The Loner (18 page)

"Sure you can." He stared deeply into her tear-filled eyes. "Focus, Caroline. It will help pass the time until you get a response to your telegram from Artesia."

She pulled away, wresting from his grip as she wiped the wetness from her face. She went to stand beside the window, and, gazing out into the street, she finally began to speak. "About six weeks after Suzanne died, Ben received a letter from Shotgun Reese's companion, a woman named Fanny Plunkett."

Logan gritted his teeth. Fanny Plunkett. Great. Just fucking great. Fanny Plunkett was a black-hearted bitch of the first water. Before she retired to Black Shadow Canyon, she was the brains behind the biggest gang of train robbers Texas had ever seen and she had no qualms about killing—man, woman or child. This story kept getting better and better.

"Fanny wrote that, even though Shotgun was terminally ill when he died, she didn't believe he'd died from natural causes. She believed he'd been murdered. When she read about Suzanne's tragic fall in the newspaper, she considered it suspicious, too."

"Why?" Logan asked, even as he put the clues together. "Did Suzanne know something about Geronimo's Treasure?"

"Apparently she did. According to Fanny Plunkett, Shotgun corresponded with Suzanne in the months before his death. She believes he sent her a map to the mine shortly before he died."

"Why would he do that? For safekeeping?"

"For love. Ben won Suzanne away from Shotgun. Fanny said he loved Suzanne until the day he died. Ben thinks it is definitely possible that someone who knew Shotgun's intentions came into the house, stole the map and pushed Suzanne down the stairs."

Logan took a seat across from Caroline. He drummed his fingers on the table as he considered what she'd said. Why would a woman like Fanny write to Ben Whitaker about this map? It didn't make sense. There had to be more to this, more than either of them knew right now. "Did Ben know about the map? Had he ever seen it?"

"No. He knew Shotgun and Suzanne corresponded— the letters were as much for him as for her. But the idea of a map was news to him and the impetus to finally go through Suzanne's things. I did it for him. He couldn't face it. I found the stack of letters and some gold nuggets that Shotgun had sent, but nothing else. No map and no letter that sounded as if it might have accompanied a map."

"Maybe there never was a map."

"That's what I thought until I found a simple gold necklace in an otherwise empty envelope. Ben recognized it as the necklace Shotgun had given to Suzanne years ago, the one she had returned to him once she decided to marry Ben. Ben believed it was entirely possible that Shotgun would have sent it along with the treasure map. Since the necklace was there and the map wasn't, he believed there was something to Fanny Plunkett's claim."

"So, has he gone looking for a gold mine or for his wife's killer?"

"The killer! He's gone hunting a killer when all he's done for the past twenty years is be a kind, gentle newspaperman. Someone will die, but it won't be Suzanne's killer. It'll be Ben." Tears flooded back into her eyes as she continued, "And you know what? I'm afraid that's what he wants. That's what terrifies me the most. He may well have marched into that canyon with his guns blazing, begging someone to shoot back. Ben was not in his right mind when he left. You need to understand that he has been lost without Suzanne. He didn't eat. Didn't sleep. He hardly spoke—not even to Will."

"So he left, and you cooked up the scheme to get me to go after him."

"I tried to find someone else to go, but I didn't have any luck. I was desperate, Logan." She sighed with defeat, then said, "I didn't know what else to do. Ben was the father I should have had, despite all his faults. He was good to Will. I owed him. I love him. Maybe I should have handled it differently, but let me ask you this. Would you have helped me had I come to you with the truth?"

"I wasn't given the choice."

"That wasn't what I asked you."

"I can't answer that, Caroline," he snapped back, his anger flaring up hot and fierce all over again. He'd let himself be taken in by a woman. Hell, he'd even let himself dream a little again. All based on a lie.

Her explanation sat in his gut like a piece of bad meat. He couldn't abide liars under any circumstances, but this.. .what she did.. .it went way beyond a lie. This was a betrayal.

Logan cleared his throat, then spoke in a tone that was low, flat and cold. "I might not have awakened crying on a train or screaming in bed, but I've had my share of nightmares about Will. You gave me a son, Caroline, and placed that son in the gravest of danger in the very same breath. I've never experienced the joy of fatherhood without harrowing fear accompanying it. Maybe I can't rightfully accuse you of stealing the first fourteen years of my son's life from me, but I can damn well accuse you of stealing my joy."

Her expression stricken, she reached for his hand. "Logan.. .I don't know what to say."

"There isn't anything you can say that I'd want to hear or even believe at this point."

He pulled his hand away. "I understand love. I understand wanting to help your friend. But this... Your excuses don't wash with me."

"It isn't an excuse! I just didn't know what else to do."

"You could have tried the truth, Caroline. It all comes down to honesty. You lied. Again and again and again. You had plenty of time, plenty of opportunities to tell me the truth and you didn't. Hell, last night you—"

"I don't want to discuss last night. Last night has nothing to do with Will or with Ben."

"Oh, but I think it does. Thought you might soften me up a bit, didn't you? Thought you'd work your wiles and draw me in a bit more? Well, damn, honey, you should be an actress. Your performance was flawless. I just wonder how long you would have strung me along.. .and for that, I'll never forgive you. You used me, used my fear and my feelings and wormed your way into my bed. Hope it was worth it for you."

She sucked in a breath and grimaced with pain and defeat. Logan recognized that he had wounded her, recognized that he was acting like an ass, but he was so angry with her—hell, angry with himself, too—that he was spouting from his gut rather than his head. Still, he couldn't find it in himself to be sorry for it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

The telegraph key began to click. Logan rose, stepped behind the operator's desk and picked up a pencil. The letters and words that he scratched out on the paper only increased the sickness in his stomach and inflamed his fury.

"Is it from Ellen?" Caroline asked when he set down his pencil. She stood beside the table, her hands linked in front of her mouth as if in prayer.

"Will went home to get his baseball glove. He never returned. They've searched the town and surrounding area. Checked the water wells, the creek. Set someone's bloodhounds on the scent. Will disappeared without a trace."

"His baseball glove," she murmured, rocking back and forth. "My dream. Oh, my heavens. He was playing baseball in my nightmare. It
was
a premonition!"

She looked fragile, as if she were about to shatter into tiny pieces, but Logan's heart was hardened against her. Yesterday, he would have gone to her, held her, offered her comfort and reassurance. Today he could barely stand to look at her.

He shifted his gaze to the door and focused his attention on the facts as he knew them. "Who is this Ellen?"

"She's a neighbor. A friend. Her son Daniel is Will's best friend."

"Is this the first time he's stayed with them? Any chance he could have had trouble and run off?"

"No, I'm sure that's not it. He and Daniel often stay at one another's houses. Will has never given Ellen any cause for concern. He always does what he's supposed to do. I've threatened him with dire consequences should he do otherwise."

Gone for two days. Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all. Damn it to hell and damn Caroline. What had she been thinking to leave Will? "Why the hell didn't you bring him with you?"

"I was protecting him! I didn't want him around you until I knew more about you. Judged firsthand what sort of man you were."

"You were protecting my son from me? Goddamn you, Caroline!" His temper threatened to flare out of control once more, so he wrestled it down. As much as he wanted to throttle her, he had to calm down and think.

So, what had happened? Had Will run off? Such an act might not be in character for him, but Logan wasn't ready to dismiss it as impossible. Or, was he hurt, injured in a way that prevented him from being found by those looking for him? That, Logan had a hard time buying.

Most likely, his son had been taken—probably against his will. Logan would bet his bottom dollar that Will's disappearance was somehow tied to this gold mine debacle. The very idea made him feel mean as a demon from hell, and if Ben Whitaker were in range of a bullet, he'd pull his gun and plug him. Shotgun Reese, too, even though he was already dead. Man like that could never be dead enough.

Hang on, son. I'm coming after you.

Logan checked the clock on the wall. Just enough time to get his things and grab some breakfast before catching the stage. Without another word to Caroline, he headed for the door, his mind on tracking and travel schedules.

"Logan? Logan, where are you going?"

"To find my son." He stepped out onto the sidewalk and put his hat on his head.

Caroline scrambled after him. "But...what about me? What should I do?"

He stopped, glanced over his shoulder. "Honestly, Caroline, I don't give a flying rat's ass what you do."

He saw her jaw drop before he turned away. "Excuse me? What did you say?"

"You heard me."

He took one step away, then two. A part of him expected to hear her screech or protest. Another smaller portion thought she might run after him and beg.

Nothing—not even his sixth sense—gave him warning of the clay pot that hit him square between the shoulders and came damn close to knocking him down.
What the hell?
Glancing down, he spied the head of a red geranium propped atop his left shoulder. He slowly turned around.

Caroline stood in the street, mayhem in her eyes, her chest heaving, her complexion almost as red as the flower she'd whacked him with. Heedless of the pedestrians around them who stopped and stared, she snapped, "You can walk away from me, Logan Grey. You can ignore me. You can divorce me, for that matter. But I'll be hanged if you're going to talk to me like I'm cow dung on the bottom of your boot. I'm the mother of your son, and for that alone I deserve more respect than that."

"You throw something at me again, woman, and I'll put you over my knee and tan your hide."

"Try it. Go ahead. Just try it."

He took a step toward her. "You really, really don't want to test the last shred of my patience, Caroline. Trust me, it's about gone."

Apparently she heard him, because she sucked in a deep breath, then said, "I apologize for that. I lost my temper."

"I've had enough of your temper, your lies, and I've had enough of you."

"Fine. That's just fine. You and I truly don't matter."

"That's right. We don't matter. We never did and we never will. I didn't matter enough for you to tell me that you gave me a child, and you don't matter enough for me to care right now that you were the one who did. All that matters is Will. He deserves better than us as parents, but we're all he's got. So I aim to find my son. And I'm warning you, lady, so help me God, if something has happened to Will because of your lies..."

"Please, just find him, Logan. That's all I want." She took a step toward him, her eyes filled with fear and pain and hope, such hope, that it damn near brought him to his knees. "Find our son. Save our son. I beg you."

"I intend to, Caroline." And then, because his own fear rode his blood along with the white-hot fury at the people and circumstances that had put his child in danger, he added, "And once I do, I'll be taking him away with me for a while so I can get to know him."

"Taking him away?"

"Yeah, away. Away from outlaws and liars and schemers. You've had him for fourteen years and because of your choices, he's in more danger than any kid should ever have to face. I'm taking him away from you, Caroline. You don't deserve him."

She swayed beneath the force of the blow, but she didn't fall. Watching her, Logan couldn't help but think that she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever known.

He expected her to beg him not to take her child, but once again, Caroline surprised him. "If that's the price, then so be it. Just find him, Logan. Keep him safe. Will is my whole world."

Logan walked away with another emotion joining the fear and anger riding his blood.

Logan walked away feeling shame.

Caroline stood in the rail car's vestibule and covered her ears when the whistle blew as the train pulled into Artesia a day and a half after she'd left Parkerville. A day and a half since she and Logan had exchanged so much as a single word.

He had slept—or pretended to sleep—during the entire stagecoach ride to the depot in Midland. After buying a ticket—one ticket—for the next westbound train, he'd disappeared during the two-hour wait for the scheduled departure. Caroline had watched him board a different car than her own just before the train pulled out of the station, and the only time she'd seen him since was when she left her car to get some air and peeked into the one in front of her.

He'd been talking to a woman. Smiling at her. That no-good rotten overstuffed pigheaded rogue.

Caroline deserved his anger, she knew that. She'd earned every word. Now what she hadn't deserved was his accusation that she'd used sex against him. She hadn't planned to make love with him. She wasn't trying to work her wiles or soften him up. Not that he'd ever believe it.

So now he was chatting with that woman, perhaps thinking to make her jealous? Well, that was a waste of time. She didn't care about anyone or anything but Will.

Now as the train began to slow, she put her husband out of her mind and focused entirely on her son. Maybe she'd hear good news from the Glaziers. Maybe Will had come home since her last contact with her friends during the wait in Midland. Her gaze frantically searched the platform for Will and hope formed a lump in her throat. There was Ellen, dressed in her favorite blue gingham gown, her dark hair hid by her sunbonnet. Her husband, Daniel, wore a dark suit befitting the town's most prominent attorney. Anxiousness filled both their expressions. Caroline didn't see their son Danny. She didn't see Will's dog, Sly.