Montana Creeds: Logan (14 page)

Shadow and Dynamite had both died of old age long ago, but the loss seemed fresh that morning, as if they ought to have been waiting at the corral gate, ready to be saddled for the day.

Logan swallowed the lump in his throat and shifted the truck into gear. He could sit around here all day, crying in his beer, or he could make something happen.

He damn near hit Alec and Josh at the base of the driveway, where the top of the old gate still hung by the same three links of chain. They whizzed past on bicycles while he slammed on the brakes, simultaneously stretching out an arm to keep Sidekick from crashing into the windshield.

Alec and Josh slowed, made a wide loop in the road.

His heart pounding, Logan breathed deep as he rolled the window down. “You might want to be a little more careful in the future,” he said.

“Sorry,” Josh told him.

Alec’s grin went from ear to ear. “We got new bikes!” he crowed.

Logan chuckled. “I see that,” he said. “Way cool.”

“Our dad bought them at a garage sale,” Josh explained.

Their dad. It was a perfectly normal thing for a man to visit his kids, buy them bicycles. So why did he feel like dropping in on Briana so he could size up the situation?

The
situation,
whatever it might be, was none of his damn business.

“Does your mom know you guys are out here?” he asked, recalling the dustup the day before over their coming to town with him.

“She was going to take the day off from work,” Alec said, “but Dad’s watching us, so she went in after all. After Dad’s job interview, he’s taking us to look at a rental he saw in the newspaper.”

It was a lot of information to take in and sort out, but Logan had had three cups of strong coffee that morning, so the mental cogs were working fine. “Where’s your dad now?” he asked, just as a tall man rounded the bend on foot. He wore old boots, jeans and a blue chambray shirt, Western cut.

Alec cocked a thumb. “That’s him,” he said proudly.

Logan worked up a smile, got out of the truck.

“This is our neighbor, Logan Creed,” Josh told his father. “He came to supper at our place night before last.”

“Did he now?” The other man’s blue gaze took Logan in as they shook hands. “Vance Grant,” he said. “Good to meet you.”

Logan merely nodded. Grant didn’t like it that he’d paid a social visit to his ex-wife, Logan could see that. There was a chill of suspicion in those icy eyes.

“I’ll be around from now on,” Vance said. “If that makes a difference to you.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, conscious of the boys standing nearby, with their new bikes, listening. “Should it?” he asked evenly.

Vance’s grin didn’t make it to his eyes. Before he could respond, somebody’s cell phone rang.

Josh quickly extracted a model one step up from a toss-away out of his jeans pocket and answered.

“It’s Mom,” he told the assembled crowd, with a roll of his eyes, though Logan could tell he felt important. “Yes, Dad’s here—he’s
with us,
Mom. So is Logan.” A pause. “Heather was still asleep when we left the house.”

Who the hell, Logan wondered, was Heather?

“We ought to head home now,” Vance said, as Josh hung up the cell phone, held it out of Alec’s reach for a few seconds, then put it back in his pocket. “We’re due in town in half an hour.”

Alec and Josh both said goodbye and pedaled back toward Dylan’s place. Logan got into his truck, the window still down, and Vance lingered a moment.

“My boys,” he said, “have a dad.”

Logan felt his ears burn. He’d had supper at Briana’s once, and taken Alec and Josh to town the day before to have lunch and, as it turned out, wait for their mother. Did this yahoo think he was moving in on his turf or something?

The kids were definitely Vance’s; they looked just like him.

But Briana wasn’t his wife. Where she was concerned, turf wasn’t an issue.

“Look,” Logan said, resting his arm on the window ledge and gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly with the other hand, “we just met, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and not assume you’re a prickly son of a bitch with a chip on your shoulder. Alec and Josh are nice kids. You’re lucky to have them.”

Vance huffed out a breath, relaxed a little. Took off his hat to shove a hand through his hair, half turned to follow the boys and then turned back again. “I guess I
am
a little prickly,” he admitted. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’m trying to set things right. That’s going to take some doing and the plain truth is, I don’t need any competition just now.”

Logan didn’t say anything. He meant to listen, nothing more.

But Vance didn’t add anything to the speech he’d just made. He turned again, saw that the boys had disappeared around the bend and followed them.

I don’t need any competition just now.

What the hell did
that
mean? Was Vance trying to win his family back, Briana included? Or was he just talking about establishing some kind of relationship with his kids?

Key word
his,
Logan thought grimly.

The gears ground a little as he shifted into First, and the tires screeched as they grabbed the pavement on the county road.

He hardly knew Briana Grant. If she wanted to reconcile with her ex-husband, that was her prerogative.

Just the same, as he drove through Stillwater Springs, and then past the city limits, headed toward Choteau, it was all he could do not to turn in at the casino, find Briana and ask her what was going on. All that stopped him, in fact, was the recollection that Josh had mentioned a woman.

Heather.

He drove on to Choteau, found the stock auction, signed up for a number. He and Sidekick walked past all the pens, examining the cattle and horses that would be up for sale that day.

Once the auction actually started, the bidding was fast and furious. By the time he loaded Sidekick into the truck, after writing a whopping check to the auction company, he was in the ranching business for real, to the tune of twenty heifers and four horses.

The cattle would be delivered in ten days, the horses in one.

Leaning forward in the seat, Logan peered up at the sky through the windshield. The weather was good. The cayuses would be fine in the corral until the barn was habitable.

He’d had to pay extra to delay the arrival of the cattle, though, since the pasture fence wasn’t finished.

He grinned at Sidekick, panting in the passenger seat while the night scenery flew by. “How are you at herding cattle, boy?” he asked the dog.

Sidekick merely watched him, eyes luminous with devotion.

“One thing’s for sure,” Logan went on. “Cimarron is going to be one happy bull.”

His cell phone rang.

Because he was driving, Logan answered without IDing the caller first.

“Logan Creed,” he said, out of long habit. Until recently, when he’d sold his company, just about every call had been business.

Laurie laughed, and the rich, warm sound made him miss having a woman in his life, if not her specifically. “Most people just say hello,” she told him.

“All right, hello,” he said.

“Cranky.”

“How’s the marriage going?” he asked, to lighten things up. And maybe to get under her skin just a little, even though they were on friendly terms. Pretty much.

“I’m thinking of divorcing myself,” she said. “We don’t get along very well, me, myself and I.”

“Sorry to hear it,” Logan replied, but he had to chuckle. There were all the normal, ordinary people in the world. And then there was Laurie.

When she didn’t make an immediate comeback, he thought he’d better jump-start the conversation. He didn’t feel like chatting, and getting it going was the only way to get it over with.

“What do you want?” he asked.

Dylan’s voice echoed in his mind, and then Tyler’s.

What do you want?

Laurie started to cry.

Shit,
Logan thought. “Laurie?”

“I can’t keep my dog,” she said.

“What?” Logan asked, confounded.

“I just moved into this condo, and they won’t let me keep Snookums.”

Logan glanced toward Sidekick. “That’s rough,” he said sincerely. Was she just venting? Or did she expect him to do something?

“I was wondering if you’d take him,” Laurie said. “He’s a good dog.”

“Laurie, you live in California, and I live in Montana—”

“I could put him on a plane. Logan, you’ve got to do this for me. I can’t move right now, and I’m going to be evicted if I don’t find Snookums another home and I can’t just hand him over to strangers—”

“Snookums?” Logan echoed stupidly. He could feel himself being sucked into a vortex reserved for people who love dogs. All dogs—big, small and in between.

“You’ll do it!” Laurie cried, with such joy that Logan couldn’t think of anything to say. “Are you still there?” his second wife, now married to herself, asked.

“I’m here.”

“I’ll put him on a plane as soon as possible.”
“Snookums?” Logan repeated.

“You can change his name if you want to,” Laurie said, sounding hurt.

“Laurie, can’t you—”

She started to cry again. “Please, Logan. Please?”

He sighed audibly. “Okay,” he said. “What kind of dog is—”

“I’ll call you as soon as I’ve booked the flight,” Laurie broke in, sniffling, her voice radiant with gratitude. “Thanks, Logan.”

And with that, she hung up.

Logan closed his phone, looked into the rearview mirror, meeting his own gaze.

“Sucker,” he said.

Sidekick made a soft sound in his throat.

“You’re getting a brother,” Logan told him. “Snookums.”

The dog tilted his head to one side.

“Yeah,” Logan confirmed. “You heard me right. I said
Snookums.”

“D
AD GOT THE JOB!”
Alec announced the moment Briana stepped into the house that night, after work. “And we found them a great trailer to live in, too!”

The van was in the backyard, but there was no sign of the happy couple. “Where are your dad and Heather?” she asked, bending to pat Wanda in greeting.

“They’re taking a shower,” Alec said.

Behind him, Josh made a face.
“Together,”
he said.

I’ll kill him,
Briana thought, setting her purse aside with a thunk.

“Heather found a job, too,” Alec blathered on, the whole shared-shower thing going right over his head.
Thank heaven. “She’s going to be doing hair at the shop in the strip mall.”

Heather was a hairdresser? Briana sincerely hoped the woman’s own strawlike tresses weren’t typical of her work. “That’s great,” she said, because Alec was so happy.

“They can’t move into the trailer until tomorrow,” Josh said, raising his eyebrows to give the statement adequate portent.

“But we got some groceries!” Alec chimed, swinging open the fridge door as proof. Briana saw a six-pack of beer, a package of lunch meat, salad makings and one of those bake-it-yourself pizzas.

She hadn’t slipped into a parallel universe after all.

Vance had bought beer.

In the distance, the shower stopped, and a few moments later, Heather padded into the kitchen, bundled in a skimpy pink bathrobe, her geyser ponytail hanging limp from the steam and moisture.

“Hi, Briana,” she said cheerfully. “You go put your feet up or something, because
I’m
cooking supper tonight.”

Briana opened her mouth, closed it again. It wouldn’t be right to tell the woman to cover up, for God’s sake, because there were children in the room. Would it?

Vance appeared, shirtless, buttoning up the fly of his jeans. “I hope you don’t mind if we stay one
more night,” he said easily. “Can’t get the keys to the trailer until they turn on the water and the lights, and that’ll be tomorrow.”

Briana did the fish thing with her mouth again.

Open.

Closed.

Open again.

“Good,” Vance said, heading for the laundry room. He came out a moment later, buttoning up a clean shirt. Evidently, he and Heather had done a little washing in between getting jobs and renting themselves a trailer. “Heather!” he called. “Get a move on with this pizza! I’m a working man now, and I have to eat!”

Briana booked it for her bedroom, shut the door and swapped out her casino getup for shorts and a T-shirt.

When she got back to the kitchen—and she had to force herself to come out of hiding—Heather was semidecently dressed in a pair of skin-tight white jeans and another huggy top that left her belly bare. She popped the pizza in the oven and gave Briana a thoughtful once-over.

“You should cut your hair,” she said.

Briana grabbed protectively at her braid. Why did hairstylists always want to cut long hair short? It was like a challenge or something—Mount Everest to a climber.

“I’d be glad to do it for you,” Heather went on. “No charge.”

“Thanks,” Briana said. “But I like it this way.”

Heather frowned prettily. “When we get older,” she said sweetly, “we really shouldn’t wear our hair long.”

The remark was so outrageous—and so guilelessly sincere—that Briana didn’t even get mad. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

Heather smiled, pleased, and started the salad.

Vance and the boys were in the living room now, watching a game of some kind of TV.

“Isn’t there something I can do to help?” Briana asked. “With supper, I mean?”

“You could set the table,” Heather said sunnily.

Briana went to the cupboard for dishes.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Heather asked, whacking away at the green onions.

Briana didn’t answer.

Heather turned, looked back at her over one shoulder. “I’m so proud of Vance,” she said. “He got the first job he applied for.”

“Imagine,” Briana agreed, biting the inside of her lower lip to keep from saying more.

Heather squinted at her. Maybe her sarcasm detectors were going off. But then she smiled again, shooting down Briana’s theory. “We have an extra bedroom at the trailer,” she said. “Vance and I hope the boys can stay with us sometimes, on weekends and after school.”

That was a bridge Briana didn’t intend to cross until she got to it. “The boys don’t go to school,” she said. “I teach them at home.”