Kristin scratched their ears and braced herself for what was bound to be a wrenching encounter with Logan. As angry as she was, anything could happen. But he had to understand the damage he’d done, to her and most of all to himself.
* * *
Logan had poured what remained of Webb’s fine Scotch whiskey onto a hill of red ants outside the back door. If he’d kept it around, he’d have been tempted to drink himself into a stupor after Kristin finished venting her fury on him—and she would, he was sure of that. It was only a question of when.
His jaw ached from the crashing blow of Webb’s fist. Logan had refused to defend himself. In going behind a friend’s back for the woman he desired, he’d violated his own code of honor. Much as he loved Kristin, he deserved any punishment Webb chose to give him. But at least, whatever the consequences, the lies and secrets were over.
As he came back through the house, he heard the dogs barking out front. His workers were long gone. Was Kristin here already, or had Webb sent some of his cowhands to wreak more punishment? Winchester in hand, he opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch.
Kristin was walking toward him, with the sky ablaze behind her and the dogs frisking around her legs. The sight of her stopped his breath. He’d been prepared to speak up and defend himself. But all he could think of was how much he loved her.
Putting the gun aside, he battled the urge to stride across the yard and take her in his arms. She wouldn’t want that now. “Would you like to come inside?” he asked. “It’s dusty out here.”
“I’ve been eating dust all the way from town,” she said. “What I have to say won’t take long. We can sit on the porch.”
The chairs from his visit with Webb were still outside. He brushed the dust off one of them and offered her the seat. She sat on the edge, tense, like a bird about to take wing.
“What were you thinking, Logan?” she demanded.
“That I’d had enough of lying—and enough of having to sneak around to be with you.”
“Webb was furious at both of us.”
“He’ll get over it.”
“Then you don’t know Webb. I don’t believe he’d hurt me, but he’ll find a way to make you sorry.”
“Whatever he does, I’ll deal with it. I know this wasn’t what you wanted. But it’s for the best, and I’m not sorry.”
In the stillness that followed, the wind picked up, swirling dust across the yard. Along the horizon, an ugly brown cloud blurred the fading sunset.
Kristin rose to her feet. A shudder seemed to pass through her body. “You ignored my wishes,” she said. “You didn’t even warn me what you were going to do. If you had, I’d have tried to talk sense into you. Now it’s too late. You had no regard for my feelings No respect for me. And all you can say is that you’re not sorry!”
She walked to the steps, then swung back to face him. “I’ll be going now, Logan. Don’t follow me or try to call on me. I need some time to myself—time to decide whether I ever want to see you again!”
He stood silent as she descended the steps and fled across the yard to her horse. He wished fervently that she would stop, turn, and look at him. But she mounted up without a backward glance and galloped off into the blowing wind.
Standing where she’d left him, Logan watched her vanish into the haze of dust. He’d deserved—even expected—most of what she’d said to him. But he’d never expected her to ride out of his life.
Now that it was too late, he understood her anger. Kristin had worked for years to earn her medical degree. During the war, and in the veterans’ hospital, she’d performed the work of a man, supervising staff and doing everything a male doctor would do— and she’d had to fight for every scrap of respect. In choosing to override her wishes and deal with Webb as he saw fit, he’d committed what Kristin would see as an unforgivable sin—he’d treated her as a foolish woman, incapable of making any decision without a man’s help.
Such behavior would have been typical of Webb. She would have tolerated it because Webb didn’t matter. But she’d expected better from the man she loved. And he’d let her down.
He could only hope he hadn’t lost her for good.
* * *
The western sky was getting dark, not just the soft blue of twilight, but an angry swirl of black and brown. The streak of dust along the horizon that he’d noticed earlier was blotting out the last rays of the setting sun. Logan could see it moving closer by the minute, picking up more dust as it came. The cloud was becoming a monster dust storm.
And somewhere out there on the road was Kristin.
Surely she’d know enough to take shelter. Except there was no shelter between here and town, only open prairie. Given the time that had passed, she’d be less than halfway home. But even if she were to turn around and come back here, there’d be no way to escape the dust.
The wind was blowing harder, its texture like sandpaper against the skin. The dogs dived under the porch and crawled back against the rock foundation of the house. Mindless of the weakness in his leg, Logan raced toward the barn where his horse was stabled. Kristin had told him not to follow her, but that didn’t matter anymore. She could die out there, alone against the brutal wind.
Logan had experienced dust storms in Texas and had even survived a bad one in the open. To get back to town, Kristin would have to ride into the storm, with the dust blasting her face and her horse’s eyes. The safest plan would be to hunker down with her horse, stay low to the ground, and wait for the dust cloud to pass. But he couldn’t count on her to do that. She could be pushing on, fighting against the wind. Whatever was happening, he had to find her.
Moving fast, he saddled the horse, filled a canteen, and grabbed a blanket and a couple of bandannas from the house. Minutes later he was mounted and flying toward the wagon road.
* * *
Kristin struggled to see the roadside through flying veils of dust. If she were to lose track of that road, even for a few minutes, the horse could wander off, and she would lose all sense of direction. The horse wasn’t cooperating either. She remembered her father pointing out how horses would turn their backs to the wind in a storm. The gelding kept fighting the reins, trying to turn around and go back the other way. Maybe she should let it; but she’d lost track of how far she’d come, and home was where she wanted to go. Surely they would be there soon.
She breathed dust. She tasted dust. The blowing grit stung her eyes. Tears blurred her vision and made muddy streaks down her dirt-coated cheeks. She paused, relaxing the reins for an instant while she cleared them away.
Feeling the slack, the horse reared, wheeled, and bolted off at an angle, away from the wagon road. Kristin was thrown sideways, out of the saddle. For a terrifying moment, her boot caught in the stirrup. She was dragged, twisting and clawing, along the ground before her foot worked its way out of the boot and she fell free.
She sat up and tested her limbs. Aside from a turned ankle and some scrapes, she didn’t appear to be badly hurt. But her boot was on the horse, and she had to get back to the wagon road. Staggering to her feet, with the wind and dust blowing from the right, she estimated the direction and set off limping.
She almost fell into the wagon ruts before she saw them. With a sob of pain and relief she sank onto the edge and hunkered down against the wind. She could go no farther.