“I’ve never seen him act this way around other dogs,” Logan said. “He usually pays them no attention.”
One of the men who wasn’t wearing a soldier’s uniform, his interest apparently caught by Trusty’s barking, left the group and started toward them. Trusty’s growls and barking swelled in a crescendo. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he crouched as though ready to attack.
“There’s something about that man,” Sibyl said.
Logan agreed, and he was sure he knew what it was. His suspicion was confirmed by the first words out of the man’s mouth.
“Where did you find my dog?” the man asked. “I lost him some weeks ago. Thanks for bringing him back.”
Eight
Logan put his hand on Trusty’s back, but that didn’t calm him. “I don’t know who you are or why you think you have a claim on this dog,” Logan said, “but Trusty is mine.”
“His name ain’t Trusty,” the soldier said. “It’s Brutus, and he’s my dog. I’d recognize him anywhere.”
“Then you can’t be his owner. He didn’t look a thing like this when I found him. He was starving, barely able to crawl, and covered with wounds from several savage beatings.”
“You gotta beat a dog when he don’t behave,” the man said. “In any case, he’s mine, and I want him back.”
“He’s mine now,” Logan said, “and I intend to keep him.”
“Now, see here,” the man began, “you can’t go around stealing a man’s dog and get away with it.”
“He found me, not the other way around,” Logan said.
By now, their exchange had attracted the interest of the soldiers, and they approached the wagon.
“Looks like your dog, Wat,” one of them said.
“That’s what I been telling this man,” Wat said, “but he don’t believe me.”
“I believe he was your dog,” Logan said, “but you mistreated him so badly he ran away.”
“That don’t make any difference. He’s my dog, and I’m taking him.”
Wat reached for Trusty. With a startled yell, he drew back a bloody hand, his palm ripped open. One of the soldiers reached for the bully stick he carried at his waist, but it was shattered by a gunshot before he could raise it in the air. He stared at the gun in Logan’s hand.
“No one touches that dog except to pet him, and then you’d better ask first. Is that understood?”
“He ripped my hand open,” Wat exclaimed.
“You can’t expect that dog to like you after what you did to him,” one of the onlookers said. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to tear out your throat.”
The pistol shot had attracted attention, and almost at once they were surrounded by soldiers with arms drawn. “This is not how I expected things to go,” Logan said to Sibyl.
Explanations were made and blame placed by both sides. They all ended up in front of the camp commander.
“If you told me a fight started over that woman,” the commander said after giving Sibyl a thorough looking over, “I’d have no trouble believing you. But over a dog?”
“I’m sorry to have caused any trouble,” Logan told the commander, “but I only fired my pistol to keep that man from hitting my dog with a bully stick.”
“He’s my dog,” Wat complained.
The commander ignored him. “Who tried to hit your dog?”
Logan pointed to the offender, who the commander ordered to step forward and explain himself.
“That dog ripped open Wat Pfefferkorn’s hand when he reached to take him,” the soldier explained. “I was afraid he might jump out of the wagon and attack him.”
“Why were you trying to take this man’s dog?” the commander asked Wat.
“He’s my dog,” Wat insisted. “I was just trying to get him back.”
“What dog rips open his owner’s hand when he reaches for him?” the commander asked.
“One that’s been starved and so badly beaten he’s nearly dead,” Logan told him. “He approached me up on the Rim at a deer kill. He was so badly wounded he could barely crawl. I fed him and took care of his wounds.”
“Did you beat him?” the commander asked Wat.
“Only when he wouldn’t behave,” Wat answered.
“He did a lot more than that,” a soldier said. “I warned him to stop before the dog turned on him.”
“He did turn on him,” the man with the bully stick said. “Just look at Wat’s hand. He’s vicious.”
“He is not.” Everyone turned to Sibyl in surprise. She hadn’t spoken except to give her name. “I’ve seen him with children, including my six-year-old daughter. He lets them pet him and will eat out of their hands. He follows Logan wherever he goes. No one in town is afraid of him. Not even the other dogs.”
“He’s still my dog,” Wat insisted, “and I want him back.”
Trusty had kept up an undercurrent of growls and snarls all during the exchange.
“What do you propose to do with him?” the commander asked. “He clearly hates the sight of you.”
“I don’t know yet, but he’s my—”
“I don’t think we need to hear that again,” Logan said to Wat. “You may own the dog legally, but he’s never going to be yours.” Logan handed Wat a twenty-dollar gold piece. “I trust this is adequate compensation for your loss.”
“That mutt’s not worth two dollars, much less twenty,” a soldier said.
“He’s worth every bit of it to me,” Logan said.
“Then it’s settled,” the commander said before Wat could respond. “Now all of you get out of here, and go about your business. The fort could be under attack, and we wouldn’t know.” After the soldiers had withdrawn, the commander turned his attention to Logan. “Aside from firing a pistol in the middle of the parade ground, what’s your reason for being here?”
“I’m just accompanying Mrs. Spencer. She owns Spencer’s Bank in Cactus Corner. She would like to provide the same services for your soldiers.”
The commander turned an appreciative eye on Sibyl. “If you’re planning to provide these services personally, I can assure you of complete success.”
Logan kept telling himself the commander was showing no disrespect by the way he looked at Sibyl, but he had to clench his jaw to keep from saying something while the commander and Sibyl talked terms. He could understand why the commander’s gaze never left Sibyl, but he didn’t have to like it. He just made himself a promise that as long as he had anything to do with it, Sibyl would never come back to Camp Verde. Nor would he send Cassie. The soldiers would have to make do with Horace.
* * *
“Don’t you like Logan?” Kitty asked her mother.
They were eating supper. Since Norman’s death, Sibyl had started serving meals in the kitchen rather than the dining room. It was more convenient, cozier, and a distinct break from the torturous formal dinners they’d both suffered through under Norman’s disapproving gaze. Kitty was happily eating her favorite meal, chicken in gravy with rice. Sibyl had no appetite.
“I like Logan very much,” she told her daughter, “but that’s not what I’m talking about. You can’t tell people everything I say about them, especially not when it’s the person I was talking about.”
“Why? You didn’t say anything bad.”
Sibyl had known this was going to be a difficult conversation, but it was turning out to be harder than she’d expected. With no one to frown at her or show resentment that she’d ever been born, Kitty had virtually bloomed since Norman’s death. She talked like she had to make up for years of silence. She ran where she’d previously walked with trepidation, and she had even come back from playing with dirty clothes. Equally important in Sibyl’s eyes, she’d struck up a friendship with Logan. It wasn’t the same as her relationship with Colby and Jared or her cousins Ethan and Ben. She
liked all four men and enjoyed being around them, but there was something a little reserved about their time together. She was supposed to like them, to feel safe around them, because they were related to her.
That wasn’t true with Logan. Kitty had pursued the friendship from the day she met him. She was the one who made certain the children joined him every day at lunch. She was the one who asked for his stories despite Peter insisting his father could have done everything better and faster. She still worried about his health and tried to convince him to see the doctor. She could talk to him about anything, ask any question. Sibyl didn’t want to damage that friendship. It was the first time Kitty had opened up to anyone other than her mother.
“It’s not a question of whether I said anything bad,” Sibyl told her daughter. “It’s just that when you say something in confidence, it shouldn’t be repeated.”
“What’s a confidence?”
Sibyl didn’t want to wish her daughter’s life away, but she’d be relieved when Kitty was older. Talking to a six-year-old was difficult. They knew so much and so little at the same time. “It’s like a secret,” Sibyl explained.
“Is everything you say to Aunt Naomi a secret?”
“Just when we talk about people.”
Kitty thought for a moment, her fork poised between her plate and her mouth. “Is everything I say about people a secret?”
“If you want it to be.”
She was thinking again, her brow creased. “Even when I told Peter he was mean?”
Sibyl laughed at her daughter’s concern. “Especially what you say about Peter. We wouldn’t want to hurt Aunt Naomi’s or Uncle Colby’s feelings.”
“It didn’t make Peter mad when I told him. Why would it make Aunt Naomi and Uncle Colby mad?”
How did she explain that parents were very sensitive about their children, that they didn’t take criticism well even when it was deserved? “Peter’s parents love him very much. So it hurts them if someone says something unkind about him.”
“Would it hurt you if someone said something bad about me?”
“I’d be furious. Everybody knows you’re a very nice little girl who would never intentionally do anything wrong.”
“Peter says I’m a goody-goody.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Sibyl said with a reassuring smile. “I like you just the way you are.”
Kitty finished her supper. “I don’t want my dessert.”
“Why? It’s apple pie, one of your favorites.”
“I want to save it for Logan. He can’t make a dessert in the woods.”
And with that, Sibyl was catapulted right back into the miasma of conflicting emotions that assailed her every time she thought of Logan. How could she possibly keep him out of her thoughts when Kitty kept putting him back? “It’s nice of you to think of Logan, but maybe he doesn’t like dessert.”
“He likes apple pie. I asked him.”
This from a child who wouldn’t speak to an adult unless they spoke to her first. What kind of magic had Logan worked on Sibyl and her daughter to keep him foremost in their thoughts? Logic and common sense said it should have been just the opposite. “You can take him some apple pie. I’ll wrap it up for you, but there’s enough for you to have some, too.”
“If I eat a piece of pie now, the piece I give Logan won’t be from me.”
The logic was flawed, but Sibyl didn’t try to refute it. Logan had installed himself as firmly in Kitty’s thoughts as he had in her own. She would have to talk to him. She didn’t know what either of them could do at this point, but she didn’t want Kitty to be brokenhearted when Logan disappeared as he said he would.
And what about her own feelings? Would she be brokenhearted? Maybe not, but there was no use denying she would feel a terrible loss.
“If you’ve finished, it’s time to get ready for bed. I’ll be up to tuck you in as soon as I’m finished in the kitchen.”
But as Sibyl moved about the kitchen putting away food and washing dishes, her thoughts were wholly absorbed with her feelings for Logan. What was she going to do? She couldn’t stop thinking about him ever since the trip to Camp Verde. The drive there had been the most enjoyable of her life. He was a fascinating man, and not because he kept so much of his past to himself. He could talk about anything, but he could also listen, something she had once believed men found impossible to do. Then there was his faith in her. He had let her do all the negotiating with the commander. When he said he couldn’t have done any better himself, she thought her insides would melt.
She wouldn’t forget how he stood up for Trusty. She couldn’t imagine paying twenty dollars for a dog, but she had no doubt he believed the dog was worth it. If Wat hadn’t agreed, she had no doubt he would have paid more. What kind of man paid that kind of money for a mongrel dog just to keep him from being abused?
A man who valued trust and loyalty, one who wouldn’t see even a stray dog mistreated. One who believed money wasn’t the most important thing in life. What a change from Norman.
She could be mistaken, but she was certain his regard for her was very much the same as hers for him. That pleased and frightened her. She was vain enough to admit she enjoyed having men find her attractive, but if she was right, Logan’s regard went deeper than that. Just knowing that caused her feelings for him to struggle to free themselves from her restraint. What was the harm in admitting how she felt? She was a grown woman, and she was free to bestow her favors wherever she pleased.
Yet she’d learned as a teenager that life and love weren’t as simple as that. Every action had consequences, some dire enough to cause a woman to deny herself what she wanted most. She wasn’t sure she was in love with Logan—it seemed impossible that it could have happened so quickly or have happened at all—but she had controlled her feelings to protect herself. Now she had to worry about Kitty. Should she ask Logan about his plans? He’d always said he wouldn’t be around for long. Would he change his plans if she asked? Were his feelings for her strong enough to make him want to change?
If it came down to that, were her feelings strong enough to do any of that? Her husband of seven years had been dead only a short time. Now she found herself free to order her life as she wished, but she also found herself in charge of a bank people depended on for a living. Suddenly she was responsible for their livelihoods, herself, and her daughter. She was feeling overwhelmed. It was possible she was so emotionally overburdened she couldn’t make good decisions, that her feelings for Logan were little more than an attempt to hold on to something steady while she learned to navigate these new and difficult waters. She would probably feel quite differently a year from now.
Her heart said her feelings wouldn’t change, but her brain asked how could she know that. She’d spent years learning not to feel, deadening her heart and blunting her thoughts. How could she now be sure she knew what she really felt or what she really thought? And if she was sure of what she thought and felt, why was she unwilling for anyone to know? Was it because illness had distorted Logan’s features so badly or because no one really knew anything about him? Was it because she was embarrassed to admit she could have fallen in love so quickly? Was she reluctant because of the explanations that would be needed to justify herself? Did she think it was unsuitable for a recently widowed woman to fall in love so quickly?
It all came down to the fact that she couldn’t be sure, but she would figure it out soon. She wasn’t going to miss the chance to be with Logan, even for a short time, because he embodied all she’d come to value in a man.
* * *
“There’s no point in hiding in your office or trying to sneak back to your camp,” Cassie said to Logan. “Everyone turns out for the Fourth of July celebrations. It would be unpatriotic not to.”
“Cassie’s right,” Sibyl said. “Everybody in town will be there. It’s especially important to the chil
dren. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”
Logan didn’t want to attend the Fourth of July celebrations, or celebrations of any kind. Hundreds of people would be there. Most of them had never seen him. All of them would stare. There would be hordes of children who, in their innocence, would point to his face and ask what was wrong with him. He had no assurance he wouldn’t have an attack of nausea and a weak spell, either of which would attract unwanted attention. It was hard enough accepting that he was going to die while he was in the prime of his life. It was too much to ask him to do it in front of a whole town.
But those weren’t the only reasons. After the trip to Camp Verde, Sibyl had turned distant. She didn’t physically avoid him, nor did she fail to treat him with her usual kindness and understanding, but there was a barrier between them now. Barely perceptible—even Cassie hadn’t picked up on it yet—but it was there. The fact that the barrier existed gave him hope that she really did feel something special for him, but her reaction showed it was a feeling she was uncomfortable admitting and one she didn’t intend to let develop into anything beyond friendship. He should have been flattered that she thought so well of him and relieved it wouldn’t go any further.
Instead he was frustrated with her and angry with himself. He wanted her to admit her feelings even though he knew it wasn’t good for either of them. He had no right to want that when he didn’t intend to be equally open about his feelings. But how could he when he knew there could be no future for them?
But things had changed today. All trace of the chill had vanished, leaving Sibyl more open and charming than before. It was as though she was trying to apologize for her earlier behavior and wanted to get back to where they used to be. Logan wanted to be close even though he knew it wasn’t good for either one of them. Maybe he should just let things happen. It would all come to an end soon enough.
“I’ll go if you go with me,” he said to the two women.
“Of course we’ll go with you,” Cassie said. “Little Abe likes you, and Sibyl says Kitty can’t stop talking about you. We’ll be like one big, happy family.”
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