Logan's Land

by Serita Stevens

  “I assume you’re referring to last night, Miss Edwards.” He boldly laced his arm through mine as he guided me to one of the tables. “Just bring me coffee, Ma,” he turned his head momentarily and shouted back toward the kitchen.

  The hostility of the woman immediately vanished. “Anything you say, Logan.”

  I was stunned that people could be so easily fooled. Or perhaps they weren’t fooled. Perhaps, being stuck in this town, they had no choice but to ingratiate themselves with a man like Logan James.

  Well, I did not.

  “Please,” I said, trying to control my temper. “Take your hand off me.”

  He shrugged and continued leading the way to one of the checkered clothed tables, expecting me to follow like one of his cattle.

  Instead, mutinously, I stood right there. “I said, you do not have to buy me breakfast. I will take care of my own food.”

  He smiled at me and shrugged again. “Ma’am, it’s custom out here in these parts t’ pay for the pleasure of dinin’ with a pretty lady.”

  “Well, you are not dining with me. You’re just having coffee, sir, and I wish you would do it at another table.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “By God,” he shook his head. “I do like your spirit, Miss Elisa.”

  I flushed. Somehow hearing my name on his lips sounded funny.

  “Lookee here, I know you’re upset about last night and I’d be too if I were a lady pretty as you, but these things happen out here. We don’t have much law — ”

  “Isn’t Sheriff Washburne the law?”

  Logan twisted his hand this way and that as if to say it really didn’t signify. “Clay is only as good as he wants to be.”

  I wondered what that meant, but I supposed I would find out.

  Before I could question him further, Ma Peters came out with a tray heaped with food. Not only were there the eggs, a whole rasher of bacon and coffee I had asked for, but a stack of flapjacks as high as my hand.

  “I didn’t order that.”

  “Nope, but he did.” She patted Logan’s arm maternally. “He’s a growin’ boy.”

  “Ma Peters,” Logan shook his head.

  “Go on. Eat,” she urged, pushing him down at the nearest table and disappearing back into the kitchen.

  Logan’s eyebrow raised as I placed the saucer of milk on the floor. My little friend sniffled, looked at me looked at the milk and then again at me.

  “Go on,” I urged, petting her gently and then pushing her forward.

  Her pink tongue darted in and out and soon her head was bent to the bowl.

  “Like little things, don’t ya?” He smiled up at me. “You going to join me, Miss Edwards? After all, this is your food.”

  More hungry than disgusted, I pulled out the chair and scooped some of the egg off the platter. And realized that indeed I was not only hungry, I was starving.

  As I sipped the coffee, which was far better than that at the stagecoach stops, I found my head clearing.

  We ate in silence. I had the feeling he wanted to say something, but I was glad he did not, for I was not in the mood to converse with him.

  Finally, after we had polished off the last of the pancakes together, he spoke. “You make any plans yet?”

  “Plans for what?”

  “Why, for stayin’ here. I assumed that’s what you’re gonna do.”

  I looked at him and found myself mesmerized by those hypnotic blue eyes of his. For a moment I could not speak.

  “I... don’t know yet. I... I’m still waiting to hear from my cousin.” I found myself trembling as I spoke to him and didn’t even know why I was shaking so.

  “Well, that job I offered you last night is still open; if you want t’take it, that is.”

  It took all my restraint to respond decently. “I said no. If I take a job, it will be here in town.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself, Miss Elisa.” He smiled at me for a very brief moment. I could see why some of the ladies seemed to think he was handsome. Not that I did, of course, but I was sure when he wanted to, he could turn on the charm.

  To my surprise, kitten was taken in and jumped on his lap rather than mine. I expected him to push her off, but he didn’t.

  However, I was not in the mood now to think of him or kitten or any other man. I wanted to find Drucilla and talk to her about Elliot.

  “You’ll excuse me, sir.”

  “Logan, please.” His hand covered mine and I felt the flush creep up my cheeks.

  Irritated I replied. “Logan, then. You will excuse me. I have some matters to attend to.”

  “Go on,” he grinned, not removing his hand from mine. “But just know, pretty Elisa, that job’ll be open when you want it. And I’ll be in town a few more days afore I head out, so I suggest you make up your mind right quick.”

  I yanked my arm from his grasp this time. “I have already made up my mind. Mr. James.” I swept the stray from his lap and walked out of the restaurant in search of my roommate.

  Chapter 7

  At first, I thought Drucilla might have returned to the room while I was gone, since several items of clothing had been tossed on the chair. Then I realized it was my clothing which had been thrown about, and my portmanteau which had been opened!

  None of Drucilla’s things seemed to have been touched. Someone had been searching through my belongings and did not try to keep it a secret. But for what and why?

  The blood must have drained from my head, for dizziness overcame me as I sank down on the bed and looked about the room. Worried, I searched for my father’s gold watch – the only real item of value I had with me other than the small amount of coin. But the watch was fine and still in the valise pocket.

  Then I felt the broken porcelain and tears came to my eyes as I pulled out the remains of my china doll. The toy had belonged to my mother, and I had carried it with me as my one reminder of her, in hopes that I’d someday be able to pass it on to my own child. I allowed myself a few moments to sob as I tried to fit the pieces of doll back together, but I knew it was forever broken just as my life would be without my brother.

  I stroked the china brow and sniffled as I thought of my family and of Elliot.

  Had it been Drucilla? Was that why I hadn’t found her at the restaurant?

  It dawned on me suddenly that Logan James had appeared there “accidentally.” And certainly the fact that he claimed to have already eaten breakfast when he first entered, but that he was willing to eat again in my company could mean only one thing. He had been there to detain me for the time it took his hireling to search my things.

  But what was he looking for? I had very little money and certainly nothing else of worth. Other than the few letters from my brother, which I carried with me in my reticule, I could think of nothing that Logan James would want with me.

  Immediately, I pulled Elliot’s letters from their safekeeping and reread the few of them I had. My hands trembled as I touched the crumpled papers. Did the clue to my brother’s disappearance lie within these pages? I had read them not once, but several times, on this arduous journey always hearing Elliot’s voice with that slight lisp Mama had found so endearing. But I had seen nothing in them about a claim, or about his fears.

  Carefully, I perused the letters again. Yes, he had mentioned working for Logan James, and he had mentioned the beauty of the ranch country where Logan’s cattle were, and the north pasture in particular. He wrote about the glowing length of the mountains, the valleys, and the surrounding wide-open spaces. In another letter he talked again about the surprise that he would have for me when I came, about how rich we would be and how wonderful everything would be for me, for us. But I could see nothing which would cause anyone to ransack my room and destroy my belongings.

  Chilled, I began to refold my pitifully few gowns, feeling as if I, myself, had been violated by this invasion. I was even more determined than before to find Drucilla and talk with her about Elliot, his claim, and about his relationsh
ip with Logan James.

  Indeed, the less I thought about Logan James the better. With that piercing intense gaze of his, I felt he could use the powers of Lucifer himself to read my very soul.

  My valuables safely tucked back in their hiding place I took one more look around the room before leaving once again.

  Downstairs, Charlie was leaning against the wall of glasses, his feet propped up on the marble bar, dozing. I had wanted to ask him where else I might find Drucilla but thought better of it. For all I knew, he had been the one to tell Logan that I was in the restaurant and perhaps he might even have been the one to search the room. After all, there had been no evidence of forced entry.

  Perturbed, I decided to check with my new friend at the telegraph office and see what she could tell me about Elliot and about Drucilla’s relationship with Logan. Until I knew more about her, I certainly did not want to trust her, no matter how likeable she might seem. It was true I had already foolishly bared my soul and exposed my secret to two people in this town and I hoped that that would not cause me grief.

  I did not think Drucilla would betray Elliot and certainly, she had seemed fond of him – what little she had told me. But then Elliot had never been a good judge of character, and like me he had always been too trusting.

  Tears came to my eyes as I once more crossed the wide dusty street, being more careful this time to make sure no horsemen were coming from either direction, I hurried towards the telegraph office.

  ~

  Much to my disappointment, Theora wasn’t behind the wooden partition this morning.

  “Ken I help ya?” A crane-like beak, glasses perched on it precariously, poked out at me.

  “I’m looking for Theora Lewis.”

  “Ain’t here.” He pulled back into the small room where the telegraph machine began clicking.

  Impatiently, I waited, tapping my foot in time to clicks of the machine.

  “Ken I help you?” He repeated, coming to the window again.

  “Theora ... where might I locate her?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Please.” I looked up, beseeching him as I tried to use my feminine wiles. “It’s important.”

  He sighed and bit off a huge chunk of chewing tobacco.

  “Please,” I said again. “I really do need to speak with her.”

  He spat out the disgusting wad, missing the bucket at the far wall, and splattering brown where other stains showed he had missed before.

  “She took sick.”

  At last, I was getting somewhere. “Where is she?”

  “Gone home.” He eyed me strangely.

  “Where’s her home?”

  “Don’t know.”

  He was lying. The look in his eyes told me. My heart thudded.

  “Doesn’t she live here in town?”

  “Guess so.” He bit off more tobacco, spitting this time hitting his target. Disgusted, I looked away. After a moment’s pause, he added. “Went with her daughter, she did. Don’t rightly know when she’ll be back.”

  Once again, I knew he was lying. Theora had mentioned only recently being married, and old as she was, I found it ludicrous that she could have a daughter, or could she? Certainly, the girl wouldn’t be old enough to come fetch her mother and take her away, would she be?

  It seemed painfully obvious that Theora had been scared away by Logan James.

  I waited a moment more, wondering if I should leave a message, but my gut told me that whatever message I might leave would not be read by Theora.

  As the click of the machine started again, I walked back out into the bright sun. I felt like the queen in the game of chess which Elliot had been so fond of – a queen that was slowly being denuded of her pawns and supports.

  Would I be the one captured next?

  Kitten squirmed, and I let her down, too lost in my own problems for a moment to pay attention. The bank was closed for lunch and I decided I’d return later this afternoon.

  At a loss as to where I could go now. I reentered the blinding sunshine of the Montana noonday. A dusty haze now hung in the air as I tried to think of what I could do.

  Glancing up towards the room I shared with Drucilla. I knew that to go back there would just make me despair of ever finding the truth in this desolate wilderness.

  I knew I should be concentrating on trying to find a position, so that I could survive until I had saved enough to return to Chicago or until Elliot came for me.

  He was not dead, I told myself, and wherever he was, I would find him. The only questions were how and when.

  Shielding my eyes from the glaring rays, I rested my sight for a moment on the steeple of the once-white, weathered church and decided that spiritual comfort was what I needed now. Besides, if no one else could help me, surely the preacher would be on the side of God.

  Lifting my skirts so that the dust wouldn’t dirty them more than they already were, I threaded my way through the narrow side street and paused as I came into the opening at the end of the street.

  The church was a good hundred yards more and was surrounded by tall, waving grass nearly as high as my head. From this distance, it looked as if the building had been boarded up, but how could that be. I distinctly recalled the sheriff telling me that there was a church here.

  As I pushed past the obstacles of the waving grass, my disappointment grew. The church stood like lonely orphan in the midst of emptiness. I fought the tears, but the desolation weighed heavily on my heart.

  Nevertheless, I continued forward. Yes, there was someone there. Someone leaned against the fence. The preacher? The person wore something bright red.

  Was that appropriate for a minister? I thought not, but I’d already learned things were different in the West. Chicago seemed a world away.

  Anxious to speak to someone with whom I could share my fears, I hurried forward, not heeding the tall grasses which now scratched my arms and face.

  I slowed and then halted as fear stabbed at me and my heart stuck in my throat. The so still person propped up against the fence was not the preacher and not a man at all.

  The red cloth waved in the mild breeze.

  Then, hesitantly, I approached the figure. “Drucilla?” I waited for her to open her eyes and say something. “Drucilla, what in the world do you do out here? Did you know that our room was invaded? I need to talk with you about Elliot... about my brother.”

  No response came. My chatter fell on the empty space about me and echoed in the rising wind.

  “Drucilla?” I reached out to touch my roommate’s shoulder. I would have thought my scream could be heard back to town as she fell forward. Drucilla wasn’t going to talk to me about Elliot, either.

  Drucilla was dead.

  Chapter 8

  “Injuns?” The first man asked as several stampeded from the town.

  Still stunned, I shook shake my head and pointed to the red lace trail torn from Drucilla’s body. I wanted to cry but somehow, I could not.

  “Jesus H!” another man exclaimed. “Poor Dru. How we’s gonna tell Sam?”

  “Tell Sam what?” The voice behind me demanded.

  Even if I had not recognized the voice, I had sensed the arrogance of Logan James who now stood to my left.

  He stepped forward and surveyed the scene.

  “Get Doc Carter.”

  “Ain’t that a bit late, Logan?”

  “Just get him,” Logan commanded.

  The other man shrugged.

  I realized then that Logan was not a man to be disobeyed. Certainly not in this town. He took two long strides over to the body and touched her wrist as he took her pulse.

  Studying him I thought that he didn’t appear surprised at this death. Either he was so used to death that it no longer bothered him, or he’d expected to see Drucilla’s lifeless body.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  He turned his attention to me.

  Despite my wishes, I felt myself drawn in by those intense eyes of his.
It was almost as if he’d drained me of my willpower. A shiver went through me as, still unable to speak, I shook my head.

  Much to my surprise, Logan returned to where I stood and placed his hands on my shoulders. I recoiled, but only slightly. Did the insensitive lout even notice?

  Mayhap he wanted to strangle me, too? From the marks on her neck, it appeared that that was how Drucilla had died.

  To my amazement, his voice sounded gentle now. “Go on. Tell me what happened. How did you find her?”

  Despite his soothing tone, the tears, which I’d held back, rushed forward like a broken dam.

  He looked at me strangely.

  I felt so stupid and foolish for crying like an idiot in front of him, especially since I was positive that he’d been the last one to see Drucilla alive. But my sobs continued unabated.

  Once again, to my amazement, Mr. James removed a linen hankie from his pocket, and gently wiped my face. A tenderness I never would have expected.

  “Giles,” he turned to one of the men, “take Miss Edwards back to the hotel. I’ll clean this situation up with Doc and talk with her later.”

  I started to shake my head. I wanted to remain, to see what happened, to see that justice would be done, but the look in his eyes made me decide to go along with his suggestion for the moment.

  Sniffling, I lifted my head. “I can walk back on my own. Thank you.”

  A slight smile touched his lips. “I like your spirit, Miss Edwards, but I think it best for Giles to walk you back. It’s not safe for a young woman to be wandering ‘bout on her own. Certainly not one of your caliber.”

  I sighed. Was he afraid who I might talk to or see? Did he plan to cover up any evidence while I was gone and forget this terrible deed? Were all the men present in his employ?

  There seemed little else I could do at the moment and so I acquiesced and accepted the arm which the cowhand offered to me.

  Later, I would find where the church now was and pray for Drucilla’s soul.

  Even as we started back to town, his voice carried. He asked the other men questions about Drucilla’s whereabouts the night before. Surely, it was an act being played for my sake. After all, he was a con man just as I’d seen at the World’s Fair. The awful sourness in my stomach told me that Drucilla had died because of me.