Authors: Elaine Levine
Logan's Outlaw (10 page)
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After breakfast the next morning, Sarah followed Maddie's directions to the lumber mill. The day was dry and hot with only a halfhearted breeze to keep the heat from being suffocating. Mr. Taggert's hat blocked the sun from her face and helped with the glare. Though she probably looked ridiculous in it, it made her feel safe, as if it were a shield. He'd saved her lifeâmore than once. A person rarely had occasion to meet a man as brave as he was. No matter what it took, she would find a way to repay the expenses he'd incurred on her behalf.
An hour outside town, she turned down a long drive leading toward the mill. There were several buildings on the compound, the closest of which was a private residence. The Gages' house had a fresh coat of whitewash. The garden was neatly tended. Off to one side was a large vegetable garden surrounded by a white picket fence. She started up the pathway to the house only to stop abruptly when she noticed a huge black dog standing at the top of the steps. He was on full alert. A row of exposed teeth made it appear as if he was smiling at her. But dogs didn't smile. And the angle he held his head showed he wasn't pleased to have a visitor.
God help her. The beast was huge and quiet. He would mangle her before she could even cry for help. She sent a look behind her, gauging the distance to her horse. The post beside the path's entrance held a bell. She stepped backward very, very slowly. Coming even with the bell, she pulled the cord and sounded the alarm as long and loudly as she could.
The front door burst open and a man came out. He wore simple clothesâa cotton shirt, a loose vest, and denim trousers. He was hatless. His hair was a sun-bleached brown. His face was open and friendly. He gave a curt order to the dog, which immediately settled down at his feet.
A woman came outside, standing slightly behind the man, holding a little girl. The woman was dressed like a man, except for the flowered apron that covered her from chest to shins. A young boy came out to stand in front of her. She put her hand on his shoulder, gently restraining him.
“Can I help you?” the man asked. His voice, a harsh whisper, took Sarah aback.
“I'm looking for Jace Gage.”
“You found him.”
Sarah swallowed reflexively. She should have listened to Maddie. Mr. Gage had a family. She was putting all of them in jeopardy. Now faced with the sight of his wife and children, she feared he would turn her away. He should turn her away.
“Mr. Gage, I need your help.”
The woman put her daughter down and said something to her son that caused him to take his sister back inside. Crossing her arms, she came to stand next to her husband.
“What kind of help?” he asked.
“I need to learn how to shoot a Colt revolver.”
“Why?”
“I'm a widow. My husband was killed in an Indian raid. I live alone now. I want to know how to defend myself.”
The man and his wife exchanged a look. The woman went back inside the house. “Come inside. We can discuss this over a cup of coffee.”
She started forward but stopped when she saw the dog look at her with bared teeth again. “Wolfson, stop.” The man ruffled the dog's fur. “He won't hurt you. He smiles when he gets excited. He doesn't bark much, unless there's something we really need to pay attention to. Mostly he just grins like a demon.”
Sarah approached the house. The man stood back and let her enter first. There was a spacious parlor to her right, a large dining room to her left, stairs to the upper floor and a wide hallway straight in front of her. Mr. Gage led the way to the back of the house. They entered a kitchen that clearly was the heart of their home. Two overstuffed armchairs flanked a side table off in a corner of the room beside an open window. White, ruffled curtains wavered in the slight breeze. A rectangular plank table stood in the middle, surrounded by six ladder-back chairs. A massive, blue-enameled stove took up most of one wall, and a long counter ran the length of another, ending at the door. The sink was filled with morning dishes sitting in sudsy water beneath an iron-handled pump.
“This is my wife, Leah. I don't think I caught your name out front.”
“Sarah Hawkins.”
Mrs. Gage set a coffeepot to boil on the stove, then came over to shake Sarah's hand. Sarah met her eyes, instinctively sensing that Mrs. Gage's opinion of her would determine Mr. Gage's level of assistance.
“Mrs. Gage. How do you do?”
“Please, we don't stand on formality around here. I'm Leah and my husband is Jace. I hope you won't mind if we call you Sarah?”
“No, of course not.”
“Have a seat. Tell us what trouble you're in,” Jace said, indicating a chair at the table.
“I bought a gun at Fort Buford. I don't know how to use it very well.”
“Why did you come to me? Plenty of men know how to use a gun.”
“A friend of mine at the fort said you lived here. You were the closest gun expert I knew of. I was hoping you could give me a few pointers. I could pay you ten dollars.”
The Gages exchanged a glance. Leah set coffee mugs on the table. Their two children lingered by the back door, curious about the stranger. “Joseph, Elisa, come meet Mrs. Hawkins.” Both children did as they were told. Their eyes sparkled with mischief and curiosity. Sarah liked them immediately, and once again she worried about the trouble she might be exposing them to.
“Wow, look at that gun belt she's wearing, Dad.” Joseph looked at her. “Do you know how to shoot that gun, ma'am?”
“No.”
“My dad does. He can shoot a plate into eight pieces. He can blow the center out of a coin tossed into the air. He canâ”
“Son, that's enough. Take your sister outside to play,” Jace quietly ordered.
Sarah saw the tension in Leah's face, and couldn't blame her one bit. She hated guns, too. She stood up to take her leave. “Forgive me. I was presumptuous. I should never have come here. Thank you for the coffee. I'm sure you're right. Someone else can teach me how to use the gun. Maddie said I should ask the sheriff.”
“You haven't finished your coffee,” Leah said.
“Sit down,” Jace ordered, his harsh voice brooking no argument. “A woman traveling alone who wants to learn to shoot is a woman in trouble. Why don't you tell us what is going on?”
Sarah couldn't look at either of the Gages. She sat frozen for an instant, then drew her gloves off. Setting her hands flat on the table, she waited for their comments. Neither said a word.
“I was taken captive in a Sioux raid. I lived for a year among Swift Elk's people. The Indians aren't settled. Not at all. It is dangerous living out here. I want to be able to protect myself.” She still didn't look at either of the Gages, but she felt the glance they exchanged.
“All right.” Jace broke the silence. “We'll start this morning. But I won't allow you to pay me.”
Sarah's gaze flew to Jace. His cold blue eyes watched her. She looked at Leah, who offered her a tentative smile. “Jace is the best in the world. He'll have you handling that piece in no time.”
A breath broke from Sarah's lungs. Her relief was palpable. “Thank you. Both of you.”
A short while later, Jace had checked in with his foreman, and Leah had made arrangements with their housekeeper to watch the children, so both Gages were free to work with her. All three headed out front on their way to an empty pasture off to the side of the house. They'd just gotten to the edge of the yard when a rider came thundering down the driveâon a horse very like the one Sarah had ridden.
She froze in place. It couldn't be. Surely it wasn't Mr. Taggert riding up the drive! It was! He wore a new hat, tan like the one he'd given her. Several days' growth of beard darkened his jaw. He dismounted and dropped the reins in front of his pony, then walked toward them. His gaze touched each of them, but settled on her. He looked furious.
She'd never been so happy to see anyone in her life. How had he found her here?
“Logan Taggert! As I live and breathe!” Leah exclaimed as she launched herself into his arms. Sarah frowned, wondering how they knew each other.
He caught her up in a tight hug.
Jace folded his arms. He didn't look very pleased to have another man holding his wife.
Leah pulled free and drew Mr. Taggert over to them. “Jace! Logan's here!”
Jace gave him a grudging smile and stuck out his hand. “So, you're the man who sends my wife all those letters. Good to finally meet you.”
“All those letters,” Leah scoffed. “He writes once or twice a year. If we're lucky.”
“Great to meet you, Jace,” Logan greeted him. “I gotta say though, I'm disappointed.”
“How's that?”
“Thought you'd be able to teach Leah to be more female by now.”
Jace laughed. “You might have grown up with my wife, but you don't know her like you thought you did.”
“And this is Mrs. Sarah Hawkins.” Leah pulled her forward.
The humor left Mr. Taggert's face. An icy wind seemed to sweep around the small gathering. He looked her over in a quick glance, his eyes, his face hardening. “Yes, I know.”
“You know each other? How?”
“She's my wife.”
That announcement was met with shocked silence. Sarah quickly filled in the silence with, “We're not married, Mr. Taggert.”
“Then why did I give twelve horses to Cloud Walker for you?”
“You can't buy a wife, Logan,” Leah admonished.
“Sarah, is Logan why you came here?” Jace asked.
“No,” she answered him, but she only had eyes for Logan.
“Why didn't you wait for me at the Inter-Ocean?” He leaned toward her, the tightness of his face the only clue to his emotions.
“I couldn't.”
“Why?” Logan fought the pull of her gaze. Her eyes pleaded with him so convincingly. He'd seen his mother trot out that very look a thousand times to any man within reach, including his stepbrother. To a man, they fell for it every time, right up until she lay in her deathbed, shot by a scorned lover. He didn't want Sarah to be like that. He wanted her to be the woman his heart told him she was.
“I'm in a bad situation. I didn't want to draw you into it.”
“And yet you've pulled my friends into it.”
Sarah swallowed hard. Just that quickly, the refuge she'd sought here, though she knew it was temporary, no longer existed. She looked at Leah and Jace. “He's right. I shouldn't have come here. I thank you for being willing to help.”
Leah frowned and moved to block her retreat. “Logan, quit being a bully.” She wrapped a hand around Sarah's waist and led her toward the front steps. “Let's go back inside and discuss this like calm, rational adults. Something's wrong. Jace and I can help.”
Leah set a pitcher of cold water on the table. Jace filled glasses for each of them while Leah got more coffee brewing on the stove. Sarah sat at the table and looked at the forbidding faces of both men. Her problem was too big for her to handle alone. She didn't want to involve them, but perhaps they would have some idea of what she should do or someone who could help her.
Using the table for cover, she lifted her skirt and withdrew the oilskin pouches from the pockets she'd sewn on her petticoat. She handed them to Mr. Taggert. “I'm not sure where to begin.”
Mr. Taggert leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “How about you start before the trouble began?”
“That would be in St. Louis, I guess. I told you about the accident that took my parents' lives,” she said to Mr. Taggert. “They were hit and killed by a runaway freight team in a terrible accident,” she said, bringing Jace and Leah up to date with the information Mr. Taggert already knew. “I met Eugene at their funeral. He was a friend of my parents. My father was a newspaper editor in Philadelphia. Eugene was a reporter. My father had edited many of Eugene's news pieces, I learned. It was strange to run into him in St. Louis. He told me so many stories of their work together that I almost felt as if my parents were still alive. When he found out that I was left alone, he offered to escort me back to Philadelphia.”
“Did you go back?” Jace asked, an edge in his voice.
She shook her head. “I couldn't. There was nothing to go back to. My parents had sold everything to realize their dream of moving west. They had purchased a small spread outside Yankton. Moving there was something they'd worked toward for years. I wanted to see their dream fulfilled. I told Eugene that was where I was headed. He was thrilled. He was heading off to the Dakotas to investigate a story about the corruption rampant in the Indian agencies. We talked endlessly for a week. He was a shoulder to cry on. He helped me get through the first shock of losing my parents. When the week ended, I didn't want to lose him. He felt the same way. We married before the justice of the peace. He left the next day for Yankton.”
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