Montana Creeds: Logan Read Free

a deep, searching brown, full of intelligence and a few secrets. His cheekbones were high, hinting that there might be native blood somewhere in his background. He looked nothing like his blue-eyed, fair-haired brother, Dylan, and yet there
was
a resemblance—something in his temperament, perhaps, though she knew little enough of that yet, admittedly, or the way he stood.
    “So Dylan hired a caretaker, did he?” he asked lazily. “And he owns a bull?” His gaze moved past Briana to the graveyard. “Is my kid brother paying you to look after the cemetery, too? If so, he ought to give you a raise. The place looks a lot better than it did the last time I was here.”
    Briana blushed a little, unsure how to answer, and still feeling oddly exposed under this man’s steady regard. Dylan hadn’t mentioned the cemetery when he’d hired her, outside of Wal-Mart on that fateful night.He’d been in town briefly, on some kind of personal business, and happened to see Vance toss a couple of twenty-dollar bills out of the truck window and speed off with his tires screeching.
    Sizing up the situation, Dylan had probably felt sorry for Briana, the kids and the dog. He’d handed her a set of keys, given her directions to the place and strolled off without a backward glance. Warned her about Cimarron, a white bull recently retired from rodeo life; said a neighbor fed the animal and Briana ought to stay clear. She’d taken a cab to the ranch, furious with Vance and really hoping he’d come back after he’d cooled off and find them gone. Serve him right.
    Instead, he’d kept right on going.
    The next day, a load of groceries had arrived, via a delivery service, along with a note from Dylan saying there was an old Chevy truck parked in the barn and she could use it if she could get it running. Since then, they’d had no communication beyond the occasional e-mail or phone call. When something needed fixing and the job was beyond Briana’s limited home-repair skills, Dylan was quick to send a check, and Briana was careful to provide a receipt, though he’d never asked for one.
    Now, Josh stepped up, stood close to her side. The polar opposite of Alec, Josh considered
everyone
a stranger and thus potential trouble, and proceeded accordingly until they’d proved themselves. “Nobody pays us to take care of the cemetery,” he said. “We do it because it needs doing.”
    Logan’s smile came suddenly, and it set Briana back on her heels a little. She added very white teeth to theinventory she’d taken of him earlier, while he was taking
her
measure. “Well,” he said, “I appreciate it. And that’s as good a reason to do a thing as any.”
    Cautiously mollified, Josh softened a little, but he didn’t quite smile. He was letting Briana know, by his stiff stance and knotted fists, that he’d protect her, and Alec and Wanda, too, if necessary. Thanks to Vance, Josh was half again too manly for a ten-year-old, too serious and too sad.
    “Where do you live?” he asked Logan solemnly.
    Logan cocked a thumb over one shoulder. “At the main ranch house,” he said.
    “Nobody lives there,” Josh argued.
    “Josh.” Briana sighed.
    “Someone lives there now,” Logan replied affably. “Sidekick and I moved in today.”
    Josh looked at the copper-colored dog. “He’s skinny. Don’t you feed him?”
    “He and I just recently met up,” Logan answered. His voice was easy. “He’ll fill out as time goes by.”
    Wanda bestirred her considerable bulk and ambled over to sniff at Sidekick’s nose. Sidekick sniffed back. Then both of them lost interest in each other.
    “I still think he could use one of our bologna sandwiches,” Josh insisted sagely. Then, as a concession, he added, “He looks pretty clean.”
    “Half drained the well getting
that
done,” Logan said. “About exhausted the soap supply, too.”
    Josh broke down and grinned.
    It finally occurred to Briana that Logan must have come to the cemetery to visit