Sibyl reached out to restrain her cousin when she started to rise. “Jared and Colby will tell us what they’ve decided. The judges won’t appreciate you questioning them.”
“Do you know any man who appreciates being questioned?” Laurie asked. “Jared doesn’t, and I don’t know a fairer man.”
“Colby doesn’t like it, either,” Naomi said of her husband. “We argued almost the whole length of the Santa Fe Trail.”
“They’re coming this way,” Steve said, “and the judges are bringing the trophy.”
“Why?”
“I’m sure it’s for Colby,” Naomi said. “He had the highest score.”
“Then why haven’t they given it to him?” Steve wondered.
Jared was leading the group coming toward them, and the grin he wore told Logan all he needed to know.
“What’s going on?” Naomi asked when the group reached them. “Why haven’t you given Colby the trophy?”
“Because I didn’t win it,” Colby said. “Logan did.”
As every eye turned to Logan, Steve asked the question on everyone’s mind. “How? Only one shot hit the target.”
“All three shots hit the bull’s-eye,” Jared explained. “They were just so close they looked like one.”
Cassie jumped up and threw herself at Logan so hard they both tumbled on the ground. “I knew you could do it,” she exclaimed.
Logan managed to right himself in time to see Sibyl’s smile of happiness. That was more than enough to compensate for the embarrassment of being soundly kissed by Cassie in public.
“I don’t believe it,” Steve said. “I saw the target. There was only one hole.”
Jared held the target up so everyone could see. “If you look closely, you’ll see a slight indentation here where the second bullet hit the edge of the hole made by the first bullet. Over here, you’ll see a similar indentation made by the third bullet. They were so close together we were almost ready to agree with Steve, but Colby has better eyesight. He’s the one who insisted all three shots hit the center.”
Steve studied the target intently before turning to Logan with wide eyes. “Well, I’ll be a long-eared coyote. I wouldn’t have believed anybody could do that.”
“It’s the most amazing piece of shooting we’ve ever seen,” one judge said. “We’re proud to declare you the winner. We’re going to post the target. Everyone is going to want to see it.”
“I don’t know what you’re so surprised at,” Cassie said. “That ought to be easy as pie for a man who can shoot four robbers quick as you can say jackrabbit.”
Logan’s feeling of panic wasn’t helped by the reaction of those around him. Everyone started talking at once, but they were all looking at Logan—some even pointed.
“Cassie!” Sibyl exclaimed. “You promised not to tell.”
“It’s about time everybody knew he’s the man who saved my life, Horace’s life, and probably yours, too. Besides, everybody knows there haven’t been any strangers around here for weeks. There’s never been one who can shoot like Logan.”
Logan’s sudden notoriety wasn’t as bad as he had feared, partly because Sibyl’s family closed around him. Sibyl positioned herself at his side, deftly turning aside any intrusive questions. Cassie, who considered herself part of the family by adoption, was more than capable of running interference with those most curious and least easily satisfied with the limited information Sibyl was willing to give. Peter, momentarily stunned by his father’s loss, was quick to proclaim his special kinship, telling them that Logan had accomplished almost as many amazing feats as his own father. Colby occupied himself with his two youngest children, but several times Logan found him looking at him with a puzzled expression.
Jared grinned like a man with a secret. “I’d already figured you had to be the stranger who shot the bank robbers neatly between the eyes,” he murmured under the cover of a particularly noisy exchange between Peter and a boy who didn’t believe anybody could put three bullets in the same hole.
But no amount of exciting news could occupy everyone’s attention for long. A wide variety of events were scheduled for the rest of the day. Everyone wanted their chance to snatch a little of Logan’s glory. There was food to eat, friends to see, gossip to exchange, and children to watch who had little interest in the winner of a shooting contest. Over the next hour, children played games and took naps in the shade. Some mothers nursed babies while others discussed their favorite recipes. It was completely unlike anything Logan had ever experienced.
“I’m sorry Cassie went back on her word,” Sibyl said to Logan after everyone had wandered away to other activities, “but I’m glad people know. Are you angry?”
Was he angry, or was he just upset at being thrust into the limelight? Before his illness, he’d have taken pride in it. Now he’d let his illness, especially his swollen facial features, turn him into a recluse. He didn’t want to die, but that was no reason to act like a coward. He had seen men show great courage in the face of death. He was shocked that it should be happening to him so young, and he was embarrassed at the changes it had caused, but it was time he stopped running away. He ought to make the most of the time he had left. Besides, he had people he’d started to care about. He didn’t want them to remember him like this.
“No, I’m not angry. I’ve finally realized that I shouldn’t let my illness dominate the rest of my life. At least now there’s something more interesting about me than my face.”
“I’ve always known that.”
He wished he knew if she was more interested in him as a man than in what he’d done in the past. He’d thought about answering her questions, but there were only two things that were important now—his feelings for her and that he’d found his brothers. He couldn’t talk about either, so it seemed pointless to mention the rest.
“Other than being mobbed by curious people, are you having a good time?” Sibyl asked. “I know you didn’t want to challenge Colby, but I was glad you did. I was very proud of you for winning.”
“That’s the only reason I did it,” Logan said.
Sibyl looked uncomfortable. “I don’t want you to do things just for me.”
“It wasn’t just for you. It was for me, too. I like pleasing you. I don’t think you’ve had enough occasions to be happy.”
Now Sibyl was looking decidedly uncomfortable. “My life hasn’t been all terrible.”
“You were forced to marry a man you didn’t love and who didn’t respect or value you as he should. How could it have been anything else?”
“Who told you? If it was Cassie, I’ll wring her neck. There’s not a mean bone in her body, but she never knows when to keep quiet.”
“I didn’t need Cassie or anyone else to tell me your husband didn’t deserve you. Any man worthy of calling himself a man would have been more worried about protecting you than losing his money. I’d have given up every cent I had before I’d let anyone harm you.”
Logan didn’t need Sibyl turning an unflattering shade of purple to know he’d said too much. Yet he couldn’t be sorry. Now that he’d decided to stop living in the shadow of his illness, he was hard pressed not to say even more. What could it hurt? She’d never been valued as she ought. He’d want her to know he thought she was beautiful, that she was noble, that she was what every man looked for in a woman. She was warm, thoughtful, and caring.
Despite the illness that ravaged his body, being near her, thinking of her, desiring her, caused his blood to warm in his veins. She was slim, tall, and elegant, but her body had a roundness that only maturity could bring. Thinking of holding her in his arms had ruined his sleep on several occasions.
“I think I’d like to get something to eat,” Sibyl said. “You must be famished by now. There are several wonderful cooks in Cactus Creek. They always outdo themselves on occasions like this.”
Sib
yl wasn’t ready to hear what he had to say to her, but she’d invited him to eat with her. That was enough for now. The time wasn’t right, but he couldn’t wait much longer. He was determined to say everything in his heart before it stopped beating.
* * *
Logan hadn’t enjoyed any day half this much since his father’s death. He and Sibyl had spent the afternoon sampling food from nearly every table, meeting all of her family, and watching Kitty have the time of her life. He even got to hold Jared’s infant son. He didn’t take a deep breath until the child’s mother took him back. He teased Peter when he lost his foot race to a girl, and commiserated with Little Abe when his wagon broke during his race. It took him a while to realize no one was put off by his face. If they asked about his illness, it was out of genuine interest. He received stern admonitions to see the doctor and offers of homemade remedies that might cure him within weeks. All in all, it seemed people had accepted him as part of the community.
“Why wouldn’t they?” Sibyl asked. “You’re a very special person. We’re proud to have you here.”
Logan knew he’d been fortunate to have a good life. He’d never felt special, but he liked that Sibyl thought so.
“Now you’re going to have to put yourself on the line once more. I think it’s about time for the three-legged race.”
The words had hardly left Sibyl’s mouth when Cassie came running up. “It’s time for the race. I bet Little Abe you’d win. He’s pulling for the Hill boys.”
“You’d better see if you can get your money back,” Logan advised.
“My money’s on you. I remember you chasing down those horses.”
“If we lose, it’ll be my fault,” Sibyl said.
“You’re not going to lose. Now come on.”
Halfway there, Kitty came running up to them. “The race is starting, Mama. You’ve got to hurry.” She took hold of her mother’s hand to pull her along.
“They won’t start without us,” her mother told her.
It seemed everybody in Cactus Corner had come to watch the race. Both sides of the course were several rows deep with spectators. A dozen sacks had been laid on the ground at the starting line. Couples were already beginning to pair up.
Naomi came over to them. Peter and Esther followed with Jonathan and Annabelle in tow. “I’m pulling for you in this race,” she said. “I tried to get Colby to enter with me, but he said he’d rather wash dishes for a week.”
“You can’t be shy in this race,” Cassie counseled Logan. “The couple that looks the most ridiculous is usually the one that wins.”
“Are you going to win?” Kitty asked her mother.
“I doubt it,” Sibyl said. “We just want to have fun.”
Peter weighed in with, “It’s not fun unless you win.”
“That’s not true,” Naomi said to her stepson. “It only important to win when you have something valuable to lose.”
“Like my dignity,” Logan mumbled.
“If I don’t lose mine, you won’t lose yours,” Sibyl told him. “Now let’s line up.”
Once they were at the line, Sibyl turned to Logan. “I don’t care if we win,” she said in a whisper, “as long as we finish ahead of my father.”
Logan looked to where her father and Tom Hale were figuring out how to get their legs into the sack. “He was furious when I told him I might enter the three-legged race with Cassie.”
He smiled. It was impossible for Logan to stay in poor spirits. If the contestants weren’t laughing at themselves as they tried the get their legs into the sacks, the spectators were doing it for them. One pair tumbled down in a tangle before they could line up. Their being a young married couple only added to the merriment. The only serious faces in the crowd belonged to the Hill brothers, who were determined to win the race. According to their mother, they’d been practicing for a week.
“I don’t know how a woman is supposed to participate in this race without exposing her legs,” Sibyl complained.
“Then we won’t compete,” Logan said. “I’d never do anything to embarrass you.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” Sibyl protested, “just frustrated. I never thought I’d see the day when I wished I was wearing pants.”
Logan was thankful that day hadn’t come. The thought of Sibyl’s body clearly outlined by a pair of pants made him weak in the knees. He nearly stumbled getting his leg into the sack. When it came into contact with Sibyl’s leg, he was in danger of collapsing on the spot. But that was only the beginning. Seconds later, their bodies were touching from knee to shoulder. Logan felt a dizzy spell coming on, but he didn’t know if it was due to his illness or Sibyl’s nearness.
“They’re about to start,” Cassie shouted. “Look lively.”
This was no time to have a dizzy spell. If he did anything to cause Sibyl to fall, he’d never forgive himself. The idea of a woman of her character being tumbled in the grass was nothing short of a nightmare.
“Are you ready?” Sibyl asked him.
“Yes. You?”
“I’m excited,” she said. “Norman would never have let me do anything like this. He would have said it was disrespectful of his mother’s memory. I don’t remember that woman very well, but my mother says she was stiff and disagreeable. I never could understand why both her sons practically worshipped her.”
Logan could barely remember his mother. For the first years after he was adopted, he missed her a lot, but his father took him everywhere he went, got him involved in everything he did. Gradually, Logan didn’t have time to miss his birth parents. That used to make him feel guilty. After a while, even that feeling went away.
The starter’s pistol sounded before any more memories could resurrect themselves.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Sibyl said as she charged forward. “I want to win this race. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted to do anything more in my life.”
Logan would have done just about anything to make Sibyl happy. Winning a three-legged race might not seem like much, but he had a feeling it was more that his illness-ravaged body could accomplish. Still, he’d chased down a runaway team of horses. Surely running a three-legged race would be easier.
If he hadn’t been so busy concentrating on avoiding failure, he might have been able to enter into the spirit of the event. Everyone on the sidelines was loudly cheering on their favorites. The contestants exhorted each other to make a greater effort to win the race for the honor of…well, it didn’t matter if there was no one or nothing to honor. Winning was enough.
“Come on,” Sibyl hollered to Logan over the noise of the crowd. “We’ve got to catch the Hill boys. We can’t let two children beat us.”
Those two children were healthy, active teenage boys who were moving as though they’d walked on three legs all their lives. That week of practice was paying off.
“We’ve got to match our strides,” Logan said to Sibyl. “Those boys are running like they really do have only three legs.”
It was hard to do at first, but once they got the hang of it, it was surprisingly easy. Before long, they managed to pass all the other contestants except the Hill boys.
“Faster,” Sibyl encouraged. “We’re gaining.”
Only because the Hill boys’ sack had caught on a stump or a root, and they had stumbled. Quick as a flash, they were up again. It would take another stumble for Sibyl and Logan to win, but that was no reason not to try. His breath was coming in painful gasps, and his head felt like it was about to explode, but he ignored it. Sibyl wanted to win this race. He was going to win it for her if it killed him.
The boys stumbled again. Apparently, having lost their rhythm, they were having trouble getting it back.
“We’re gaining!” Sibyl exalted. “A little faster, and we’ll win.”
It probably said something unflattering about Logan’s character, or his up
bringing, but he was surprised by Sibyl’s athleticism. The women he knew rarely left their homes for anything other than shopping. Walking too fast was considered unladylike. Running was simply never done. Yet here was Sibyl, as much a lady as any he’d ever known, not only running this race, but straining to win. He had to pick up his pace, or he’d be the reason they didn’t win.
Logan didn’t know where he found the extra energy or the will to fight the agony he was putting his body through, but somehow he did. Maybe it was some hidden reserve, some part of his mind that didn’t care about pain. Maybe it was his last chance to achieve something before his body failed him. It didn’t matter. It was only a few yards to the finish line. He would give it everything he had. He would have eternity to rest.
It sounded as though the whole town was cheering for them to win. He could hear the childlike soprano of Kitty cutting through the only slightly lower sopranos of Peter and Esther. Naomi and Cassie’s voices fitted somewhere in the middle between Steve’s tenor and the baritones of Jared and Colby. There were many voices he didn’t know, including a bass that rumbled across the field like distant thunder.
“Only a few more strides, and we’ll have it,” Sibyl exclaimed between gasps for breath.
Logan wanted to see where the Hill boys were, but he was so tired his eyes were losing focus. All he could see was the line just a dozen feet away and the blur that was the cheering throng. Calling on the last of his energy, Logan and Sibyl hurtled toward the finish line—at which point they stumbled and fell into a tangled heap.
If Logan had had the energy, he would have been caught between the need to disentangle himself from Sibyl as quickly as possible, and the desire to prolong their nearness as long as possible. As it was, he was incapable of doing anything beyond drawing painful breaths into his exhausted body. His head was swimming, his senses overladen. How then—when he felt nearer to death than ever before—could his body be reacting to Sibyl’s nearness? It was impossible for his pulse to pound any louder in his head, for his heart to beat any faster, for his breath to be any shorter, yet he could feel that physical pull, the heady sensation, that comes when a man is close to a woman he desires.
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