Wild Hearts (21 page)

No good man leaves spur marks on a horse.

For the next two mornings, I got up early and rode to the work site with Dad. He was quiet, never mentioning Jack McCoy.

I texted daily with Logan, but hadn't seen him since the day we sheared sheep. He kept asking if something was wrong, but I said no every time. I told him that Dad had come down on me about missing so much work, so I was going to be busy for a while. Fortunately, Logan was busy, too.

I talked to Amy almost every night before bed.

“Logan asked if you had said anything to me about him,” she said. “You can't avoid him forever.”

“I know. I need to have a face-to-face conversation about Jack, though, and I'm not sure I want to know the truth.”

“If Logan confesses to knowing about what Jack has been doing . . . well, don't you think you need to know sooner rather than later?”

I was terrified Logan would admit that, though—that he would say those words and everything between us would be gone.

Mom knew something was up. She kept trying to convince me to go into the nearby city of Casper to go shopping. But I knew once she got me alone in the car, she'd ask a million
questions. I'd talk for hours but end up with the same conclusion: I missed Logan more than I knew it was possible to miss someone. I was terrified that Logan had known about Jack all along, and finally, that I knew I couldn't keep avoiding Logan forever. What kind of relationship were we in, anyway, if he'd kept this from me?

Today, Dad and I were working in the office and he was making phone calls about what he had dubbed his “pest problem.”

The mustangs were back. At first, the herd had seemed frightened by any movement or at the sight of the crew, but now they grazed about a hundred yards away from the trailer.

Now, after all the reading that I'd done and the conversations with Logan—I felt for the horses. We were in similar positions. Some people wanted my family out of town and Dad and his crew wanted the horses away from his site. The mustangs were constantly on the move just like me. The more I thought about my first encounter with them, the more it felt like that moment had been an initiation of sorts. As if the horses had seen me as being out of place and they wanted to connect with me.

I wished the horses would have stayed away, as much as I liked seeing them. The BLM hadn't told Dad much, according to him, but that they were backlogged from moving many herds of horses in other parts of the state. They would get to Dad when they could.

Dad was fired up again after the horses had grazed by his trailer overnight when everyone was gone. He had almost
slipped on a muck pile outside the trailer door this morning—it was more than enough to get him moving on the horse issue.

“I told you, Marty,” Dad said into the phone. “I need this taken care of this week. These horses are running all over the place and either you come and move them, or I'll have to call in a favor to take care of it.” He hung up.

I didn't want to know what he meant. He wasn't someone who hated animals, but he wouldn't tolerate interference on site. Still there was no way—no way—Dad would ever hurt an animal.

“Dad?” I asked, shuffling the papers in front of me.

“What?”

“Isn't it . . . illegal to hurt horses?”

He peered at me from behind his desk and I turned my attention back to the copier.

“I don't want to hurt them, Brie, but the BLM can't stop me from protecting my land.”

Normally, I'd go along with his plans to avoid an argument, but he couldn't just do whatever he wanted with or to the horses. Nausea settled into my stomach. Logan could talk for hours about these horses and never lose the smile on his face. LG had been part of the herd, and the gelding had saved Logan when his mom had left. I had to get Dad thinking about alternative plans.

“How about fences?” I suggested. “You could put some up until the construction is done. By then, the horses will probably be scared and they will likely move on to somewhere else.”

“Brie, don't you think if I could have put up temporary
fences that they would have gone up the same day that you almost got trampled? I ran the numbers for plastic orange fencing, and the expense wasn't feasible.”

“But if you hurt them, you could go to jail!” I protested. “And once Jack finds out—”

Dad cut me off with an angry wave of his hand. “How is Jack McCoy going to find out what we're doing? You're not friends with his kid, are you?” He jutted out his jaw.

“No. I mean, I know him . . . but just from the gas station and grocery store.”

“Make sure you keep it that way,” he said, getting up to grab paper from the printer. “I don't ever want to hear that you've been hanging around with McCoy's son.”

The phone rang and I shut my mouth and turned away from him. He had to separate his business problems with Jack from his personal situation with Logan and me. If there still
was
a Logan and me.

“What?” Dad said, answering the phone. He listened for a few seconds. His face reddened and he took large strides as he made his way to the trailer door.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“Brody said that idiot McCoy is headed up the road.”

I felt a headache form between my eyes. “Why is he coming? Dad?”

“Stay out of this, Brie,” Dad said, yanking open the trailer door and hurrying down the steps. “He's blatantly ignoring the pending restraining order. I don't have time for this.”

Panic welled up inside me as I followed Dad out of the trailer. Suddenly, I realized what I wanted—what I
needed
—Logan. I
needed him here to help defuse the situation. I had never
really
believed that Logan knew his dad had been coming to the site. But I had to stop trying to convince myself that he had.

I reached into the pocket of my jean shorts, my hands shaking as I groped for my phone.

I had no air—spots swam in front of my eyes as I tapped his face to call him.

“Brie,” Logan answered immediately.

“Logan, I'm sorry!” I blurted out as I started sobbing. “I was all wrong. Everything is my fault.” I gasped, trying to catch my breath.

“Brie, listen to me,” Logan said. “Listen. Sit down if you're standing. Just sit down right now. Do it.”

I obeyed, practically falling onto the lawn in front of the trailer.

“Where are you?” Logan asked. His voice was so calm and warm.

“I'm sitting. I'm in front of Dad's trailer,” I said, barely able to get out the words. It felt like I was having a heart attack. Chills caused goose bumps on my bare legs, and my teeth started chattering.

It was as if I'd forgotten how to speak actual words.

“I can't—” Sobs stopped me mid-sentence and my heart pounded. I almost tried to call out for Dad, but he was too far away.

I managed to force air through my nose.

“You're going to be okay,” Logan said. “Now, what's wrong?”

I took another breath, this time managing to almost fill my lungs. I saw Jack's blue truck pull off the road and onto the driveway. I closed my eyes, not ready to see whatever was going to happen.

“Logan,” I said. “Please come. Your dad is here and it's going to be so bad. Please—”

“I've been on my way from WyGas the moment you told me where you were. I'm pulling into the site driveway now. Everything is going to be okay.”

Just as he said that, his truck turned off the road and started down the driveway.

“Omigod, you're really here!” A fresh wave of tears threatened to spill onto my cheeks.

“Stay where you are, don't get in the middle of this.”

“I'm not staying away from you for another second,” I said. I ended the call and stood—my legs a little shaky. I left the phone in the grass and broke into a jog. I kicked off my black ballet flats. The jog turned into a flat-out run.

“Brie? What the hell are you doing?” Dad called. But I kept running past him. I barely glanced at Jack's truck as I flew by. The door on the driver's side of Logan's truck opened and Logan got out and slammed it shut.

I threw myself at almost full speed into his open arms. I knocked him backward a few steps, but he didn't let go of me. I buried my nose in his neck and he bent down, sliding an arm under my knees and picking me up. I curled my body, clinging to him. He held me so tight.

“I love you,” I said.

“Look at me,” Logan said. I lifted my head up, my eyes connecting with his. “I love you, Brie.”

I'd never said those words to someone. I
knew
he hadn't, either. Warmth from his body encircled me. He had picked me up as if I weighed nothing, and I felt so comfortable in his arms.

“I figured out you thought I might have known,” Logan said.

“I was so wrong,” I said. “I didn't know that I was trying to push you away.”

“I want you to know that I didn't know what my dad had been doing. If I had, I would have asked him to stop. I never would have let you sit through dessert with him.”

“I don't care about them,” I said. “It's their fight. But I care about the horses.”

“Me, too.”

Logan squeezed me tighter for a moment, then carefully set me on the ground. He kissed my cheek and took one of my hands in his.

“You can wait in my truck,” he said, looking down at me—his soft brown eyes searching my face.

“No way,” I said. My breathing was back to normal and so was my heart rate. “I'm going with you.”

Logan nodded, and kept my hand close to him as we walked up to Jack's truck.

In my dash to Logan and our conversation, I'd forgotten that Jack and my dad were nearby to witness everything. The
moment that I'd barreled into Logan had put the world on pause.

I swallowed. Dad was going to call me out on my lie about not knowing Logan.

There he stood, arms crossed and his feet apart in a fighting stance. His face was a brilliant shade of red and he glared at me.

Jack, not too far away, had his hands in his pockets as he watched Logan and me approach.

“Go in the trailer,” Dad snapped at me. “I can't even look at you right now.”

“No,” I said, surprising myself at how certain I sounded.

“I'm not asking you again, Brie,” Dad said. His voice was low and controlled. Anger practically radiated off his body. “You lied to me. Minutes ago. You need to get in the trailer and think about how you're going to explain yourself.”

I dropped Logan's hand and crossed my arms. “You know what, Dad? I can ‘explain myself' right now. Logan is my boyfriend. I love him.”

Dad threw his hands in the air and shook his head. “You're really confused, young lady. We haven't even been here a year! Not even six months! You don't ‘love' anybody.” He almost spat out the sentence.

“There isn't a time line for falling in love with someone,” I said.

Dad shook his head and let out a laugh without an ounce of happiness. Jack was silent, his eyes soft as he looked at Logan and me.

“Logan and I don't have anything to do with your problem with Jack,” I added. I had to get this out while I had the chance. “This is a fight between you two.” I pointed at each of them. “But there's something at stake for us here, too. These horses are important to Logan, so that makes them important to me. I'm not saying that you deserve trouble. You are
my
dad and I will always stick up for you. But I won't put myself in the middle of this fight.”

“Fine, Brie. Fine. We'll deal with this when we get home.” Then Dad stepped up to Logan's dad and put his clean-shaven face inches from Jack's stubbly chin. “As for you, McCoy, I told you to stay off my property.”

“I'm not here to fight,” Jack said. His tone was calm. He stared at Dad and didn't back down. “I came here with an offer, actually. When I have time, please let my son and me move the horses. We'll contact the BLM and you won't have to do a thing.”

Dad's head jerked back a fraction. I could tell that he had expected fighting words from Jack—not an offer to solve his problem.

Dad's fists clenched and I was afraid he was going to hit Jack. Jack pushed back his cowboy hat and waited for Dad to speak. I almost expected them to start circling each other. My head pounded and I fumbled for Logan's hand even though my palm was sweating.

“You know what, Jack,” Dad said, spitting out his name. “Since my daughter is apparently in love with your son, I may
as well say yes. I have new sod coming July first. The horses better be gone by then.
Long
gone.”

Logan and I looked at Jack and I held my breath to see what he would say.

“Not a problem. Thank you,” Jack said simply.

Dad turned to me. “Brie, let's go. Now. You're forbidden to contact Logan. Stay away from him. Say whatever you have to say to him, because your phone and computer are mine now. You won't be leaving the house except for coming here. No more trips to the gas station or grocery store.”

I clenched my teeth and my mind raced as I tried to figure out the next move. I knew how Dad operated. He wasn't going to listen to anything I had to say. Arguing would only make him angrier. I had to play his game. And win.

I turned to face Logan and made sure he saw me wink at him.

Go with this
, I willed him.
Just play along.

“Logan,” I said. “I love you so much.” I tried to sound like the lovesick teen that Dad thought I was.

“My dad is so wrong,” I continued, making sure I was just loud enough for him to hear. “But this whole thing was kind of good.”

“Brie? What are you talking about?” Logan's tone had the same perfect desperation that mine did.

I knew you'd get it
, I thought.

“This isn't me,” I said. “I don't know who I am like this. I love you, but what just happened did us a favor.”