Wild Hearts (9 page)

I shook my head. “Nope. Why?”

“If you want to stick around a little longer up here,” Logan said, “there's something that usually happens . . .” He trailed off as he looked at his watch. “. . . in about a half hour to an hour.”

I smiled. “Oh, really? What might this ‘something' be?”

Logan took off his hat, tossing it onto the grass. “One of the most important things to me.”

“I'll stick around,” I said. “Are you going to tell me what's going to happen, or is it a secret?”

There was an impish twinkle in his eyes. “I think I'll make you wait and see,” he said.

I turned on my camera and peered through the viewfinder. I wanted to take photos that would impress Mom.

“This is so—” I stopped talking. I'd been talking to air!

While I'd been focused on angles, lighting, and clarity, Logan had plopped onto the ground. Lying on his back, hands and cowboy hat beneath his head, he grinned up at me.

I giggled and pointed my camera at him. “I have to capture this!” I said. “I know you so much better now! Thank you for sharing this incredibly important act of lying in the grass with me.”

Logan laughed. “That's right. Guess what? I'm feeling generous. I'll share the grass with you if you'd like to try this life-altering event.”

I dropped my jaw, then put a hand on my cheek in jest. “Logan, you would share your field with
me
?”

“It was a very difficult decision,” he said. “Ultimately, I decided that since you were new in town, it was the neighborly thing to do.”

I laughed and removed the camera strap from around my neck. I rested the camera on the seat of the ATV.

I stood close, but not too close, to Logan, and lowered myself onto the ground. The grass wasn't sharp like I'd thought it would be—instead it made a soft bed as I lay on my back. Like Logan, I made a pillow with my hands.

“This is oddly comfortable,” I said. “Mattress toppers should be filled with this. Obviously, someone needs to get working on an invention that would keep the grass alive.”

“Obviously,” Logan said. His tone was light and teasing. “I'll e-mail Serta the second we get back.”

The ground was cool under my body, but the cloudless sky allowed the sun to warm us.

“I'm guessing that a guy who runs a company like your dad's moves a lot,” Logan said. “Do you and your mom always move with him?”

I rolled onto my side, propping up my head with a hand. “Yes,” I said. “I've got an older sister, Kate, and she's an entertainment TV reporter. But yeah, Mom and I always go.”

“I can't imagine that life,” Logan said.

I thought I detected a note of wistfulness in his voice.

“Where are some of the places you've been?” he continued.

“It's a
long
list,” I said. “It would totally bore you.”

Logan rolled onto his side and faced me. “I don't care how long the list is—it won't bore me. I
dream
about traveling.”

“Where have you gone?” I asked. “Maybe we've been to some of the same places.”

A hint of pink came to Logan's cheeks.

“I only left Wyoming once,” he said. “I went to Montana to pick up a horse trailer.”

“Are you going away for college?”

Logan shook his head. “I actually just graduated from Lost Springs High. I was able to take a test to graduate now instead of in May. This is only my second week not being in school.”

“Wow, that's cool,” I said. “Are you going to college now or later?”

“Neither. Family business. I can't go off to school and leave my little brother, Holden, and my dad.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked. I studied his face, half expecting him to look exasperated or angry, even, that he was expected to carry on the family business.

Logan smiled—a genuine, real smile with no hint of anything but happiness. “Yeah, it is. I want to travel and see things, but I was never the go-off-to-college type. I've wanted to run a ranch since I was a kid.”

“Would your dad freak if you wanted to go away to school?”

“No,” Logan said. “He'd do exactly what he's doing now—take care of Holden and run things—he'd just have less help. But he wouldn't complain about it. He always wants me to do whatever makes me happy.”

“I'm sorry you haven't been able to travel,” I said. “But it has to feel good to accomplish so much with your family's ranch, yeah?”

“I'm definitely the right hand for the ranch,” Logan said. “It's hard, but I used to get to take a couple weeks off school during the height of planting and harvesting seasons.”

“The school let you do that?” I asked. “I've never heard of a school being that accommodating before.”

“Lost Springs High has to let us out if we're working and our parents need help. So many families here grow produce, have dairy farms, raise cattle—we're a working town.”

“What kind of farming does your family do?” As I spoke, I felt my muscles relax. Being in the bright sunlight with the gentlest of breezes was almost more relaxing than any spa treatment I'd ever had.

“Our ranch started with my great-granddad. It used to be a full working farm with cattle, horses, pigs, and produce. Now my dad and I only deal in produce. We split the work pretty evenly, but soon the labor will be divided among three people because my dad just hired a new hand.”

“My family lived near a farm for six-ish months when I was ten,” I said. “That's when I decided that I wanted to grow up and be a farmer because I'd get to be outside and work with animals all day.”

Logan smiled. “I'm sure that's still your dream,” he said, his tone teasing.

“It was, until I volunteered at my neighbor's place,” I said. “I spent more time doing barn or field work than being with the animals.” I plucked a leaf of grass, rolling it with my fingers. “I saw how hard everyone worked—even the little kids.”

Logan smiled. “Holden is ten and he's the best kid. He gets up with me at four every morning and does extra chores without being told,” he said.

“Aw,” I said. “He must get his work ethic from you.”

My brain started sending warning signals that I didn't need to be talking to the enemy. But something else stirred in me—I wanted to get to know him more. I was talking to Logan the Guy, not Logan the Protestor.

Logan bowed his head a little. “Thanks. I try to be a good example for him. He's helping me plant our summer crop of vegetables.”

“It's March. You're planting for summer?” I asked. “Or, maybe you don't want to tell me. I have the
worst
luck with every plant on the planet. I don't want that to rub off on you.”

Logan laughed. I liked it when he laughed. “I'll take my chances. We're planting peas, potatoes, spinach, and radishes.”

“That's
insane
! Wow.” I shook my head. “I love fresh veggies. You're going to regret that you gave me that list. I'll eat all your harvest before it gets to the market.”

“If you can eat eight acres per vegetable, then they're all yours,” he said. “You—” He stopped mid-sentence.

“What's—” I started, but Logan pressed his pointer finger to his lips.

Slowly, he got on his knees and peered down the gently sloping hill.

There was the sound of approaching thunder and the ground hummed. Both things I hadn't forgotten from yesterday.

“The mustangs are coming?” I asked. “Are they your surprise?”

“Yes,” Logan said. “They're on their way. They usually come from the top of that hill.” Logan pointed to a small hill that leveled off into a long stretch of plain.

I looked behind us at the ATV. Surely we could scare off the horses and get away on it.

“Um, I didn't get a chance to tell you,” I said, whispering very fast. “But I've already seen the horses. They came onto my dad's property and almost ran me over.”

Logan turned his head toward me. “They almost
ran you over
? How close did you get?” He sounded wistful. As if he wished he had been there.

“Close enough that tails stung my face; some were inches away when they swerved and avoided running into me.”

“I'm sorry,” Logan said. He reached over and touched my knee. “I know them. The horses. I'm sure they weren't trying to hurt you.”

“I don't think they were at all,” I said.

“The herd never comes this way,” Logan said. “Don't be worried.”

The rumble's intensity increased. I shot Logan a smile, nodding. Horses burst over the top of the hill. A robust chestnut led the way and the herd stayed tight together.

“The winds are in our favor today—they won't smell us and disappear.”

“Look at all those colors,” I said. “The lead chestnut is stunning.”

“You've been around horses?” Logan asked.

“I took lessons on and off as a kid,” I said. “I think they're pretty majestic animals.”

Logan's gaze flickered from the horses to me. “Then you get it.”

“What?” The lead horses began to slow from an energetic gallop to a lope. Finally the herd broke apart and the horses trotted to what seemed like favorite areas.

“You understand why I love them,” Logan said. “You've trusted a thousand-pound animal with your life.” He turned his gaze back to the horses. “Look at them.”

The horses halted almost directly in front of us—there was only about a football field of hill and plain in between us and the horses. I watched foals frolic—letting out shrill little neighs and
play-fighting each other. Most of the horses grazed and a few knelt onto the grass and rolled onto their backs, long legs kicking in the air as they wiggled on the ground.

I didn't know if a minute or an hour had passed when I caught myself looking at Logan. He was completely lost in the herd.

“Logan,” I said. “What's going to happen to them? I mean, am I going to see you at my dad's site with other protestors?”

Logan looked at me. “No,” he said. “The sheriff made it clear to everyone who was at your house that if we protested again there would be trouble. There's nothing we can do to stop your dad. Plus, that's the wrong place to put our energy—or so I've told my dad. We need to think about how to help the horses.”

I licked my bottom lip. “Thank you. I don't want anything bad to happen to them, either.”

“Just because I'm choosing to focus on the horses, though, it doesn't mean everyone else is doing the same. You may still see some protests at the site, so be prepared. But know that I'm not part of it.” He turned his gaze in front of him and back to the horses. “The mustangs kind of saved someone in my life once. I owe it to them to help.”

“How?” I asked.

“My mom left us five years ago.”

“Oh,” I said. I reached out a hand and touched his knee. “I'm so sorry.”

“Thanks. She met some out-of-town guy and she wanted out of Lost Springs. She wanted to travel and this guy—
Brad
—was her ticket out.”

“Logan,” I said. “That is awful. I didn't mean for you to have to talk about that. You don't have to.”

“I kind of do,” he replied. “I have to tell you my story so you'll understand why I love those horses.”

I nodded.

Logan plucked a piece of tall grass and swirled it around a few times before he began stripping it layer by layer.

“Holden was barely five when she left,” Logan continued. His jaw tightened. “He cried every day because he wanted Mom. Or I'd find him bawling because he thought he had done something wrong that had made Mom leave.”

He crushed the blade of grass between his pointer finger and thumb.

“So one day during winter break, Dad and I had been working a job at Pam's farm. If you hang around me long enough, you'll hear me talk about Pam a lot. When my mom split, Pam became a very important part of our—Holden's, my dad's, and my—lives.” Logan smiled. “Like I was saying, Dad and I came home and crashed in the middle of the afternoon because we were so tired. I woke up to Dad yelling. Holden had left while we slept.”

I covered my mouth with my hand. “Oh, my God.”

“There were a few inches of snow on the ground, so Dad and I followed his tracks until they disappeared. We separated and soon it started snowing—hard. I thought I was going to throw up because that's how scared I was. Plus, all of Holden's winter gear was at home. He had gone out in sneakers, jeans, and a sweater.”

My eyes were glued on Logan. His eyes were on the herd, but they had a faraway look, as if he was revisiting that winter.

“The sun just started to set and it was snowing so hard that I couldn't see much in front of me. I yelled Holden's name until my voice was gone. Then out of nowhere, a bay mare appeared. She had this look like she wanted something. She looked at me, then turned away and trotted off. Something inside me said to follow her.

“I ran after the mare,” Logan said. “I saw red and blue peeking out from behind a pile of brush. This is the part that I can almost feel—it's still that real. I ran toward the brush and Holden was there. I picked him up and he was
warm.
We both were crying and I finally caught my breath and asked him how in the hell he had stayed warm.”

In front of us, a stallion struck the ground with a gleaming black leg and let out a neigh that shattered the quiet of the land.

“He said that he had gotten lost in the woods and was trying to get home. Finally, he got so tired and scared that he sat down in the brush. He said a bay mare curled up in front of him and she let him put his arms around her for warmth. She only got up when she heard my voice.”

I sucked in a breath. “Logan, oh my God. That is incredible.”

“There's no other way he would have been warm and not suffering from frostbite if it hadn't been for the horse. I know how crazy it sounds,” Logan said. “But I know that Holden's telling the truth. I've never been able to thank these horses enough for saving my brother. My dad feels the same way. That's a large part of the reason why he reacted the way he did the day before yesterday—he feels it's important to speak up on their behalf.”