Then what?
Corville, for better or worse, was his home. He’d been born and raised here, only leaving when he was in the Army. Even then, whenever he’d had leave, he’d come home to visit, staying in this very house with Frank.
Which brought up the question – had Frank Jesse known about Logan’s parentage? Is that why he’d received special treatment? Admittedly, five years in the Army wasn’t exactly a gravy train. As a matter of fact, it had been damn hard work and he was lucky to have come out alive. Many of his fellow soldiers hadn’t.
But Frank had looked at him differently. Even leaving Logan this ranch when he’d died. Some had been puzzled when that happened, but Logan knew he’d earned it. The last few years of Frank’s life he’d been so eaten up with alcoholism that Logan had run not only the sheriff’s office but the ranch as well.
Suddenly he couldn’t stand to be inside the house. Logan grabbed the bottle and headed out the back door, tossing his cell phone on the kitchen counter as he went. He walked across the green grass until he was standing in front of his tree. Grabbing a branch with one hand, he tucked the bottle under his arm to keep it safe.
He’d spend the night in the treehouse he’d built with his own hands several years ago. There was no telephone to bother him. Only the silence surrounded him and his thoughts.
Or not think at all. Just drink until he couldn’t feel anything. Until there was peace.
The only problem was he wasn’t sure he’d recognize it when he found it. He’d known little in his life and it didn’t look like he’d be getting even a glimpse anytime soon. He swung up into the treehouse and settled on the bed watching the sun start to fade in the distance.
He took another drink of whiskey and settled in for a long night.
* * * *
Ava pulled a soda from the refrigerator as her mother bustled into the kitchen to start dinner.
“It’s about time you came out of your room. You’ve been locked in there all day,” her mother observed.
For good reason. Ava hadn’t wanted to face any questions from her mother and father about her date with Logan last night. She still didn’t know how she felt about it herself. It was one measly kiss and it certainly wasn’t her first. It shouldn’t be a big deal but somehow things had grown all out of proportion. She wanted to hate Logan but she didn’t. There was something about him that she couldn’t identify.
“I was writing, Mom. It’s what I do.” Ava plopped down at the kitchen island to watch her mother make the meatloaf. Despite the entree not having a good culinary reputation in general, Carol Hayworth made an excellent meatloaf. Her secret was saltine crackers instead of bread crumbs.
“I know but it’s a lovely day. You should go out for a walk or something. It’s not healthy to stay cooped up in one room for hours.”
If her mother only knew. Ava had been known to not leave her home for days on end.
“I’m out of there now. What else are we having?”
Her mother smiled as she dumped the ground beef into a large bowl before adding two eggs. “Mashed potatoes and corn bread.”
Carb heaven. Ava’s mother had never met a starch she didn’t like. From the rounded curve of her own hips, Ava was pretty fond of them as well.
“With honey butter?” she asked hopefully.
“If you make it.” Her mother laughed and poured the broken up crackers into the bowl. Ava grumbled but stood and headed back to the refrigerator, but the slamming of the front door and frantic footsteps interrupted her. Mary burst into the kitchen looking quite unlike her usual unruffled appearance.
“Heavens, child. You’re slamming doors. You know how your father feels about that. Thank goodness he’s at work.”
Mary grabbed Ava’s soda can and she watched in awe as her normally cool sister slugged half of it back in one shot. She raised her eyebrows as Mary set the can back on the island.
“Help yourself,” said Ava a trifle sarcastically. “What the heck is wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Mary took a deep breath. “I kind of have. I wanted to get home to tell you before you heard it from anyone else.”
“Heard what?” her mother asked, digging her fingers into the bowl to combine the ingredients.
“The reading of the will today.” Mary looked annoyed that no one seemed to be getting the urgency of the situation.
“Did Mr. Bryson leave everything to a long lost relative or something? Or the cat?” Ava joked.
“Kind of. He left a quarter of his estate to Sheriff Logan Wright.” Mary looked back and forth between her sister and her mother as if waiting for a reaction.
“Logan?” That didn’t make any sense. “Why? Did he help out the family in some way? Is he distantly related?”
Mary’s lips curved in a Cheshire cat smile, triumph in every line of her expression. She loved it when she knew something no one else did.
“Logan Wright is Bill Bryson’s son.”
Shock and then denial ripped through Ava’s body. “No way. You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. It was revealed today at the reading of the will. You should have seen everyone’s faces. I thought George was going to have a stroke.”
Ava’s mother wiped her hands down with a paper towel. “Why aren’t you with your husband right now?” she asked with a sharp tone. “I would think he would want his wife at his side at a time like this.”
Mary had the decency to blush. “I wanted to be the first to tell you.”
Her mother’s lips twisted. “Well, you are. Was it as glamorous as you imagined?” she asked wryly. “I’m surprised at you, Mary Ellen Hayworth Bryson. You usually have better sense than this. The Bryson family, your own husband, is probably in great pain from this news and you come tearing into this house to spread gossip.”
Pressing her lips together, Mary dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, Mom. I guess I forgot what was important.”
“Yes, you did. I hope you remember it now.”
Ava watched her mother turn Mary into a stammering schoolgirl. The only person that could keep Mary in line was Carol Hayworth. Lyle didn’t have a prayer of wrangling his headstrong wife.
“How’s Logan taking this? Did he already know?” The question was wrenched from Ava but she couldn’t help herself. He must be completely devastated.
Mary looked up and shrugged, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. “From what Deke Kennedy said only Bill and George Bryson knew. I didn’t see Logan. He was gone by the time we got to the house. Wade, Lyle, and Aaron have been looking for him but no one can find him.”
Ava chewed on her lower lip as emotions she’d tried to suppress last night squeezed her heart. Logan could be a royal jerk at times, but mostly he was a really nice man. She liked and respected him, and this had to have hurt him deeply. To find out he’d been lied to his entire life would be a betrayal he might never get over.
She slid off the barstool and moved towards the stairs to get her purse. “Mom, I may not be back in time for dinner. Don’t wait on me.”
Her mother put her hand on her hips. “Just where are you going?”
“To talk to Logan.” She waited for her mother’s disapproval but instead Carol Hayworth’s expression softened.
“Honey, do you think it’s a good idea? He must be in a powerful lot of pain right now. Maybe you should wait a day or two.”
“No, I need to see him. Tonight.” Ava couldn’t explain the inexplicable urge to be with him. Right now. She only knew she couldn’t deny it.
Mary shook her head. “No one knows where he is. You’ll never find him.”
Ava had a pretty good idea where Logan was hiding. She remembered the conversation they’d shared last night only too well. It was worth a try.
“I’m going anyway,” Ava replied. “I have to.”
Mary snorted and tossed back the rest of the soda in the can. “And another one bites the dust for the amazing Logan Wright. I should have known that’s what you were
doing hanging around him so much. You know he’s only going to break your heart, don’t you?”
“It’s not like that. We’re friends,” Ava denied.
“Friends?” Mary laughed bitterly. “Logan Wright doesn’t have any female—”
“Hush, Mary,” Ava’s mother intervened. “If Ava says they’re friends, that’s good enough for me.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Ava headed toward the door, slinging her handbag over her shoulder on the way. She felt a touch on her arm and turned to see her mother’s worried expression.
“Honey, I don’t want you to get hurt. Are you sure about this? Logan Wright is a good man, but…is he your man?”
Her voice was gentle and it tore at Ava’s heart. She was only beginning to comprehend her feelings for Logan. This wasn’t going to have a happy ending, of that she was sure.
“No, Mom. He’s not my man but that’s alright.”
Her mother looked at her for a long moment and then nodded. “Drive carefully.”
Ava climbed into her car and headed toward Logan’s ranch. It was the dumbest, stupidest thing in the world to go after him. But she couldn’t stop herself. He needed someone and she needed to be that someone.
No matter what it cost her.
Chapter Ten
Ava found Logan’s treehouse tucked into a back corner of the lawn about two hundred feet from the house and barn. Peering up into the tree, she realized with dismay there was no ladder to access the house.
She was going to have to climb the damn tree.
She hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and reached up for the lowest branch, digging her sneakered toe into a knothole in the thick bark. She muttered a few impolite words as her foot slid down and she had to do it all over again. This time it held and she swung herself up on the branch, swinging her leg over it so she was in a straddle position.
One deep breath and she reached for the higher branch as she stood on the other, hiking her leg up as high as she could reach. By pushing with both her hands and feet she found herself kneeling on the upper branch. A peek down to the ground made her dizzy and she closed her eyes for a moment so the world would stop spinning.
If Logan wasn’t up here she was going to kick his ass when she did finally find him. That was if she lived through this. She still needed to inch across the branch about a foot and a half to get to the opening of the treehouse.
And it was an impressive structure. It had been partially obscured from the ground by branches and thick leaves, but this close she could see it was about twelve by twelve in size and tall enough for a grown man to stand in. It looked professionally made with windows and a peaked roof with real shingles. If she wasn’t about to plummet to a horrible death she would have taken the time to admire his craftsmanship.
Right now all she wanted to do was to live through this. Hopefully Logan would know an easier way back down to the ground because she didn’t have a clue how she was going to manage that now she was up here.
She carefully dragged her left leg forward and then her right, balancing on the branch until she was finally at the entrance. She slowly reached up for the doorknob and twisted it, praying it wasn’t locked. The door fell open and she collapsed in a heap on the treehouse floor grateful for something solid underneath her.
She looked up to see Logan about four feet away, reclining on a bed and holding a liquor bottle. He held up the bottle with a grin.
“Ava, come have a drink with me.”
His voice didn’t sound slurred so she couldn’t be sure if he was drunk. A second look at the bottle showed about a third of it was gone. If it had been unopened when he’d started he probably wasn’t sober.
She crawled the few feet and climbed up onto the bed, really just a mattress on the floor. To make it more inviting, Logan has fashioned a cushioned headboard and the bed was covered with clean linens, blankets, and oversized pillows.
She slid her purse off her shoulder and settled back, giving him a sour look. She wasn’t in the best of moods after risking her life. “Everyone is looking for you. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
He scowled and took another drink straight from the bottle. “I came up here because I didn’t want to talk to anyone. You weren’t supposed to find me.”
“Well I did,” she retorted. “Not that you make it easy. I almost killed myself climbing the tree.”
He took a swig, his forehead crinkled in confusion. “Why didn’t you use the ladder?”
Ava wanted to smack Logan hard despite the fact that she was here to comfort him. He was obviously delirious, drunk, or both. “There is no ladder,” she snapped. “Or I would have, of course. Did you climb the tree?”
“No,” he shook his head. “I used the ladder.” Logan started to smile and then to laugh, his entire body shaking. He pointed to the far side of the treehouse. “There’s another door there. That side of the tree has pieces of wood nailed to the trunk so you can come up. Did you really climb the tree?”
Ava had to grit her teeth to keep from kicking him in the balls. “I did. It’s not funny, you know. I could have killed myself.”
Logan was still chuckling, his patented grin spread across his too handsome face. “More likely you would have spent the next six months in a plaster pantsuit but that’s not the point. You did climb the tree and you did find me.” His smiled disappeared. “What did you want?”
She didn’t want to tell him people were gossiping about him but he’d lived in this town long enough to know that secrets were hard to come by. “I heard what happened today. I thought you might need some company.”
“Company, huh? I can’t imagine why you would think that. I came up here to be alone. That’s what I am, Ava, alone.” He held out the bottle to her. “Since you’re here, you might as well have a drink.”
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Uh uh, I don’t drink Wild Turkey.”
He held it closer. “If you stay, you drink. If you don’t drink, you leave.” He jerked his head toward the entrance. “The same way you came in.”
“You’d make me climb down the tree?” she gasped. “That’s mean.”
“I can be sweet. If you want, we can burrow down under these covers, just the two of us. I’ll show you just how nice I can be. I’ll have you screaming so loud we’ll scare the birds from the trees.”
She took the bottle from his outstretched fingers and grimaced. “I think I’ll pass on the sex, if you don’t mind. I can only imagine how many women you’ve brought up here and seduced.”
“Seduced?” Logan laughed. “Honey, women come to me, not the other way around. I haven’t had to lift a finger to get a woman in my bed since I was in my teens. Just so we’re clear, I’ve never brought a woman here. This is my space.”
And she’d invaded it, clearly. He didn’t look angry but he didn’t necessarily look thrilled either. He obviously found her funny, but for all the wrong reasons. She hated being this attracted to a man this boastful about his prowess with women but what could she do? Attraction wasn’t something you could control. It was there whether she liked it or not. The only thing she had control of was how she reacted to it.
Maybe. She hadn’t had much control about coming here to be with him. It had been a compulsion she couldn’t deny.
He was watching her closely, his eyes a trifle glazed, probably due to the alcohol he’d already imbibed. She lifted the bottle to her lips and took a drink, the fiery liquid scalding her throat as it slid down.
She made a face and her eyes started to water. “Ugh! That’s terrible. How can you drink that and not puke?”
“It’s an acquired taste, good girl,” Logan mocked. “Have another. Who knows? You might start to like it.”
Her belly was already starting to heat up but she shut her eyes and took another drink, smaller this time. She’d heard about enjoying the mellow smoothness of a fine whiskey but at the moment she’d give anything for a caramel latte.
“That’s just nasty.” She p
ushed the bottle back to him, and he lifted it to his lips. He took a long swallow before setting the bottle between them. He reached to his left and placed a Western guitar on his lap, strumming the strings idly.
Leaning back against the cushions, Ava didn’t say anything. She let him have his quiet while he played a few tunes, one after the other. Finally, he took another drink and handed the bottle to her. After she had made another face and shuddered as the whiskey heated her insides, he looked up at the ceiling.
“My mom left when I was a senior in high school,” he said abruptly. She shoved away the urge to respond and waited for him to continue. He drank deeply from the bottle. “I went to school one day and when I came back she was gone. No note. Didn’t take anything with her. Just gone. She never came back. I waited for her but she never did.”
He played the guitar again and she recognized the tune of Puff the Magic Dragon. It had been one of the first songs she’d learned to play on the piano as a child. His mother abandoning him must have been a horrible moment in his young life. Ava couldn’t imagine her mother leaving her like that. No wonder he didn’t get serious with women.
“I like that song,” she said. Not sure how to reply to his revelation. She’d known his mother was gone but not the circumstances.
Logan studiously avoided looking at her. “She taught it to me. It was just me and her for a long time. My dad up and left when I was ten. Only when he left, he packed all his things and said goodbye. He said he’d write to me.” He plucked at a string. “He never did. I never heard or saw him again.”
Her heart squeezing in her chest, Ava wanted to reach out and comfort him. Somehow she knew he wouldn’t welcome it at this moment.
“She started drinking after he left. Not so much she couldn’t work, but enough I knew she wasn’t happy. I wasn’t enough to make her happy.”
Pressing her lips together, Ava batted at a stray tear, hoping Logan didn’t notice. He wouldn’t appreciate the pain she felt on his behalf.
Cowboy Truth: Cowboy Justice Association #3 Page 9
