Page 84 of The Rancher Who Swore Off Love
Logan turned the coffee cup between his hands at the lunch table.
“—probably just some drifter.” Mason stabbed a chunk of potato with his fork. “Think about it. A man passin’ through sees a ranch, figures nobody’s watchin’, tries his luck. Finds the silver, grabs it, moves on.”
“That’s what I’ve been sayin’.” Thomas leaned back in his chair. “A drifter, a vagrant, somebody passin’ through the territory. They’re long gone by now.”
“That don’t track.” Logan set the cup down. “A drifter picks a lock? A drifter goes through every drawer in my desk, takes one piece of silver, and leaves forty-two dollars in cash sittin’ right there?”
“Maybe he didn’t see the cash.”
“It sat right under the silver, Thomas.”
“So he’s a dumb drifter.”
“Nobody dumb picks a lock that clean.”
Grace carried a pot of stew from the stove and set it on the table between them. Miriam rode her hip, chewing on a wooden spoon in her everyday dress, the yellow one Grace had sewn from an old flour sack and somehow made look better than half the store-bought clothes in Gunnison.
“Logan.” Grace ladled stew into Pa’s bowl first, then Mason’s. “It’s been four days. Whoever it was, they got what they came for. Three dollars worth of silver.”
“You don’t break into a man’s house for three dollars.”
“You do if three dollars is a lot to you.” She ladled his bowl. “I’ve known people who’d cross a river for three dollars. I’vebeenpeople who’d cross a river for three dollars.”
That landed. It always did when she pulled from that place, the New York years, the pennies on the kitchen table. He didn’t have an answer for it because she’d lived a kind of hard he could only circle around from the outside.
But this still stank. The whole thing had a shape to it that drifters and vagrants didn’t carry.
“Look, I ain’t sayin’ let’s live in fear.” Logan pushed the stew around with his spoon. “I’m sayin’ we keep the protocols. Check the fences mornin’ and evening. Lock up at dark. Nobody goes past the south tree line alone.”
“Logan, we’ve been doin’ all that.” Mason set his fork down. “And it’s fine, it is, but we’re goin’ a little stir-crazy. Thomas hasn’t been to town in two weeks. I haven’t played cards at Hannigan’s since—”
“Hannigan’s is a dump.”
“Hannigan’s has whiskey and music and women. No offense, Grace.”
“None taken.”
“Point is—” Thomas let his chair drop forward onto all four legs with a crack that made Logan’s jaw tighten, “—we been cooped up. All of us. And I think a night in town would do this family some good.”
“A night in town?”
“Yeah. Supper at the hotel. Maybe a drink. Let Grace see somethin’ other than this kitchen and that garden.”
Grace hummed. “I do like that garden.”
Thomas snorted. “And I like my bed, but I still leave it sometimes.”
“Thomas.” Logan rubbed the back of his neck. “We got an unsecured property and an unknown threat, and you wanna go drink whiskey atHannigan’s.”
“I wanna go do anythin’ that ain’t starin’ at a fence post.” Thomas spread both hands. “Logan, you locked this place down tighter than Fort Knox. The grate’s in. The locks are new. Pa can hold down the house for a few hours with his rifle and his bad attitude.”
Pa crossed his arms. “Don’t you badmouth my attitude, boy.”
Grace patted his shoulder. “Pick your fights, Pa.”
Pa sighed. “In any case, the boy’s right, Logan. Take ’em to town. Take your wife. I’ll watch Miriam.”
“Oh, we’re bringin’ Miriam.” Grace sat down. “She’s been fussin’ all week. She needs fresh air and new faces.”
