Logan drummed his fingers against the glass in his hand. He'd come a long way since the days the flat-broke bronc buster had run across Big Jack Kilpatrick in a West Texas bar. His investment in the Corsicana oil field had paid off, and the one in East Texas was looking good. His only question was how much Caroline Kilpatrick would ask for. "So, how much money were you figuring to extort from me?"
She blinked in surprise. "I don't want your money."
"Then what do you want?" he snapped back. "Apparently you've already taken my name."
"You gave me your name. Believe me, there have been plenty of times I'd have loved to give it back. But in a way, I guess it is your name I need—Lucky Logan Grey. I read of your exploits in the newspaper, the gun battles you've won, the outlaws you've brought to justice. The Daily Democrat says that you're the luckiest man in Texas. That's what I need. I need luck, a lot of luck."
Luck. Well, hell. In his peripheral vision, Logan saw the McBride sisters—the Bad Luck Brides—share a significant look. He looked past Caroline Kilpatrick to the doorway, thinking he'd be smart to make tracks. Now that his trouble-sense had finally kicked in, it was telling him that his life was about to change.
Nevertheless, he asked the question. "Why?"
"Because you and I made more than a mistake that night at the Magnolia Hotel. We made a son. I named him William Benjamin. Will."
Holy hell. Even as shock rolled through Logan's system, he saw her swallow hard, watched pain flash across her face. Her next faltering words were a second punch that made his blood run cold.
"Two weeks ago, Will ran off to join a gang of outlaws. I need your help, Logan Grey, your good luck, to bring him safely back home."
CHAPTER FOUR
The Willow Hill drawing room went quiet as a tomb in the wake of her shocking announcement. Waiting for someone to speak, Caroline thought her heart might just beat out of her chest. She'd never expected confronting him to be easy, but it had proved harder than she'd expected. Much harder. She hadn't thought she'd feel any sympathy for him at all.
But she did.
She believed him.
He had been just as big a dupe as she. She could see her father doing exactly as Logan claimed.
Big Jack Kilpatrick had been a difficult man. Demanding, oftentimes cold, he'd run the K-Bar with an iron fist and a ready draw. It took a hard man to wrangle a living out of the plains of West Texas, but Caroline suspected her father had been harder than most. For most of her life she'd felt as if he valued his cattle more than her. She'd simply never mattered to the man.
Well, except when he'd needed her money.
She'd been a means to an end. Logan, too. If she'd known then what she knew now, she wouldn't have grieved so much when Big Jack died after being thrown from a snake-spooked horse three weeks after her "wedding." He'd hit his head on a rock and lingered unconscious for three days before passing.
The next day the lawyer had arrived and informed her of her father's gambling habit. She'd been shocked to discover that not only had he used her inheritance to pay off a mountain of debt, a second mountain just as high remained. When the dust settled, she'd had next to nothing left.
That's when Ben and Suzanne Whitaker entered her life, and she thanked God for that blessing every day since.
The reminder of her purpose here gave her strength and allowed her to shore up her defenses where Logan Grey— a now-shaky, pasty-looking Logan Grey—was concerned.
He cleared his throat. "You want to run that by me again?"
She licked her dry lips, then told the truth. "You are the father of my son."
He closed his eyes for a long minute, but when he opened them, they glowed with fury. "I don't believe you. This is some sort of ugly extortion plot that you've invented because I've made money in the past few years. We are not really married, and you damn sure didn't have my child. This is some scheme you've cooked up. Guess you take after your father in that regard."
"This is no—"
"Listen up, sweetheart," he interrupted, taking a threatening step toward her. His voice was cold and mean, his eyes flat and hard as granite. "You are a liar and a fraud and I'll be damned if I'll let you pass off another man's brat as my own. Now you need to get the hell out of here!"
The room went quiet, the others' shock at his reaction obvious.
Caroline's mouth was bone-dry as she went to open her suddenly very heavy purse, then hesitated. She could still back out. She could agree with him and make her escape and never see the man again. She wouldn't have to juggle the complications that involving him in their lives would invariably create.
But no, she'd already made this decision. She'd come too far to back out now, and she needed his help. Ben needed his help. Poor, devastated, crazy-with-grief Ben, who had taken in a homeless, penniless, pregnant girl and given her everything. Ben, who loved Will from the moment he was born, who protected him, provided for him. Ben who had stepped into the shoes of fatherhood because Logan was nowhere around.
Well, Ben needed her now the way she had needed him then, and Logan was their only hope.
She'd tried to hire someone else to do the job for her. She'd searched hard to find a man willing to brave the rumored evils of that place for the limited purse she had to offer. Quickly, she'd learned an undeniable truth: only a man with powerful motivation would voluntarily enter Black Shadow Canyon.
Logan Grey was the man. And because securing Ben Whitaker's safety simply wouldn't be enough, their son, Will, would be the motivation.
Which brought her here to this moment, offering up partial truths and a big fat lie. The lie provided Logan powerful motivation—saving his son. And the truth— the truth gave him Will!
Will was the greatest gift Logan Grey would ever receive. Will offset the price of the lie tenfold. A thousandfold.
Filled with righteous, maternal certainty, Caroline reached into her purse, pulled out the photograph and handed it to Logan.
"Holy hell," he breathed.
Gazing over his shoulder, Holt said, "He's your spittin' image."
Cade took a look, then blew out a long whistle. "Boy looks exactly like you did when you were his age."
"A son." Logan raked his fingers through his hair, his expression stunned and bewildered. He stared at the photograph, his jade eyes wide with shock.
He believes me now. Caroline nodded. "Yes."
At that, Emma MacRae stood. "Let's take a walk, shall we? I think Lucky and Miss...Mrs....um.. .and Caroline deserve some privacy."
Caroline was grateful. After the women had stood up for her, lying to them didn't set well.
Logan poured himself another drink while the others exited the room. Kat Kimball looked as if she wanted to protest, but her husband ushered her from the drawing room while murmuring in her ear. Driscoll and Hollis-ter each slapped Logan's back in support on their way out the door.
When they were alone, Logan took a long sip of whiskey, then said, "He's what...fifteen?"
"Fourteen."
"Fourteen," he repeated. He sounded a bit fearful when he added, "I have a fourteen-year-old son."
"He has your green eyes." At that his gaze flew her to her face, and the quick flash of pleasure she spied in his eyes prompted her to add, "And your dark hair, your smile. I could never forget you, Logan Grey, because I see you every day in my son."
It was as true a statement as she'd made all night.
Logan blew out a heavy breath. "I can't quite wrap my mind around this. I never thought... Tell me about him."
Taking pity on him, she provided more detail than anyone other than a parent could possibly want. "He was only one week old when he smiled at me the first time. My friends told me that it was too soon, that it was only gas, but I didn't believe them. He got his first tooth at six months and began crawling at eight. He took his first steps in the aisle at the mercantile on his first birthday."
She spoke at length, and he listened raptly, asking occasional questions as she too
k him through the years until she told him about the Will of today. "He's a great kid. Everything a mother could hope for. He's smart and he's witty and he's kind. So kind. Oh, he's far from perfect—I can't tell you how many times he's late for supper—but it's his imperfections that make him all the more...well..."
"Perfect," Logan finished. At that point, he took his drink and walked to a window where he spent long minutes gazing outside without saying a word.
Caroline's nerves stretched so tight that when he finally spoke, she jumped.
"Let me make sure I have this straight. You claim you thought that we had a legal marriage, and yet you never bothered to inform me that I'd become a father?"
She refused to be battered by that argument. Suzanne used to scold her for not contacting Logan after she first saw his name in a newspaper when Will was eight. Caroline didn't care. "I was seventeen, destitute and alone with a baby on the way. At that point, I was busy trying to survive. Tracking you down was not a priority for me. After all, you left me and never looked back."
In her mind, with that single act he had forfeited any rights he might have where Will was concerned.
"I didn't know I needed to look back. I mailed an address to your father, a way to reach me if it proved necessary." His brow furrowed. "Why were you destitute and alone? Did you tell him we bedded down together? Did he kick you out when he found out about the baby?"
"No. He never knew. He died before I discovered I was expecting."
Logan blew out a hard breath, then slumped into a chair. "I never thought... Hell. I've always taken care with the women I've been with. Except for that night, that is. When I never heard from Big Jack, I decided I'd dodged a bullet. Swore I wouldn't be careless again." The light in his eyes reflected how much the idea disturbed him, as he added, "I grew up without a father, and I promised myself I'd never do that to a child of my own."
A wave of compassion rolled through Caroline and prompted her response. "For what it's worth, Will doesn't hold it against you. He's proud that his father is a range detective."
"He knows?" Surprise lit his eyes. "What have you told him about me?"
Caroline squirmed a bit at that question. "Actually, I told him very little about you other than your name. Until recently, I didn't know how curious he was about you. I knew he spent a lot of time reading old newspapers, but I thought he was trying to learn the profession."
"Half of what has been written about me are lies."
"Tell him that when you meet him."
Logan leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. "So just how bad is it? Who is he riding with and what are they doing? Robbing trains? Rustling cattle?"
Well, shoot. She'd hadn't thought to research outlaw gangs, and she couldn't pull a name of one associated with Black Shadow Canyon from memory. "I don't know the name of the gang. He didn't tell me that in the note he left. What he did say is that he's gone to Black Shadow Canyon."
Logan went still. He cleared his throat. "Where?"
"Black Shadow Canyon."
He sat back in his chair hard. "No. Not there. Anywhere but there."
"I know it's not a nice place, but—"
"Not a nice place?" Logan shoved to his feet and reached for the whiskey decanter, refilling his glass with a hand that slightly trembled. "It's the roughest, meanest, most dangerous place in the West! It makes Tombstone, Arizona, in its heyday look like a Sunday stroll in a children's park. Jesus Christ, Caroline. Tell me my son isn't lost in that den of thieves and murderers!"
His son.
Caroline bristled at the idea. Will was her son. He had been hers and hers alone for the past fourteen years. Did Logan Grey truly think he could lay claim to a child so easily?
She folded her arms. What really made a man a father, anyway? The simple act of creation or the infinitely more complicated act of daily nurturing, teaching and providing? Caroline certainly had an opinion about that.
And yet, he'd accepted Will as his with little protest or resistance. She hadn't needed pressure from his friends as she'd expected. It wouldn't be necessary to shame Lucky Logan Grey into assisting her, not as long as he thought he was going to rescue his son.
His son.
Those two little words spoken with such caring and concern by this man—this same man whom she'd spent almost half her life cursing and despising and maligning—threatened to turn her world upside down.
The shame rested not with him, but with her. It appeared he wasn't as guilty as she'd thought him to be. He didn't deserve this worry she'd deposited at his feet.
"Caroline?"
She held herself stiffly. "I'm sorry, Logan. I wish I could tell you that Will hasn't disappeared into that place, but I can't." It would ruin everything. "I understand that you've gone into that den of thieves and come back out alive."
Logan ignored that. He shoved to his feet and started pacing the room. "How in the world did a fourteen-year-old boy make his way into that cesspool? Why would he want to? I need to know everything, Caroline, in order to formulate a plan to get him out. Start at the beginning. Tell me who influenced the boy and why."
Caroline gathered her thoughts, reminding herself of all the reasons she'd chosen this particular path. "After my father died, I had to sell the ranch to pay off his debts. By that time I was six months along, and I had nowhere to go, no one to help me."
Logan muttered an ugly curse.
She continued, "I found a job in Artesia helping the editor of the newspaper care for his wife, who was recovering from a buggy accident. I can't tell you what a miracle it was for me to find that job with the Whitakers. Not only did it save me from the whorehouse, it gave me a family. People to love who loved me in return. Then Will was born, and Ben and Suzanne fell silly in love with him at first sight. We made a family and—"
"Wait a minute. Ben and Suzanne Whitaker? The Whitakers? Not Gunslinging Suz. Surely you're not talking about the Whitakers who rode with the Sunshine Gang."
"They were retired." For the most part, anyway. She wasn't about to mention Ben's "little slips" as he liked to call them.
Logan braced his hands on his hips. "Are you telling me my son has been raised by outlaws?"
His son. Suddenly, she was real tired of hearing that. She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. "Suzanne was never convicted of anything, and Ben served his time in prison. He paid his debt to society. He's a good man who lived to regret some youthful indiscretions. Surely you can understand that."
"Good Lord. The Whitakers!" Logan closed his eyes and after a moment made a circular motion with his hand, prompting her to continue.
Caroline found her determination strengthened by his reaction to the Whitaker name. She'd been correct in her assessment that he wouldn't be motivated to save Ben. She was doing the right thing, the only thing. "Everything was good, we had a fine life, until we lost Suzanne in January."
"Lost her?"
"She died. Fell down the stairs. Will found her when he came home from school."
Logan stopped pacing in front of the window. He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and once again stared outside. After a long moment, he said, "That had to be a hard knock for the boy."
"He suffered. We all suffered. Ben went a little crazy in his grief."
Logan whipped his head around and stared at her. "Did Whitaker mistreat the boy? Is that why he ran off?"
"Oh, heavens no. Ben adores Will. It's been a battle for me to keep him from spoiling my son silly."
"So why in the world would he want to become an outlaw?"
Caroline opened her mouth to talk about the appeal of rustling cattle, but she couldn't quite force herself to make Will look like a criminal in his father's eyes. "Well, that's not exactly what happened. It's more complicated than that."
"Complicated how?"
Caroline's teeth tugged at her lower lip as she tried to decide what truths to stretch. She hadn't intended to mention the gold until later, but maybe that was a mistake. After
all, Logan had helped Dair MacRae and his wife and in-laws find the Bad Luck Treasure. The prospect of another treasure hunt might appeal to him. "Will doesn't want to be an outlaw, but he had to join a gang to be allowed inside Black Shadow Canyon. He wants access to the canyon to hunt for a lost gold mine."
"A what?"
"A gold mine. He has a treasure map."
"Oh, for God's sake. Not another treasure." Logan grimaced and let out a long-suffering sigh.
Oh, dear. That wasn't a particularly encouraging sign, but it was too late to back out now.
He pinned her with a stony stare. "Tell me about it."
Caroline concentrated on choosing her next words carefully, especially since this part of her story was heavy on falsehoods. "A few weeks after Suzanne died, Ben asked me to pack away Suzanne's personal belongings. He couldn't do it himself."
Actually, he had forbidden anyone from touching anything of his late wife's. Caroline only breached that privacy after Ben disappeared.
"I found a stack of letters from an old friend. One of them described his discovery of a gold mine called Sierra de Cenizas."
Logan grimaced and groaned. "Otherwise known as Geronimo's Treasure."
"You're familiar with the story?"
"Every cowboy who's ridden the trail in West Texas has heard that old yarn. An Indian guide showed the mine to Spanish explorers, who loaded down their mules with nuggets and ore to carry back home. They were all massacred in the great Indian uprising of 1680, but not before one of them left a document in the Palace of Sante Fe that described the discovery. Prospectors have been chasing that old legend and poking holes in the Guadalupe Mountains for half a century now."
"Apparently Shotgun found it."
"Shotgun Reese?"
"You know him?"
"I know of him. I know that he threw in with another bunch of pups after the Sunshine Gang broke up. He made quite a name for himself, participated in some sensational robberies. Wells Fargo wanted him bad. After a while, though, he disappeared from sight."
"That's probably because he didn't need to steal anymore since he'd found the gold mine."
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