The Sheriff's Proposal

Her heart aching, Meg said, “Logan must be in unbearable pain. Not knowing where his son is, imagining the worst. How does he go on?”

“He’s a strong man,” Ned answered.

“A good man,” Lily added.

Ned pushed his hat back on his head. “Rumor has it Logan’s marriage was rocky before Shelley died. But Logan never talks about it.”

Meg couldn’t forget the look in Logan’s green eyes when Doc had asked for news of Travis.

“Are you going to see Logan again?” Her aunt’s tone was filled with eager interest.

“What?” Meg asked dropping her gardening trowel.

“Honey, I can read you like a book. You don’t ask idle questions.”

“Aunt Lily…”

Her aunt laughed. “It would be good for you to get out, go to dinner, date a man.”

“You know dating is the furthest thing from my mind.”

Lily’s smile faded. “I’m worried about you, child. You’re not the same person you were before that terrible man shot you.”

Most of the time Meg tried not to think about it. She just wanted to get over it. The problem wasn’t the shooting. It was the terror, the panic and the trapped feeling that still gripped her sometimes. But she hadn’t had a nightmare in over a week. That was progress. “I’m fine, Aunt Lily. You and Uncle Ned and Willow Valley are all I need.”

“For now,” her aunt pronounced.

Petting Leo, who’d curled in a ball by her knee, Meg decided she wasn’t going to ask what her aunt meant. She didn’t want to know.

The following morning, Logan drove to the Carlsons’ farm. He was curious to see how Manuel and Carmen were faring. He wished he could do something for the young couple, but he knew Manuel wouldn’t accept charity.

He was halfway down the lane when he saw Manuel packing the back of his truck. As he drove closer, he saw Meg standing by the open passenger door. She was gesturing to Manuel and speaking fast while Lily and Ned looked on. Logan could guess what was happening.

He parked on the gravel patch beside the blue compact. Climbing out of his car, he heard Meg speaking to Carmen. All he caught were the words quédese, “stay,” and unos pocos días, “a few days.” Carmen spoke quickly and gestured to her husband. As Logan approached, he could see the tears in the young woman’s eyes.

Stopping beside Meg, he denied the sudden surge of adrenaline rushing through him. “They’re leaving,” he said, summing up the situation.

“Yes, and they shouldn’t. I’ve talked to Manuel till I’m blue. But he won’t listen.”

“Has Carmen tried?”

“She says he’s the head of the family—he makes the final decision. But, Logan, just look at her! She needs rest and care…at least for a few days. Doc wants to make sure Tomás—that’s what they named him—is nursing adequately. But Manuel insists he can’t take advantage of our hospitality.”

The baby in Carmen’s arms wriggled and cried. Carmen looked as if she were close to tears herself.

Meg spoke to her in Spanish. Carmen let her take Tomás. As the baby squirmed, Meg positioned him on her shoulder as naturally as any mother and patted the infant’s back. She looked so…beautiful, standing there like that.

Giving himself a mental shake, Logan said, “I suppose Doc is afraid if they leave, Carmen won’t seek out proper care if she needs it.”

“That, too. But I can’t convince Manuel to stay.” Meg gently rubbed her chin against the baby’s downy black hair.

Logan was gripped by an emotion so strong he knew he had to get away from this woman. “I’ll talk to him.”

Meg took a quick glance at Logan’s broad back as he went to the truck. He’d taken her by surprise when he arrived. She’d never expected he’d come back and check on Carmen and Manuel. Yet maybe with the birth of Tomás, he’d felt involved in their lives, too. It proved one thing about him—he was a caring man. She could never see Todd caring about this young couple, whether they stayed or left. Why hadn’t she seen his selfish streak sooner? Why hadn’t she recognized his self-absorption? His story, his career, his needs, always came first. Actually it was an old pattern, one she’d learned with her parents. But finally, at age twenty-nine, she’d realized in time that her needs mattered, too.

Logan called, “Ned, come here a minute.”

Meg could hear the low rumble of the men’s voices but couldn’t tell what they were saying as they walked toward the barn. When they reemerged, they were all smiling. Manuel came over to Meg and Carmen. “We stay. A little while. If I have work.” He helped his wife from the cab of the truck.

Carmen squeezed Meg’s hand. “Gracias.”

Meg shook her head. “No hicenada especial.”

Carmen gazed at Logan. “Gracias.”

He smiled. “De nada.”

Meg handed Tomás to the young Mexican woman. Manuel put his arm around her shoulders and guided her back to the house. Lily and Ned followed.

Closing the door of the cab, Meg turned to Logan. “What did you say to him?”

“It was what Ned said. I reminded him of all the machinery that needs a good overhauling and the back field that has to be mowed before winter. Manuel is going to take care of that and, in return for the work, he’ll accept room and board for his family.”

Meg clasped Logan’s arm. “What a wonderful idea!” His skin was hot under hers, the hairs on his forearm rough against her fingers. His green eyes darkened, and her heart raced. She removed her hand.

“Not wonderful. Just expedient. The trading of goods and services. I’m not so sure we shouldn’t do it more often.” Logan glanced at his watch. “Did you have breakfast?”

She shook her head.

“I’m not officially on duty for a half hour or so. How about going to the bakery with me for a doughnut and a cup of coffee?” When she hesitated, he added, “I get tired of my own company sometimes. I thought maybe we could just…talk. But if you’re too busy—”

“No, I’m not too busy. A cup of coffee sounds good. Aunt Lily makes me herbal tea. Even after all these years, I just can’t get used to it.”

Logan laughed, a deep, masculine sound that warmed Meg through and through. “She tries to serve it to me when I visit.”

“You visit? You haven’t since I’ve been here.”

“Yes, well, circumstances the last few months have changed my habits.”

Meg saw the pain again. “Aunt Lily told me about your son. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Sorrow, blame, regrets. None of it matters except finding Travis. But I don’t go on wild-goose chases anymore, driving into the dead of night, speeding down a highway, hoping when I get wherever the road takes me I’ll find him. Now I spend my time printing more pictures and flyers, studying the computer data bases, keeping in touch with contacts on other police forces and my private investigator…and working. Working to forget.”

Although Meg had always enjoyed her work, she knew about working to forget. She wanted to clasp Logan’s arm again, to say she understood, but touching him was dangerous. Doubting he needed her understanding, she nodded toward the house. “I’ll make sure Carmen is settled again and meet you at the bakery on Elm. Then you don’t have to drive back out here.”

The bakery bell tinkled as Meg pulled open the door. Logan sat at one of the five black wrought-iron tables for two. She’d had second thoughts about meeting him, and thirds. Why had she accepted the offer? Because she liked Logan MacDonald, besides feeling attracted to him. If talking could ease his pain concerning his son, she’d listen.

A mug of coffee waited at the empty place across from him, along with two doughnuts and a muffin. Meg couldn’t suppress a smile as she sat down. “Do I look underfed?”