Guilt washed over Claire. Her mama had endured a difficult life after leaving South Carolina alone, headed west, but had done her best to give Claire and Jimmy a roof over their heads and food to eat. It would be wrong of Claire to turn her back on everything Maggie had worked so hard to achieve. Whether she found her mama or not, Claire knew she needed to try and salvage the business at the White Dove upon her return from Cimarron.
She removed the heavy blanket and tied it behind her but found it difficult to keep the large hat on her head as the horse moved more quickly. Once she was far enough out of town, she removed the sombrero and let her blonde braid trail down her back.
Claire pushed Reverend as much as she thought he could handle, aware that, at any moment, he might refuse to go any farther. The older he got, the more obstinate his disposition had become. Cimarron was about fifty miles to the north, and although it was unlikely she’d get far tonight, she hoped to get a good distance from town before she made camp.
Diverging from the main trail, she moved closer to the foothills and better cover. Nightfall blanketed the land and a smattering of stars filled the sky. Claire breathed deeply and realized how good it felt to leave the confinement of the saloon. Out here in the wilderness, alone save for the wind in the trees and the strong smell of pine, she felt settled in a way she hadn’t for some time. A glance at the sky made her wonder if Logan was looking at the same patch of starry brightness, surely many miles from her, on a road back to Texas. She took another deep breath, and tried to push him from her mind.
Maybe one of these days she would return to the SR to visit Molly. Logan would undoubtedly be married with a house full of children by then. The thought saddened her.
It’s not for you to have, Claire, so let it go.
The approach of a rider sent a chill down her spine, making her realize how vulnerable she was, alone in the middle of nowhere. The man saw her, effectively cutting off the prospect of sidestepping him until he passed. With a pounding heart, Claire moved Reverend forward at a steady gait and hoped the encounter would pass without much fuss. As they neared each other, the rider turned his horse and forced her to stop.
“Whatcha doin’ out here?”
Claire wished she hadn’t removed the blanket and sombrero, feeling exposed without the buffer of a disguise. She wore trousers and a man’s shirt she’d found in Maggie’s room—the original owner’s identity a mystery—but her hair was harder to hide.
The bearded face looked familiar. She could only trust he didn’t recognize her from the saloon and would let her pass.
“I’m not looking for any trouble,” she said in a quiet voice. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just be on my way.”
“You travelin’ alone, honey?”
“No, I’m meeting up with my husband at Ocate Crossing.” She flinched inside at the lie. Ocate Crossing was still another twenty miles away, too far to scare the man with the threat of a husband that didn’t exist.
“Well, that’s a ways off, ain’t it? What kinda man let’s his wife ride alone at night?”
“Thank you for your concern, but I’ll just be on my way.” Claire guided her horse around the man. And that’s when she remembered who he was—Harry Myers, one of Frank Griffin’s men. Claire didn’t like Griffin, despite her mama’s long history with the man. Or, maybe because of it. Either way, she had no desire for Griffin to learn she was alive and back in town. He would likely tell Sandoval. A bone-deep fear surfaced at the thought of the cunning Mexican and the relentless beating that had almost killed her.
“I think maybe you should let me help you, miss,” Harry said as he reached to grab her.
Claire tried to avoid his hand, but he had hold of her wrist and started pulling her toward him. “Let go of me.” She yanked her arm out of his grasp.
Now that he was closer, he stared at her more intently. “You look a lot like that Water’s woman. Ain’t you her daughter?”
“I’m just passing through,” Claire said and made to ride, but Harry grabbed her again. “Let go of me!”
He clutched her harder, and she slipped out of the saddle. Stunned by the fall, she bit her tongue, the metallic taste of blood coating her mouth. Rolling to her knees, she started to run as she heard him jump off his horse.
“Goddammit, c’mere!” He snatched her around the waist. Despite her struggle to stay upright, he pushed her to the ground. “Why you fightin’ me so much? This don’t have to hurt. I just wanna have some fun.”
Claire landed on her back while the man loomed over her. She twisted her hand free and smacked him hard across the face; pain bolted from her fingers down to her elbow. In an instant, Sandoval’s attack spilled into her mind and a frenzy of rage and terror overtook her.
Kicking, screaming and clawing she went crazy against Myers, tears streaming down her face as she fought him with a fury that consumed her. Then the man was gone; her arms and legs flailed against nothing. Ragged breathing filled her ears, her own breathing she realized. She sat upright and blinked frantically to focus. Maybe she was dreaming.
Logan!
She watched as he pushed his boot into Harry’s back and forced the man’s face to the ground, then bent one of Harry’s arms painfully behind him. He pointed a gun at the man’s head. “You worthless piece of shit,” Logan said. “Do you always attack defenseless women?”
“I wasn’t gonna hurt her,” Harry gasped. “I thought she was lyin’ about a husband.”
“If I kill you now and dump your body in the hills, no one would find you for a long time.”
“Jesus,” Harry said in a rush. “This was jussa mistake.”
With a jerk Logan dragged Harry to his feet. “I have a long memory.”
Harry loped awkwardly to his horse, jumped atop him and rode off, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.
Logan holstered his gun and walked to where Claire sat. He knelt down. “Are you all right?”
Claire nodded, still stunned. “What are you doing out here?” she whispered.
“I’ve been following you.”
“Why?”
“Damned if I know,” he said, and helped her to stand. “But it’s a good thing I did. Do you know him?”
Claire sniffed and wiped her face, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Yes, but not well. His name is Harry Myers. I don’t think he recognized me. Well, no, he did guess who I was.” She frowned. “Maybe he’ll forget. You were very persuasive.”
“Who’re you hiding from? Sandoval?”
His accurate guess surprised her.
“It was Tia’s guess,” he said. “Let’s make camp, and maybe you can tell me what’s really going on.”
“You should be halfway to Texas by now,” Claire said, but was heartily glad he wasn’t.
“Yeah, well, the scenery around here is starting to grow on me.”
Tears sprang to her eyes once more; before Logan could notice, she turned to her horse and pulled into the saddle. She knew she shouldn’t involve Logan in her problems, but was overcome by a strong impulse to throw herself into his arms. For once, she wanted to feel safe. For once, she wanted to trust someone. And for once, she wanted to believe that men were more than the ones who patronized the White Dove. A tall order, even for a man like Logan to fulfill.
“Let’s get out of sight,” he said from his own horse. For a moment he watched her, then said gently, “You should eat something. Flapjacks are my specialty.”
“It’s well past breakfast.”
“Then I’ll just have to cook for you twice.”
He never failed to keep her slightly off-balance. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a man cook for me.”
“Then you’re in for a real treat.”
And she’d never had a man offer to treat her.
Claire followed him into the darkness.
* * *
The fire crackled between them; Claire sat on a blanket on one side while Logan sat across from her. He quickly deduced she'd brought very little with
her, so it was just as well he’d trailed her. He was accustomed to helping folks—his ma had told him often enough it was his calling. And that was all he was doing with Claire, he told himself. Helping a woman in need.
She was clearly shaken from Myers’ attack. The urge to shoot the son-of-a-bitch had pulsed unnaturally through Logan’s veins, surprising him with its intensity. He wasn’t the type of man to hold a grudge. But seeing Myers force himself on Claire hadn’t sat well with Logan. Not at all. One thing saved Myers—Logan’s deputy days still rang strong in his head. Killing a man in cold blood wasn’t something he could stomach, although he definitely would’ve roughed Myers up a bit more if Claire hadn’t been there.
Now that he’d gotten some food and water into her she appeared calmer and her color looked a damn sight better.
“Are you headed to Cimarron?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Any particular reason?”
“To find my mama.” She sat with her legs crossed and held a tin cup of coffee between her hands.
Despite a slight chill in the air, sleeping outside wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Still, Logan planned to grab his extra blanket and offer it to her.
“Is she in trouble?” he asked.
“You seem to think that’s all I’m good for,” she said with a sad laugh.
“Trouble? I’m just worried about your welfare, Claire, and I get the feeling you’ve never had anyone to look out for you. Where’s your pa?”
Claire shrugged. “I don’t know. I never knew him. Mama brought us here when I was five.”
“And you’ve lived all this time at the White Dove?”
“For the most part.”
“Tia told me you’re not a prostitute.”
Claire’s head snapped up. “And does that fine distinction make a difference to you?”
“Doesn’t it to you?”
“I still live on the wrong side of town, I still mix with the wrong kind of people.”
“You could choose to leave,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Yes, I’ve thought of that, many times. But it’s not so simple.”
Logan threw another piece of wood on the fire. “Actually, in my experience, most things are that simple. If you’re dealt a hand you don’t like, then shuffle the cards and start over. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”
Claire swallowed more coffee, and stared into the fire. “Several months ago my brother Jimmy and I were on a stage headed to Albuquerque with my mama. The stage was ambushed.”
“By who?”
“A group of men,” she answered. “One I knew.”
“Sandoval?”
She nodded.
“Did they rob you?”
A pained expression crossed Claire’s face. “That’s what my mama thought at first. She told us not to struggle, to give them what they wanted. But the raid was something more. I could see it in my mama’s eyes, as soon as she saw Sandoval in the group.”
“What happened?”
The color drained from Claire’s face. “He took me, and told me not to struggle. As long as I didn’t fight him then Maggie and Jimmy wouldn’t be hurt.” Her voice broke. “He told me that.”
Logan glanced up at the stars, a restlessness gripping him. “You don’t have to say what he did to you.” He could piece it together in his own mind, and any which way it wasn’t pretty.
She paused for a long moment. “He beat me until I was certain I would die.” Her hands gripped the tin cup tightly, the whites of her knuckles showing.
“And no one stopped him?” The image swirled in his mind, accompanied by the sharp crackle of the fire as it consumed the wood. The urge for retribution surged through him like a flash flood. In a perfect world, he’d take care of Myers and Sandoval in one night, without a doubt finding satisfaction in the deed. But the world wasn’t perfect, and evil went hand-in-hand with the living. That was a truth from which there was no escape.
“No.”
“And no one found you?”
She shook her head. “Not until Molly. The details aren’t clear to me—how long I was out there, how long I’d been with Sandoval. Eventually, he left me in the desert.” She took a deep breath. “I thought maybe Molly was my guardian angel when she rode up on her horse and found me.”
“Why did you come to Texas? Why didn’t you return to town and press charges against him?”
Claire shifted her legs, and wouldn’t meet his gaze. “A bit of cowardice and a bit of anger, I suppose. I had a feeling there was more to it, that somehow…” Her voice faltered. “That maybe my mama knew.” She shook her head. “I just wanted to get away from it all, and Molly presented an opportunity, so I took it. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone. You certainly wouldn’t be here right now if I hadn’t.”
“No. I wouldn’t.” But he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, despite his brief indecision over whether to follow Claire or not. “Why do you think your ma knew that Sandoval was going to attack you?”
“No, I don’t think she knew, or planned it. But it seemed to me it wasn’t a surprise when he showed his face. And why would he do that? I think he wanted her to know it was him.” She set her cup down and rubbed her arms. “And he wanted me to know.”
Logan stood and grabbed a blanket from his things. He shook it out and walked around the fire to place it on her shoulders, his hands lingering as he enjoyed the feel of her. When he realized he’d overstayed his welcome, he gave her a friendly pat on the arm and returned to his spot near the fire, frustrated from wanting more.
He didn’t want to give her a friendly pat on the arm, he wanted to kiss her, and touching her only made the desire more urgent. But he sensed that a move from him might make Claire so skittish she would ask him to leave her alone.
“Why?” he asked.
Claire pulled the blanket around her. “He came after me once.”
With effort Logan remained silent so she would continue, but a sharp longing surfaced—he wished he had known Claire earlier, before all this happened. Maybe he could have prevented it.
She glanced at him. “I tricked him, slipped a concoction into a glass of whiskey that made him sick and unable to function.”
Logan blinked, uncertain he’d heard her correctly. Then he nodded in comprehension. “Good for you.”
“Maybe…But I don’t think he forgot. I was in a rush and gave him more than I should. He was in bad shape for days.”
“Served him right.” Logan considered the information. “So Sandoval attacked you as revenge?”
“Maybe. That was probably part of it. But my mama has been involved with Frank Griffin for years, and Sandoval is Frank’s…” She struggled to find the word.
“Lap dog? He does Frank’s dirty work?”
Silently Claire agreed.
“What’s Maggie’s relationship with Frank?”
“She met him in Denver when I was five years old and followed him here. She loves him—I guess you could call it love—but it’s more like an obsession. She claims Jimmy is his son. Frank used to come around a lot, but not so much during the past year; that’s when Mama started acting strange. Frank has a sister, her name is Dee I think, and her husband died around Christmas. I’ve thought a lot about it and it was around that time Mama became…nervous, even a little paranoid.”
Logan let Claire’s reference to Dee pass. Perhaps he should explain his connection to Frank’s sister, but for whatever reason he didn’t feel like dredging up his past. Claire was opening up to him, he didn’t want to stifle her impulse…and trust.
“You think there’s a connection between that man dying and what Sandoval did to you?” Logan wondered also if Maggie Waters had been involved in the death of Teddy Luttrell, but, again, he didn’t want to put Claire on the defensive, so he didn’t voice his suspicion.
Claire shrugged. “I don’t know, but finally Mama said we were taking a holiday to Albuquerque and piled Jimmy and me into the stage. It felt like she was running aw
ay from something, but as usual, she wouldn’t talk about it.”
“You’re going to Cimarron to find her?”
She nodded. “The girls in the saloon said she traveled north with Jimmy. It would make sense she’d go to Cimarron. Frank and Sandoval have been seen there.”
“So, you thought you’d waltz right in and check it out?”
“What else could I do?” Displeasure flashed in her eyes, and Logan caught a glimpse of the fiery woman Claire kept well-hidden.
“You realize how foolhardy this is, trying to find your ma and Jimmy alone?”
“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, there was no one around to accompany me.” Claire’s body became rigid and anger filled the air between them.
“You could’ve asked for my help.” Damn, he sounded resentful.
“No.”
When she didn’t elaborate further, he mentally added headstrong to her list of personality traits.
Frustrated, he said, “I’m here now, and in light of everything you’ve told me, you could use backup.” He continued before she could interrupt. “You best get some sleep. We’ll head out at first light.”
She watched him. “Why are you doing this, Logan? Why are you here?”
Because your eyes remind me of springtime in Montana, because your hair is as bright as the sun warming the Texas plains, because your presence makes me think of longing and release, of gentle breezes and endless possibilities.
“To help you,” he said simply.
Chapter Five
Shortly after sunrise Claire changed into a blue cotton dress, wrinkled but still presentable, and she and Logan continued the trek to Cimarron. Having slept fitfully, she wondered again why he was with her. She felt the pull between them—it was hard not to—and honestly couldn’t believe he would abandon his family responsibilities to make certain she was safe. But a part of her was so relieved to have him with her that she didn’t care what his reasons might be.
As if in a dream she suddenly had a man by her side who, by all accounts, was fair-minded, kind and hard working. A man from a respectable ranching family, a man who shouldn’t be dealing with the likes of her. While she had never sold herself, her reputation had been set at the age of five when her mother began servicing men from the small shack they occupied on the edge of town. It hadn’t taken long for Claire to realize she was different, unable to go to the same schools as the other children, the same churches, or even the same social functions. In all her nineteen years, she’d never formed a close friendship with another girl.
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