turned his back on Theodore Greely’s mistreatment of Rue Ann.
He itched for a chance to pummel the obnoxious man. Someone needed to teach Teddy how to treat a lady. But on the other hand, Rue Ann had chosen, albeit not wisely, the man whom she wanted to marry. He needed to drop the matter and let fate chart her course.
But could he do that?
The churning in his gut said that would be about as possible as lassoing the moon.
“What was the meaning of that little display?” Celeste demanded in an icy tone when they reached the refreshment table. “Rue Ann Spencer is not your problem. I’ll not have you chasing after her like some buck in rutting season.”
Logan planted his heels. “You can find someone else to court you if you want. You should’ve learned by now I’ll be no lapdog for you or anyone.”
Celeste faced him, placed her hands on his chest, and wheedled, “Now, Logan, you know I didn’t mean to criticize you. I was merely trying to bring your attention to the fact that you humiliated me back there in front of the entire town.” She puffed out her bottom lip. “I don’t know how I’ll hold my head up. Surely you care about my reputation?”
“Of course I care. It wasn’t my intention to bring you pain and humiliation. But you should understand what kind of man I am. I can’t, I won’t, sit idly by and watch someone mistreating a woman.”
“Rue Ann Spencer, you mean,” she uttered stiffly.
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Celeste.”
“Let’s just drop the whole thing, shall we?”
“Suits me fine.” He grabbed a glass of punch and thrust it into her hands. As much as he hated to admit it, Celeste was right and he knew it. He couldn’t go around making sure Rue Ann received the respect and care she deserved. The woman made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. The more he tried, the more he’d look like a fool.
But he found himself searching for her across the crowded dance floor and wishing for things long past.
Their golden hour had come and gone and not a blamed thing had changed.
Chapter 3
Two days after the Williamsons’ party, Logan Cutter rode into Shiloh to pick up some books he’d ordered from back East and get more materials for his fence. Seemed there was no shortage of things needing fixing on his place, which he’d named The High Lonesome. It seemed an apt name to call it.
His lack of funds to keep things in working order wore on him. It was nothing new, though. He’d had a rough go all his life, the least of which was monetary. Those kinds of struggles were small in comparison to the pain lodged inside that ate at him.
Even after twenty-eight years, he could still hear his father deriding and taunting him. Zachary Cutter would sneer and say, “Prove you’re a man. Prove you have my blood in you.”
To this day when Logan looked in a mirror, he saw a scrawny kid still trying to prove he was good enough.
Maybe by the time he got to be an old man, he’d have nothing left to prove. He hoped so. But for now he had to show the world, more importantly the town of Shiloh, that he was made of the right stuff.
The wide expanse of blue Texas sky overhead and a gentle breeze seemed to hold promise. It was the kind of day that had fat, lazy cats curling up in the sun on windowsills and purring. Although the February day held a nip in the air, the sunshine reminded him spring was around the corner and none too soon. He’d had enough of winter. The cold months had seemed to drag on forever.
He drove his wagon onto Hayes Street and pulled up in front of the mercantile. Setting the brake, he was about to climb from the wagon box when he spied Theodore Greely emerging from Lady Alexandra’s establishment adjacent to the Red Slipper Saloon.
Logan’s eyes narrowed. Plainly, Teddy had passed the night in the company of a soiled dove. The man had draped his coat over his arm. His shirt was untucked and his vest unbuttoned.
Lady Alexandra had
He itched for a chance to pummel the obnoxious man. Someone needed to teach Teddy how to treat a lady. But on the other hand, Rue Ann had chosen, albeit not wisely, the man whom she wanted to marry. He needed to drop the matter and let fate chart her course.
But could he do that?
The churning in his gut said that would be about as possible as lassoing the moon.
“What was the meaning of that little display?” Celeste demanded in an icy tone when they reached the refreshment table. “Rue Ann Spencer is not your problem. I’ll not have you chasing after her like some buck in rutting season.”
Logan planted his heels. “You can find someone else to court you if you want. You should’ve learned by now I’ll be no lapdog for you or anyone.”
Celeste faced him, placed her hands on his chest, and wheedled, “Now, Logan, you know I didn’t mean to criticize you. I was merely trying to bring your attention to the fact that you humiliated me back there in front of the entire town.” She puffed out her bottom lip. “I don’t know how I’ll hold my head up. Surely you care about my reputation?”
“Of course I care. It wasn’t my intention to bring you pain and humiliation. But you should understand what kind of man I am. I can’t, I won’t, sit idly by and watch someone mistreating a woman.”
“Rue Ann Spencer, you mean,” she uttered stiffly.
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Celeste.”
“Let’s just drop the whole thing, shall we?”
“Suits me fine.” He grabbed a glass of punch and thrust it into her hands. As much as he hated to admit it, Celeste was right and he knew it. He couldn’t go around making sure Rue Ann received the respect and care she deserved. The woman made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. The more he tried, the more he’d look like a fool.
But he found himself searching for her across the crowded dance floor and wishing for things long past.
Their golden hour had come and gone and not a blamed thing had changed.
Chapter 3
Two days after the Williamsons’ party, Logan Cutter rode into Shiloh to pick up some books he’d ordered from back East and get more materials for his fence. Seemed there was no shortage of things needing fixing on his place, which he’d named The High Lonesome. It seemed an apt name to call it.
His lack of funds to keep things in working order wore on him. It was nothing new, though. He’d had a rough go all his life, the least of which was monetary. Those kinds of struggles were small in comparison to the pain lodged inside that ate at him.
Even after twenty-eight years, he could still hear his father deriding and taunting him. Zachary Cutter would sneer and say, “Prove you’re a man. Prove you have my blood in you.”
To this day when Logan looked in a mirror, he saw a scrawny kid still trying to prove he was good enough.
Maybe by the time he got to be an old man, he’d have nothing left to prove. He hoped so. But for now he had to show the world, more importantly the town of Shiloh, that he was made of the right stuff.
The wide expanse of blue Texas sky overhead and a gentle breeze seemed to hold promise. It was the kind of day that had fat, lazy cats curling up in the sun on windowsills and purring. Although the February day held a nip in the air, the sunshine reminded him spring was around the corner and none too soon. He’d had enough of winter. The cold months had seemed to drag on forever.
He drove his wagon onto Hayes Street and pulled up in front of the mercantile. Setting the brake, he was about to climb from the wagon box when he spied Theodore Greely emerging from Lady Alexandra’s establishment adjacent to the Red Slipper Saloon.
Logan’s eyes narrowed. Plainly, Teddy had passed the night in the company of a soiled dove. The man had draped his coat over his arm. His shirt was untucked and his vest unbuttoned.
Lady Alexandra had
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