungry just to think about rabbits, doesn’t it? It does sound pretty good. Maybe I’ll—”

  Pain and nausea struck together, causing Logan to double over with a groan. Forcing himself to move before he fouled his camp, he attempted to get to his feet only to stumble when a paralyzing pain gripped his body. Desperate to get away from his camp, he headed toward the stream. When he couldn’t walk, he crawled on hands and knees. When that was no longer possible, he crawled on his belly. He could hear Trusty next to him, whining piteously, but he focused on reaching the stream.

  Nausea overwhelmed him before he got there, but he kept going. By the time he reached the water’s edge, he’d emptied his stomach of its contents. Glad for even that modicum of relief, Logan dropped his head into the water, relieved to wash the sour taste from his mouth. Even though it was summer, the water was deliciously cold. It did more to revive him than the gradual retreat of the nausea. Trusty was lying next to him when he finally raised his head. The dog whined and crawled closer.

  “Not ready to give up on me yet, huh?”

  The dog’s anxious whine moved Logan more than human commiseration could have.

  “Thanks for the concern, but I’m afraid there’s not much either of us can do about it.” He sat up, but his head spun so rapidly he didn’t try to get to his feet right away. “I hope you know how embarrassing this is. I’m only letting you stay because I know you can’t tell anyone. I feel weak as a baby.”

  Logan came to his hands and knees before he was able to stand using a nearby tree for support. His legs were shaky, but he managed to get back to his tent and cleaned himself up and changed clothes. “I’m going to have to do laundry,” he said to the dog, then laughed. “Wouldn’t Bridgette love to see me washing clothes in the creek in this wilderness? She’d take it as proof that I’m the low-class foundling she always thought me to be. Maybe I’ll throw everything away and buy some new clothes. It’s not like I’m going to have a lot of use for my money.”