Page 4 of Destined for the Cowboy

And earn it he had; Logan’s respect for the man had done nothing but grow since he’d first met him, the day Jackson had hired him to keep the therapy horses in good shape, both hoof-wise and psyche-wise.

“Nic swears you’re a miracle worker,” he’d said.

“Hardly,” he’d answered with a grimace. “I can just kind of sense what’s got them acting out, and sometimes I can fix it.”

Jackson Thorpe had grinned at him, reminding him exactly who he was talking to, the hottest thing in Hollywood. Or at least he had been until Hollywood had become too toxic for both him and Jeremy and they’d escaped.

“Sounds like a miracle worker to me,” he’d said.

They’d had a longer discussion about compensation for his work—it didn’t seem right to him to charge a nonprofit—andhad finally settled on his standard rate for the shoeing and maintenance, since it would have to be done anyway, but the rest, the time spent with any horse that needed a little polishing to be safe for the children, would be his donation to the cause.

“You’re doing a good thing here,” Logan said now with a shrug.

“I hope so.”

“You are,” Logan said firmly. Then, because Thorpe didn’t seem in a rush to move on and work the crowd as he’d been doing, he asked, “I hear you’re buddies with Tucker Connelly.” Logan had met the one-time rodeo star several times back when he’d been active, because he had been and still was the blacksmith on hand at many area rodeos.

Thorpe grinned. “I am. The guy saved my sanity in that town more than once. And he’s still running interference for me, sending warnings when necessary.”

Logan blinked. “Warnings?”

“That they’re coming for me.”

That was an aspect of the man’s decampment that Logan hadn’t really thought about. “Can they?”

“Oh, they can. They have. It may get even uglier than it already has. Don’t care.”

“Dad?” The call came from the open barn doorway, where this man’s sister had yet to emerge.

“And that,” Jackson said with firm satisfaction, “is why I don’t care.”

Logan couldn’t help smiling at the man. He didn’t even pretend to know how it felt to have a child you loved that much, or even how it felt to have a father who loved you that much, since he hadn’t had one at all. But he could imagine the fortitude it had taken to walk away from everything for the sake of that child.

“Not many people I both admire and respect, but the number just grew by one,” Logan said quietly.

Jackson held his gaze, and his slow smile showed Logan that the compliment had registered, and that this man had an idea of just how big it was.

“Over here, Jeremy,” he called out and the seven-year-old, dressed to the nines in cowboy gear for the occasion, ran toward them full tilt. His smile a full-on grin now, the man opposite him bent and swept up the child in his arms as if his hundred or so pounds was nothing. Jackson Thorpe was as strong in reality as the character he played appeared to be.

The boy’s grin matched his father’s, and Logan felt a tug inside he’d thought long ago vanquished as he watched something he would never, ever have.

Chapter Three

Tris pondered asshe drove. She knew she’d be welcomed if she dropped by the ranch, but she didn’t want to intrude. She wasn’t exactly walking on eggshells, but she was afraid she might somehow upset the balance as her brother, Nic, and Jeremy settled into their new lives. When she did see them, they were so happy it tugged at her, in both good and bad ways. Good, because she was so delighted to see her brother, and especially Jeremy, joyful again. Bad because it made her start to question herself, wonder why she felt still so mired in her grief.

Perhaps it was because she didn’t have a child to worry about. She adored Jeremy, true, but that was different. If she’d been in Jackson’s shoes—or now, boots—she wasn’t sure she’d have had the nerve to tear down her life and rebuild it the way he had.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe you’re just a coward.

She smothered a sigh, then berated herself as she realized she’d almost missed her turn. Fortunately there wasn’t a lot of traffic and she made it, and found a parking place on the street behind her destination, which was unmissable because of the huge sections of military gear, from guns to parts from ships displayed out front. The National Museum of the Pacific War was a Fredericksburg landmark.

It felt odd, to be back to her regular weekend routine, trips mapped out long in advance to fill those days that weren’t taken up with work related tasks, or playing chaperone to some school function or field trip. It wasn’t just a time killer, really. She loved history, and found Texas history especially fascinating, andworking her way through a long list of places she wanted to visit and learn about was an excellent way to keep her mind occupied.

Lately she had shuffled the order a bit, though, keeping to more local destinations, just in case Jackson or Jeremy needed her. In fact, she was thinking of broaching the idea of taking her nephew with her next time, not just to widen the boy’s historical horizons, but to give Jackson and Nic a bit more time alone together. Maybe she would.

She always thought of this place as the Nimitz museum, since the famous World WarII admiral had been born practically next door and the foundation that bore his name administered the entire operation. That thought made her smile; the admiral was, in a way, still in command. And to this day the museum followed his orders, to honor the men and women who had served in the Asia-Pacific theater in that war. Today was what they called an outpost presentation, this one titled “Hurry Up and Wait,” describing what life for servicemen and women had been like when not actually in a battle.

She headed for the Nimitz Gallery, along with several other people spending their Saturday in curiosity. The exhibit was fascinating, to her at least, and she felt the usual tug inside at the thought of the sacrifices made by this greatest generation. Many people didn’t care, some thought it too long ago to matter, but Tris always whispered a quiet thank you every time she came here.

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