The Loner (26 page)

Boldly, she trailed a finger across his chest. "I like that. I like that you see it in me, too. I have a theory about that. Would you like to hear?"

"Chatty little thing tonight, aren't you?"

"I need to keep my mind occupied. I don't want to think about what I did or what our son might be going through at this moment. I need to not think about bad things right now. Is there something else you would like to discuss?"

Logan tucked her head against his shoulder. "Actually, I'm not so sure I'm ready to let my thoughts wander where they will, either. Tell me your theory."

Caroline stretched her legs, then cuddled against her husband. "I think that as a rule, Texas women are a bit different from women from other states. Ellen and I have discussed this at length. See, women of the West are independent by nature. They've had to be to survive. Texas women have that added bravado that comes from Texas having once been an independent republic. But as the West is tamed, civilized society is established and it attempts to mold women into what it considers acceptable. For the most part, women are ready for it, but while a woman can tame her independent streak, she'll never remove it entirely."

Amusement laced his voice as he said, "That makes a bit of sense, I guess. Although, I wouldn't say that you've exactly tamed your independent streak."

Caroline sighed. "It's finishing school."

Logan waited a moment. "All right, I can't follow that one."

"I didn't go to finishing school. My mother intended to send me. My father married her during a visit back East, and she was a consummate society lady. I don't know that she ever adjusted to being a rancher's wife. Anyway, she died and I stayed home, so I never had the independence—"

"Otherwise known as stubbornness," Logan interjected.

"—polished over," she continued, ignoring his comment. "Then, of course, I had Will and moved in with Suzanne and Ben. That pretty much cemented my independent streak, and it's probably why I don't respond the way you expect me to."

He lifted his hand and palmed her breast. "Caro, your response is more than I've ever dreamed of."

Without another word, she pushed her body up against his, pressing against his chest. The warmth of his skin upon the points of her breasts sent another wave of need through Caroline that reached all the way to her toes. Their mouths opened to each other, his tongue gently caressed hers, coaxing her to wander back into the flames that smoldered between them.

His palms moved slowly up over the sides of her breasts until his thumbs came to rest on her nipples. Drawing circles around the aching buds, he teased and taunted as he kissed her, his touch lazy yet with veiled intent. He wanted her again, and the nudging hardness against her thigh pressed with more insistence.

A tingle of feminine power stroked Caroline's ego. The feel of his arousal...the idea that she could make him lose control as he had... It was thrilling and satisfying and a bit scary, truth be told. But she didn't want to think hard about tomorrow. Didn't want to think at all. For these few stolen moments, she was going to be a woman with a man. A wife with a husband. A lover with a lover. The rest would all take care of itself.

As if Logan read her mind, he let his hands reach down to her hips and slipped her beneath him. When he claimed her this time, it was sweet and gentle, the rhythm between them almost poignant. With tears unshed, Caroline kissed the side of his neck and sighed, laying her head upon his shoulder as he loved her. Wrapping her arms around him, she looked up at the blurry stars and let herself be consumed by the magic of Logan Grey.

She awoke to the scent of frying bacon and coffee. Stretching to work the soreness from her muscles, she glanced around for Logan and finally spied him bedecked in his big hat and serape on a rise above the campsite with field glasses up to his eyes.

Caroline quickly made her morning ablutions and dressed, then tended the bacon and poured herself a cup of coffee. By the time Logan came down the hill, the bacon was ready.

She turned to him with a bright smile and said, "Good morning."

He didn't meet her gaze. "Mornin'."

He busied himself pouring his coffee and shoveling down his breakfast. Caroline ate, steamed and stewed. She'd expected more from him, expected better from him. How could he be so attentive last night and so chilly this morning?

Whatever the reason, she was tired of it. It hurt her feelings, to be perfectly honest. He'd made love to her last night! Or at least, that's what she had thought he'd done. Maybe for him it was nothing more than sex. Just like on their wedding night.

The dirty flea-bit dog.

Well. She debated whether or not to bring the subject up. Maybe he expected her to question him so he could say it didn't mean anything to him. Was that his game?

The dirty rotten flea-bit dog.

Caroline had just worked up the nerve to tell him exactly what she was thinking when he said, "We need to get a move on. I want to be far away when somebody stumbles across the evidence of last night's troubles."

With that, the memories Caroline had tried so hard to block from her mind came rushing back and pushed her pique at Logan right out of her mind.

She helped Logan break camp and each time she reached for something, she halfway expected to see blood on her hands. In the light of day, the events seemed surreal. A nightmare. She stole a glance at Logan and at the cut on his neck. Fresh blood smeared his skin. "Shall I stitch that for you?"

He touched his neck and grimaced. "I don't want to take the time now. It can wait until we stop for lunch."

Within twenty minutes, they rode out of camp, Logan leading the way. They traveled steadily for two hours, conversing only when necessary. The heat rose with the sun and became visible waves against the flat horizon, creating lakes where none existed. Mirages. It made her thirsty just to look at them. A couple times Logan dropped back and attempted to instigate a conversation, but Caroline wasn't in the mood. Eventually, he took the hint.

It was during the fourth hour of travel that he reined in his horses. "Rider coming," he warned.

He tugged the field glasses from his saddlebag and trained them on the approaching figure. After a long moment, he said softly, "Well, damn my eyes."

Then he turned a look on her that was fiercer, more ferocious, than anything she'd ever seen from him before. "Caroline, listen. You absolutely must follow my lead this time. Got it? I need you to swear. Swear on Will's life that you'll let me do the talking here. It's that important. And get your gun out. Keep it hidden in your skirts, but at the ready."

"All right," she said as her stomach took a fearful dip. "I promise. But why?"

"The rider who is heading toward us? He's Deuce Plunkett. He's the man who kidnapped our son."

Caroline gasped. "I don't see Will. Do you?"

"No." Logan lifted the field glasses once again, and gave the area a second sweep to confirm. "Plunkett is alone."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing, do you think?"

Logan focused on the killer's face. A red mark marred Plunkett's left cheek. Looked like a burn. A recent one.

"Does he know you?" Caroline asked.

"No. We never met face-to-face." He'd watched the bastard beat a man to a pulp, however, in a saloon brawl in Black Shadow Canyon. He'd go to his grave remembering the expression of pure evil in Plunkett's eyes.

"Then how do you know that this man is Plunkett? Maybe you're mistaken."

"He has distinctive features, Caro. Women think he's a real pretty boy." Or at least, they did. That burn on his face might change that.

Although, chances were good that Deuce Plunkett wouldn't have the chance to be showing off his scar to any women. Logan would need a real good reason to let the killer leave the upcoming meeting alive.

He wondered just when and how ole Deuce had received the burn. Was Will responsible? The idea both frightened him and gave him hope.

"Tell me what to do, Logan," Caroline said calmly as Deuce's approach brought him to within fifty yards or so.

"Let me answer all the questions unless he speaks to you directly. Watch his eyes, honey. If you have to shoot, shoot to kill."

"We can't kill him. We need to find out about Will."

"Oh, I'll find out about Will. Don't worry about that."

Plunkett reined in his roan a short distance from Logan and Caroline. Adopting a friendly smile, he tipped his hat. "Howdy, folks. Plenty hot day to travel, isn't it?"

Following Logan's instructions—for once—Caroline smiled, nodded, but kept her mouth shut. Logan thumbed back his sombrero and replied in a deceptively pleasant tone, "It's hot enough to melt the shoes off a horse out here amongst the cacti, but I expect it will cool off once we reach the mountains."

Plunkett nodded sagely. "Yes, it will, but you have to climb pretty high to beat the heat." He turned his gaze toward Caroline, and gave her a smile. "I'm surprised to see a lady out and about on such a day in this hard-scrabble part of the country."

Logan said, "It's the shortest route to her parents' place north of here. Her mother is ill."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Plunkett frowned and added, "I'm on a grave mission, myself. My son...well...he had a disagreement with his brother. He's run away. I'm hoping you might have seen him."

"Your son?" Caroline blurted out.

"Yes, ma'am. He's a good boy, but he and his brother...they're twins. You know how brothers can fight. The boy took off and now he's wandering around this desert. I'm desperate to find him."

"I'll just bet you are," Logan murmured, meeting Caroline's questioning gaze. He both warned and reassured her with a look, before turning back to Plunkett. "How old is your boy? What does he look like?"

"He's fourteen. Tall and lanky. Boy eats like a horse. He has dark hair. When he ran off he was wearing denims and a dark brown shirt."

"Did he have a hat?" Caroline asked. "This sun can be brutal. And water? Did he take water with him?"

Calm down, Mama.
Those weren't questions a stranger would ask. Caroline must have realized that, too, because she hastened to say, "I'm a mother, so I understand how worried you must be. The idea of a child.. .any child.. .being out here ill-prepared. You poor man."

"Urn.. .yeah.. .well. He had a hat and some water."

She offered Plunkett a trembling smile that passed for comforting. "That must relieve you."

Logan cleared his throat, dragging the killer's attention away from Caroline. "You think he's in this area? How long has your son been missing?"

"He ran off north of here a ways. A couple of days ago."

Two days? Logan eyed the bastard's burn, analyzed the amount of visible healing and stifled a grin.
Good job, son.

The boy was a pistol. Logan couldn't wait to meet him.

"And you've been looking for him ever since?"

"Yeah. It's hard to believe he could disappear so completely. That's why I'm so worried about him."

"Maybe he's hiding from you." At Logan's casual suggestion, Plunkett narrowed his eyes, and the cold, dead look Logan remembered flashed in their black depths. "He must know you'll be forced to punish him once he's found."

Plunkett rolled his tongue around his mouth. "Well, a father can't let his kid run roughshod over him, now can he?"

"You know, mister, I think we might have some information for you." Logan rubbed the back of his neck. "We didn't actually see him, but a man who stopped by our campsite last night looking for a meal claimed he'd run short of food because he'd shared his noon meal with a boy who had eaten everything in his saddlebags but the leather. The boy's name was Will Grey."

"That's my son. Will Grey."

Logan saw Caroline stiffen, and her hand moved surreptitiously in her lap. He shot her a warning look.
Don't shoot the bastard. That's my job.

Plunkett asked, "Where did you camp?"

Logan made a show of twisting around in his saddle. "Well, not many landmarks in sight. Let me draw you a map."

He swung down from his horse, and walked toward a sandy spot of ground about twenty paces away. Plunkett followed, but when Caroline started to dismount, Logan called, "Stay where you are, dear. This won't take long."

He hunkered down and drew a few
Xs
and lines and a circle or two. When Plunkett approached, he pointed at one of the
Xs.
"This is where we are now." Gesturing toward another
X,
he added, "That's the hill about an hour back that... Wait. I know something that will make better sense of this. Wait here."

He walked twenty paces, then with his hands hanging loosely at his sides, Logan turned. When he spoke, all evidence of the mincing fop was gone from his voice. "Deuce Plunkett?"

The killer's head came up, alarm in those godawful eyes.

Logan's countenance was hard and implacable. "I'm placing you under arrest for kidnapping."

Slowly, Plunkett rose, his hand hovering over his gun. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm a range detective and you're under arrest. Lay down your gun."

"The hell I will!" The second Plunkett's hand moved toward his gun, Logan drew and fired. Scarlet blossomed on his chest and he clutched a hand to his heart. "Son of a... You killed me!"

Plunkett dropped to his knees on the desert floor. Hatred blazed in his eyes as he struggled to bring his gun up, but Logan stepped forward and kicked it safely away. He leaned over the fallen man and added in a tone cold as the grave, "I'm also Will Grey's father."

Plunkett's eyes widened, then turned to glass. He fell forward onto the dirt.

Stone-cold graveyard worm-eaten dead.

Logan smiled.

They left him for the buzzards to deal with, and Caroline couldn't find it in herself to care. She was rather numbed by the entire incident, in fact. Two days. Two dead men. It was simply a bit much for her.

She let Logan lead the way as her focus turned inward. She felt wounded, even worse today than she'd felt yesterday, which didn't make sense considering she knew that Will was safe from that evil man's clutches. Underneath her numbness, she continued to worry over Will. As if from far away, she fretted about where he was and whether he had enough water and shelter and food. She brooded over the fact he was alone in the desert—or at least, she hoped he was alone and not caught up with killers like the two she'd run across in the past two days.