Margaret Brownley (21 page)

As soon as Thornton stepped inside the house and the door closed, Logan shot upright, forgetting to keep the weight off his leg. Groaning, he kept his gaze riveted to the closed door across the way.

She probably closed the door so as not to let in the cold air, he reasoned. That had to be it. Confident that Libby would explain that she had a baby to feed and would send the man promptly on his way, he waited.

And waited.

What was taking Libby so long to get rid of the nuisance of the man?

Muttering beneath his breath, he rubbed his hands together to keep warm. A man could freeze to death standing outside, waiting for a woman to say something that would take the average man thirty seconds or less to say.

What’s the matter with that fool, Thornton, anyway? Doesn’t he know that a woman who’s only recently given birth needs her rest?

Thirty minutes passed, an hour. Finally, Logan decided enough was enough. If Libby didn’t have enough gumption to show the man out, then he would have to do it for her. He walked across the street with a determined stride—or at least as determined as his numbed leg would allow. From inside the cabin, he could hear laughter. Thornton’s and Libby’s.

He cleared his throat and pounded on the door.

The door opened and Libby appeared surprised to see him. “Logan. I didn’t expect to see you.” She frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Of course I’m all right. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know.” She gazed at him, her face suffused with concern. “Your face is all red and your lips look blue. Are you ill?”

“I’m perfectly fine.” His tongue seemed to do funny things in his mouth. Maybe he had suffered from exposure. If he hadn’t he was about to. You think she’d extend the same courtesy to him as she had extended to the fool Wellerton and invite him inside.

“Won’t you come in?”

It’s about time. “I’m mighty obliged,” he said, managing to keep his irritation at bay. He stepped inside.

Thornton was seated in front of the fireplace. He lifted his hand in greeting, but the look he gave Logan was downright hostile.

Logan shifted his gaze to Libby, who was looking all flushed and pretty, her eyes shining bright, her hair held back with a blue ribbon that matched her dress. It was obvious she was waiting for some sort or explanation from him as to why he appeared on her doorstep, uninvited.

“I…noticed your light on. I thought maybe there was something wrong. You know with Noel.”

She looked confused. “My light? But it’s only a little after seven o’clock.”

“So it is. I guess I was thinking it was later.”

A softness touched her face. “How very considerate of you to be concerned. But as you can see, I have company.”

Logan raked Thornton over with narrowed eyes. He made no effort to hide his contempt of the man. “So I see. Well, it’s getting
late.
I guess I’d better get myself home. Let you get your rest.”

“It was very kind of you to stop by.”

He glanced around the cozy room. Candles flickered on a table set for two. Noel was obviously asleep in the other room. Considering all the times that Noel had kept him up, why did the child have to sleep at this particular time? Didn’t Noel feel an obligation to protect his own mother from the likes of Thornton Wellerton?

“Your home is quite cozy.”

She flashed him a smile. “I think so too. As soon as I make some curtains…”

He held her gaze for a moment too long. “Curtains would be nice.” Embarrassed to be caught staring, he cleared his throat. “I guess I’d better be going.”

“Good night, Logan.”

“Good night, Libby.”

*****

Nine o’clock!

That fool Thornton didn’t leave her cabin until nine o’clock! Logan wouldn’t have noticed, of course, had he not been peering through the crack of his open door where he had been watching Libby’s house for the entire two hours it took Thornton to leave after his own departure.

Trying to keep from freezing to death, Logan had wrapped himself mummy-like in his bedroll in an effort to keep warm. Nevertheless, he was frozen to the bone. This only added to his ill humor.

It was indecent, that’s what it was, to keep a new mother up till all hours of the night. Obviously Libby was too kindhearted to put the man in his place.

He slammed the door shut and turned, forgetting his body was completely encased in the confines of his bedroll. One step and he toppled to the ground with as much grace as a falling tree.

Early the following morning Logan made it his business to
bump
into Wellerton. The man was at Saddle Bar Creek supervising his company of miners. It irked Logan that Wellerton saw fit to dress in business attire.

Thornton supervised his mine as if it were a bank. All that was missing was a rollup desk. He sat tall in the saddle of his fine black gelding and issued orders in the same modified tone of voice one would expect to hear in business circles. Just who did the scoundrel think he was?

Swallowing his irritation, Logan rode his horse next to Thornton’s.

Thornton folded his map and greeted Logan with a guarded expression. “Good morning, St. John. What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

Logan managed a thin facade of civility. “Just happened to be passing by.”

Thornton tucked his map in the pocket of his fine wool coat. “It seems to be a habit of yours.”

“And yours seems to be keeping unseemly hours.”

“Since when did you become interested in the hours I keep?”

“I’m concerned about Libby. I thought she looked rather tired last night.”

“Really? I thought she looked exceptionally beautiful.”

Logan looked him straight in the eye. “I guess I know her better than you do.”

“If what you say is true,” Thornton said, “Then you must know that Libby is quiet capable of taking care of herself. If she was tired she would have told me so. In fact, as I was preparing to leave she pleaded with me to stay longer.”

Pleaded.
Logan couldn’t imagine Libby pleading.

“Now, if you will excuse me,” Thornton said, “I have work to do.” Thornton tugged on the reins of his horse and headed up the hill toward the open mine shaft.

Logan stared after the man, mimicking his uppity manners. “I have work to do.” He frowned in disgust. “I just bet you do.”

*****

In the days to follow, Logan became obsessed with the little cabin across from his. He monitored each visitor—and there were too many, as far as he was concerned. Big Sam, Sharkey, Beaker, Shakespeare, McGuire! At sight of the latter, Logan practically fell off his porch trying to get a better look. What was McGuire doing spending so much time with a widow and, if his eyes served him right, going as far as to bring her gifts? Him a married man with two children!

At first McGuire was only too happy to give Logan a full report. But he soon grew weary of the constant probing.

“What is it with ya?” McGuire demanded that Friday afternoon when Logan had followed him from Libby’s house to the general store and finally to the Golden Hind. “Ah told ya three times already today how my family is. They’re the same as they were yesterday and the day before that. Ah have not received a letter in nearly a month’s time. So I have no choice but to assume that nothing has changed.”

“You don’t have to be so ornery about it,” Logan grumbled. “A man has the right to show a little friendly interest.”

“Friendly interest? Is that what ya call it? Well, Ah call it jealousy.”

Logan sputtered in denial. “Jealousy? If I wanted a family, I could have had one.”

“This is not about family,” McGuire charged, jabbing his finger against Logan’s chest. “This is ‘bout Libby.”

Logan pushed the man’s hand away. “You’re right, it is about Libby. A married man has no right to be taking gifts to another woman.”

McGuire gaped at Logan clearly astonished. “Gifts?” He managed at last. “Ah gave her a tin of baking soda.”

“If you ask me, baking soda is a mighty personal gift for a married man to be giving a single lady.”

“Ah’m not asking ya,” McGuire retorted. “And as much as Ah would like to continue this discussion, Ah believe there’s a law against altercations within town boundaries.”

“By all means, we don’t want to break any laws.” Logan spun on his heels and headed back to his cabin to take up his self-proclaimed duty as Libby’s watchman.

It was almost time for Thornton to make his regular appearance on Libby’s doorstep. Of all her visitors, Thornton concerned him the most. Partly because he came later and stayed longer than any other visitor. Mostly it was because Libby always seemed glad to see the man.

Then there was Thornton’s strange habit of singing to Libby. She called it opera but to Logan it sounded more like someone dying.

It riled Logan that he couldn’t have himself a friendly disagreement without breaking the law, but it was perfectly acceptable for Thornton to shriek like a screech owl with a bad case of laryngitis whenever the mood struck him.

Long after Thornton had left for the night, Logan couldn’t seem to keep his mind off the little cabin across the way. He lay on his pallet, his body rigid as he strained to hear the least sound coming from across the way. Through the cracks in the wall, he could see the light from the canvas-covered window.

He knew precisely how many times she got up at night to feed the baby, and made it his business to “bump” into her every time she walked into town for supplies.

On each occasion she was always polite and inquired as to how he was doing. He in turn tried to maintain the proper formality, but something always happened to tilt him off-balance. She looked at him in a certain way or gave him a smile that reached inside him. Sometimes their hands would accidentally touch. The latter occurred whenever he bent over to get a better look at Noel and pried the blanket away from the round chubby face.

At such times, he quickly brought their conversation to a halt and distanced himself. It was the only way.

*****

On the first day of February, Libby bundled Noel up in a warm blanket and headed for Hap’s general store.

Hap greeted her with a wide grin. “Good day, Mrs. Summerfield.” He leaned over the counter toward Noel. “Whoosie, whoosie, goo, goo.”

Noel rewarded Hap with a fixed stare. “I do believe he understands every word you said,” Libby teased. “Don’t you, Noel?’

Hap looked pleased. “He’s probably the only person who understands me. What will it be today?’

Libby handed him her list and while he filled her order, she studied the bolts of calico that were half-hidden beneath a pile of harnesses. “I’ll take ten yards of each,” she said.

Hap nodded. “Ain’t had much call for calico till you came to town. If you like, I’ll cut it and bring it by later on today, along with the rest of your purchases. That way you won’t have to carry them yourself.”

“That’s most considerate of you,” Libby said. She heard tell that Hap was lazy, but she personally found him to be most accommodating. She paid for her purchases and bid him a good day.

Carrying Noel over her shoulder, she tramped through the muddied street toward her house. Upon reaching her front porch, she hesitated and glanced from one end of the town to the other. It was only after she was certain the street was deserted that she dared to stare openly at Logan’s cabin.

Often, while taking care of Noel or doing one of her chores, she would get the strangest feeling. It was hard to explain. Perhaps it was only a coincidence that at such times she had only to lower an edge of canvas and peer outside to discover Logan on his porch. She could never be certain if he was watching her house, but what else could he be doing?

And if he was watching her house that made the other occasions—the times he abruptly turned and walked away from her—that much more puzzling.  Not that it mattered.  Of course it didn’t matter.

She sighed. Oh, but it did, it did. No matter how much she told herself otherwise, it hurt her deeply. After what they had shared, how could he act so uncaring?  If she had one sensible bone in her body she would follow his example. That would be the wise thing to do, the proper thing. Ignore him. Not think of him. Pretend like he didn’t exist.

Still, it was hard to forget how he’d taken care of her during her confinement. Harder still to forget the feel of his arms around her.

The last thought jolted her back to reality. With a quick glance around to make certain nobody saw her staring at Logan’s place, she walked up the steps of her porch and into her house. Noel was still asleep and never opened his eyes the entire time it took her to carry him into his room and place him in his cradle.

She tiptoed back into the front room and picked up her sewing basket, intent upon finishing the little flannel nightgown she was making for Noel.

She tried to concentrate on her work, but Logan was very much on her mind. When she couldn’t shake the troubling thoughts that assailed her, she abandoned her sewing and opened the little dream holder where she kept her gold locket.