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Standing on the porch steps, Logan watched his relative dismount, hitch his horse to the rail, and walk across the yard, his bootheels raising little whorls of dust behind him. The silence was broken only by the sound of hammers from the barn, where Lars, Pete, and Angus had begun layering long, flat boards over the roof beams.
“Welcome, neighbor.” Logan stepped off the porch. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to pay me a visit.”
“I’m just on my way back from town,” he said. “Kristin asked me to give you her best.”
Logan willed his pleasant expression to freeze. If Webb had come for a confrontation, he could expect anything.
But Webb simply turned toward the hammering sound. “Nice barn,” he said. “Big.”
“Yes, and the stable addition will make it even bigger,” Logan said. “Come on in if you want. I can’t offer you anything to drink except water, but at least it’s cold.”
“Thanks, I’ll take it out here,” Webb said. “Next time I’ll bring you some Scotch. I’ve still got a good supply.”
“I won’t tell a soul.” Logan went back into the house and filled two glasses from the canvas bag he kept wet to cool the water by evaporation. Taking a glass in one hand, he hooked his arm through the back of a chair and carried it out to Webb.
When he came out a second time with another chair and a glass for himself, Webb was seated, sipping from his glass and studying the barn again.
“Looks like they’re doing a decent job,” he said. “But are you sure you want that scrubby little Irishman on your property? If you’d asked me, I’d have warned you about him.”
“O’Rourke?” Logan shrugged. “He seems okay. We were short a man when he showed up asking for work. He’s done all right, except that he never stops talking. Why? What would you have warned me about?”
Webb finished his water and lit a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket. The pungent smoke curled upward as he exhaled. “Let’s just say you’d best keep a careful count of those steers,” he said. “If any come up missing, look for them on the O’Rourke place. That’s where I’ve found a few of mine.”
“Isn’t stealing cattle a hanging offense?”
“It is. But I’ve never caught the little buzzard red-handed. He always claims the cows wandered onto his place and got mixed in with his own, and that he was planning to herd them back onto the Triple C. I know that’s so much hogwash, but the man’s got a wife and two kids. As long as I get my cattle back, I give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep an eye on him.” Something told Logan that Webb hadn’t come here to make small talk. But he’d get around to what he really wanted in his own time.
After going on about the hot, dry change in the weather and the prospects of a serious drought, Webb straightened in his chair and cleared his throat. “I actually came to ask for some advice,” he said. “You’re a widower like I am, Logan. How much do you know about women?”
Caught off guard, Logan barely managed to hide his surprise. It wasn’t like Webb to ask such a personal question—not unless he was having woman troubles.
“I can’t claim to know much,” he said. “My wife was a good woman, but with a career in the army, I was barely home for enough time to sire my children. We never really got to know each other the way most couples do. But I was faithful, and I loved her.”
“I loved my Lilli with all my heart and soul,” Webb said. “For years, I thought I’d never find another woman I’d want to marry. But then I met Kristin.”
Logan felt his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach. He waited for Webb to go on.
“Last night I asked her to marry me,” Webb said. “I thought she’d be happy. I thought she’d say yes. Instead . . .” He shook his head. “The way she looked at me, I thought she was going to bolt like a spooked mare. She said it was way too soon for that question. Not only that, but she asked for some time apart to concentrate on her practice and think about the kind of future she wants. And then she sent me packing like a whipped dog. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life! I should have walked away and left things at that. But I can’t stop thinking about her. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Give her time? Give her another chance? I know everything there is to know about ranching and cattle and how to handle men. But I can’t understand a woman who turns down an offer of everything she could possibly want—money, respect, a beautiful home, and a damn fool man who worships the ground she walks on.”
He fell silent, clearly waiting for an answer—one that Logan was in a poor position to give him. Webb was a man in love. And now Logan had stepped between him and the woman he wanted.
Logan couldn’t—and wouldn’t—change what had happened between him and Kristin. But he owed Webb as much truth as he could spare.
“I can’t tell you what to do, Webb,” he said. “But Kristin has faced challenges that you can’t even imagine. She’s learned to be strong and independent, to be in charge, and she doesn’t want to let go of that. If you mean to win her, the one thing you mustn’t do is take away—or even threaten to take—her freedom. Does that make sense?”
Webb sighed. “It does explain why my proposal made her skittish. But damn it, all I want is to make her happy. I want to protect her, take away her worries, give her the best of everything.”
“Then all I can do is wish you luck.”
Webb stood. “Thanks for your advice. It goes against my nature, but if it works, we’ll name our first boy after you.”
Logan watched him ride back toward his ranch, keeping Webb in sight until he disappeared in a haze of heat and dust. Webb Calder was a good man. He was also a forceful and persuasive one, capable of wearing Kristin down until she agreed to marry him. If that were to happen, Logan could only accept the loss graciously, nurse his battered heart, and hope that Webb had the wisdom to take his advice.
Kristin deserved to be happy—even if it was with another man.
* * *
