Page 58 of Destined for the Cowboy

Those who had fought there had likely known they had no chance, and had paid the ultimate price for their bravery. Maybe that’s what he needed to be around, to remember.

Because compared to their fight, his own simple case of being a fool, of reaching for something he never had a chance at, didn’t seem to matter much.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Tris was ata total loss. She’d called Logan and he hadn’t answered. Texted him and got the same, no response. She’d driven all the way out to his place to find him and his truck gone. If it hadn’t been Sunday she’d have gone to the library looking for him. In fact, she stopped by anyway, wondering if they were having some special Sunday function as they sometimes did, which allowed people to come inside on a day they were normally closed. Nothing.

She sat in the parking lot of the closed building, tapping her finger restlessly on the steering wheel. She didn’t know for how long. And she didn’t know what to do. They hadn’t made any formal plans to connect this afternoon, but she had assumed they would.

She assumed that, after last night, how could they not?

She shivered a little, remembering. She’d never experienced anything like it. She and David had had a relaxed, loving relationship.

Logan Fox set her on fire.

Was she expecting too much too soon, to know where he was every day? Maybe. But she wanted to know, and that was something she hadn’t felt about anyone except her brother and nephew in a long time.

But that didn’t mean Logan necessarily felt she had the right to know. Maybe one night together didn’t grant her that, in his mind. Even if it was the night she discovered just how alive she still was.

But what about all the rest of the time they’d spent together? The common bonds they’d found in their love and respect for history, in their preference for seclusion, their appreciation for quiet time spent together, when constant chatter was unnecessary and unwanted? Didn’t that count, too? Or had she misjudged its value, to him anyway?

A sudden memory flashed into her mind, of Logan explaining to a curious Jeremy how forging iron for horseshoes worked. He’d showed the boy how, as the iron got hotter, it first glowed red, then orange, then yellow, and finally became white-hot. The forging heat, the point at which you could actually make a shoe that would last, was a bright spot between orange and yellow.

Last night they’d gone straight through to white-hot. Maybe because they’d already been at the red stage before they’d even begun. At least, it had felt that way to her.

You can’t use white-hot iron to do anything. It won’t hold.

Logan’s words rang in her head now. Was that it? Had they been so white-hot they’d…what, burnt out? In one night?

Or maybe she was just so out of practice she’d misread him, misread everything, entirely. Maybe—

A tap on the driver’s window startled her out of the morass of thought she’d sunk into. When she saw who it was, she put the window down immediately.

“Chief Highwater,” she said, a little startled.

“Just checking to be sure you’re okay. You’ve been sitting here a while.”

She stared at the man. Realized that the library was in plain view of the police station, which was in the same central block. And how like him, when he could have easily ordered someone else to do it, to come check on her himself.

“I just wanted to be sure you were okay,” he said again when she didn’t speak. “This morning must have been a bit of a strain on you.”

“Oh.” The ceremony. Now she understood. She hadn’t seen him there, but she should have known he would be. Last Stand was his to protect, and he took the job very seriously. And she felt a sudden need to show her appreciation. “Have I ever told you how lucky I think Last Stand is to have you?”

He let out a half-chuckle that sounded embarrassed. “I could say the same to you,” he said. “So, you’re all right?”

“I’m fine. I admit, I’d be better if I could find someone who seems to have fallen off the map, but it went well this morning, and…it’s over now. Time to move on.”

The perceptive chief studied her for a moment. “I get the feeling you mean that in more ways than one.”

“I do.”

He nodded, approvingly. “Who is it you’re looking for? Anybody we might have seen around? I can ask.”

She hesitated, but then admitted it. “Logan Fox.”

Chief Highwater’s brow furrowed. “Hmm. Haven’t seen him since this morning at the ceremony.”

Her breath caught. She hadn’t told him about the ceremony, partly because she hadn’t known how to say it, and partly because it was fairly common knowledge in town. She’d always sensed him withdraw a little whenever the subject of David came up, and she hadn’t wanted that to happen, not when they’d finally—she’d thought—taken the next step.

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