The word family made Logan feel guilty. “I shouldn’t have asked that,” he said, turning to Sibyl. “You’ll want to spend time with your family.”
“I have so much family I’ll be running into them all day. Besides, I’ve never had a guest for the celebration. It will give me a chance to play hostess.”
“Well, let’s not hang about here,” Cassie said. “Horace is already gone. All we have to do is lock up.”
Sibyl locked the bank doors then turned to Logan. “I should have asked if you’re feeling well enough to spend the afternoon in a noisy crowd. You didn’t say anything, but I know you were sick soon after you got here this morning.”
Logan hated that Sibyl worried about his health. There was nothing she could do to make things better. “I’m feeling much better. I’ll make sure to take my medicine when I get back to camp.”
“I know it’s none of my business, but I wish you’d move into town,” Sibyl said. “If anything happened to you while you were up on the Rim, we might not know until it was too late.”
“Keep after him to be sensible,” Cassie said. “He won’t listen to me.”
“I like staying at my camp,” Logan said. “It reminds me of camping along the Santa Fe Trail with my father.”
“I wonder if he ever met Colby and Jared’s parents. They died on the trail.”
“My father said thousands of people traveled the trail every year. Some wagon trains were so large they could have been in the same one and still not have met.” He hadn’t meant to mention the Santa Fe Trail, but it was getting harder and harder to avoid dropping details of his life. It wasn’t that he wanted to hide his previous life. It was just that it would cause too much curiosity and too many questions.
“I don’t want to be reminded of anything about the Santa Fe Trail,” Cassie said.
“It wasn’t a good time for me, either,” Sibyl added.
They were walking along the boardwalk through the center of town, which was deserted. A variety of sounds came from an area south of town where the valley widened into a flat, grassy area normally used to graze milk cows. The young people had been given the task of cleaning it up so it could be used for the celebration.
“Are you going to compete in anything?” Cassie asked Sibyl.
“I was arguing with my father about that very thing. He said it was disgraceful for a woman to participate in any competition except food. He said he was certain I hadn’t considered anything so foolish.”
“That sounds like half the men in Cactus Creek,” Cassie said in disgust.
“I told him I thought it would be okay for a woman to enter the three-legged race. To hear him talk, you’d have thought I’d said it was okay to ride through the streets in my nightgown. He made me so angry I told him I would enter the three-legged race, and that you’d be my partner.” Sibyl hesitated. “You will, won’t you?”
“I’d be happy to, but I’ve got a better idea. Logan can be your partner.”
Caught off guard, Logan turned to Sibyl. “I don’t know—”
“No excuses,” Cassie said. “It’s hardly more than a fast walk.”
Sibyl turned to Logan. “It’s usually a lot of fun, but don’t do it if you don’t feel up to it.”
It wasn’t the race that worried Logan. It was being that close to Sibyl. He’d seen three-legged races before. The couple ran shoulder to shoulder the entire distance. How could he do that and control his reaction to her presence?
“Come on,” Cassie pleaded. “Any man who can stop runaway horses can manage a three-legged race.”
“All right.” Logan hoped he didn’t sound harassed, but that’s how he felt. “I don’t want anyone to think I’m lacking patriotic spirit.”
“Good. Now what are you going to try after that? There’s shooting, horseback riding, foot races, wrestling…”
It seemed there were enough activities to keep everyone in town busy for the next two days.
“Then there’s the food,” Cassie continued. “I’ll have a time keeping Little Abe from eating himself sick.”
* * *
Logan figured Chicago had celebrations like this, but he’d never gone to one. After the first hour, he realized he’d missed something important. People came from as far away as fifteen or twenty miles. Children covered the grounds as thick as fleas on a hound dog. Running from one event to another, their shrieks and shouts could probably be heard all the way to Prescott. Grown men, almost as excited as the children, congregated in groups, each preparing to exhibit his skills in one competition or another. The women—bless their souls—had the impossible task of keeping a watchful eye on their children and a stern eye on their husbands gathered around the beer barrels while dishing up food for the hungry crowds. Judges inspected courses set up for foot races, while others put together rope corrals for bronco riding and calf roping. The one thing that interested Logan most was the target shooting.
It was to be the first event of the day. The men were already gathering, comparing their pistols and rifles, each explaining why his chosen weapon would give him the advantage. Logan practically itched to enter that contest. Target shooting had been his only hobby. It had been his relaxation, the way he was able to put aside his job for a few hours. His father had taken pride in his ability. That drove Logan to become even better until he was the acknowledged champion of Chicago. However, winning would bring unwelcome attention. He turned away, but not fast enough. Jared Smith had spotted him and immediately headed toward them.
“I’m glad to see you’re not hiding at your camp,” he said when he approached Logan.
“He wanted to,” Cassie said, “but we talked him out of it. We even talked him into joining the three-legged race with Sibyl.”
Jared turned to Sibyl, his surprise evident. “Wait until Laurie hears this. She’ll be green with envy.”
“I’ll probably regret it,” Sibyl confessed, “but my father made me so angry I’ve decided to show him. He’s already sure I’ll fail with the bank.”
“From what I hear, you and Logan are doing fine. I came over to see if I could talk Logan into entering the shooting competition. If he can participate in the three-legged race, he can certainly shoot,” Jared insisted.
Logan knew Jared suspected he was the stranger who’d foiled the bank robbery. Doing well in the shooting contest would prove it in his mind. One more reason for turning him down.
“I’m not sure—” Sibyl began.
Cassie cut her off. “I think it’s a great idea.” She looked directly at Logan. “It’s about time people found out you can do more than chase runaway horses.”
“Oh, he doesn’t have to worry about winning,” Jared said. “Colby will beat him by a mile. He always wins.”
Logan’s father had often said that confidence in one’s ability made a good businessman, but pride in that ability could cloud your judgment. Now would have been a good time to heed that advice, but Logan turned his back on it. He was tired of feeling sick, of being nauseated, of avoiding people to keep them from staring at him. If they were going to stare, at least they’d have something to think about besides how ugly he looked.
“I might as well sign up since there’s no danger of winning. No one pays attention to the losers.”
“Are you sure?” Sibyl asked.
Logan knew she really was asking if he was ready to face the notoriety if he won.
“No, I’m not, but it looks like every male big enough to hold a gun is entered. I’d hate to be the only holdout.”
“Good for you,” Cassie said. “Now I’d better find Little Abe. He’s far too fascinated with guns to suit me.”
“I’m going to look for Naomi,” Sibyl said. “Kitty is with her and the children.”
“Maybe Jonathan and Annabelle,” Cassie said, “but I’ll bet you a dollar Peter and Esther are following in Colby’
s shadow.”
Fortunately Sibyl didn’t take Cassie’s bet, for when Jared led Logan over to sign up for the competition, he saw both children with Colby.
“Where’s your rifle?” the registrar asked Logan.
“I didn’t bring it with me. I guess I’ll have to drop out.” It was a disappointment but also a relief.
“You can use mine,” Jared said. “I’m tired of getting beaten by Colby.”
“So is everyone else,” the registrar said. “They’ve been practicing all year in hopes of getting good enough. Not that it’s ever worked before,” he added.
“You don’t have to give me your rifle,” Logan told Jared.
“I don’t mind.”
The rifle wasn’t the same as Logan’s own, but it was solid and well balanced.
“You’ll need to get used to the rifle,” Jared said. “Everyone is given a little time to warm up.”
That little time sounded like a small war. It seemed every man had to fire his rifle as many times as possible. Logan tested his by firing just once, aiming at the far edge of the target, and calculating how far he missed. Then he sat back and waited.
Nine
Logan was the last to sign up so he would be the last to compete. Everyone was eager for his turn. Each was anxious to show that, even if they couldn’t beat Colby, they’d improved. The targets were placed a hundred yards away, far enough that no one was sure of how well he shot until the target was brought to the judges’ stand. There were several arguments over whether a shot had touched a line or was safely inside a circle. There was a lot of jeering when a shot missed the target and just as many cheers when a shot hit the bull’s-eye. The judges measured and conferred before assigning each contestant a score. No one was completely happy with his score, but the judges’ decision was final.
Unlike many others, Jared’s nephew was delighted with his score.
“Steve spends nearly all his spare money buying ammunition to practice,” Jared told Logan. “That’s his best performance ever.”
Over the last hour, Logan had witnessed some very impressive shooting. Even the youngest competitors managed to find the edge of the targets at least once. The way their eyes would light up when they managed a really good shot reminded Logan of himself, and the praise from their fathers of the praise Logan had received from his father. He missed him often, but the ache was particularly acute today. Maybe it was seeing all these happy families, especially the close bonds between fathers and sons.
The arrival of a noisy group attracted Logan’s attention. He turned to see Sibyl and Cassie approaching, accompanied by two other women and several children. Colby was with them, Peter and Esther clinging to him like burrs. They settled in the shade of an enormous cottonwood tree a short distance away.
“You didn’t think the women were going to miss Colby shooting, did you?” Jared said to Logan. “Naomi’s enormously proud of her husband. The others, my wife included, are nearly as bad.”
Every time Logan saw another piece of evidence of the invisible web that held these families together, he felt more and more desolate. Why had he waited so late to learn what was really important in life?
Seeing Logan, Peter broke away from the group. “My papa’s next,” he announced loud enough for everyone within fifty yards to hear. “Nobody’s better than him.”
“You shouldn’t say that,” Colby said to his son.
“Why not?” one of the contestants asked. “Everybody knows it’s the truth.”
“It’s not that. It’s just that I don’t want him to think that makes me better than anyone else.”
“Even if you are?” someone asked, their tone of voice biting.
“People like Colby,” Jared whispered to Logan, “but they’re jealous, too. He’s rich, has a family that adores him, and a beautiful wife he loves as much as she loves him. On top of that, he’s the real mayor of the town even if there’s no official title. Everybody goes to him for advice.”
Much to Logan’s surprise, he felt his heart swell with pride. It was his brother everyone envied and admired. It was his brother who had a wife and children who adored him. It was almost as though he could share his brother’s success and good fortune.
By the time Colby finished shooting, Logan had more reason to be proud of him. All three shots had landed in the bull’s-eye, close enough to be covered by a silver dollar.
“Now you see why nobody beats him,” Jared said. “He never misses the bull’s-eye.”
“The competition is over,” the judges announced. “According to the scores, the winner is—”
“There’s one more contestant,” Sibyl called to the judges. “Logan Holstock hasn’t shot yet.”
Seeing the pride his family took in his achievements, Logan didn’t want to do anything to diminish Colby in their eyes.
“I don’t have to shoot.”
“Yes, you do,” Jared said. “Sibyl has brought you to the attention of the judges so you don’t really have any choice. Now get up there and shoot. I’m anxious to see if you do any better than I would have done.”
He could still refuse, but one look at Sibyl changed his mind. He didn’t know the true extent of her feelings for him, but he knew she cared for him and wanted to do anything she could to see he got the recognition she believed he deserved. She would understand if he didn’t shoot, but she would be disappointed in him. As long as it was possible, he would never do anything to disappoint Sibyl.
Now that his mind was made up on that point, he had another question. Did he shoot to win, or did he let Colby get the trophy?
It was a short tussle, but it wasn’t really hard. He could choose not to compete, but he couldn’t throw a contest. Maybe it was pride more than principle, but that didn’t change the way he felt. If Colby was the kind of man Logan believed him to be, he wouldn’t want anyone to give him something he didn’t deserve.
Accepting the consequences of his decision, he got to his feet. He appeared unsteady as he walked up to the line. He could hear murmurs, people wondering if he was okay to shoot. They didn’t know that once he came to a stop, he would be as steady on his feet as anyone else.
“You have three shots,” a judge told him. “Take as much time as you need.” From his expression, Logan figured the judge thought he’d need a long time just to stop shaking.
They didn’t know that walking up to the line, a rifle in his hands and a target in the distance, invoked habits acquired by years of practice. His body relaxed, his breathing slowed, and his concentration zeroed in on the target in the distance. Slowly he raised the rifle, took careful aim, and gently squeezed the trigger. His ability to see things at a distance that others couldn’t told him all he needed to know. He squeezed off two more shots so close together that most of the men stared at him in surprise. Some shook their heads. Others smiled knowingly.
Logan turned, walked over to Jared, and handed him the rifle. “It’s an excellent rifle. If you ever want to sell it—” He had started to say he’d want to buy it, but what did a dying man need with a rife? Instead he said, “Make sure you get a good price for it.”
“I think I’ll keep it. How do you think you did?”
“We’ll see in a moment.” Now that the competition was over, the energy and force of will that had steadied him melted away, and he was tired. As much as he didn’t want to admit to weakness in pubic, he had to sit down.
Apparently, being seated some distance away didn’t prevent Sibyl from sensing his distress. “Come sit with us,” she called. “Laurie has been wanting to meet you.”
“I’d like for you to meet the rest of my family,” Jared said. “This is the first time Laurie has come to town with the new baby.”
The pride in Jared’s voice was matched by the brightness of his eyes when he turned toward his wife. Logan didn’t know why he’d ever thought he could marry Bri
dgette. He could never have looked at her with a fraction of the love and happiness that was written large across Jared’s face. He wasn’t sure he’d believed such profound feeling could exist between anyone other than parent and child. Another lesson to add to the ones that had come too late.
Steve had gone to meet the man bringing Logan’s target to the judges. After looking at the target, he turned and ran up to Logan. “You got one dead in the center,” he said, “but the others were clean misses. Why did you fire so quickly?”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jared said.
“There’s only one hole in the target,” Steve said. “Go see for yourself.”
“I will. Logan can come with me.”
“I’ll wait here with everybody else. You can tell me what you find.”
“Getting one in the center is very good,” Sibyl said after Jared left. “I’m sure you used to be even better.”
She meant before his illness.
“I was hoping he would put them all in the center,” Cassie said. “It’s about time somebody gave Colby some competition.”
“What’s wrong with Colby winning?” Naomi demanded.
Cassie wasn’t intimidated by Naomi’s steely gaze. “Nobody admires Colby more than I do. I doubt any of us would be here if it weren’t for him, but it’s not good for anyone to win everything all the time. It causes a lot of hard feelings.”
“Are you saying Colby shouldn’t compete?” Naomi asked.
“Of course not. I just wish someone could give him a run for his money.”
Sibyl looked to where the judges were studying the target. Jared and Colby were huddled with them. One judge looked over at Logan, a strange look on his face, before turning back to the target.
“I wonder what’s taking so long,” Sibyl said. “Steve said there was only one hole in the target.”
“It looks like Colby and Jared are arguing with the judges,” Naomi said. “There’s something going on here, and I want to know what it is.”
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