Logan's Child

She realized where some of his bitterness was coming from. By asking Brant not to fire him after he’d caught them together, she’d only added insult to injury. “You needed your job. Your mother would have been heartbroken if Daddy had sent you away.”

“So you went away instead.” His eyes burned through her. “I’ve had to live with that all of these years. I’ve had to live with a lot of things.”

Trixie reached out a hand to his arm, wanting to comfort him. What would he do, what would he think if he knew everything? “Logan, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize! I’m the one who blew it!” Suddenly afraid of being this near to her, of being this intimate with her, he hopped up to brush the dirt off the back of his jeans. “C’mon. You must be hungry. Mama’s probably got supper on the table by now.”

Trixie took the hand he offered down to her, her eyes meeting his in the growing dusk. With a firm tug, he had her up and standing in front of him. Too close. Logan dropped her hand, then turned without a word to stomp away.

She followed, wondering if she’d ever be able to figure out Logan Maxwell. She’d seen him at the service this afternoon, watching her with that bitter expression on his face. And…she’d seen him with the children. He obviously cared about his little wards. Especially that little boy who’d clung to him the entire time. What a cutie. Trixie had only glanced at the child briefly and then he’d been lost in the crowd of people trailing by to pay their respects.

“Tell me about the children,” she said now as she hurried to catch up with him. “Grandfather said he’d explain. But I want you to.”

Logan stopped to whirl around and stare at her. “You mean, you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“That this ranch is now a part-time foster home for troubled kids?”

“What?” Shocked, she looked around as if searching for some sort of justification. “Well, no. No one bothered to tell me anything about that.” Sighing, she added, “I’m so tired of everyone trying to protect me. Why don’t you tell me all about it.”

Logan kept walking, but slowed his pace to a comfortable gait. “Your father wanted the ranch to be a place where people could come and learn about nature and about life. Through a program with the local church, he set up a foundation called The Brant Dunaway International Farm. We grow food and livestock for underprivileged countries, and we train volunteers to go into the villages of these countries and teach the locals how to live off the land. Most of what we produce here is shipped out of the country to help these people.”

Trixie had to let that soak in. Her father, the rowdy cowboy, doing missionary work for the church. “I don’t believe it.”

“I can’t believe you weren’t aware of it.”

“The only thing I heard from the lawyers was that I had inherited this land. Everything else got lost in the fog shrouding my brain.” Her head down, she added, “And well…I haven’t exactly kept in touch over the years.”

“Yeah, and who’s fault is that?”

Frustrated and unable to tell him her reasons for staying away, she said, “Could we just get back to the children?”

He shot her a hard look. “Ah, the children. Does having them here bother you?”

She didn’t miss the sarcasm in his question. “Well, no. I just want to know what’s going on.”

“These kids come to us through the church—from broken homes, from foster homes, from parents who’ve abandoned them, from law officers trying hard to save them. Most of them are juvenile offenders—petty stuff, like stealing from the local convenience store or vandalism. Small-time crimes that could lead to worse, if someone doesn’t intervene. They’ve seen some ugly things out there beyond our front gates.”

He stopped, taking a long breath. “We try to fix them—teach them pride and self-esteem, and how to be responsible and productive. We’re like a summer camp, only,” he glared over at her here, “only not for the rich and privileged few who can afford such luxuries. We cater to those who might never get a chance like this, and as corny as it might sound to someone like you, we try to teach them that there is some beauty and good in God’s world.”

“As hard as it might be for someone like you to believe,” she said, her words tight and controlled, “I do have a social conscience, and I do care about the other human beings existing on this earth alongside me.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I just had no idea my father had such…such lofty ambitions toward saving the world.”

“He didn’t try to save the world, Trixie. He just tried to make a difference on his own little piece of earth. And he worked long and hard and gave a lot of his own money to accomplish his goals. Things here were just starting to turn around when he got sick.”

“He worked himself to death, didn’t he?”

Logan heard the anguish in her question, but couldn’t find any sympathy for her pain. It was too little, too late now. “Yeah, Brant worked hard, as hard as anybody on this place. It was like…it was like he was trying to work off all his demons, you know.”

“I do know,” she said, understanding more than ever what her father must have gone through. It didn’t help to know some of his pain had come from her own foolish actions. “I wish—”

“Too late for wishes, sweetheart,” Logan said as they reached the house. Then he stopped just before the screened back door, and turned to face her. “But…it’s not too late for you to continue with your father’s dream. That is, if you don’t sell this place right out from under us.”

“I haven’t made a firm decision yet,” she said on a defensive note.

He smiled then, showing her the dimples she remembered so well. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he said on a low whisper.

His whisper, so soft, so sure, and his nearness, so exciting, so frightening, told Trixie that she was in for a long, hard battle. And she wasn’t sure if she had the strength to fight both Logan and her guilt.

She only hoped God would show her the right way to deal with this.

Gayle Maxwell was a petite, dark-headed woman who, because of the hard life she’d had, looked older than her fifty-one years. Trixie watched Logan’s mother, physically feeling the woman’s disapproval of her presence there. Gayle had not been pleased all those years ago when Trixie and Logan had formed an instant bond; she apparently wasn’t pleased now to have Trixie back in their lives. And, Trixie had to remind herself, the woman was probably concerned that soon she might be displaced and unemployed. Well, Trixie was worried about that, too.

“Hello, Mrs. Maxwell,” Trixie said as they entered the long, paneled kitchen of the lodge. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to speak with your earlier.”

“Hello, Tricia,” Gayle replied, her lips tight, her red-rimmed eyes looking everywhere but at Trixie. “Sorry about Brant. We’ll all miss your daddy.”

“Me, too.”

Trixie knew Gayle had been avoiding her, but she wasn’t prepared for the woman’s evasiveness tonight. Gayle looked downright uncomfortable. Her movements were erratic and jittery. Her brown eyes darted here and there, as if she expected someone to burst into the room and interrupt their meal any minute. Maybe Gayle was still upset about Brant’s death. They had always had a close relationship.

Wanting to soothe the older woman, Trixie asked, “Can I do anything to help with dinner?”

Gayle turned back to the stove. “No, everything’s under control.” Over her shoulder she said to Logan, “I’ve already fed all of the children. Samantha’s with them down at the bunkhouse, helping them with their studies.”

Trixie watched as Logan nodded, then told her that Samantha was a trained counselor who helped out during the summer. “She’s also a qualified teacher. Some of the kids aren’t ready to go back into the mainstream just yet, so we homeschool them.” He glanced at her, then back to his mother. “Where’s…where’s Caleb?”

Gayle dropped the spoon she’d been holding with a clatter. “Down at the bunkhouse with the rest,” she said, her gaze holding her son’s.

Trixie didn’t miss the look that passed between mother and son, nor did she understand what was going on. She was tired and still stunned by her father’s death and having to be here again, but it was obvious that these two had mixed feelings about her visit to the ranch. Not wanting to ask too many questions too soon, she could only lift her brows in a questioning expression.

By way of an explanation, Logan turned to Trixie. “Caleb’s the youngest of the bunch, so he spends a lot of time up here with Mama.”

Trixie nodded. “Oh, the little boy you were holding at the funeral.” With a poor attempt at humor, she added, “Goodness, he looks too adorable to be a juvenile offender. What’s he in for?”

A dark look colored Logan’s face. “His mother abandoned him,” he said in a low, tight voice.

Trixie fell down on a chair, all the energy she had left quickly pooling at her feet. Logan’s words felt like a slap against her suddenly hot skin. Of course, he had no way of knowing how close to home his words had hit. “How awful,” she said, her words barely above a whisper. “He’s so young, so little.” So like the child I gave up.

Gayle turned then to stare over at her, the look on the older woman’s face full of fear mixed with contempt. “Your Daddy told the boy he’d always have a home here. That is, unless you sell it out from under him.”

“Mama, hush,” Logan said, shooting Gayle a warning glare.

Trixie stood up then, determined to be firm and fair in dealing with the Maxwells. “I haven’t made a decision regarding what to do about this place yet, Mrs. Maxwell. You see, I wasn’t aware of the foundation my father had set up here.”

“You would have been, if you’d bothered keeping in touch,” Gayle said over her shoulder. “But I guess you had better things to do with your time.”

Trixie’s gaze flew to Logan’s face. He looked uncomfortable, but it was obvious from his cold, restrained look that he agreed with his mother.

“You’re absolutely right,” she said, her heart breaking all over again to think that Logan felt this way about her. “I didn’t stay close with my father, and I have only myself to blame for that, but now I’m trying to piece things together so I can make the right choice.”

Gayle whirled then, her eyes full of distrust. “The right choice for all of us, or for yourself?” Before Trixie could answer, the woman barreled ahead. “I know all about your fancy degree, Ms. Dunaway. And I guess you’re about as qualified and entitled as anybody to make changes at this place. Marketing consultant, is it? Fancy education, fancy title, fancy everything. But that don’t make you smart. Not in my eyes, at least.”

Shaking her spoon at Trixie, she added, “Your daddy used to say that it’s better to be kind than wise and that true wisdom begins with kindness. Brant had both of those qualities down pat. Too bad his only daughter never learned them.”

Tears pricked at Trixie’s eyes, but she refused to let Gayle or Logan see her pain. After all, she couldn’t just blurt out that she’d had a child out of wedlock with Logan and that her father had stopped talking to her afterward, and that was the reason she’d been forced to stay away from the ranch.

“Well, maybe I can learn all about kindness and wisdom while I’m here,” she said in a quiet voice. “And I assure you, I won’t make a hasty decision until I’ve weighed all of the facts.”

Mustering what little dignity she had left, she carefully walked around the table, then edged her way to the open back door. “I’m not really very hungry, after all. If you’ll both excuse me, I think I’d just like to go for a walk before I go to bed.”

Then she was out the door, out in the night air. The wind hit her skin, cooling the heat that radiated from her face, soothing the humiliation that radiated from her soul. From inside, she could hear Logan arguing with his mother, bits of scattered words echoing out over the trees. Was he arguing in her defense, or was he simply warning Gayle to tread lightly while the wicked witch was on the premises?

Trixie didn’t bother sticking around to find out which. Instead she headed down the sandy dirt lane to the stables, her feet taking her where her mind wanted to be. From the single security light shining out over the trees and shrubbery, she found her way to the looming structure to seek shelter from all of her problems, just as she’d done that summer so long ago.

As Trixie entered the corridor of the long building, a slender mare, a working quarter horse, greeted her with a soft whinny and a toss of her white mane.

Reaching out to rub the nose of the chestnutcolored animal, Trixie cooed softly. “Hello, girl. How ya doing?”

The animal nudged her hand in response.

Looking around for a feed bag, Trixie said, “Let me see. I’ll bet we can find you some sort of snack.”

For the next few minutes Trixie stood letting the mare eat the mixture of oats, bran and hay she’d found nearby. As she watched the animal munch, she remembered other times she’d done this same thing, always with Logan by her side. He knew everything there was to know about horses, and he’d learned it all from her father. Again she felt that stab of jealousy and resentment whenever she thought about Brant and Logan, here together like a father and son.

“Maybe I should have been born a boy,” she said to herself, knowing in her heart that Brant had loved her once just the way she was. No, she couldn’t hold a grudge for something she had forced her father to do. She had asked Brant to allow Logan to stay on, had begged him not to fire Logan.

“It’s all my fault, Daddy,” she had said at the time. “I…I flirted with him. I wanted to be with him. If you send him away, Gayle will go with him. Then they won’t have a place to live. Please, Daddy, don’t do this. I’ll go…I’ll go back to Dallas, and I promise I won’t have anything to do with Logan again.”

She’d always believed she’d done Logan a favor. Now she had to wonder if instead she’d done him a great disservice by fighting his fight for him. But in the end it didn’t really matter. She’d made the best decision, based on her love for Logan at the time.

Now she had the power to destroy everything that was left between them. She wanted to be rid of her past. That was why she’d been determined to sell this place. And now she’d come face-to-face with that past again, but there was so much more to have to deal with, so much responsibility being thrown on her shoulders.

Her first instinct was to run as far away from this place as she could possibly get. If she got involved in Brant’s dreams for this ranch, she’d be up to her eyeballs in something that might quite possibly become an overwhelming burden. Yet if she didn’t at least think about keeping the ranch and continuing her father’s work here, she’d never forgive herself.

Was she up to the task? Could she face down the secrets of her past with Logan, for the sake of her father’s dream and for the sake of these children who’d been entrusted to his care?

Without warning, little Caleb’s cherubic face came to mind. She couldn’t get the picture of the little boy who’d been clinging to Logan out of her head. What would happen to Caleb if she sold the ranch?

How could she make such an important decision when she was so very tired and confused? The big mare snorted, her brown eyes giving away no secrets as she nuzzled Trixie’s hand with her wet nose.

“Guess I need to pray hard,” Trixie said to the animal. “That’s what Granddaddy always tells me to do when I have a problem.”

She let the mare finish the last of the mash, then dusted her wet hand against her pants before she walked on through the stables. When she came to the little tack room, Trixie stopped and closed her eyes against the intensity of her memories, the smell of saddle soap and horse sweat blending together in her mind. It was here in this very room, where Logan had first kissed her. She’d fallen in love that summer—her first love. But it wasn’t meant to be. Now she had Rad and her life with him was all planned out. Everyone said they made a perfect couple.

Trixie closed her eyes. Help me make the right decision, Lord.

When she opened her eyes, Logan was standing in the doorway watching her, his own eyes devoid of any condemnation or judgment. For just a moment, it was as if time had stopped and they were back there, young and carefree and exploring the raging emotions coursing between them. But Trixie had to remind herself that that time was over.

Logan, however, had other considerations on his mind. He walked toward her with a purposeful look on his face, then took her into his arms without a word. Before Trixie could voice a protest, he kissed her, long and hard, stealing the breath right out of her body. Then he stood back and held his hands on her arms, his eyes bright with hope and longing.

“Stay awhile, Tricia Maria,” he said, his breath ragged from the effect of the kiss. “Stay and see for yourself all of the good we’re doing here. You owe me that much at least, before you decide what to do about this place.”

“Is that why you kissed me?” she asked, her heart pumping, her voice raw with pain.

Logan’s mouth came close to hers again. “No, I kissed you because I wanted to, because I couldn’t stop myself. But I’m asking you to stay because I intend to fight you on this. I won’t let you sell this place without at least putting up a good struggle. You said you’d consider everything and take in all the facts before you made a choice.”

“I did say that,” she admitted, thinking he was one smooth operator. “And I can’t make an informed decision without seeing how this place operates.”

He leaned close again, his breath fanning her face. “Then you’ll stay?”

She swallowed back the fear coursing through her system. Somehow she knew her answer would change both of their lives. “Yes, I’ll stay,” she said, her gaze holding his.

“Fair enough.”

Logan let her go then, turning to get away from the overpowering urge to pull her back into his arms. He hoped he’d done the right thing by asking her to remain here for a while. He didn’t really have any other choice. Somehow, he had to make Trixie see that this place could make a difference, not just in the lives of all of those children, but in her own life, also.

He would do that much at least for Brant’s sake.

Even if it meant having to tell Trixie the truth at last.

Chapter Four

“Mother, I’ve made my decision. I’m only going to stay a few days, so don’t worry.” Trixie tried once again to convince her mother that she wasn’t being impulsive, then listened as Pamela’s shrill words shot through the phone line.

“Well, I am worried, young lady,” Pamela said with an impatient huff. “You have no business hanging around with that…that field hand.”

“Logan is the foreman of this ranch,” Trixie reminded her mother, anger causing her to grind the words out. “He’s very capable of showing me what’s going on here.”

“Oh, he’s capable, all right. Apparently you’ve forgotten just exactly what that man is capable of doing.”

Trixie closed her eyes, willing herself to stay calm. They’d had this argument before. Pamela did not believe Logan Maxwell was good enough to even speak to her daughter, therefore she couldn’t dare acknowledge that he’d done much more, without laying the blame at his feet completely.

“No, Mother, I haven’t forgotten anything about Logan. But I’m asking you to trust me on this. I’m not here to stir up things with Logan again. I’m here to make a decision—an important decision—regarding what to do about this ranch.”

“Sell it!” Pamela shouted. “It’s that simple, Trixie. Harlan has left it up to you, and that’s what needs to be done. No decision necessary.”

“I disagree, Mother,” Trixie replied, her tone firm and controlled in spite of her trembling hand holding the phone. “Since neither the lawyers nor you told me the whole truth about this situation, I’m now forced to investigate things for myself. And that means I have to stay here longer than I’d planned.”

Trixie had already called her office and her assistant was prepared to cover matters there. She also had her client list with her, so she could handle any emergencies that came up, if necessary.

“Everything is under control,” she told her mother.

Except my heart and your temper, Trixie thought.

“And what about your engagement party?”

“I’ll be back in Dallas in plenty of time to tie up the loose ends for the party.”

“You have obligations, Trixie. It’s expected—”

“I know, I know,” Trixie interrupted. “People will talk and think the worst, and you might miss an opportunity to have your picture in the society pages.”

A long sigh. “Tricia Maria, that was low and uncalled for.”

“Mother, I’m sorry. Just let me do what has to be done and I’ll be home at the end of the week.”

“I don’t like this.”

“You’ll get over it.”

“Well, I didn’t get over it the first time.”

Trixie sat silent for a minute, counting to ten until the sting of her mother’s deliberate reminder had passed, then said, “No, Mother, neither of us did. And that’s something you’ll never let me forget, isn’t it?”

Realizing she’d been cruel, Pamela tried to make amends. “Darling, I just want you to be happy. And Rad is such a wonderful man. I just want you home, to try on your gown for the party and to help me get all of this organized. You know I’ve reserved the entire country club, and of course I’ve invited so many people. Why, I’ve hired a firm just to address and mail out the invitations, and then I’ve got the caterers and the florists to deal with. I could really use your help, since this is all for you, anyway.”

Automatically forgiving her mother’s barbs and ignoring the excited pitch of Pamela’s line of conversation, Trixie replied, “You’ll do a great job on the party. You’ve always been one of the best hostesses in Dallas, whether it’s for me or anyone else. And I promise I’ll be there soon.”

The compliment soothed Pamela’s fragile ego enough that she gave in. “Oh, all right. Just shed yourself of that place, once and for all, so you can get on with your life.”

Trixie hung up, wondering if Pamela had a clue as to what her daughter really wanted out of life. For years now, Trixie had let her mother steer the reins of her existence. And Pamela had taken full advantage of Trixie’s disinterest, guiding her to what she believed to be all the right places and all the best people. Trixie had allowed it out of guilt, mostly, and because she herself didn’t have the strength or the ambition to really care.

Now, however, Trixie felt the tides of her future changing. It had taken her father’s death to cause her to see the light. She’d missed out on so much; she could have been here, by his side, helping him to realize his dream. It was such a big, lofty dream, yet with such a simple concept. He wanted to help others; he wanted to be fair and good and kind and nurturing. And Brant Dunaway had been all of those things. Too late, Trixie saw that now.

Now she was ready to take charge, to make her own decisions, to take a chance. She’d lived in fear over the past eight years, allowing her domineering mother to call the shots. Now, after discovering a whole new side to the father she’d lost touch with, she was willing to go on faith.

But what if she made another mistake?

A knock at her bedroom door brought her head up. Too late to worry about that now. She’d agreed to stay. She wouldn’t go back on that promise, no matter how much her doubt nagged at her, right along with her mother, to go back home.

She opened the door to find Logan standing in the upstairs hallway, his hat in his hand, his feet braced apart as he stared down at her. Giving her a quick once-over, he said, “Didn’t you bring any working outfits?”

Looking down at her short-sleeved, flowerembroidered blue cotton shirt and matching walking shorts, Trixie shrugged. “Sorry, I didn’t bring the proper ranch hand attire. Any suggestions?”