Margaret Brownley by A Long Way Home

Author:A Long Way Home
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Early the following morning Logan made it his business to bump into Wellerton. The man was at Saddle Bar Creek supervising his company of miners. It irked Logan that Wellerton saw fit to dress in business attire.

Thornton supervised his mine as if it were a bank. All that was missing was a rollup desk. He sat tall in the saddle of his fine black gelding and issued orders in the same modified tone of voice one would expect to hear in business circles. Just who did the scoundrel think he was?

Swallowing his irritation, Logan rode his horse next to Thornton’s.

Thornton folded his map and greeted Logan with a guarded expression. “Good morning, St. John. What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

Logan managed a thin facade of civility. “Just happened to be passing by.”

Thornton tucked his map in the pocket of his fine wool coat. “It seems to be a habit of yours.”

“And yours seems to be keeping unseemly hours.”

“Since when did you become interested in the hours I keep?”

“I’m concerned about Libby. I thought she looked rather tired last night.”

“Really? I thought she looked exceptionally beautiful.”

Logan looked him straight in the eye. “I guess I know her better than you do.”

“If what you say is true,” Thornton said, “Then you must know that Libby is quiet capable of taking care of herself. If she was tired she would have told me so. In fact, as I was preparing to leave she pleaded with me to stay longer.”

Pleaded. Logan couldn’t imagine Libby pleading.

“Now, if you will excuse me,” Thornton said, “I have work to do.” Thornton tugged on the reins of his horse and headed up the hill toward the open mine shaft.

Logan stared after the man, mimicking his uppity manners. “I have work to do.” He frowned in disgust. “I just bet you do.”

*****

In the days to follow, Logan became obsessed with the little cabin across from his. He monitored each visitor—and there were too many, as far as he was concerned. Big Sam, Sharkey, Beaker, Shakespeare, McGuire! At sight of the latter, Logan practically fell off his porch trying to get a better look. What was McGuire doing spending so much time with a widow and, if his eyes served him right, going as far as to bring her gifts? Him a married man with two children!

At first McGuire was only too happy to give Logan a full report. But he soon grew weary of the constant probing.

“What is it with ya?” McGuire demanded that Friday afternoon when Logan had followed him from Libby’s house to the general store and finally to the Golden Hind. “Ah told ya three times already today how my family is. They’re the same as they were yesterday and the day before that. Ah have not received a letter in nearly a month’s time. So I have no choice but to assume that nothing has changed.”

“You don’t have to be so ornery about it,” Logan grumbled. “A man has the right to show a little friendly interest.

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