Claire’s body shook violently as the touch of death closed around them. Her mind screamed for it to stop.
Maggie closed her eyes. “I see a lavender sunset,” she whispered. “Just like the ones when I was a little girl.”
“No,” Claire yelled. “Don’t go! Don’t leave me!” In desperation she wrapped her arms around her mama’s shoulders, but Maggie didn’t move.
Grief slammed into Claire. She couldn’t be gone. Not her mama. How could her life end in just a few short seconds?
Clinging to the lifeless body, she knew it had to be some huge mistake. Maybe she could remove the bullet from her mama’s bloody abdomen. With shaking hands she began to examine the wound, but couldn’t see with the darkness and tears blurring her vision.
It was all her fault. She should have shot at Sandoval sooner.
“Claire, she’s gone, and Griffin’s still loose, we’ve got to go.”
She ignored Logan and his hands that pulled at her.
The bullet had been meant for me. Mama saved me.
Damn you, Mama. Claire began to scream. It was an unbearable sacrifice and she wanted none of it. All she wanted was her mama back. The anguish and loss cut deep, so deep she suffocated from the pain.
Logan held her as she fought him, wrapping her tightly into his arms. “We have to go now, Claire. We have to find Jimmy before Frank does.” The statement—and Logan’s urgency—broke through her grief.
She stumbled as he dragged her away from her mama’s lifeless body, and said what she hadn’t since she was a very young girl. “I love you, Mama.” But the words had come too late.
Chapter Nineteen
Claire waited for Logan at Tia’s cabin. Rain drummed on the roof, the steady thudding the only thing cutting into her numb emotions. The past three days had been a blur; she functioned as if she couldn’t catch her breath, as if a train had hit her full-speed and all she could do was stumble from one moment to the next.
Unprepared for the aftermath of her mama’s death, Claire felt lost in a haze of grief, bombarded by memories and what-ifs. Her head ached from echoes of the past that afflicted her day and night. The funeral that morning hadn’t given her closure, it simply added more salt on her wounds of guilt, anger, and overwhelming loss. Shorty McClaren’s shattered countenance and Jimmy’s unstoppable crying had only broken her heart more.
Following the shootings that fateful night, she had found Jimmy hiding in the chapel. He’d been the person firing at the building, having taken Myers’ gun from the dead man’s body. Fortunately, only four bullets had remained in the weapon and Jimmy quickly discharged them, leaving Claire grateful beyond measure that her brother hadn’t hurt himself in the reckless attempt to help them. Jimmy had thought Frank was inside the building, and was horrified when he learned that Claire and their mama had been the occupants. With a heavy heart, she had given him the news of Maggie’s death and then brought him here to Tia’s to care for him.
During all of this she had ignored Logan’s silent despair, rebuffing her husband and burying any feelings she had ever harbored for him. She told herself it was for the best. He’d reluctantly taken a room at the Wagner Hotel.
With Harry Myers and Raul Sandoval dead, Frank Griffin sat in jail, nabbed by Logan when he attempted to sneak into the chapel. Logan showed little mercy or kindness to her mama’s husband, suiting Claire just fine. Had Griffin truly cared for Maggie? If so, she hoped the pain of losing her would haunt him for the rest of his days.
Claire had no pity to give; Griffin was charged with the murder of Teddy Luttrell, and she prayed it would stick. While it was probable he’d done it, proving it in a court of law would be a different matter. Even though her mama and Dee had alluded to their culpability in Luttrell’s death, Claire kept her mouth shut about their possible involvement. Frank Griffin deserved to take all the heat and she felt little remorse over it. And while she wasn’t inclined to protect Dee Griffin from jail time, Claire would have wondered at her own motives if she sent the law after the mother of Logan’s son. That kind of vindictiveness wasn’t Claire’s style. Dee disappeared from the Sangre de Cristos before any of them realized it, a bag of money in tow. She’d gone immediately to Southern Charm, held Belle at gunpoint, and demanded the return of her son. Then, she vanished without a trace. Apparently her desire to protect her son displaced any bond she and Maggie might have had. Did Dee even know Maggie was dead?
Logan would surely go after them, and Claire wondered why he hadn’t already. Ellie and Louisa told her he helped to arrange her mama’s funeral, and he’d been present at the short eulogy this morning at the cemetery on the edge of town. Tia tried to get Claire out of her stupor, to get her to talk to Logan, but Claire knew fate was about to make a clean sweep of her life. And although she expected the outcome, she hardly looked forward to it.
When the sound of hoof beats signaled a rider’s approach, Claire opened the door. The rain had stopped and a white mist hung in the air. Logan dismounted then removed the damp slicker that covered his dark jacket, vest and tie from the funeral; he came toward her, his face chiseled with a grim expression beneath the shadow of his hat. Thunder echoed in the distance, sending a shiver through Claire, and the vibration rebounded off the mountains and onto the plains below. The total sum of the man would always be what she remembered, despite the heartbreak and disillusionment, because Logan would always be worth remembering.
“It’s past time we talked,” he said, watching her intently.
Claire nodded and stepped aside as he entered the dwelling; she moved to a wooden stool near the cook fire and smoothed out the dark blue cotton of her dress as she sat. Logan removed his hat and also took a seat, separated from her by only a few feet.
“How’re you holding up?” he asked.
“I’m getting through,” she replied quietly. She braced herself for the crushing conversation he didn’t seem inclined to initiate. “I’m glad you’ve come—we need to discuss the terms of the divorce.”
Logan’s stormy gaze fixed on her and she could feel tension pour from him—it all but ignited the air in the tiny cabin.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, his tone sharp.
“Word has it Frank Griffin will walk any day. You’d best find Dee and your son before it’s too late.”
Logan’s face became rigid and his jaw flexed into a firm line. “I never meant to keep my past from you. There was never a good time to talk about it.”
“It would appear everything played to your favor.”
“I don’t know what you’re suggesting, but none of this was planned.”
“But we play the hand we’re dealt.”
“We can re-stack the cards,” he said.
“So you’re saying you don’t plan to find her, to claim your son?”
Logan’s silence was answer enough. “I didn’t marry you for the land or the money, Claire.”
“Then you won’t mind if I ask for half of it then. I’m not going to play the hand I was dealt anymore, either. I’ll split the land and the money fifty-fifty with Dee.”
“What if I don’t agree to this divorce?”
“I’m not sure it’s up for debate.”
“So, what passed between us meant nothing?”
Claire fought back a rush of tears. She’d already cried a river. How could there possibly be anything left in her? “Of course it meant something,” she said. “But you’re not free to be in this marriage—you never were. And I won’t settle for anything less.”
With those words, her perspective underwent a drastic shift. She’d never known what it was to stand up for herself, to demand what she wanted in her life, what she needed in her life. She watched him with sadness and longing, aware that losing him would hurt like hell. But a faint voice called to her, still uncertain at times, but gaining momentum with each passing day. In the midst of the sorrow she felt a surprising flicker of hope, a determination that she could face the future with conviction. She coul
d make a life for Jimmy.
“Damn.” He ran a hand over his face. “Honest to God Claire, I don’t know what’s going on with Dee. I don’t even know where she is.”
“Try Virginia City,” she said.
He watched her, absorbing the information. It was clear to her what he would do. It seemed clear to him, too.
“Do you love me?” he asked unexpectedly.
The question caught her off-guard. If she answered yes, he’d still walk away from her, in search of the woman who had once held a special place in his heart.
“No.” Through sheer willpower she held his gaze while she lied.
A flicker of pain crossed Logan’s face. “What if you’re pregnant?”
Claire hesitated. “It’s too soon, we’ve hardly been together long enough.” She hoped she wasn't pregnant, although a baby—Logan’s child, no less—would be a precious gift.
“So that’s it?” he asked. “That’s the end of us?”
Claire stood. “Don’t you dare blame all of this on me. I never expected you to marry me, but it certainly put you in the thick of things.”
“I was trying to protect you,” he said. “You sure as hell needed it. I’m not the bad guy you’re making me out to be.”
She was close to the edge of an emotional abyss of grief and misery, and she feared the slightest nudge would send her over. Not wanting it to happen in front of Logan, she reined in her sudden flash of temper. “I know,” she said. “I never did thank you for taking care of Sandoval.”
“After everything he’d done to you, he wasn’t getting off that mountain alive,” he said, his voice unwavering, his declaration absolute.
Claire gazed into eyes that had the power to draw her in and dissolve her defenses. Her body ached to be in his arms one last time, to feel his strength and his response to her. But that wasn’t love, and it wasn’t enough. God, how she wished she was the kind of woman who could settle only for the needs of the flesh. But her selfishness was also absolute—she could never share him with another woman.
“I’ll make arrangements for the divorce,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll want to ride at first light.”
Suddenly needing to be alone and in her own space, she opened the door but Logan rose and pulled her to him.
“This wasn’t how I saw it,” he said. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.”
She averted her gaze, knowing how easy it would be to slide into his arms.
“Everything ends,” she whispered. “It’s just a matter of when.”
Without a backward glance, she walked out of the cabin. Sunlight filtered through gaps in the thunderclouds as Claire walked into the forest, the same haven she had occupied as a child when dreams held promises of the future and kept the demons at bay. It was here that a dove had come to her, white-feathered and pure, the bird so precious and sweet that Claire had felt truly privileged. But no magical feathered friend would come to her today. Today was the end of a dream.
She walked mindlessly through the pine forest as pain tore through her. Tia and Jimmy appeared, and Claire realized they’d been waiting out here to give her time alone with Logan. She hugged them both as tears flowed down her face, knowing they spent part of that time in the rain.
“It will not always be this hard, Palomita,” Tia murmured.
Claire prayed she was right.
Chapter Twenty
Three months later
Claire sat down in the parlor of the main house at the SR Ranch, Jimmy at her side. Their hats and coats had been taken by Rosita, a stout Mexican woman whom Claire had become acquainted with several months earlier during her brief stay at the ranch of Jonathan and Susanna Ryan, Logan’s folks.
Rosita excused herself to find Mrs. Ryan and Claire took another deep breath, wondering if she’d been wrong to come. Nervously, she adjusted the dark wool dress she wore. The flame crackling in the fireplace was a welcome sight after their long ride from Fort Richardson in the chilly, late-October weather. A cattleman, conducting business at the fort, had aided her and Jimmy in locating the Ryan’s ranch, but Claire’s general questions about Logan had been met with a shrug from the young man.
“What do you think’s gonna happen?” Jimmy asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied.
Jimmy had taken their mama’s death hard, as had Claire—as she did still—but he’d been holding up well. Following their mama’s burial and Claire’s divorce from Logan, there had been no money with which to live—Luttrell’s stash, what was left of it, had been placed in temporary legal custody—but surprisingly Belle approached her and offered to pay for medical services. It hadn’t been much but it kept her and Jimmy afloat while they awaited Frank’s trial; Jimmy wanted to know the fate of his father.
Belle, in what Claire decided was the woman’s bid to make amends, also offered her and Jimmy a place to live, but the Hyman family also came forward with a generous offer of room and board at a minimal cost, which Claire gratefully accepted. The support offered—both emotional and practical—by the townsfolk who knew them made her feel, for the first time, as if she was a part of something, as if she belonged. It comforted her more than she could have ever imagined. She and Jimmy soon settled into a welcome routine, but when Logan contacted her at long last about the proceeds from the sale of Luttrell’s land, she felt her world slide out from under her again and knew she would have to face him.
Susanna Ryan appeared at the threshold. “What a surprise.” She crossed the room, her skirt brushing the floor, and took Claire’s hand. Susanna was much as Claire remembered her—tall, dark haired, with a strong face softened by a warm gaze.
“Mrs. Ryan, it’s good to see you again.” Claire rose from the couch.
Susanna smiled. “I thought I might never see you again.”
“This is my brother Jimmy.”
“How do you do,” Susanna said.
“Ma’am.” Jimmy stood and took the older woman’s hand.
“I had no idea you were coming. Please sit down.”
When they were settled again, Claire spoke. “I apologize for dropping in unannounced. I wasn’t quite sure I would come, even as we traveled.”
“How did you get here? By buggy?”
“No. I purchased horses in Fort Richardson. They’re outside.” Claire regretted leaving Reverend behind but the old gelding never would have survived the trek. Hopefully, he was happy at Tia’s place. “Doug Callahan directed us the right way.”
“The Callahans have long been our neighbors. I’ll have one of the hands see to your horses.”
“Thank you.” Claire pressed her lips together. “Is Molly here?”
Susanna shook her head. “She and Matthew have a place about five miles away. We can send for her in the morning, although she’s been a might ill recently.”
Confused by the slight smile on Mrs. Ryan’s face, Claire waited for an explanation.
“She’s expecting,” Susanna said.
Claire shifted uneasily. “That’s wonderful.” She truly was happy for Molly but couldn’t get past her apprehension over seeing Logan again. His letter said he was back in Texas—she could only assume Dee and Dylan were with him. Any minute, she expected one of them to enter the parlor and make her discomfort complete.
“You’ll stay the night, won’t you?”
Claire knew there was no alternative—it was too far to return to the fort tonight—but she hardly looked forward to staying under the same roof as Dee and Logan. Claire glanced at Jimmy, but her brother was engrossed in twiddling his thumbs. “Is she here?” she heard herself ask.
“And who would that be?” Susanna replied.
“Dee Griffin.”
Susanna’s countenance changed, becoming more circumspect. “No. And I would venture to say you didn’t come here to see me. I’ll send Dawson to find Logan. He spends far too much time on Storm chasing beeves anyhow.” With consideration she added, “I think it will do him good to see you.”
Dee wasn’t here? Claire didn’t know what to make of that. “About everything that happened…”
“No.” Susanna put a hand up. “The heart is an ornery thing and oft times as blind as a bat, but it always finds its way home.” Susanna stood. “James, come with me. I’ll fetch you a snack.”
Jimmy looked at Claire, and she silently gave permission for him to go ahead.
“How old are you?” Susanna asked as they left room.
“Eight years old, ma’am.”
Claire focused on the fire and wondered how Logan would react to her sudden appearance. She longed to see him, but at the same time had dreaded confronting him with Dee at his side. But Dee wasn’t here; Claire’s heart pounded at the thought.
Although she arrived fully expecting to see him with his new family, a part of her hadn’t cared. During the past three months she’d come to miss him so much, so thoroughly, that seeing him became a matter of survival. She was lost without him.
The letter he sent had given her the excuse to meet with him—although she wasn’t certain about anything anymore, least of all her own motives—but she questioned if she could truly handle visiting with him, only to walk away again.
Anxiously, she waited for him to return to the house and wondered how to tell him the truth.
* * *
Logan checked the cattle clustered into a group a few miles south of the SR; their tails flicked in agitation as their bawling and mewing filled the cool night air. The wind howled across the plains and Logan wrapped a scarf around his face and pulled his hat lower on his forehead. Winter would be upon them soon enough.
He thought of Claire, and wondered if she'd received the money. He thought of Claire too damn much of late. He ought to find her, try to see her. Each passing day brought the thought closer to reality. But she’d told him she didn’t love him. His luck with women was one for the books. He was better off with the cows, which was where he spent most of his time these days. Evenings at the ranch house with his folks, and occasionally with Matt and Molly, had turned his loneliness into physical pain, driving him out to the flat plains of Texas.
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