Chapter 51
Emery
August
I coax Flapjack to a stop so I can watch the beige speck move down the driveway until it vanishes from sight.
Isla has been gone nearly every day since she passed her road test and Dillon handed her the keys to his father’s Taurus.
She’s reveling in her newfound freedom. School starts next week and she has already declared that she never has to take the bus again.
We’ll see if she feels the same way when her bank account depletes as quickly as the gas in that guzzler.
But her days are full of family and friends and, very soon, hockey again. And she seems happy. Given this past year, that’s all we can hope for.
I steer the horse down the worn path along the fence line, the grass flattened by the UTV and tractor.
He picks up speed until he’s cantering, my thighs gripping his sides, my body balanced as my hips follow his graceful movement.
The first few weeks of riding again after so long tested my joints and muscles and reminded me of my age, but going out every day with Logan and his Shadow—as I playfully call the pair—has strengthened my body.
Now I push Flapjack to gallop, the sound of his hooves pounding the soil all I can hear.
The bison graze on the year’s grass crops in the distance.
Rutting season will be over soon and, once again, Jon will take bets on spring calves while they prepare for the long winter months, shoring up fences and building their inventory of hay.
Life on the Landry ranch is a simple and predictable one, and there is immense peace in knowing that.
As is coming home to it—and to Logan—every evening after a long day at work.
My role as detachment commander is still mine, for now.
Helping solve Holly’s case earned me points with Doug Freeman, as begrudging as he was to commend me, but solving the jewelry heist case turned into an unexpected media frenzy.
Apparently, there are enough people who would have handled that lost treasure differently, and the way I handled it earned me commendations from people more senior than Freeman.
Doug is going to have a harder time building a case against my conduct.
Flapjack and I head over a ridge. Ahead of us is Jon and Sarah’s stretch of land that Logan has spent all summer clearing with Jack’s help on the excavator, when he isn’t tied up with renovations before the Barrow Ale House opens this fall.
A large section of land is ready for seed, and Logan is fencing another cleared section to serve as new pasture.
That’s where he is now, drilling post holes in the ground with the tractor auger. He spent all afternoon trying to fix that thing. I guess he succeeded.
But it’s what’s on his head that makes me burst out laughing as I race closer.
When he finally notices me, he cuts the engine. “All right, let’s hear it.”
“Have you seen Logan anywhere? You know, that tall, handsome man who loathes cowboy hats. Says they’re the dumbest-looking things known to man.”
He pulls the wide-brimmed tan hat Jon gave him off his head, brushing at his forehead. “The sun was really hot today and I’m tired of getting burned. Thought I’d give it a try.”
An entire season working outside all day has earned Logan a dark golden tan that he wears well. “And?”
He climbs down, tugging off his work gloves. “And I’ll admit, it helps. But don’t tell Jon.”
I grin. “It looks good on you.”
“Uh-huh.” Logan lifts the hem of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face as he approaches, revealing a honed set of abs.
A groan of appreciation escapes me. I remember thinking Logan was built when he returned from prison, but almost a year of manual labor and his mother’s home cooking has added at least forty pounds of muscle to his already impressive frame.
He smooths a palm over my thigh. “Looks better on you.”
“I’ve never worn it.”
“Yeah, you have.” He looks pointedly at me, reminding me of the one day in his apartment when I wore it briefly—and little else.
“Come on. Time to call it a day. I have a casserole in the oven. We have exactly”—I check my watch—“twenty-five minutes to get home before it’s overdone.
” Dinners are divided between Annie and Holt’s, Logan’s, and my place.
On weekends, Sarah and Jon and their brood come down, and the Landry house is full of chaos and warmth.
Everything is as it should be.
He whistles to Shadow, and the horse, who never lingers far when Logan is around, closes in. “Is Isla around tonight?”
“No, she’s going over to Cody’s to eat dinner and watch a movie.”
He collects the riding gear draped over the fence post and expertly prepares the horse for the trip home. “And we’re still not telling her that he’s in love with her?”
“No! She doesn’t like him like that.”
“You sure?” Logan hauls himself up into the saddle. “’Cause remember, I had no idea I liked you like that.”
“She’s a lot smarter than you were.”
Logan chuckles. “She is that.”
We begin the ride back at a slow walk.
“Plus, she’s still talking to Drew. A lot. He’s trying to convince her to check out the university campus in Calgary.”
The humor falls off Logan’s face just as quick. “She’s not going all the way to fucking Alberta for school because of a boy.”
“You and Dillon agree on something.” Because that’s exactly what he said when she floated the idea of flying out west this fall.
Logan’s sound of disgust at the idea that they share a thought makes me laugh.
But it also makes my heart swell. Isla and Logan’s bond is subtle but tight, their quiet connection endearing.
Sometimes I enjoy sitting back and listening to her ask questions and Logan answering.
For a man who often spares few words for anyone, he never runs out of them for her.
“Oh shit, you know what I forgot?” Logan says suddenly.
“What?” I look back over my shoulder at the tractor sitting there.
He grins. “Nothing. See you back home.” Shadow takes off, shifting quickly from canter to gallop, the boy from my earliest childhood memories racing ahead.
I send Flapjack after him, my laughter following us across the wide-open expanse of land that holds so many memories and a future I didn’t dare hope for.
Sometimes I still wonder if I’m living in a dream.
If I am, I pray I never wake up.