Authors: Elaine Levine
Logan's Outlaw (22 page)
He pulled a hand away from her ear, knowing he had to intercept the shock that was rapidly claiming her. “Saddle my horse, then bring the wagon team over. Do it now.”
He took a length of rope from a coil hanging on the side of the wagon and tied Swift Elk's hands to his feet, behind his back. There were enough weapons lying scattered around that he knew it wouldn't hold the warrior long once he regained consciousness.
Logan had to get Sarah to safety. He looked around at the battlefield, seeing that none of Swift Elk's men moved. He doubted any survived. It was a terrible waste, a terrible loss for the Sioux people. He feared Swift Elk's prediction that Logan was now an enemy of the Sioux people would in fact prove true.
He climbed into the wagon, making sure no other warriors hid there. The small space looked like a hurricane had come through it. Drawers were opened and empty. The bench trunks were opened, their contents strewn about. The table was overset, the mattress pushed aside.
Very little was thrown out of the wagonâthey weren't raiding the wagon's supplies. The men had been looking for something.
The papers Sarah had given Sheriff Declan. Goddamn it. Swift Elk was right. Her bastard husband still lived.
He put away the fold-down table, stowing the broken leg to be fixed later. Sarah brought the horses up in pairs. She secured his pony as he hooked the team to the wagon. They broke camp quickly, heading south. Outside of Defiance, there was a thin trail that led north. He would turn there and make his way up to the Circle Bar. As soon as he had Sarah settled, he would go after Eugene.
Sarah climbed over the wagon bench, intent on retrieving some bandages so that she could at least cover the knife wounds on Logan's arm. She brought back a bowl of water and a cloth and set to work on his injuries.
“Leave it. We'll clean up at the river in a little bit.”
“No. You will have a nasty infection starting by then, with all this trail dirt.” She washed his arm as best she could, then wound a bandage around it. She would need to stitch it, she was certain. He had bruises all over his chest, jaw, and temple. He looked as if he'd been run over by a wagon. She fetched a shirt for him, insisting he draw it on to cover the rest of his cuts and scrapes.
“Where are we headed?” she asked as she settled next to him once more.
“To my father's ranch.”
She focused on the land passing by, listened to the clatter of the horses' swift trot. “Do you believe him? Do you think Eugene's still alive?” she asked. Logan didn't turn to look at her, didn't immediately answer. She caught the tension that washed over his profile.
“I do.”
Tension slashed through her. She wrapped her arms about her middle, chilled suddenly. “You don't seem surprised.”
“I'm not.”
“If it's true, we're not married.”
He did look at her then, a long glance, his eyes implacable. “We are married. You are my wife. There is no turning back.”
“But if he livesâ”
“Then you will divorce him. And I will find him and turn him over to the law. He will answer for his crimes.”
“Logan, you have to let me go. He will kill you, kill everyone you love. Please don't take me to your family. I will only endanger them.”
He switched the reins to his other hand and drew her close, pulling her in tight against his body. “Honey, my father and brother and his father-in-law have all learned to deal with the hard edge of life. I have every confidence in their ability to keep youâand themselvesâsafe. If I don't go after Eugene, he will keep hurting people. The best way to make us all safe is to take care of him, and fast.”
She folded her legs and leaned her thigh against his as she snuggled in close to him. “I'm sorry, Logan.”
“You are my everything. You've got nothing to apologize for. We're gonna be just fine. You'll see.” He pressed his face against the top of her head, drawing her scent into his lungs. “You were brave today.”
She nodded against his chest. “I wish the nightmare were over.”
“It will be soon.”
The sun was high overhead when they drew up by the river. While Logan saw to the horses, she collected a change of clothes for them, some medical supplies, soap, and a couple of towels.
He joined her at the river's edge. He shucked his shirt, then unraveled the bandage from his upper arm, leaving both in a pile at the bank. The warm June sun beat down on them. Grasshoppers snapped and jumped in the surrounding field. The horses, tied to a corral line beneath a row of cottonwoods, were quietly enjoying a bit of shade and the rich grass that grew there.
For a moment, neither of them moved, neither spoke. Sarah looked up into Logan's face, struggling to understand how she'd had the good fortune to have him come into her life. His gray eyes watched her, giving away nothing of his thoughts.
“I have cost you everything. Because of me, you've become an enemy of the Sioux.”
“You have cost me nothing. We were attacked. The Sioux are a fair people. They know Swift Elk was a liabilityâevery bit as much as he was once a worthy warrior in their fight against white settlers. They will mourn the loss of his men, without a doubt. But we did not provoke him. He took payment from Eugene to attack you yet again. He dishonored his people.”
“That isn't what he will tell the others.”
“They will hear the truth, Sarah, and will judge me accordingly.” He looked at her tattered undergarments. “I am more worried about you. You faced the demons you still hold in your thoughts. You fought them.”
Sarah cast her eyes down. She stood silently for a long moment. “It won't take away my scars.” She met his eyes. “It won't undo what happened. But at least now I know they can't do to another woman what they did to me. That I like.”
Logan reached forward and started unbuttoning her camisole. The cloth wasn't even fit to be a rag. He needn't have taken care removing it, except that he didn't want to traumatize her by ripping it off her. When he reached the last button, he looked at her. “I need to see you. I need to feel your skin. I need to know you are unharmed.” She nodded, giving him permission to remove it. The sun on her bare skin felt cleansing. Drawing in a deep breath, she arched her back. Logan untied the drawstring of her drawers and pushed them down her hips.
He stood back and looked at her. Taking her hand, he turned her in a full circle. When she faced him again, he touched the soft side of her neck where bruises were beginning to appear. He drew his hand down, over her collarbone, to the tattoo on her chest. When he pulled away to remove his own drawers, she felt the loss of his touch.
He lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. “There is one devil left. Only one. I will make an end of him, too.”
She nodded. He took her into the river. The water closed over their feet, calves, knees. The current was swift, pulling against them, rushing downstream. They knelt close to the riverbank, sinking to their chests in the water. Logan held her waist. “Lean back. Wet your hair.”
She did as he asked. The water rushed between her breasts, swirled past her neck, pulled her hair into the current. He drew her upright. Reaching for the soap, which he'd left on a rock nearby, he rubbed the soap into her scalp, checking her for injuries as he did so.
He wanted to linger with her, here in the cold water with the hot wind and the blazing sun, but they were in danger yet. Not from Swift Elk. But if another party of Sioux came across the battlefield and then ran into the two of them, the warriors would not stop to listen to their side of the confrontation.
He made short work washing off the morning's dirt and blood from her. When she took the soap from him and began returning the favor, it was all he could do not to pull her onto his lap. He watched her hands move over his skin. She paused at each bruise, leaning forward to kiss him. Dozens of scratches and cuts were scattered across his torso, back, and arms. She washed his face gently, moving carefully over the gouge on his forehead.
Logan knelt before her. He moved his hands up her legs, over her hips, to hold her ribs as he drew her body against his. “Have mercy on me, woman.”
Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts into Logan's broad chest, feeling the water lap at their sides. “I will go get the bandages ready.”
He kissed her temple, moving his lips against her skin to the corner of her eye. He took the soap from her hand and set her free.
Chapter 14
Heat radiated in waves off the hard ground, fanned around Sarah and Logan by the hot wind. They were coming down to the Circle Bar from the northeast, riding into the lowering sun. The horses moved slowly, their heads drooping in the blistering temperature. They'd kept up a brisk pace for two days, and now, in the late afternoon of the third day, they were nearly played out.
Logan took off his hat and waved it in response to a distant outrider who was doing the same. Sarah watched his dust trail as he sped off over a ridge. Logan looked at her. “My father's been watching for us.”
Their wagon rose up over a ridge of sage and short prairie grass. When they crested the peak, a wide valley opened before them, verdant fields with rich grasses. White, yellow, and red wildflowers dotted the land, glistening in the sun. The dark shapes of grazing cattle spread farther than the eye could see. Far to the west, the foothills of the Medicine Bow Mountains rose in waves to distant peaks that still held veins of snow cover.
“Logan! This is your home?”
“Nope. It belongs to my father and brotherâwell, stepfather and stepbrother.”
“It's beautiful.”
“It is.”
They turned onto a well-used road that cut through the pastures. The space was so large, so wide open, that it was difficult to judge how big it was. More than an hour passed before they crested another ridge and overlooked the heart of the ranch. A long, low building sat on the far outskirts of the compound. A wide barn stood next to it, amid several corrals. A few other buildings dotted the area.
In the center of the compound was a large, white house. A deep porch wrapped around the front and one side of the house, shading tall windows. Intricate fretwork softened the corners between the porch roof and the tall columns supporting it. A second story boasted several dormer windows. The grounds surrounding the house were green and edged with lush bushes and flower beds.
The Circle Bar was a paradise. This was the heaven her father had sought. This was her parents' dream.
She sat straighter on the bench. Removing Logan's old hat, she checked her braid, tucking a few errant strands of hair back into the weave. She tucked her shirt in. She was about to stuff her hands back into her gloves, when Logan reached over and took hold of her hand. She flashed him a look.
He shook his head. “You've no need to hide with my family.”
“Do I look all right, Logan?”
He smiled at her. The shadows in his eyes had deepened over the last two days, increasing her nerves. “You look beautiful. You look like what you are, honey. My everything.”
She swallowed hard. Settling her hat back on her head, she faced forward, ready for what would come.
Logan drew up in front of the house. He wasn't sure what kind of reception to expect. Over the last twelve years, he'd only been home one summer, and that was eight years ago. He helped Sarah down from the bench, and turned to see his brother and stepfather waiting for him on the wide front porch.
Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't the wall of tension that met him as he walked up the porch steps. He drew Sarah slightly behind him. Stepping into the shade of the porch, he dropped his hat off the back of his head. He moved forward enough to let Sarah up the last step. But there he waited.
Sid Taggert, his stepfather, gave him a sad smile, volumes in his eyes left unspoken. His brother, Sager, shook his head and muttered a curse. Logan knew what they were seeing. A savage gash in his forehead, scabbed over, the flesh around it swollen and discolored. The purple, fist-sized bruise on his chin. A tear by the side of his lip that he kept from reopening only by not opening his mouth very far. His neck ringed by a dark bruise.
His dad came forward first. He made a tentative movement with his hands as if to indicate he'd welcome a hug. Sid had rarely been demonstrative in Logan's youth. Logan had always been conscious that he wasn't the real son. He was a poor substitute for Sager, and everyone knew it. Sid hugged him. Logan held still. It was far too little, far too late.
When Sid pulled back, Sager was there. He clasped his shoulder and gave another shake of his head.
“You must be Logan's wife. I'm Sid. Welcome to the Circle Bar.” Sid held out his hand to Sarah. Logan couldn't help stepping nearer to her, curving an arm around her shoulders.
Sager shook hands with her after Sid. He noticed the marks on her hand and looked into her eyes. Like that, it seemed, he knew everything there was to know about her. She felt tears well up, blurring her vision.
“What the hell happened to you, little brother?”
“We crossed paths with Swift Elk and his band.”
“And you lived?”
“
We
lived. They didn't fare so well.” He looked from his brother to his father, bracing himself for their reaction to the request he was about to make. “I need help.”
We
lived. They didn't fare so well.” He looked from his brother to his father, bracing himself for their reaction to the request he was about to make. “I need help.”
Sid nodded, his lips compressed into a thin line. “I know you do. Your problem got here ahead of you.”
A movement behind them by the front door should have caught his attention, but Logan was too focused on what Sid had just said.
“Sarah, darling! At last, I've found you!”
Sarah cried out. Logan caught her up against himself, worried she'd step back and fall down the stairs.
“That's far enough, Mr. Hawkins.” Sager intercepted him. “We asked you to wait inside.”
Logan got a good look at the man who had been Sarah's first husband. He was tall and had a hawkish face. Dark sideburns drew Logan's gaze from the patchy blotches of hair at the upper sides of his head. Usually when men went bald, their heads were smooth and bare. Not Eugene's. An uneven texture of scar tissue, pink and knotted, covered the top of his head. His scalping wound.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Logan growled, shifting so that Sarah was now fully behind him.
“I've come for my wife, of course. She left before I could get to Fort Buford. Captain Frasier helpfully suggested I might find her in Defiance. Alas, in Defiance, they told me she'd married you and was headed up this way.”
Logan smiled and pushed his way between Sager and Sid, each stalking stride taking him closer and closer to the one remaining demon haunting Sarah. “I'm glad they did. Saves me the trouble of hunting you down.”
Eugene backed up. “I don't understand. I'm not here for trouble. I just want to collect my wife and leave.”
“Sarah's not going anywhere. When I'm finished with you, if you're still alive, I'll take you to Defiance so that you can end your days at the bottom of a rope. But first, you've got some atoning to do.”
“What are you talking about? I have nothing to atone for. My life's been hell since the attack.”
Logan laughed. “I'll bet. But not like the hell you put your wife through. The scalping was painful, but not career ending. With Sarah gone, you were still able to close the deal on the illegal land deeds you were processing. You see, Swift Elk got real talkative toward the end of our visit a few days ago. He said you paid him, not once but twice to attack herâfirst at your homestead, then just this week.
“So here's how it's gonna go. I'm gonna do to you what you had done to your wife. I'm going to strip you naked, then ram a stick up your ass about a hundred times so that you know what it's like being gang-raped by a band of vengeful warriors. Then I'm going to starve you. And beat you. And then I will burn the soles of your feet so that you can't run. By that time, you'll be begging for a bullet. But I won't waste the gunpowder on you. Not when there's a rope with your name on it waitin' in Cheyenne.”
Eugene huffed a nervous cough, looking around at the impassive faces of the ranch hands who had gathered in a semicircle around the porch. “I'm not the law breaker here. You're the bigamist. You are the one who will rot in jail.”
Logan's hand lashed out fast, catching a fistful of Eugene's Adam's apple, slamming him back against the doorjamb. “The whole world thinks you're dead, Hawkins. No one will mourn your real death.”
“I can't argue with that,” a new voice spoke up from the crowd gathered below. Sheriff Declan was making his way toward the porch steps. “But it ain't the way this is gonna play out, Taggert.”
Logan, still heavily in the grip of rage, turned to look for the sheriff. The bastard who had destroyed Sarah's life was in his hands. He could end it now. He searched out Sarah. She stood behind Sid and Sager, almost completely blocked by their shoulders. Her hands shielded her face. Logan's heart ripped in half.
He growled a sound of rage from between clenched teeth. Still holding Eugene by the throat, he shoved him over to the railing. He slammed his fist into Eugene's jaw. The force of the blow took him over the railing to land facedown at Declan's feet. “He's all yours, Sheriff.”
“Sid, you got a place I can lock him up for the night?” Sheriff Declan asked. “I'll take him down to Cheyenne in the morning.”
Sid directed a couple of his men to carry Eugene to the stable, where he could be locked in a stall. Sager and Sid stepped aside so Logan could reach Sarah. She held a hand in front of her mouth. Her face was as white as the clapboard siding.
His brother and father shared a look. “Dinner's in a little bit,” Sid said. “Why don't you put your things in your room? I'll send someone to help you unload. You can draw a bath in the bathroom at the end of the hall and freshen up.”
When they were alone on the porch, Logan took Sarah into his arms, holding her as if his sanity only existed when she stood next to him. He tightened his hold, curving his shoulders around her, bowing his head over hers. “I will see this ended, honey.”
Sarah pulled back. Her face was entirely devoid of emotion, her eyes slightly unfocused. He took her arm and led her inside the house. His room was on the ground floor, at the back of the hall. The far end of the hall had been reconstructed to make space for a full bath. They both paused and looked around the white-tiled space, bewildered by the luxury.
Logan looked down at her, thinking she'd be thrilled with the prospect of a hot bath so easily at hand. There was nothing but shadows in her face. He lifted her chin, bringing her gaze up to his. Her warm, brown eyes swam with tears.
“Don't cry, honey.”
“You never should have gotten on that stage.”
He grinned. “That was the best decision of my life.” He kissed her forehead. “We'll be staying in this room.” He pointed to a room one door down from the bathroom. “I'll just go get our things, then I'll leave you to your bath.”
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