Page 33 of Logan

Dixie shook his hand. “Dixie McCarthy. I’m… friends with Logan and I knew Clint.”

“Clint was a hell of a good man,” Carl said, his voice catching with emotion.

“Yes, he was. I’m sure you’ll miss him.”

“Yes, ma’am. I can tell you where the cabin is, but the weather is getting bad,” Carl warned, glancing out at the darkening sky.

“Can I drive my SUV there?”

“You can.” He told her how to get to the cabin. “That’s the only place I can figure Logan would be, since he rode his horse.”

“Alright. Thank you, Carl.”

“You be careful, Ms. Dixie. That snow is not letting up.”

“I will. I just want to get some food to him. I know how stubborn Logan Townson can be,” she said with a smile, grateful for the kindness and understanding of this stranger.

Carl nodded, smiled, and walked back through the barn.

Taking a deep breath, Dixie walked back out into the snow and climbed into her vehicle, then drove along the road to find the cabin. As she drove along the muddy road, she hoped that’s where Logan was. If not, she had no idea how to find him.

****

Logan sat on the worn, sofa in the small cabin, his eyes fixed on the rough wooden walls. The memories of past laughter and joy within these walls now only served as a painful reminder of what had been lost. Every corner, every piece of furniture held a memory that threatened to overwhelm him.

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the sweep of headlights across the ceiling. Who could possibly be out in this treacherous weather, and why were they coming here? Curiosity piqued, Logan rose from the sofa and approached the window to get a better look. But all he could see were the bright lights, blinding against the darkness.

Intrigued and slightly wary, Logan flipped on the porch light before cautiously opening the door. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Dixie stepping out of her vehicle with a bag in tow. She trudged through the snow and climbed the steps to the cabin without hesitation. He couldn’t help but wonder how she knew where to find him.

“What are you doing here?” Logan asked as he stared at Dixie.

She held up the bag in her hand. “I brought you something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry. How did you even know where this place was?”

Dixie’s expression softened. “Carl told me when I saw him at the barn.”

“How did you know I would be here?”

“Logan, where else would you go? This place holds special memories for you and Clint.”

He gazed at her for a moment before turningaway and leaving the door open for her. Sitting back down on the sofa, he watched as she removed her coat and hat and placed them neatly on a chair by the door. Then she made her way to the small kitchen area and set the bag on the counter before opening it.

Logan’s stomach grumbled at the smell of Connie’s homemade burgers and onion rings wrapped in aluminum foil. But he had no appetite, not with the weight of grief crushing his chest.

“Please, Logan. You have to keep your strength up,” Dixie urged as she carried the food over to him and set it on the coffee table.

“I’m not hungry,” he replied flatly.

“You need to eat. These next few days are going to be difficult for you.”

Logan let out a resigned sigh. “I know, but I just don’t have an appetite.”

“Not even for one of Connie’s famous burgers?”

He looked at her incredulously. “Why do you even care if I eat or not? You hate me, remember?”

Dixie’s expression softened as she reached out to touch his arm. “I know you’re hurting—”

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