Logan’s Land
Serita Stevens
Aakenbaaken & Kent
Logan’s Land
Copyright 2019 by erita Stevens
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations for use in articles and reviews.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of the fictional characters to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-938436-82-6
Dedication
To Hank - who stands beside me as the
"wind beneath my wings "
Chapter 1
The hot sun beat down on the stagecoach making those of us inside even warmer than before. The road from Salt Lake City, where I had started my stagecoach journey, to Ruby City, Montana, was a lonely track, hemmed in by sagebrush and surrounded by steep barren hills. It felt as if I had been traveling forever, even though this last leg of my journey had only begun at dawn. I thanked God that my long trip was nearly over, and yet in many ways, it was only beginning.
I tasted the dust of the road in my mouth, even though we had stopped for refreshment less than an hour ago. I wasn’t sure which was worse – the dust or the food!
Indeed, the stagecoach stops provided the worst meals I had ever experienced. Once we passed the Yellowstone River, and the site where General George Custer had fallen, the unpalatable food had become outrageously expensive. Imagine one whole dollar for a meal!
Clinging to the strap as the stagecoach swayed, I bounced along, gritting my teeth. Exhausted as I was from the nights of worry and uncomfortable beds, I wanted to close my eyes, yet knew I could not for the ruts in the road made any form of rest impossible.
I felt the sweat and heat under my close-fitting gown. Never again would I dress like this for a stagecoach ride. Not even the leg-of-mutton sleeves, designed for optimum coolness, gave relief. At least I had had sense enough not to wear the whalebone hoops under my sleeves. In fact, I did not even recall whether I packed them or if they were among the items I had sold.
So much had gone to pay for this trip. I only hoped Elliot was right when he had said that the West would be a new beginning for us both.
I stared out of the open window at the rusted pans that lay half out of the shallow stream we now followed. What had happened to the men who had panned these waters? How long had the pans lain there?
I knew that gold had been discovered late in the 60’s, just after the Civil War, and no doubt mined out by now, but other precious metals were still being found. From his letters, I could only guess that my brother had made some startling discoveries.
A deep longing to see my twin enveloped me even as the dust swirled around us. My hand inadvertently went to my throat to touch the heart locket he’d given me. Truly, I missed my twin brother and would be glad to be with him again, to see his smiling face. If I could indeed see his face! In his last letter eight months before, Elliot mentioned that he seldom shaved out here. How would that look?
Tears sprang to my eyes and I quickly brushed them away. What had happened to him in those eight months? Why hadn’t he responded to my letters since? He had warned me several times to take care of myself. Now, I wondered if he had cared for himself.
This last leg of my journey seemed the roughest of all. As the stage hit a washout and jarred me again. I grabbed the side of my seat. Was the journey a mistake? I supposed after the long trip from Chicago, I should be used to this, but I wasn’t.
As the stagecoach swayed, I was glad I’d eaten little when we had stopped for lunch. The driver had said he would be changing horses again before reaching Ruby City. Perhaps then I would feel more like eating.
At my side, an elderly gentleman uncorked the bottle he’d removed from his old battered coat and took a greedy swig. He spilled nothing despite the lurch of the stagecoach.
The tap on my shoulder startled me. I jumped and then realized it was the young boy seated across from me ‒ the one who reminded me so much of Elliot with his cocky bravado. He held out a piece of apple for me.
Smiling at him, I shook my head. “Thank you. David, but I’m not hungry.” I prayed the growling in my stomach wouldn’t betray me, especially since I knew that the apple was probably the last of the boy’s food until our next stop.
"It's... It’s okay. Really.”
“Well, if she don’t want it, lad. I’ll take it.” Mrs. Germinadi, a grossly overweight woman, waved her fan toward me.
The boy studied me. I shrugged, “It’s yours to do with as you wish, David. Consider that you might want it for later. After all, you travel further than either of us.”
The boy looked at the fruit a moment and put it back in his pouch. “Yeah. You’re right.”
Mrs. Germinadi grumbled, but it wasn’t the first time she had been displeased on this trip.
~
The coach climbed the steep grade onto higher ground. The world appeared to change in that moment as it morphed from the shimmering gray of sagebrush hills to cool hues of blue and white with a green river sparkling beneath it.
As the sun shone on the mountaintop, I felt a ray of hope. Everything would be all right, I told myself. Elliot would be at the stage stop waiting for me.
I stared at the distant mountains, still covered with snow despite the heat, as I willed some answer to arrive, but nothing came to me. What my life would be like out here?
Closing my eyes, I mentally reread Elliot’s final letter: what had he discovered? Why had he warned me to be careful of what I wrote him? If only he had written back and told me. If only he had sent for me. Nervously, I wondered if I shouldn’t have waited a bit longer in Chicago, or perhaps tried yet another teaching post. But no, my fear for Elliot had forced me into action. Nearly a year without any word from him was far too long.
Taking several deep breaths, I closed my eyes as I tried not to see the barren lands or feel the illness caused by the motion of the stage. How much longer could I stand the close confines, this heat, or my traveling companions?
Despite the tight quarters, the passenger across from me had stretched out his legs and reclined so that his unbuttoned vest revealed a huge stomach. As I stared at him – at his audacity – he leered in response. Quickly, I looked away. Even the earlier drab scenery felt preferable to looking at him!
I glanced at the watch fob that had belonged to my father.
I longed for a bath. Most of all, I longed to see Elliot – and talk to him.
According to the driver, we’d arrive in Ruby City by sunset. My heart hammered with nervous anticipation. If my brother did not appear… what would I do?
“Wanna play a game?”
The boy captured my attention once more. I smiled and nodded as he took out a deck of cards.
In the distance, several dust clouds rose like miniature cyclones.
Squinting with the heat and the glare of the sun against the snow, I realized these were not cyclones but riders. Did trouble lie ahead?
The riders continued at their breakneck speed pulling their horses suddenly to a halt in front of us as the stagecoach jerked to a stop.
Were we being held up? I had heard about the bandits on the road but…
Then I realized these men wore metal stars on their shirts.
Beside me, the old woman snorted before she opened her eyes, “We here?”
I shook my head even as the door flew open and a rifle was thrust into the carriage.
“Sorry, ladies and gentlemen.” The man who faced us tipped his hat politely. “We’re lookin’ for a runaway. A fugiti
ve from justice. Man’s dangerous. Just wanted to check and see none of you passengers might have seen him. We’ve reason to believe he planned to meet today’s stagecoach.”
“Well, I’ll be!” Mrs. Germinadi exclaimed. “I suppose your plan is to search us. I for one…” She huffed and puffed like the big bad wolf while David leaned closer to me, his eyes the size of the piece of apple he had replaced in his pack. I put my hand out to reassure him and was rewarded with a tentative smile.
“Would you mind putting that away?” I glared at the gold-starred man. “You’re frightening him. And you’re frightening me.”
The man wet his lips. “Sorry, ma’am.” He handed the rifle to someone else and held out his hand. “As the woman stated, we gotta insist you come out.”
I glanced at several of the others in the carriage. Well, at least I would have a chance to stretch my legs. I gave my hand to the sheriff and took David’s small one in mine. Together we stepped onto the dusty road.
A rope hung from one of the branches, swinging empty in the wind. My heartbeat quickened.
Elliot had told me in his first letter that justice in the West was swift but often was not justice at all.
Forcing myself not to think about the poor man who had obviously suffered at the end of this rope I turned my attention to the riders.
“Ma’am.” One of the riders spoke. “Mind standing under the tree over there? Wouldn’t want the sun to hurt your pretty skin.”
Without looking up I nodded and walked toward the shade he indicated. David followed.
“That your boy?”
We both turned toward the man still in the saddle. Our eyes met.
For a moment I paused, struck by the startling blueness in his orbs and the way he seemed to study me. I shifted uneasily.
“That your son, Ma’am?” He pushed his hat forward.
I shook my head. “David’s just a stagecoach friend. He’s... traveling onto Helena.”
“See.” His laconic drawl sounded almost Southern in tone. He nodded and as his attention turned to the others, I felt a sense of relief.
It took several minutes for all the travelers, six of us, to escape the heat and confines of the carriage. Mrs. Germinadi continued to fan herself, while another woman raised a parasol. Again, I thought of the possessions I had been forced to sell or leave behind. Two trunks were all I had to my name now.
Perhaps one day, when we had more money, Elliot would let me send for the few items I had left with friends.
The man who had assisted us peeked in the carriage again. Even as he pulled up cushions I questioned if someone could or would want to hide beneath them!
“Nope, Logan.” He addressed the man on the horse who had talked to me. “He ain’t here.”
“Just what is the name of this desperado you are seeking?” My neighbor’s high-pitched voice cut through the heat. “And what has he done?”
The man, Logan, glanced in her direction, but then his eyes returned to me as if he suspected me of doing something evil.
“The man’s name, Ma’am, is Edward Elliot.”
My heartbeat raced. I knew for certain that my reaction was not just the heat. I grabbed the branch of the tree to steady myself as I wet my lips and felt the dryness in my throat. I tried to swallow and glanced upward towards the speaking man.
Our eyes met and once again I felt my pulses beat harder. Could my fear and worry be seen? The man they sought could not be my brother Elliot, could it? But why would they be looking for him – and dangerous yet?
Yet our last name was Edwards. Would Elliot have reversed his names? But why would he be hiding? What could he have done? Hadn’t his last letter to me indicated that he had found something marvelous?
“Excuse me.” The voice hardly sounded like mine. I trembled so hard I barely heard my own thoughts. “What did he do... that you should seek him so?”
The man, who continued to stare at me, shifted in his saddle.
I glanced toward the gray horse, and then met the man’s startling blue eyes again.
A third man spoke. “Edward Elliot is suspected of murdering a government agent.”
“Murder?” I gasped.
“Oh, dear me. Oh my,” Mrs. Germinadi fanned faster. “Murder! And you suspected that he might have been here on our stage? Oh, dear me.” She waved her fan so fast I was sure her wrist would fly off with it. “I should never have come out here. I should never have listened to my son. I... ”
“Ma’am.” The man named Logan spoke. “I believe you are becoming over-emotional. It’s a simple search. We don’t know for certain that Mr. Elliot has committed this murder. We know only that he is missing and that we seek him. I can assure you,” he glanced toward the sheriff who had assisted us out of the stage, “Mr. Washburne has matters well under control.”
“Well, if he has matters well under control — ” my neighbor continued to shriek.
Logan gave a sardonic smile. “Clay, why don’t you assist the ladies back in the coach. Morgan and I will continue to ride ahead. I want to see if the fellow is hiding in the mountains.”
“I think we’re wastin’ our time,” the sheriff said, “since nobody’s seen the man fer near on” – he paused to count on his fingers – “five or six months.”
Logan glared at the sheriff. “He’s around. He has to be. If he received the telegram, he’s here and we’re shall find him.” He reined in his restless gray. “I thought sure he would meet this stagecoach. Seems I was wrong.”
I held my breath. My telegram had done this? Had Elliot really received it? Had my brother planned to meet my stagecoach? The many months without news from him had made me fearful but hearing that he might have truly received the telegram revived my hope.
The man, Logan, continued to stare at me. Did my own reddish-brown hair, though covered by my bonnet, seem recognizable? It was the same color as Elliot’s. Did he see the family features? How well did he know my brother?
The others started returning to the coach.
David pulled at my hand.
“Boy’s headed toward Helena. That where you’re going?” Logan rode his horse closer to me. I felt myself shake.
“Me?” My voice squeaked.
He nodded.
My throat was dry. “Ruby City. I’m headed for Ruby City.”
“Oh?” He looked down at my ringless hands. “You have family there?”
My mind blanked. “Do I have family where?”
“Ruby City?”
The sun seemed to beat down upon me unmercilessly. David stood tall as if his presence alone would protect me.
“I... yes... no, I mean I have a cousin who lives there.”
“Oh?” He raised a brow. “You’ll be staying with your cousin then?”
How could I think with the man staring at me? I was aware of his sun-darkened skin, the crinkles about his eyes, and the lines on his face. His intense blue eyes seemed to burn through my very soul.
I took a deep breath as I tried to control the shivers deep within me.
“I... don’t know yet. They... uh... don’t know... that I’m coming. It was... a surprise.” I wet my lips. Nothing seemed to help. Indeed, all this was a surprise to me. I would not believe my brother Elliot had harmed anyone, or that he would be on the run.
“I see.”
Forcing myself to bravado, I asked ‒ “Is there a reason you continue to stare at me, sir?”
“You want me to punch him out, Lisa?” my protector asked.
I managed to smile at David, but it was tepid, so I took his hand in mine. “No, darling. Let’s just get back on the stage.”
We moved forward but before my foot could reach the metal step, Logan spoke again. “You’re an attractive woman, Miss... Lisa.”
I winced at this man’s intimate tone. How dare he call me by Elliot’s pet name?
I brushed aside his compliment. Besides, I hardly considered myself a beauty since I displayed none of the flirtatiousness that attracted
a man’s attention. Dimpled blondes were in vogue. My straightforward manner and auburn coloring seemed quite out of fashion and it made no matter to me.
Why had he singled me out?
This man staring at me could probably have any woman he wanted. And even though I knew there was a scarcity of women here in the West, I doubted this man’s attentions were sincere. I knew, therefore, that he must be up to some trick. He suspected me of knowing Elliot; he was trying to unnerve me.
“Come on, David.” I urged the boy up the steps.
He shook his head. “You go first. I don’t trust these cowboys.”
I saw the man, Logan, smile slightly.
Ignoring the tightening in my stomach, I stroked David’s unshaven cheek.
The boy sighed and stepped inside the tight space even as Logan rode closer behind me. “Have a way with kids, do you?”
Although I did not want to respond to him, I was drawn to him “So, I’ve been told.”
Once again, he smiled. “The name’s Logan, Logan James, Miss. I hope that I will have the opportunity of calling upon you. My lands are quite near Ruby City. Indeed, I’m often in town. Now, what did you say the name of your cousin was?”
I swayed and grabbed the leather strap – caught off guard.
In one of my brother’s letters, he had mentioned a Logan James. The references had not been complimentary. If this was the same man, did he have anything to do with my brother’s current problems? Elliot had gotten into jams as a kid and had forever counted on help from me or Mother to save him at the last minute. Was I too late to save him now?
In spite of my resolve, I turned again toward the blue eyes, I had the distinct feeling that this man’s search for my brother was not motivated only by the desire for justice. No, he sought Elliot for some other reason. The question was for what?
“Your cousin’s name was… ?” he repeated.
“Uh... Baxter.” I said, giving my mother’s maiden name.
Logan's Land Page 1
