Logan (Bachelors And Babies Book 2)

by Margaret Tanner

  “Why? After what you did to me, it’s a wonder you can even look me in the eye.” She couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice.

  “I’m sorry for what happened, Jemma. I want to make it up to you, besides, there’s no-one else who’d come and collect you.”

  He was right, most of the townsfolk thought she should still be in jail. “Will you take me to my grandfather’s place?”

  “I can’t, there’s nothing left there now.”

  She faltered and would have fallen had he not grabbed her arm. “What!”

  “It was burnt down.”

  “Oh, No! What do I do now?” Could anymore bad luck befall her?

  “You can come and live with me. I’ve got a small ranch now.”

  “You have?” She couldn’t hide her surprise. She had always thought Daniel was as poor as she was. Not that she had known him very well, they had only met on a few occasions when he had called in on her grandfather about work.

  “Yeah. We’ll get hitched, make it all respectable, then I can protect you.”

  She stared at him, hoping her mouth wasn’t gaping in shock. She wanted to scream yet dared not, in case she started and couldn’t stop. God and the hand of fate had certainly turned against her.

  “And why would you marry me, Daniel?”

  His face turned red. “Because there are some people in town who think you should still be in jail.”

  She flinched. “I’m innocent. I did nothing except believe Sebastian Foster’s lies. Why didn’t you say something; you were there that night when he tricked me into saying I did it. You knew, yet you said nothing, even when they put me in prison.”

  “I’m sorry about everything. When I agreed to help him, I didn’t realize Alice had been inside the cabin.”

  He led her over to a shabby buckboard and helped her up. She clutched tightly to her meager possessions.

  “How did you get the ranch?” she asked suspiciously. “Foster gave it to you, didn’t he?” She wanted him to deny it, yet deep down she knew he wouldn’t.

  He hesitated, a rosy flush extended from his neck to his face. Guilt was written all over him. He had accepted a bribe from Sebastian Foster.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. Let me off.” She hit out at him.

  “Stop it, Jemma.” He grabbed her flailing arms. “I didn’t know what was going to happen. Foster told me his lawyer would get you off, and at worst, you’d only spend a few days in Sheriff Mayfield’s jail. He said if I talked you into confessing he’d give me that parcel of land on his eastern boundary, the one with the large barn on it.”

  She stared at him in dismay, even though she believed him. Foster was so sly and cunning, the type of man who exploited other people’s weaknesses for his own advantage.

  “It was a chance for me to get ahead.”

  “He might back out of the deal like he did with my grandfather and me.”

  “No, I got him to sign a paper saying the place was mine.”

  “It was blood money.”

  “I didn’t know it then. When I found out poor Alice had died in the fire, I wanted to back out of the deal.” He took a shuddering breath. “Foster’s men bashed me, threatened to kill me if I said anything. I was too cowardly to come forward, stupidly believing Foster’s lawyer would get you off. Once I realized it wasn’t happening, I went and saw Sheriff Mayfield to tell him what I’d done.”

  He stared her straight in the face so she could see he was telling the truth. “He told me to put it in writing about what happened. Told me to say nothing to anyone. Giddup.” He urged his horse on with a slap of the reins. He warned me Foster would kill me if he suspected anything. Said he had a plan.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Annabelle was expelled from the Ladies Academy for starting a fire. She came home and burnt down your grandfather’s place, so Foster sent her to stay with his sister. While she was there she set fire to the staircase, trapping the aunt and herself upstairs. Both of them died.”

  “I’m sorry for the aunt, but I’m glad Annabelle is dead. I only wish old man Foster had died with them.”

  They traveled along in silence, there was nothing left to say. The peace and quiet of the green countryside soothed her.

  “Would you like to go past your old place? The chimney is the only part of the house still standing.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to go there now, it’s too painful for me.”

  They finally arrived at Daniel’s place. It nestled in a valley and was green and fertile looking.

  He followed her gaze. “I don’t have many cattle, but I’m slowly building up my herd.”

  Daniel was about six inches taller than her five feet three inches, tanned and well- muscled. His eyes were a startling blue, his hair a sandy color, quite a handsome young man really. Dare she marry him?

  You’ve got nowhere to live, the townsfolk despise you. What hope would you have on your own?

  She had fought tenaciously to stay alive in prison to see justice done. Poor food, cruel guards and some of the lowest women who ever walked the earth, just waiting for an opportunity to attack her. Her strength was sapped. She could fight no more.

  “I’ll marry you, Daniel.”

  “Whooee,” he hollered. “I was hoping you would. I’ll make you happy Jemma, and always look after you. I swear it.”

  Daniel had turned half the large barn into a house with a stone chimney in the middle. There was a porch and a front door with windows on either side of it. A window set in the high gabled roof was probably a loft.

  “What do you think?” he asked eagerly.

  “It’s nice.”

  “There’s even a well with water so fresh and clear you want to drink it and not stop.”

  He helped her down from the buckboard. “You go inside. I’ll see to the horse and join you. Won’t be long.”

  Inside consisted of one room. It had a stove and a few pieces of old furniture. The wooden dresser had a door missing. A bucket of water sat on a set of drawers. It was untidy, dishes unwashed, clothes lying around and dust coated everything. The floor was a dirt one, covered by a couple of tanned cow hides.

  It was a palace compared to the rank prison cell. When it rained water had trickled in through the mortar holding the bricks in place. Several women had died of consumption, and many of the long term prisoners were crippled with rheumatics because of the cold and damp.

  Daniel strode in. “How do you like it?”

  “It looks good except for being so untidy.”

  He gave a rueful grin. “I dinna have time to clean it up.” Placing the coffee pot on the stove, he reached up into the old dresser and pulled out a battered tin cup, which he set beside the one near the stove.

  “There’s only one bed,” he said.

  She started, her hands flying to her mouth in shock.

  “We’ll share the bed, but I won’t touch you until we’re hitched.”

  Thank goodness for that. She hadn’t thought what marriage might entail. She knew nothing about what a husband expected from his wife. The only thing she did know was once a month a woman had ‘her time,’ and if she was married and it didn’t come, it meant she was having a baby. She had learnt this from the housekeeper at Sebastian Foster’s place after she started working there when she was thirteen.

  “Help yourself to anything you need to make supper. I’ve got several pregnant cows I need to keep an eye on. Foster’s prize bull got out.” Daniel laughed. “With a little help from me he found his way here.”

  “Serves him right, but if he ever found out…”

  “Holy hell. If he ever found out he’d be madder than a bag of rattlesnakes.”

  While Daniel was out attending to his stock, she wandered outside to bring in a few logs of wood. It was quite a pretty place with green paddocks and tree covered hills. No wonder he had been anxious to own it.

  He shouldn’t have done what he did. At least he had tried to make amends. If Se
bastian Foster ever found out….A cold shroud of fear wrapped itself around her shoulders, sending chills down her body.

  The chickens were penned up behind a wire enclosure. The nesting boxes had lift up doors at the back so she only needed to reach in to collect the eggs.

  She had never thought about being wed before. Daniel was a presentable young man who would look after her. It was the best she could expect under the circumstances.

  She shuddered on thinking how she would cope if she became homeless and starving. Would she become a soiled dove in one of the cathouses in practically every town in the West? Never.

  One young girl in the prison had been forced into prostitution so she said. She’d become pregnant and the woman who owned the cathouse had cast her out once her stomach became too large for her to service customers. Friendless, homeless and destitute, she had birthed her baby in a back street and killed it.

  “I did it for the best.” She kept saying. “I didn’t want him to suffer. It was quick, I pushed his head into a horse trough and held it there.”

  I have to stop remembering how horrible things were or I’ll go completely loco. “Remember the good things in your life and forget the rest,” her grandfather used to say. How could she forget what had happened to her? The best she could hope for was to bury it deep within her memory, and hope it stayed there.

  She peeled and sliced a few potatoes she’d found in a box in the dresser. Eggs and fried potatoes was the best she could come up with. She was too exhausted and drained to cook anything else.

  It was dark by the time Daniel returned. “It’s only me, lass.”

  Lass. Dinna. What kind of language was that? She had noticed he had a slight accent sometimes. Of course, his father being Scottish might explain it.

  “Something smells good.” He sniffed appreciably.

  “It isn’t much, but the best I can do at the moment. I’m bone weary and my head aches.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. You sit down and I’ll dish up.”

  She slumped in a chair while he poured out the coffee and scooped the potatoes and eggs out of the pan.

  “Only one egg for me. I can’t eat much because I think it would make me sick.”

  He did as she asked – one egg and half a dozen slices of potato for her, although he piled food on to his own plate.

  They ate in silence. She had to force herself to eat, whereas he gobbled his food down as if he were starving. “What was the food like in jail?” He paused from eating long enough to ask.

  “Horrible swill, which I wouldn’t feed to a dog. It kept us alive, if you could call it that. Sometimes I used to pray I wouldn’t wake up in the morning.”

  He picked up her hand. “I’ll never forgive myself for letting Foster….”

  “Don’t talk about it. I don’t want to ever talk about it again. How’s your brother Logan doing?”

  “All right I think. He arrived back from the cattle drive after they buried Alice. The only person he spoke to was Sheriff Mayfield.”

  “You’re his brother.”

  “Half-brother, we were never close, him being ten years older than me. I think he resented my mother, too. He worked away a lot. Clashed with my father, too. He was a strict old varmint. Used to be in the English navy, so maybe that’s what made him so hard.”

  “You called me lass before. Is that Scottish?”

  “Yes. Ma said I had a real Scottish accent when I was a lad.” He shrugged. “I try to speak like an American, though sometimes I forget.”

  “Actually I think it’s nice, it gives your voice, well, a sort of lilt.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Daniel and Jemma were married the next day by the preacher. Daniel slipped a plain gold band on to her left ring finger as the ceremony proceeded. After it was finished, the preacher’s wife and the lady who arranged the church flowers, acted as witnesses.

  The preacher wished them well, and said God would punish those who had so grievously wronged Jemma. “The wrath of the Lord will come down upon them. You mark my words, my dear. Be strong. I fear you will have to bear your cross for a little longer.” He patted her hand.

  It was over in ten minutes. Jemma Lawrence was now Mrs. Daniel McGregor.

  A shock awaited her as they left the church and drove down the main street. A woman yelled out she was a murderess. A man called her a dirty bed faggot who didn’t deserve to live. Someone else called her a filthy jail-bird.

  Inwardly she cringed, but tried not to show it. Daniel made to pull up the buggy. “No, keep going. It’s what they want, to cause trouble. This wouldn’t have happened if Sheriff Mayfield had still been here she thought. “If I’m caught up in anything like this I could end up back in jail. I won’t go back. I’d rather be dead.”

  “Don’t say that. Giddup.” He urged the horse with a slap of the rein. “People will forget in a while. The preacher as good as said so.”

  Jemma gave birth to a baby girl fourteen months after their marriage. It had been a long and arduous labor, finally Daniel had to rush into town for the doctor who delivered the baby. She was pleased it was a little girl. Daniel, even though he had hoped for a son, took only minutes to fall in love with his daughter.

  “What a bonnie wee lass you are,” he kept saying. He was adamant she should be called Alice after Logan’s wife, with Jemma for the other name. Jemma agreed. She had always liked Alice for a name and it seemed somehow fitting to name the baby for her aunt who had tragically died so young.

  Daniel was a good husband and father, hard working and caring. Jemma was fond of him, but somehow she knew it wasn’t love.

  He did silly things sometimes when he drank too much. Got into fights which he mostly lost. His hatred of Sebastian Foster bordered on madness sometimes. He would sneak around and pull down his fencing so his cattle would escape. One time he even shot out the windows of the big house. He was taking revenge for what the man had done to her.

  “Don’t mess with Foster.” She used to say. “He and his men will catch you one day. Please, Daniel. What will become of Alice and me if something happens to you?” All to no avail. His hatred was like a festering sore that would not heal.

  She had only seen Sebastian Foster once since being released from prison. Deliberately, she had crossed to the other side of the street. On the few occasions she did go into Larriet, she kept a sharp look out for him.

  They did their monthly shopping at another town where she wasn’t known. It took an extra two hours to get there, but she didn’t care. It was only a few times a year. They paid cash for everything they bought. By living frugally and growing their own vegetables they were fairly self-sufficient. She always made their soap, patched and mended their clothes and threw nothing out. If they couldn’t use any left-over food, she fed it to the chickens.

  This one particular day, she was expecting Daniel for lunch, only he didn’t show up. Fool of a man had probably forgotten the time. By mid-afternoon she was starting to worry. He was like clockwork when it came to eating.

  She had fed and changed Alice, and just settled her down when Daniel called out. Hurrying on to the porch, she found him slumped on the ground, groaning loudly. He was bleeding profusely.

  “Foster’s men shot me.”

  She helped him up. “Lean against me,” she said as he swayed, dangerously close to falling. “I’ll get you inside.” He was a dead weight against her. Sobbing with fear, sheer desperation gave her the strength to drag him the rest of the way inside. He sank to the floor with blood pouring out of his chest.

  She grabbed a towel from the back of a chair to staunch the bleeding. Within seconds it was red. Grabbing another towel, which she used for drying dishes, she wedged it under his ribs.

  “Hold it there while I tear up a sheet to bind it, then I’ll ride into town for help.”

  “No.” A bloodied hand grabbed her arm. “I’m dying.”

  “No! No!”

  “I am,” his voice was hoarse. “Foster wants thi
s place back because of the water.” His hand dropped away.

  She dashed to the cupboard and pulled out a sheet, tearing it into strips as she came back to him. He moaned with pain, cursing every now and again.

  “There’s a bottle of whiskey in the dresser, I need a drink.”

  She slipped a pillow under his head. “It will make you feel worse.” She bandaged the wound as tightly as she could.

  “Please, Jemma, I haven’t got long.”

  She hurried to the dresser and grabbed the half empty bottle and brought it back to him. He groaned when she raised his shoulders so he could drink it straight from the bottle. After a few mouthfuls, he slumped back, eyes closed.

  “Daniel!”

  “I’m not dead yet. The light is hurting my eyes, that’s all. You and Alice have to leave here tonight. Pack a few things into the small wagon. Two horses can pull it.”

  “Why?”

  “Foster wants the well and the water. He’ll kill you to get it. I heard a couple of his men talking about it. They thought I was dead. Ambushed me, dirty varmints. You’ll be next.” He moaned loudly, the sound appearing to come from deep inside his throat.

  “Take Alice to Logan. He’s an honorable man.” He was gasping now. “I love you Jemma. You and Alice have been my life. Logan’s farm is about two hours east of Trails End, South Dakota. Go there, you’ll be safe.”

  “I can’t leave you like this.” Her tears fell on to his ashen face.

  “Wait until I’m gone. It won’t be long. Hold my hand.”

  She heard the death rattle and he was gone. She pressed his eyes closed, folded his arms across his chest and covered him with a blanket off their bed. She was a dead woman if Foster or his men caught her. He would delight in killing her, even if there wasn’t any ranch or the abundant water supply.

  With tears streaming down her face, she filled a bag with a few things for herself and another larger bag for Alice who still slept.

  Stumbling out to the barn on legs barely able to hold her up, she managed by sheer force of will and desperation, to hitch up two horses to a small covered wagon. Sobs shook her body, tears cascaded down her cheeks as she worked.