Montana Creeds: Logan. Linda Miller Lael

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СКАЧАТЬ that working out for you, Logan?” she asked quietly. “All that wishing?”

      He glared at her.

      She waited.

      “You’re so sure he wasn’t telling the truth, for once in his miserable, worthless life?”

      “Teresa was faithful to her husband. She loved him. She loved you.” Cassie drew in a long, somewhat quivery breath. “Besides, you have Jake’s bone structure. His temper, too, and that mile-wide stubborn streak that ought to be in every dictionary under ‘Creed.’”

      “Great,” Logan said, sagging a little on the inside, now that he’d let off steam. “And what am I supposed to do with all this information, oh, great medicine woman?”

      “Break the curse,” Cassie answered. “Make different choices than Jake did. Find a woman, love her with your whole heart and mind and body and spirit. Make babies with her. Stick with her—and the children—for the duration.” She paused, regarded him with a kind of warm sorrow that got under his skin in a way her challenges hadn’t. “You’ve been running ever since the day they put Jake in the ground,” she went on, touching his arm. “Coming back here was a big thing. I know that. But until you can forgive Jake—really forgive him—you’ll be stuck, no matter where you go or what you do.”

      Logan thrust a hand through his hair. “I can’t,” he said.

      “Then you and your dog might as well get back in that old truck and move on, because you’re wasting your time here.” Tears glittered in Cassie’s wise brown eyes. “In all the ways that really count, Teresa was my daughter. I know what Jake put her through—Maggie and poor Angela, too. I had to let it all go, Logan—the hatred, the need for revenge—because it was devouring me from the inside.

      “Look at your life. Your brothers are strangers to you. Twice, you married the wrong woman. The ranch—your legacy—is practically in ruins. You can’t just ignore all of that. You have to make it right.”

      “How?” Logan demanded, furious because it was all true. Both his wives, Susan and Laurie, had been good women. He’d never raised a hand to either one of them, barely raised his voice, in fact. But in his own way, he’d been no more available to them than Jake was to Teresa or Maggie or Angela. “Short of committing bigamy—”

      Cassie smiled. “Those marriages are behind you,” she said. “Did you part friends?”

      Friends? Logan ached. He’d loved Susan, or thought he did. And when they weren’t having monkey sex, they’d been giving each other the cold shoulder. Now, she was happily married to a balding dentist with a slight paunch, and expecting her second child. He’d given her a settlement when his company took off, several years after their divorce, and she’d put it in trust for her children. Still, the last time he’d seen Susan, he’d known by the look in her eyes that she could barely restrain herself from spitting in his face.

      “Not so much,” he admitted. He still talked to Laurie sometimes—usually when she needed something. She’d used her divorce settlement to open a hair salon in Santa Monica, and the last time they’d spoken, she’d told him all about her recent wedding ceremony on a beach at sunset.

      She’d married herself. White dress, veil, cake and all.

      Still, it had to be an improvement over being married to him, Logan reflected ruefully. Except, if he did say so himself, for the sex.

      That had been beyond good, with both Susan and Laurie.

      It was also pretty much all he missed about being married.

      “Are they happy?” Cassie asked, ostensibly asking about his exes.

      He nodded. “Nothing like divorcing one of the Creed men to improve a woman’s outlook on life,” he said.

      Cassie laughed. Dusty light poured into the teepee as she pulled the flap aside to step out. Sidekick preceded her—Logan followed.

      The sun dazzled him, made him fumble for his sunglasses, which he’d left on the dashboard of the Dodge.

      Another car pulled into the driveway, parked beside his truck.

      “That’s Elsie Blake,” Cassie said, with a philosophical sigh. “She’s going to ask if I see a man in her future, the way she does every time she comes for a reading. I ought to tell her she’d be better off marrying herself, like Laurie did.”

      Logan blinked. “You knew about that?”

      “Of course I did,” Cassie answered brightly, and the dismissal was as clear as if she’d flat-out told him to get his butt into his truck and go home already. “She mailed out announcements, with a picture of herself on the front, wearing a white dress. I sent her a toaster.”

      Logan was rolling his eyes as Cassie walked away.

      RUSHING INTO the kitchen with a grocery bag in each arm, Briana surveyed her surroundings. The counters were clear, except for the vestiges of lunch—grilled cheese sandwiches, she guessed, by the burned crusts of bread—sneakers were neatly lined up just inside the back door and both boys looked angelic enough to light candles for a Vatican Mass. Only Wanda was her regular self.

      “Okay,” Briana said suspiciously, juggling the bags and heading for the table to set them down. “What have you guys been up to?”

      “I’ve been doing my history homework on the computer,” Josh said loftily, and whatever Web page he’d been looking at faded into cyber-oblivion at the click of the mouse.

      “And I swept the floor,” Alec volunteered. “After I did my homework, of course. Not that stink-face would let me use the computer.”

      “What did I say about name-calling?”

      The boys exchanged poisonous glares.

      “Don’t do it,” they chorused dolefully.

      Briana had been concerned that Alec and Josh might head for the orchard—it was infested with bears, to hear Logan tell it—or dash off to Cimarron’s pasture to play matador the moment she’d driven out of sight that morning. Instead, they’d probably watched something they weren’t supposed to on TV, or gotten into her secret stash of snack-size candy bars.

      Or both.

      “What are we having for supper?” Alec asked, as Briana began taking things out of the bags—milk, oversize cans of soup, packages of hamburger and chicken breasts, bread and fresh fruit, frozen potatoes compressed into little cylinders.

      “A casserole,” she said.

      Alec frowned in obvious disapproval while Wanda scratched hopefully at the back door, asking to be let out. “You do remember that we’re having company tonight?”

      Briana smiled hurriedly, went to open the door for Wanda, and then put away everything except the soup, two pounds of lean hamburger and the potato chunks. “Yes, Alec,” she said. “I remember.”

      “I think cowboys eat steaks,” Josh observed, drawing nearer. This particular casserole was Briana’s specialty—her dad had taught her how to make it—and both boys loved it. usually.

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