Once a Father (3 page)

Mary flexed her fingers and stepped back from
the ice cream freezer, which she'd set on a stool. “It's so isolated, Father. Why can't you just let it go?”

“You give 'em an inch, they take a mile. Once they start telling you how to run your business they don't stop.”

The glider started squeaking again, albeit tentatively. Audrey's gaze had drifted to the cottonwoods and the Russian olives that formed the windbreak on the north side of the yard. Mary could have followed her mother's lead.

But she didn't.

“Who's
they?
”

“People who don't know what it takes to make a living off this land. They should just stay out of it. Take their damn programs and their so-called
endangered
…” He slapped the envelope against the letter. “There's horses all over this country. Endangered my—” face red, jaw set, he swung his leg up, set the sole of his boot against the edge of the stool and gave a raging shove “—ass!”

Everything flew across the porch—stool, bucket, ice, salt water, canister, pink and white slush.

Mary gaped in horror. “You broke it. Grandma's ice cream—”

“It's not broken,” Audrey said, seemingly unruffled. Mary questioned her mother's cool with a look. “I can fix it,” Audrey assured her, just as she had the time her father had backed over her tricycle with his little Ford tractor. “Don't worry. I can make more.”

“Who the hell is this now?” Dan scowled up the mile-long dirt road that connected the ranch gate with the gravel driveway. A blue pickup pulling a two-horse trailer rumbled in their direction. Three pairs of eyes watched until the vehicle was parked and the driver emerged.

Mary felt a funny little flutter in her chest.

“It's that damn Indian off the Tribal Council. He's the one got them to take my lease land for those mustangs. Dog Track or some damn—”

“Shut up, Dad.”

“What?” It was his turn to be horrified. “What did you say to me?”

“You heard me. Do you want to lose the rest of your leases?” She tuned in to the sound of the visitor's footsteps, but she held her father's full attention with a cold glare.

“Looks like somebody spilled her milk.”

“It was going to be ice cream.” Mentally Mary switched the light off in one room and turned it on in another as Logan mounted the porch steps. “Mother, have you met Logan Wolf Track? Logan, Audrey, my mother. You know my father.” Logan glanced at her on the way to shaking her mother's hand, and she reminded him, “You know who he is.” With her boots covered in what would have been strawberry ice cream, she didn't feel like saying the name.

But Logan acknowledged him with a proffered
hand. Then he turned to Mary. “Let's go pick up our horse.”

“Now?”

“You signed us up. Sally says it's first come, first served. You wanna ride over there with me, or do you have other—”

“What horse?” her father demanded. “You're not bringing any horses here.”

“I'm sorry, Logan. My father's a little cranky. He just received some news that didn't sit well with him. We weren't going to bring our horse here, anyway. Were we?”

“Nope.” Logan glanced at the mess and gave a perfunctory smile. “Wild horses are real sensitive.”

“You mean you're really doing it?” Audrey rose from the glider. “You entered that contest? Are you a horse trainer, Mr. Wolf Track?”

“Among other things,” he said.

“Can you give me a minute to clean this up?” Mary moved to pick up the overturned stool, but Logan was closer, and he beat her to it. She got the bucket.

“You go on, Mary. I'll just hose off the porch.”

Mary set the bucket on the stool and turned to give the
stay
signal. “You're not hauling hose, Mother.”

But Logan was already halfway down the steps. He'd spotted the hose rack, and he was wasting no time. He unlooped the hose, reached over the railing, handed Mary the nozzle and waited for her signal to
turn on the water. Her parents watched silently as though they were the visitors. Maybe she and Logan were already a team. Together they made short work of the porch mess.

“Come with us, Mother,” Mary offered after Logan turned off the water. She felt like a teenager about to head out on her first date. “We're going to pick out our horse.”

“Oh, no.” Audrey glanced at Dan, who scowled back at her. She smiled. Actually smiled. “I have so much to do. I'm still going to make ice cream if anyone's interested.”

“Damn
right
somebody's interested,” Dan grumbled.

“We can do that when I come back. You don't need to be cranking.” Mary danced down the porch steps and met Logan at the bottom. “Do you like homemade ice cream?”

“I didn't know it came homemade.”

“Give me a ride round trip, and I'll treat you to a taste of heaven.” He looked at her as though her head had just turned into a hot fudge sundae. “I'm not kidding,” she said. “You'll never go back to the ordinary stuff in a box.”

“Haven't even gotten much of that lately.” She choked back a laugh as he nodded toward his pickup. “Round trip it is.”

 

She was an interesting woman, all right. Becoming more interesting by the minute. Logan hadn't been
around too many women when he was in the army. Just his luck. He could've used a lot more training in that department right about that time in his life. He'd been a skilled hunter and a Golden Gloves champion boxer when he'd enlisted, but he hadn't known jack about women. He'd learned the hard way by getting married and turning in his combat boots without giving either move much thought. He'd been that hungry, and Tonya had been that hot.

So here's this woman offering him ice cream, and his face catches fire. Homemade, she says. What was that supposed to mean?

He was too old to play games. What was that old saying? Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice…

He had a history of taking a flirt too seriously.

He'd gone for the hose. He knew what he was doing. Tonya had been older and wiser—well,
smarter
—and she'd been there and gone before he'd known what hit him. A lot of water had flowed under his bridge since then, and he knew how to stay cool. Water was the remedy for hot blood. Sweat, tears, time and the river flowing.

And homemade ice cream was probably just something farmers whipped up when they didn't want to spring for the real thing.

They'd reached the highway, and he was thinking about filling the deafening silence with some country music.

“He never changes.”

Her voice startled him. It sounded small—like her mother's, but not worn down. Mary's was more like humiliated. The kid whose father wouldn't quit yelling at the ref. Logan had never actually had a conversation with the man, but Tutan was the kind who made sure everyone knew who he was and acted like they should care. He couldn't get it through his head that non-Indian ranchers didn't call the shots on Indian land. Not anymore. So he'd come before the Council and made a few demands, most recently for reinstatement of the leases he'd lost to the Double D Wild Horse Sanctuary. The Council had given him due consideration—time to tell his side.

He'd leased that land when nobody else wanted it.

Logan would give him that.

He'd been there first.

Logan had laughed out loud.

The Tribe owed him.

Logan had called the question and moved to reaffirm the decision to lease the area known as Coyote Hills to the Drexlers and to honor their nonprofit status with a special rate.

While the voice of a daughter embarrassed by her father's behavior tore at Logan's gut, he couldn't judge another man on that score. He wasn't in the habit of commenting on other people's troubles, anyway, so he said nothing and hoped she'd drop the
topic altogether. He was interested in
her,
not her family, even though they had little in common except a horse.

“I worry about my mother.”

Even worse.
Worrisome mother trumped embarrassing father. And from the look of the three Tutans and the mess on their porch, Mary's worries were well-founded. If it was any of Logan's business, he'd be worried about Mrs. Tutan, too. Fortunately, his interest didn't extend to Mary's mother.

“He's gonna kill her.”

Aw, jeez.
“Let's go back and get her.”

“She won't leave him. I've tried to.” His foot on the brake changed her tune. “I don't mean he's going to
kill
her. I mean he's going to be the death of her.” She met his glance with an apologetic smile. “I did say
kill,
didn't I.”

“You did.”

“He doesn't…no. Not literally.” She gave a humorless chuckle. “Not
physically.
”

He moved his foot to the accelerator.

“She says she just had a
small
heart attack,” Mary said. “What's a small heart attack? She was only in the hospital for two days, but that doesn't mean anything these days. Especially when her husband's big concern is when are they gonna let her out? So that's the only reason I came home. The
main
reason.”

Casting about for a cheerful observation, he smiled
at the road ahead. “Now you have a project on the side.”

“Good way to keep busy while I'm here.”

“Good way to show your father what you're made of.”

“I know exactly what I'm made of, and that's all that counts. I've learned that the hard way.”

“How many tours?”

“In the Middle East? Two.”

He acknowledged her dedication with a raised brow. He'd spent time in the Sandbox, but it had been more than twenty years ago. It had to be tougher these days. It just went on and on, tour after tour for a lot of guys, no end in sight.

A lot of
guys?

“I don't mind,” she was saying. “I love my work.”

“What kind of dogs do you train?”

“All kinds. Trackers, sniffers, sentries. Lately I've been coaching Iraqi dog handlers, helping them build their own canine units.” She angled her knees in his direction. He'd hit her sweet spot. “I couldn't have a horse when I was growing up, but we had cattle dogs. I learned a lot from them.”

That sounded promising. “And you rode Sally's horses.”

“As often as I could.”

He nodded. “It's been a while since I had a dog. My
sons always had at least one dog around, sometimes one each.”

“How many children do you have?” She sounded a little tentative. Disappointed, maybe. She hadn't figured on kids.

“They're not children.”
If that helps any.
“Trace and Ethan are in their twenties.”

“You don't look old enough to have kids that age. You must've started young.”

“As young as I could.” He flashed her a wry smile. “I married a family. The boys were half-grown, and I was half-kid. Well, maybe not half, but it was a good mix to start with. We had some good times together.” He lifted one shoulder. “We're all on our own now. Full-grown. Divorced. Footloose and…what's the other thing?”

“Fancy free,” she quipped, joining him in some irony of her own. “Where is everybody?”

“No idea where their mother is. She cut out early. Left the boys with me.”

“What about their father?” She sounded suitably indignant on her new partner's behalf. Logan appreciated loyalty.

It was almost a shame he had to set her straight. Try to, anyway.

“I'm their father. I adopted them, gave them my name. They both go by Wolf Track. Their mother left a picture of her, uh…one of the men. Ethan tried to look him up, but I don't think he got anywhere. The
other one…” He glanced at her as he turned onto the gravel approach to the Double D. He'd already said more than he usually did, but the look in her eyes invited more. And, what the hell… “Who knows? She never talked about her past. One of those livin' in-the-moment people. I liked that about her right up until she was here one moment and gone the next.”

“She just…left?”

“Yep. Said she'd come back for the boys and never did.”

She didn't look too shocked. Didn't look pitying or superior, wasn't taking him for a saint or a sucker. Maybe she was just taking him for the way he was.

“That must've been hard,” she said. “Never knowing what was going to happen if she came back.”

“She wasn't taking those boys, no matter what. Not after…” He smiled as he parked the pickup next to a paddock holding a handful of horses. “You're good at stealing bases, you know that? I never answer questions on the first date.”

“This is hardly a date.”

“That's right.” He cocked his finger and gave her a wink. “I picked you up.”

 

The man winked at her. Winked.

All right, it was kind of cute, but what was he thinking? Mary hadn't been winked at since…never?
She didn't remember anybody winking at her. It made her feel downright giddy. Of course, she'd hidden it.

Well, except for a little smile.

Hoolie Hoolihan emerged from the bunkhouse and ambled across the graveled quad that was surrounded by outbuildings and corrals. Hoolie was a true cowboy—unchanging, ageless, loyal as an old soldier. As far as Mary knew, he'd always been part of Double D. He greeted her with a proper pull on the brim of his cowboy hat before shaking Logan's hand, tucking thumbs in his belt and commenting on the need for some rain. The visitors chimed in as they drifted toward the corral. As though they'd been cued, the horses suddenly took to the far corner like a flight of butterflies.

“Sally's pretty pleased with herself, gettin' you two partnered up,” Hoolie said as he hiked one boot up to the bottom fence rail. “Which one are you taking?”