Logan's Land

by Serita Stevens

  He shook his head and then pushed back his hat. His dark eyes seemed like pieces of coal as he stared at me a moment. “I’ll get right to the point, Miss Edwards or rather I should say Mrs. James – ” I blushed, not yet used to the name change. “– have you found out anything useful for us?”

  “Us?” I was puzzled.

  He stared at me a moment more. “Surely, Morgan told you that we suspect Logan of a number of murders, not just his wife Ginny, and your brother Elliot.”

  “My... brother” My fingers tightened on the cup and I was sure my knuckles were white. My heart pounded. “What do you mean – my brother? My brother is back in Chicago.” My voice stammered. “I... I came out here to see my cousins.”

  He smiled at me. “Yes, so you said.”

  Reaching out, Sheriff Washburne touched my hand. His skin was moist like a recently washed rattlesnake. I wanted to pull back, but my fear had paralyzed me just as if the rattler had bitten me.

  “Now, I know that you were trying to keep it a secret and all,” he grinned, “but you forget, sweet thing, I am the law here. I know most of what’s happened and what’s not.” He released my hand from its prison and leaned back in the chair, tilting on, the hind legs like a rearing horse about to trample me.

  “What makes you think Logan James killed... my brother?”

  His expression was the pleased grin of the cat who’d swallowed the canary.

  “Can’t rightly say. Just this and that. Curious that he got that scar just when your brother disappeared. Nothin’ I can prove for sure but that’s why we’re hopin’ you can help. It is why you’re out here, isn’t it?”

  Slowly I nodded, not because I wanted to tell the truth, but because the hypnotic look in his eyes seemed to compel my answer.

  “So, what’d you learn, little lady?”

  I wanted to object to that term, especially coming from him. But my mind was spinning with fear. What if he accidentally revealed to Logan who I was? What if Logan didn’t really know my identity yet but only guessed?

  Clay tilted back the chair again. It vibrated against the floor as he came down hard, startling me and Sara.

  I glanced towards my stepdaughter and wondered if she should even be in the room at a time like this, but then I realized that since she couldn’t hear, it probably didn’t matter.

  I took a deep breath. “I found out that Elliot did work here.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Nothing in writing yet.” I paused. “I was looking for the payroll book the other day but I.. .” Wetting my lips I realized it was Morgan who’d interrupted me that day. I could have trusted him, since he was on the same side as Clay, wasn’t he? I cursed myself then for having acted so skittish. For all I knew, that might have been my only chance to get into the study alone.

  “Go on.”

  “One of the hands. Uh... Mr. Sparks ‒ ” Washburne frowned “‒ he remembered Elliot. Thought I looked like him.”

  “The nigger, huh.” He shook his head. “Can’t trust them blacks to know night from day. Don’t you know that to them all us white folks look alike?” He shook his head again. “Ain’t got no intelligence. Been proven by science. Yes-sir-ee. It’s been proven by science.”

  “But the Civil War. We just fought to free them and —”

  “Honey, out here most men fought for the South.” He raised his hand in a mock salute. “Long may she be strong.” Shaking his head again, he continued. “It was just a darn shame that we didn’t have more time and more supplies.”

  “Did Logan and Morgan fight for the South, too?” I could scarcely believe it.

  Clay shook his head. “Too young and their father was a bleedin’ Republican. Naw, they were raised out here. Part-Indian stock, I think. Defective already.” He grinned at me. “If you know what I mean.”

  I shook my head. “No, Sheriff, I don’t know what you mean.” My tone had become icy and when I saw the look in his eyes, I knew I had made a mistake.

  I glanced over at Sara again, who was now playing with some wooden blocks on the floor. They were alphabet blocks which I had had Mr. Sparks make for her.

  “You sayin’ you’re not gonna help us, Mrs. James?” He used the name in a sarcastic tone.

  Swiftly I turned back to him. “I didn’t say that. I wanted to find out what happened to my brother as much as you do.” I paused. “Perhaps more. I’m told my brother had made a claim before he died. If that’s so, then the land he claimed belongs to me as his only living heir.”

  Washburne grimaced. “Well, just see you keep it that way... livin’ I mean.” His fingers drummed a rhythm on the wood table. “But get me some information. Time is runnin’ out, pretty lady. We gotta get the goods on Logan soon. Do whatever you need t’do but find out about Edward Elliot... I mean, Elliot Edwards.” He stared down at me. “You ain’t in love with Logan, are you?” His eyes narrowed.

  Just the way he said that made me shiver. “No... I... how can you say that! I hate him. He forced me into a sham marriage. He murdered my brother. He — ”

  “Whoa!” Clay held up his gnarled hand. “Just askin’. No need to bite my head off. Didn’t want you gettin’ too soft out here with this luxury life.”

  He grabbed his hat and stood. “Think I’ll see how that cow’s comin’ along.”

  He left the room and a cold chill swept over me.

  I told myself that he was right. I had to get information. I had to trust him. I just wondered why I disliked him so.

  Chapter 22

  Until I was able to walk again properly, I told myself it was impossible to get up the stairs without someone’s help. That is, I could have, but it would have been both awkward and noisy. Certainly not a way for someone who was spying in drawers, closets, and such.

  It was funny. I did not think of myself as a spy. Yet I guess in the strictest sense, I was. All I knew was that I wanted to get whatever information I could from Logan’s books, to find my brother’s claim and leave this place before something worse happened to me.

  Meanwhile, I spent my time with Sara and was pleased to see her development. Often as she sat on my lap, I would read to her and let her point out objects to me. The books we had here were few compared to the libraries in the homes where I had worked. But there was enough here to stimulate my young charge. As she touched my mouth, feeling the letters as I formed them. I felt my love for her growing. I would be sad to leave her, but I had to do what was necessary.

  ~

  It was nearly two weeks later when Logan told me that he could not delay the fall roundup any longer. He had to brand his steers, get those to market that were ready and settle for the winter those who were to stay on the range.

  We made love again that night, and once more my body responded to him in mindless pleasure. I realized that the impossible was happening. Despite what I had vowed, despite what I had told Sheriff Washburne, I was falling in love with the man I now called husband. The thought tortured me. How could I think myself in love with a man like this? I looked over at his sleeping form and then at the gun belt which he hung nightly on the bedpost. The well-used butt of his gun tantalized me – I could easily have killed him, shot him as I was sure he’d done my brother. But I hadn’t and now I feared that should the time come to see justice done I would not be able to.

  Clenching my fists, I told myself that was of course what Logan had wanted. There had been a method to his madness in not only marrying me but forcing me to respond to him in a way he knew I did not want. He had bargained on being able to manipulate my feelings so that I not only was silenced by our marriage vows but by my feelings for him.

  I looked at the sleeping form beside me. Was he so vain to think that my feelings for him, whatever they might be, would overshadow my loyalty to my brother? I shook my head and told myself that however difficult, I would proceed as I’d originally planned.

  ~

  He woke me at dawn with a kiss. I was surprised that I’d slept at all.

/>   “I’m gonna miss you, Lisa.” His hand brushed against my thigh and I cursed myself because already I could feel the warmth starting to flow through me. Had I totally lost control over my body?

  He smiled slightly as I arched towards the pressure of his palm and his fingers so aptly working their magic.

  I gasped, “I’m… going to miss you, too.”

  Grinning again, he suckled and nibbled at my breasts. “Never would have thought such a prim and proper lady like you would be so passionate.”

  I shook my head and tried to speak, but no words seemed to form. He was right. I never would have thought it either.

  “Shall we try again for that child?” His breath was hot in my ear.

  All thought except the pleasure of the moment was gone from me and I nodded, hating myself for allowing him his way and confused with the joy I experienced when he was joined with me. Yet what else could I do? I was his prisoner – or so I told myself.

  It was midday before he, Petey, Mr. Sparks, and most of the hands started off. Despite what he’d said before, a grumbling Henry was left behind to watch the womenfolk and cook for those who were to care for the ranch in Logan’s absence.

  “You gonna let that nigger go instead of me?”

  Logan frowned. “Mr. Sparks is an excellent cutter. Couldn’t do without him. Sorry, Henry, your days of riding saddle are over.”

  “And what about the wagon, huh?”

  Sparks can do that.”

  “Says who?”

  The look that Logan gave him was all he needed. Henry stomped off, mumbling to himself, and slammed the kitchen door behind him.

  Logan gave me a lingering kiss in front of his men which caused me to blush severely.

  “You take care of Sara and yourself,” he admonished me, patting my tummy as if he actually expected some news when he returned. I flushed again. I had always wanted a child of my own... but did I want Logan’s child?

  Wearing his rawhide chaps, his gun belt and Stetson, he mounted his gray stallion, the same gray stallion I had seen Mr. Sparks taming earlier.

  Because of the mountainous land, the gathering of the livestock would be more difficult than if the roundup had been done on flat land. The ruggedness of the areas where they were headed made it necessary, Logan had told me, to take along pack animals so that they could range out and even spend the night away from the chuck wagon if necessary. He expected to be gone at least a week or more, but he would return, he promised, before the first snow.

  I told myself that as far as I was concerned, it didn’t matter if he returned at all. Yet as the team rolled out with Petey driving the chuck wagon and Morgan driving the wagon which held all the tarps, tents, hitches, irons, traps, and ropes necessary for handling the animals, I found myself feeling sad and lonely.

  But that was natural after spending over two months in his bed and sharing his table, wasn’t it?

  Even so, it was difficult to reenter the lonely house.

  Sara stretched her arms up to me and I knew that she missed her father, too. Picking her up, I took her into the room which we had set up as her play area and began to teach her numbers. She was speaking more and more words and I was sure she understood more than she spoke.

  Once more she reached up to me and as I took her into my arms, she kissed me. “I love you, Mother.” Her first sentence.

  I sighed and hugged her closer. “I love you, too, Sara.”

  It pleased me to see what progress she was making, and my heart constricted slightly as two tears came to my eyes. I wondered what would happen to her when I left.

  In the days that followed, Henry didn’t seem to be around much but I still worried that he might find me snooping in the study. However, the room was locked as before, and Henry had the keys with him since he also did his version of housekeeping.

  And so, it was three days after Logan and Morgan had left that I steeled my nerves and negotiated the stairs to the third floor again. My leg was almost healed, but I still had moments of pain. And with each twinge, I would remember my fear.

  Henry had just been in the study. I assumed he was cleaning, and I found my heart jumping with hope. Could he have left the door unlocked?

  But he hadn’t. Disappointed, I started down the stairs again. From the window, I could see that he was out in the barn caring for the horses and that he did not have the keys with him. That meant they had to be in his room.

  Carefully, I opened the door to his first-floor sanctuary off the kitchen and winced as I heard the creaking of the wood. But there was no one around and Sara was down for her nap.

  The large metal ring containing keys of all shapes and sizes was on the doorknob. I stared at it a moment as I tried to recall which was the key to the study. Finally, I picked up the ring and froze a moment as I heard the jingle of the metal. Slowly, I walked to the window. Henry was still outside.

  My heart pounded dreadfully as, key ring in hand, I made my way down to the end of the hall and up the stairs once more.

  Nervously I tried one key and then another. Turning slightly, I looked over my shoulder. I had the feeling that someone was watching me, but I knew Henry could not have come in yet and Sara was asleep. It had to be just my imagination, I told myself. Yet the goosebumps on my skin were very real and so was the rapid beating of my heart. Trembling, I took yet another key and turned around once more.

  No, there was no one there.

  I realized that if I could not be calm about this, I’d never get anywhere and closing my eyes, I took a deep breath before inserting yet another key.

  Just when my frustration level was at the highest and it seemed that none of the keys were going to fit, the last one finally clicked. Relief flooded through me as the door swung open.

  The room looked somehow different than it had the last time. I realized that the map on the wall had been replaced by another one.

  Wondering at this, I stepped up but could see nothing different between the two maps, except maybe this one was bigger. Still, I told myself, there had to be a reason for this change and so I looked at the map again, comparing it to what I recalled from before.

  Then it struck me – Brentwood Pass was missing on this map. Oh, it was there in the shaded area, but it wasn’t marked or lettered the way it had been in the other drawing. Had Logan purposely changed the maps knowing that I might try to come up here?

  I stared at the map a moment more and wondered if somehow a trap had been laid for me.

  No, I would not think of that.

  Still it would be helpful to have a map of the area, I thought. I found pencil and paper on the desk and sketched a crude facsimile. Placing it in my pocket, I knew that time was moving along. Frustration overwhelmed me. I hadn’t yet found what I’d come for – the bank’s claim book.

  Swiftly, I turned and once again began to tangle with keys as I now tried to unlock the drawer of the desk.

  At first, I thought I was going to meet with the same frustration as I had before. But success greeted me on the fourth try and the desk compartment slid silently open.

  My mouth dropped open in utter shock. It was all there. Everything that I could ask for: everything that told me Logan had indeed killed my brother. With tears in my eyes, I picked up the watch fob which our uncle had given him on his twelfth birthday. Not wanting to believe even at this moment. I turned the watch around. The inscription was there: “To Elliot, my favorite nephew.”

  Squeezing the tears from my eyes, I pulled out the papers one by one and with trembling hands I held the letters which I had sent Elliot. Even the most recent ones, which I was sure he could not have read, were here. How had Logan received these?

  Then I recalled that he practically owned the town. No doubt Theora or whoever was working the post at that time would have merely handed them over on his orders. That, of course, was how he had known I was coming to town and why he had known which stage to stop. I had thought Theora was my friend but in the light of current findings and of how
she had helped Logan with the wedding, I knew now that she was not. Not that it would have mattered much, for apparently my attempts at hiding my identity were fruitless.

  Digging in deeper, my fingers came upon a slim volume entitled “The Land Claims of the Big J Ranch.” The masculine hand which had written this had used a heavy bold stroke that reminded me of Logan. Though from the dates on this, it would seem it had been started first by his father in the early sixties and continued on by the sons.

  I learned then that much of the “Big J”, the name for the James’ ranch, had been government property at one time, most of it taken from the Indians. In the homesteaders’ acts following the Civil War, Logan’s father, and later Logan and Morgan had claimed lands surrounding their nugget of land. They had done it by having ranch hands, widows, and homeless veterans apply for grants and then for a few dollars buy the grant from the people, leaving them only slightly richer than before. I thought it was highly illegal. In fact, it smacked to me of the robber barons I’d heard so much about back in Chicago. And certainly Logan James, himself, acted like royalty – demanding and receiving his due, even from me. But it would not be long before the king would be deposed.

  The Brentwood Pass area, bordered by the river on one side and by the statue of a woman’s head sculpted out of rock on the other – exactly as Elliot had mentioned in his letters – had been the most recently acquired piece of government land but the date of its exact purchase had been written over so that it was impossible to read the current listing or the former.

  I checked through the holdings again. I wondered that Morgan seemed to have been given a much smaller share of property than his brother. Certainly, I could understand why Morgan disliked his older sibling, but I knew that Logan must truly be evil for Morgan to want to see him hang, for that was exactly what would happen if... no, when he was convicted of my brother’s death.

  Finding nothing more in the drawer, I reluctantly put the items back – though I would have dearly loved to hold them and feel the essence of my brother’s love still surrounding me. But that wasn’t possible. If Logan ever discovered that I had tampered with this, my death would be assured.