The Loner (12 page)

"What...?"

"It was a dream. Probably the storm brought it on."

Caroline's head felt thick, her thoughts slow as cold molasses. Deep within her she felt a bone-chilling fear. "Will."

"I thought it might be something like that." Logan gently brushed her hair away from her face. "I know you must be frightened half to death about him. This is a difficult burden to bear."

A dream. It was just a dream. Caroline drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "It was dark and loud. Someone was after Will."

It was so real, she thought, her heart racing. So terrifying. The coppery taste of fear coated her mouth, and she thought that if she had needed to stand up, her knees wouldn't have supported her weight. She'd never had a dream like that before, so clear, so threatening.

Probably her guilty conscience acting up. That's what lying would do to a person.

Better that than a premonition.

"Oh, dear." She shuddered, and Logan patted her knee.

"It's been dark and loud outside," he said. "We went through a thunderstorm while you were sleeping. Looks like we're heading into another one now. They tend to come in waves this time of year."

Only then did Caroline become aware of the view outside the railcar. They were passing through a part of Texas that was flat from horizon to horizon. Off to the west she could see a thundercloud that seemed to fill the entire sky.

"West Texas always needs rain," she murmured. Then, when the fact that Logan had his arm around her finally dawned on her, she added, "You switched seats."

"Couldn't stand to watch your head bobbing any longer. 'Fraid you'd get whiplash. Besides, some rough-looking characters from the other car joined us. Didn't like leaving you alone."

Caroline knew she should straighten up and put some distance between them, but she couldn't summon the will to do so. Her dream lingered like a hangover, and Logan provided that unique comfort she'd wished for thousands of times over the years. He was Will's father. He could share the burden of her worry. What would that hurt? "How long did I sleep?"

Logan slipped his right hand into his pocket and pulled out a gold watch. His left arm didn't budge from around her. "A couple of hours. You must have been tired."

"I didn't sleep well last night," she admitted.

"More bad dreams?"

Due perhaps to the lingering effects of her dream combined with the constant presence of guilt about her lie, Caroline was compelled to answer honestly. "I couldn't stop thinking about what happened."

"In your room," he clarified.

"It just... I don't know what happened."

"I do. Desire sizzles between us like that lightning flashing out there on the prairie. We had it fifteen years ago and we have it still today."

"It's not normal."

He chuckled. "Sure it is, honey. It's nature at its finest, although from my experience, it's rare as bluebonnets in October." He traced the whorl of her ear with his index finger as he added, "I think we would be doing ourselves a great disservice if we fail to take advantage of it."

"Of course you think so. You're a man."

"And you are a woman who is missing out on one of life's greatest pleasures. I told you yesterday we needed to think about our situation and I spent some time doing just that. I have to tell you, honey, the fact that you've been celibate all these years knocked me for a loop right at first. Someone with your fire and passion and beauty— it's a damned shame. I figured that men must have come calling from time to time—after all, you're as beautiful as a summer sunset—so for you to sleep alone all this time means you must have some powerful convictions regarding sexual relations outside of marriage."

That managed to clear the remaining cobwebs from her brain. "It's called adultery, and yes, I do believe it's wrong. The Bible makes that very clear."

"See? That's not a problem for us. You can do it with me free and clear. You won't have to waste yourself anymore." He patted her knee and smiled with satisfaction.

She almost took a swing at his jaw.
Waste myself? Waste myself!
"Of all the egotistical..." She literally bit her tongue, took a deep breath, then continued, "So what are you suggesting? Are you proposing we live together as man and wife in every sense of the word?"

"In the sexual sense, definitely. Beyond that, well, I'm not a home-and-hearth kind of man. My job prevents that, if nothing else. However, I do intend to keep as close an eye as possible on Will, so I will be around whenever it's possible. I think it's a good solution, honey. Your life won't have to change hardly at all, but you'll have the benefits of the bedroom."

"Lucky me," she muttered beneath her breath. "You don't have a clue about family."

He went stiff. "Mine died when I was five, so no, I don't have a lot of experience."

Caroline folded her arms and studied him, the details she'd learned of his past rolling through her mind. She could see him all too well, a bedraggled little boy who'd lost everyone he'd loved. It broke her heart to imagine, and it also gave her a bit of insight into how he could be so clueless when it came to women, marriage and family.

She shook her head. "You have a point, Logan. I'm not at all certain I agree with it or accept it, but I can see why you would think what you do. The good thing is that nothing needs to be decided now. We're on a train, not in a hotel room. You're dangerous in a hotel room."

"Hell, honey." He chuckled and lowered his voice even more. "I could be dangerous right here if you were of a mind."

She scooted all the way over against the window and he laughed out loud. "All right. Don't fret. I'll behave... for now."

Caroline looked away from him, staring out toward the oncoming storm. She didn't know what to say to him. Logan Grey was a constant surprise to her. When she had decided to come to Fort Worth, she had known he might want a relationship with Will. She'd never expected he'd want one with her.

She had never dreamed she would like the idea so much herself.

"I've been thinking about Will, too," Logan continued. "I grew up without a father so I know how difficult that is on a boy. I decided that I'm glad that Will has had your friend Ben as another male he could look up to—even if he is an old outlaw. I had Reverend Jennings so I know what a blessing that can be. Still, that's no substitute for a flesh-and-blood father. Will is fourteen. These next few years are important for a young man. They're the years he'll need a father the most. I can't be around all the time, but I can be around enough to matter."

"That would be good for him."

"It would be good for you, too."

Caroline listened to the rhythmic
click click click
of the railcar wheels and tried to put her emotions into words. "It's just that this is all happening too fast. You and I don't know each other."

"We know each other as well as some other married couples I know." He gave her hand a squeeze, winked at her and added, "I can guarantee you that we will set the sheets afire, and I doubt there are any other couples who've been married fifteen years who can say that. Well, except for maybe Trace and Jenny McBride. Those two still have some special sizzle going on between them."

She rolled her eyes. "I think you are spending way too much time thinking about one subject."

"Maybe if I got to do more than think about it I wouldn't be so focused."

She ignored that. "We haven't spent enough time together. Once we do, we might not like each other at all. I have a temper, Logan."

He gave her a droll look. "I did pick up on that little fact when you threw my medallion at me."

"And you drank a lot that night. I don't care for drunkards, Logan Grey."

"Hey, I had every reason to toss back the whiskey that night."

"I won't argue that. However, for all I know it's an everyday occurrence for you."

"It's not. I admit I had a bout of trouble with whiskey years ago, but nowadays, I'm damned near a teetotaler." Logan glanced over his shoulder. "Hollister. Driscoll. Have a question for you. How often would you say I overindulge in spirits?"

Cade sat with his long legs outstretched on the seat, his back propped against the side of the railcar, his arms folded and his hat pulled low on his brow. After Logan asked his question, he thumbed the hat back and said, "You're kidding, right?"

"No. My wife wants to know if I'm a drunkard. She noted that I drank quite a bit at the dinner party at Willow Hill."

Holt rubbed his whisker-shadowed jaw with the palm of his hand, his blue eyes twinkling as he snickered. "Mrs. Grey, that night was a special circumstance. He needed some liquid courage. That's the most I've seen Lucky drink in years. See, ordinarily, the man can't hold his liquor."

"He's good for two drinks, then he falls asleep," Cade agreed. "I figure all the excitement the other night kept him awake."

Logan shrugged sheepishly. "I've taken a lot of ribbing for it over the years. You don't need to worry about me being a drunkard. Now see, you know something more about me. What else do you want to know?"

Caroline shook her head. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it."

"Oh, c'mon now. Are you trying to say you've been married to me for fifteen years and you haven't spent some time wondering about me?"

"It's different wondering about such things when you are sitting beside me."

"You want me to go back to my other seat? That'll mean Cade and Holt will be able to hear our entire conversation, but if that's what you want..."

Caroline didn't know what she wanted—except that she'd rather this all be happening without The Big Lie hovering between them. That was the real problem here. No matter what Logan said and no matter what ideas she'd be happy to consider, she knew that the situation was likely to change once Logan learned her true purpose.

She shook her head. "I guess it wouldn't hurt for us to have a conversation—a private conversation. It'll help pass the time."

"I can tell you anything and everything you'd want to know about me between here and Artesia. I'm not that interesting of a person."

Now that was an out-and-out lie. Nevertheless, his casual attitude put her at ease and allowed Caroline to ask a few of the questions she had wondered about from time to time over the years. "All right, then, tell me this. I'd like to hear your version of how you came to be known as the Luckiest Man in Texas. I know how the Fort Worth
Daily Democrat
told the story, but I'm curious to hear it from your point of view."

Logan's smile of satisfaction at her agreement dipped into a grimace at her request. "Shoot, Caroline. Can't you ask me something more exciting than that? Like maybe how I like my eggs cooked in the morning?"

"No. I don't think so. You see, I believe there is something to it. Considering what I've asked you to do, I need to believe it."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess I asked for this, didn't I?"

"Yes."

After taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he said, "I think luck is like a snowball that starts rolling downhill. Once it gets going, it picks up more speed and more snow and that makes it harder to stop. That's why I haven't tried to discourage the talk, even though most of what is said about me is pure nonsense."

She didn't like the sound of that. She truly needed him to be lucky for this whole scheme to succeed. "Oh? Like what?"

"I haven't been in thirty gunfights without being wounded."

"How many gunfights have you had?"

"It's not the number of gunfights. It's the wounded part. I have a nice little scar just above my hip bone." He waggled his brows. "I'll be happy to show it to you later."

She ignored that and pressed. "So you're saying you're not the Luckiest Man in Texas?"

"Exactly. That's just silly sensationalism for the newspapers to have something to write about. Damned newspapers make up half of what they print."

"That's not true," she protested. "My family runs a newspaper and we don't make things up. But back to this snowball. There must be something at its center to send it rolling downhill. You
must
be lucky."

He
had
to be lucky. Otherwise, she couldn't ask him to go into Black Shadow Canyon after Ben.

His intense green eyes studied her. "It's important to you that I'm lucky."

"Yes!"

"You'd think I'd be accustomed to this by now." His mouth twisted in a crooked grin. "All right, then, Caroline. I guessed the correct number of pickles in the barrel at the general store and won a new hat when I was fifteen, so I guess that makes me lucky."

"Oh, stop it. I'm not talking about pickles and new hats. I want to know what is at the heart of your reputation."

He sighed heavily. "You don't want the legend, you want the truth."

"Exactly."

He frowned at her and delayed by checking his pocket watch again. She could tell he really didn't want to take the conversation in that direction. "You're the one who suggested we get to know each other. The only way to do that is to share the important things."

He repeated his sigh. "Oh, all right, but I want you to understand that I'm sharing something I ordinarily keep to myself. It sounds strange to say, and I'm not asking you to believe in it, but the truth of the matter is that I.. .well.. .I sense trouble."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't explain it other than to say that more often than not, I get this feeling when trouble is headed my way. It's like my senses grow sharper. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Sometimes it even seems like time slows down. I'm totally aware of everything going on around me, and because of it, I'm able to get out of the way of trouble."

"You have a Guardian Angel."

"Could be. When I was young I liked the idea that my mother was up in heaven watching out for me. That notion grew troublesome once I started romancing the women, so I decided instead that I have an extra sense. A trouble sense. I pay attention to it, and as long as you're hanging around with me, I hope you will, too."

She eyed him suspiciously. "That depends. It appears to me as if a man could take advantage of such a claim."