Logan's Land

by Serita Stevens

  Cursing to myself, I pushed back the swinging doors. I still found it unnerving every time I walked into the place, but the hotel and saloon had but one entrance. My eyes stung with the smoke already building up and I knew before the night was out the smoke would be much worse as the card players puffed on their rolled tobaccos and threw down their cards, cursing and concentrating only on their own pleasures. The piano player, who few of the men really listened to, had already started his evening’s work.

  As I headed up the stairs, Charlie came down, grinning. “Got four bucks, little lady? Or do you want a roomie t’night?”

  “It was three dollars and fifty cents this morning.”

  “Times change.”

  Reluctantly, I took the money from the coin purse and handed him what was almost the last of my funds. My hand trembled. “Have you seen Mr. James?”

  “Logan or Morgan?”

  I’d forgotten they were both Mr. James. I took a deep breath. “Logan.”

  Charlie leered at me. “You want him?”

  My voice sounded odd to my ears and my erratic pulse was causing me to shake. “Yes, I want to speak with him.”

  “Think he’s gone back to the ranch. Be back in a couple of days. But I can find Morgan for you, if ye want.”

  I swallowed hard. “No, never mind. I will speak with Mr. Logan James when he returns t’town.”

  Charlie smiled at me, making me wish I was a cat with claws that could scratch out his eyes. “Suit yourself. You want me to send a message t’him?”

  I shivered and felt my stomach tighten. I wanted to put this thing off for as long as I could.

  “Well?”

  I shook my head.

  Charlie pocketed my money and started back down the stairs. Yet I could feel his eyes on me as I hurried up.

  I paused at the darkened entrance to my room. Something was on the stoop, but I could not see what.

  Fumbling with the key, I managed to open the door — and then I screamed.

  The stray kitten I had cared for was there – dead. Sorrowfully, I picked her up. She had been strangled. Just like Drucilla.

  Sobbing, I took the tiny body and ran down the stairs... but Charlie had disappeared and no one else seemed to be around.

  With the body in hand, I sniffled and hurried to the undertaker. Mourning the kitten and sad that she had died obviously because of me, I presented the object to the black assistant.

  In the few days I’d been there, I’d become quite attached to the little thing. We were it seemed, two of a kind and... both strays.

  The assistant gave me a strange look when I told him I wanted the kitten buried, but then I handed him two whole quarters and asked him to see that the animal was properly taken care of. He grunted and nodded.

  With a heavy heart, I returned to the hotel and prayed that I would not end up like the kitten.

  ~

  Alone in the room again, I shut the door and leaned against it for support. Not that the closed door was any guarantee of safety, for I already knew that Mr. James could gain access to my room any time he wished. Yet, the illusion of asylum was important to me right now.

  I began to pace the uneven floor, wondering what I should do and how I should go about accepting this odious proposal without totally losing all my dignity and respect for myself. If only there was something I could do, if only I knew for sure that the missing claim books would be at the ranch.

  I continued to pace. The man had said one of the James men had come and borrowed the book. That could only be so that I wouldn’t see it. But what would I do once I had the information? Certainly, that wouldn’t be enough for me to prove that Logan had been responsible for Elliot’s death – or would it?

  Wringing my hands, I tried to talk myself out of this very foolish idea that marriage to Logan was my only way to get answers and yet I could think of nothing else.

  The knock on the door startled me.

  Heart pounding, I hurried towards the entrance.

  “Yes?”

  “Missy want bath now?”

  “What?” Puzzled I opened the door to see the two Chinamen carrying the metal tub which I had bathed in the first night.

  “I didn’t order that.”

  “Mistuh Charlie did. He say he make mistakey. He say Mr. Logan just go short time. Be back tonight.”

  “Oh.” I colored and felt the hot blood rush through me. Then I moved aside to let the men in. Yes, I would welcome a bath, but I wasn’t so sure I welcomed the other news about Logan James.

  ~

  Several hours later, having soaked in the warmth of the tub and washed my hair, I sat at the dressing table, trying to put my hair up.

  I toyed with Drucilla’s elaborate feather headdress. She had told me that many of the girls did the extra work on the side, but it wasn’t a requirement of the house. Frowning, I looked in the cracked mirror and decided the feather had looked far better on her than on me. I did not have the assurance or the bosom to carry off such a costume. So much for the idea of becoming a dance hall girl, I thought.

  My hands trembled as I now inserted the pins into the French twist I had fashioned. How was I going to convince Mr. James that it was in his best interest not to insist on bedding me?

  I stared at my pale image in the cracked mirror, blushing even now as I recalled how wantonly I had responded to his touch. I hoped in the future I’d be able to control my feelings. I had to... for Elliot’s sake.

  ~

  Dressed in a modest ruffled high-necked blouse of white voile and simple umbrella skirt of navy-blue lawn, I made sure that the ruffled hem did not touch the floor. A small straw hat perched on the top would have been in the height of fashion now, but I was not in a town that cared much for fashion. I clutched my reticule, and what remained of my funds, and I started down the worn steps into the shadowy world of the saloon and the hotel lobby.

  Charlie was in his usual position at the bar, cleaning glasses in between serving his customers.

  He nodded at me, but his eyes seemed to consider the care I’d taken with my costume.

  I flushed. “I’d like a brandy please.” My voice squeaked.

  He stared at me a moment and then pulled a dirty bottle from under the counter. “You want the real stuff?”

  I hesitated a moment and then nodded. I needed something strong to help me over this moment. I still did not know what I was going to say when I saw Logan James. How was I going to convince him that after fighting him off so many days I now wished to be his wife? How was I going to control my own hatred of him when he touched me?

  I began to sip and then decided that if I was going to live out here for any length of time I might as well do as “the Romans did.” And so I gulped the drink quickly and sputtered, nearly spilling the brandy on my blouse as the hot liquid ran through my veins. Coughing, I put the glass down. My eyes watered. “Give me another please.” My voice was hoarse. My hand went to my throat, as if to protect it.

  Charlie stared at me wide-eyed. “You sure?”

  I could only nod. I needed whatever courage this would give me.

  This time, as I swallowed the glassful of liquid and felt the raw alcohol rush through me, I blinked. I wanted to ask for another but before I could push the glass over to the bartender again, a hand covered mine.

  I didn’t have to look up to know who stood next to me. I could smell his maleness and, besides, the pounding of my pulses gave me all the information I needed.

  “Don’t you think you’ve had enough, Elisa?”

  Did I detect a jeering note? I swallowed hard, still tasting the effect of the raw brandy, as I forced myself to look up into the ice blue eyes of Logan James. I wanted to say something, but I suddenly found myself speechless. I told myself that was a side effect of the brandy, but I knew it was not.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  I broke away from his gaze, feeling his hand still on mine as I glanced at Charlie cleaning his glasses.

  The bart
ender nodded at me and went back to his work. Though it seemed to me as if he edged a bit too close for comfort. Did he want to know how I was going to accept Logan’s proposal?

  I stared at him a moment trying to avoid the question as the words formed a tangled skein in my mind. How was I going to tell him?

  “You did want to see me, didn’t you?” His thumb began to caress the palm of my hand, making me shiver. I didn’t know if my unsteadiness was due to the drink or to my own uneasiness, but I found myself forced to lean against the bar.

  I couldn’t answer.

  He put his hand under my chin, tilting my head upwards. His thumb moved up and down the line of my cheekbone causing shivers to run through me and I was sure it was the drink making me respond so, but as I looked up into his eyes I caught my breath.

  “Elisa, I’m a busy man. What do you need to see me about?” The twinkle in his eyes made me furious. He was baiting me. Had I been a man I would have lashed out and socked him. But I wasn’t a man and therein lay my problem.

  “I... ” I started to speak, but still the words would not come. I couldn’t say that I loved him. I couldn’t say that I wanted to marry him.

  I knew that drinking two of those brandies would be a mistake and yet my fear had urged me on. His fingers continued stroking my cheek and moving the pulsating fire in my veins in a way the brandy had not. Confused, I could only look at him and listen to the rapid beating of my heart.

  “You gonna marry me or what?”

  As I continued staring up at him, I realized that my speaking voice had deserted me. Slowly, I nodded.

  “You gonna say anything else?” He grinned.

  I didn’t know what he wanted me to say, and so mutely I continued to stare at him, feeling more stupid than I’d ever felt in my life.

  “How ‘bout tellin’ me when you want t’be my lady?”

  Never! The words echoed in my brain. But that is not what finally came from my lips. “T-tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” He cocked a brow and then grinned at me. “You don’t waste no time, little Elisa. We’re gonna get along just fine.” His thumb feathered the line of my jaw making it impossible for me to even swallow. “Now that you know who the boss is.”

  He leaned down and for a horrified moment I felt sure he was going to kiss me. Here. In the public of this hotel/saloon. In front of all his cronies.

  Tomorrow! I had actually told him I would marry him tomorrow. It had to have been the brandy in me speaking. I should have put it off for at least a week, I told myself. After all, I would not have time to find a dress and talk to the preacher, and... then I realized that this was not going to be the wedding of my dreams and that the dress I had would suffice. Yet, I cursed myself for suggesting so soon.

  To my amazement, he lifted me up into his arms and began to carry me up the stairs.

  “Put me down!” I ordered him, struggling.

  “Ah, the angel has a voice.” He hugged me closer to his chest, showing me as he’d just said, who the boss was.

  “Put me down, I say.”

  “Sorry, my love. But I ain’t gonna have my new bride makin’ a fool of herself down there with that liquor. You want to make a fool of yourself, you’ll do it with me. In the privacy of your room.”

  “But I ...” There was nothing more I could say. We were already in the semi- privacy of the darkened hall and as he kicked open my door. I realized just how flimsy my protection from him was.

  “What are you doing?” I asked again. “Let me down. Let me alone.”

  He laughed. “Just want to make sure you sleep nice and safe tonight. After all, tomorrow’s our big day.”

  I froze as I realized I had not made everything clear. “Mr. James... we really do not... know each other well... and I —” I took a deep breath. “I would greatly appreciate it if we waited a bit longer before you took your liberties with me. I mean, I realize that as my husband you will have the right —”

  “Liberties, huh.” He pushed the Stetson back on his brow showing me the scar. “From what I’ve been gatherin’, Elisa, the feeling’s rather mutual.”

  I stared wide-eyed at the man. The oaf actually thought I wanted his advances! I flushed and realized that, indeed, a part of me did.

  “But I...” before I could protest and talk him out of tomorrow’s ceremony, he’d dropped me on the bed and then leaned down and kissed me. His lips parted mine with the force of his tongue and his hands stroked my neck as I responded to his manliness.

  His hands reached around, cupping my breasts and I felt a rush of heat flood me as my body responded in a way that my mind could not. I hated this man. He was responsible for my brother’s disappearance... for my brother’s death. And yet, I could not help responding to him.

  To my amazement, he pulled away.

  In the dim light, I could see that he, too, was flushed.

  He grinned at me. “You’d better watch your drink in the future, my dear. I think that two drinks are more than enough for you.” He paused. “I’ll send one of the women up to help you undo all those buttons, Elisa... tonight. But tomorrow night, I will have the honors.”

  With that he closed the door, leaving me to my thoughts... and my fears.

  Chapter 13

  That night I dreamed of Logan’s piercing eyes, and of Charlie’s leering grin. In the back of my mind I could also hear Morgan warning me that I was being foolish and that it would mean my death if I went out to the ranch as his brother’s wife. But what else could I do?

  The dream continued, and I saw Elliot, my dear brother. But he looked so much thinner and paler. He looked… he looked as if he were already a corpse. I wanted to scream but I could not. A bony hand, not Elliot’s, covered my mouth and I feared the evil about me, but I could not see who was threatening me. I only knew that Elliot was pointing an accusing finger at someone standing in the shadows. Who was it? Was I doing the right or the wrong thing by going to Logan’s ranch? Was he my brother’s killer? Would I be able to prove it?

  My brother’s face faded into the darkness surrounding me before my questions were answered.

  I awoke to the knocking at the door and, exhausted from my night of struggling with the demons surrounding me, I could not rise. Instead, I merely said, “Come in.”

  My eyes widened as I saw Theora enter carrying a white brocade wedding gown that was far more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. The white lace fell in rows as it ruffled about the full skirt and the tight bodice had upon it row after row of exquisite pearls. I don’t know which surprised me more: the gown or Theora.

  Finally, I found my voice. “They said you had gone. They… said you were ill.”

  “And so I was.” She did not look at me but laid the dress on the daybed. She started out the door.

  “Wait. I must talk with you. I must — .”

  There was still time for me to find out what Theora knew and perhaps take the afternoon stage away from this dreadful place.”

  “I’ll be back in a moment, honeybunch. Don’t fret now. Just rest. That’s what being a bride means.” The door closed behind her like the finality of my life.

  Hastily, I sat up and pulled on my robe. The mornings were getting chilly. Now that September was here, I knew from Elliot’s letters that it would not be long before the winter began to weave it fingers into our lives. I told myself I would get what information I needed before the first snow fall and I would be away from this town and my new husband shortly after.

  As the door opened again, I saw that Theora had a tray of food filled with all the good things from Ma Peters’ across the street.

  “Now, you just eat it all, honey. Got a big day ahead of you, you do.”

  I frowned as she adjusted the tray in my lap and picked up the flapjacks, sipping the coffee. Slowly, my sense of what really was to happen today came back to haunt me. I looked up at Theora who had remained strangely silent.

  “With Logan James? Honey, there ain’t nuthin’ to tell that I know
of.”

  I pressed my lips together trying to control my temper. “I know my brother worked for him. For several months I believe. And the place where he claimed his mine is not far from the land which Mr. James says belongs to him.”

  “Now, honey, you’re gonna marry the man. I’d think you could call him Logan rather than Mr. James. He’s a good man, Logan is.”

  It was a side issue and I was not to be put off. “Tell me about my brother’s dealings with Logan when he was employed there.”

  She shrugged. “Can’t say that I know much except as you say he worked for Logan.”

  “What about his claim? Where is it? What is it? Gold? Silver? What, what?”

  Again, Theora shrugged. “Be listed in the claim book in Ezra Perry’s office, I imagine.”

  Sighing, I closed my eyes. “Theora, the claim book for the year my brother would have filed is gone. Missing. The clerk said he was told one of the James’ men borrowed it.” I paused and looked directly at her. “Now, what does that tell you?”

  She busied herself with adjusting the veil on my dress. “Sure is nice of Logan to let you use Ginny’s gown. I mean seein’ as you don’t have none of your own and no money and all — ”

  Her words had the desired effect of waylaying my thoughts. Jumping up from the bed, I nearly upset the tray which I had carefully put to one side. “This is his first wife’s wedding dress! No way am I going to use it. Do you realize how cursed I’d be?” I stared at Theora and wondered what Logan was trying to tell me by giving me this. Was he indeed warning me and saying that if I didn’t watch my step I would end up as she had?

  “But darlin’ — ”

  Vehemently, I shook my head. “No. I will wear something of my own rather than the dress which belonged to a dead woman, especially a dead woman who had been his wife.” To show my feelings, I bundled the dress up and threw it out the open door.

  “Logan’s not gonna like that, pet. He ain’t a man t’rile.”

  “I don’t care what he likes. I am not marrying him because I love him. I’m marrying him because — ”