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Chapter Twelve
Aheavy dusting of stars glittered in the night sky. No yard light gleamed near the house or outbuildings of the Circle Six to dim their brilliance. With the night’s mystery before him, Logan Echohawk tilted the rocker back and propped his booted feet on the porch railing. He raised a pipe to his mouth and took a puff on it, but it had gone out, and he had no inclination to relight it.
The broken country beyond the ranch yard was a tangle of shadows in varying degrees of darkness. A lazy breeze carried the scent of the land’s wildness to him, touching some answering spark within him.
As was his habit, he sat in the deep shadows of the long porch, well away from the light that poured through the open screen door. Light footsteps approached. A smile of welcome automatically lifted the corners of his mouth as he glanced sideways.
The screen door swung open under the push of Cat’s hand, its movement accompanied by a faint squeak of its hinges. “Quint asleep?” he guessed.
“Finally.” Cat walked straight to the railing and leaned both hands on it to gaze at the night. She rocked there a moment, then pushed away and wandered toward his chair. She was restless and tense. The feelings emanated from her in waves, disturbing the night’s peace.
Logan didn’t have to ask what was troubling her. He already knew it was Jessy. Cat had barely given him a chance to walk through the door that evening before she’d launched into an account of all that had transpired.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?” He knew she wanted to talk about it, so he gave her the opening.
“No.” Her voice was riddled with impatience and confusion. “I hate thinking these things about Jessy.” She walked back to the railing and braced her hands on it again. “But there is something wrong over there, Logan. I can feel it.”
“It’s one thing to feel something in your gut, and another thing to prove it.” He had relied on his own instincts too many times to discount hers. At the same time he knew instinct wasn’t enough, especially not in this case.
Cat swung around to face him, tension in every line of her body. “I wish you had been there today. At first, when I confronted her about leasing the feedlot, Jessy seemed genuinely surprised and contrite that she hadn’t discussed it with me first. I was ready to believe her. I still thought it was wrong, but I believed she had acted out of what she perceived was best. But the minute I challenged her about the Smiths, she changed. I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but”—Cat paused to search for the words—“something about her hardened. It was as if she suddenly threw up a wall.”
“Tara might have had something to do with that,” Logan pointed out.
“I know,” she admitted and released a heavy sigh. “Part of me wishes Tara hadn’t been there. But if she hadn’t, then I might never have known that Ty never mentioned any family named Smith while they were married. Yet Jessy keeps insisting they were close friends. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It could be the age difference. Maybe it was Chase they were close to,” Logan suggested.
Cat pivoted away from the railing to face him. “But the son is about the same age as Ty would be. You should have seen him,” she recalled with disgust. “It was all ma’am this and ma’am that, but there was something about his attitude that I didn’t like. The whole time I had the feeling that he knew something I didn’t. But Jessy refuses to hear one word against him.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Logan replied in a reasonable voice. “Jessy is the type of person who would stand by her friends.”
“Still . . .” Cat let the sentence trail off unfinished and folded her arms tightly across her middle.
The harsh jangle of the telephone came from inside the house. Logan pulled his feet off the railing and rocked out of the chair. “I’ll get it,” he said. “At this hour of the night, it’s bound to be for me.”
When he reached the door, Cat remembered. “It could be Tara. She said she would call to give me the name and phone number of a lawyer she thinks I should consult.”
“Do you want to talk to her?” Logan asked as the phone rang again.
Cat shook her head. “Tell her I’m tied up and ask her to give it to you.”
“No problem.” He stepped into the house and eased the screen door shut behind him.
Alone on the long porch of their single-story ranch house, Cat was soon distracted by her own troubled thoughts. Long ago, she had found that there was little to be learned from listening to only Logan’s side of a telephone conversation.
Her glance skimmed him when he rejoined her on the porch. “Was it dispatch?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Don’t tell me you have to go,” she murmured, wavering between disappointment and concern for his safety.
“No. This time it was more or less a courtesy call.” The steadiness of his gray eyes seemed to warn her to be ready for some unpleasant news. “Jenna thought she should let us know that they received a call from the Triple C. Sally Brogan passed away a short time ago.”
Shock held Cat motionless for a long moment. “She’s been so distraught ever since Dad was killed. You only had to look at her to see how hard she was taking it, but I never—” She broke off the sentence with a dazed shake of her head and abruptly moved toward the door. “We need to go over there.”
Logan stepped into her path. “There is nothing that can be done now. Besides, it would mean waking up Quint. He had a hard enough time dealing with your father’s death. He doesn’t need to be exposed to this.”
“I didn’t think about Quint,” Cat admitted. “It wouldn’t be the best place for him. You stay here with him and I’ll go by myself.”
