Chapter Twelve
June 10
“Your break is healing just fine, Logan,” Dr. Ribas said from behind her desk.
“Seven days in this cast sucks, Doc,” Logan protested.
“I know, I know. You type A cowboys don’t like being out of the saddle.” She smiled, typing in some information on her desktop computer.
“When can I get this cast off?”
“Another five weeks.”
Frowning, he slid a glance in Lea’s direction. There were two chairs in front of the doctor’s large, wide walnut desk. The morning sun was making the summer day beautiful, and he ached to either be driving his truck or throwing his leg over a horse. “I’m really getting tired of being stuck in the house either on a radio with my foreman, or him having to drive all the way to the house to speak to me about something.”
“Sorry, Logan, but you want full use of that ankle for the rest of your life? You have to pay your dues, just like everyone else, and be patient.”
“You’re a tough one, Doc.”
“But fair,” Ribas reminded him archly, finishing off her notes. “How’s the pain level?”
“I’m on aspirin now. Lea took me off the heavy drugs at four days.”
“Good,” she praised, giving Lea a pleased look.
“So? Continued incarceration is my prescription?”
“’Fraid so, Logan.”
“Can I start driving him around in the pickup so long as he’s in the passenger seat?” Lea asked, giving him a quick look to see if he approved. He did, his eyes lighting up.
“So long as he doesn’t start banging that leg and ankle around by accident, yes. But he can’t stay in the cab too long because his circulation isn’t as good as it will be after the swelling reduces. He could throw a blood clot, which is very dangerous.”
“How long can I stay in the cab?” Logan wanted to know, excitement in his tone.
“Fifteen minutes at the most, and then you’ll have to haul yourself out on your crutches and get that foot on the ground to increase circulation, as well as with movement. You can’t keep that leg immobile for too long. Not right now.”
Giving Lea an amused look, he said, “Okay, so fifteen minutes away from the main ranch area. My tether just got loosened a little bit. I feel like a man that just got out of prison.”
Lea laughed and shook her head. “What you don’t realize, Logan, is if you’ll do as Dr. Ribas tells you, you’ll be out of the cast sooner, not later.”
“Smart cookie,” Ribas congratulated Lea. “Why is it men are so thickheaded sometimes?”
Shrugging, Lea saw Logan grin sourly and nod in agreement. “I don’t know, Dr. Ribas. Wish I did.”
Placing his hands on the arms of the chair, Logan slowly stood up, leaned over to where his crutches were propped up against the desk. “I feel good, Dr. Ribas. I have fifteen minutes I didn’t have before.”
“Be grateful for baby steps,” she warned, giving him a scowl. “And I want you on at least one aspirin a day, even though there won’t be more pain. That reduces the chances of a blood clot.”
Lea wrote it down in her small notebook. “Got it.”
Placing the crutches beneath his arms, he said to Lea, “The fairgrounds are only five minutes away. I’d like to go over there, go to the main office and see how Jody is doing.”
Smiling to herself, Lea nodded, said nothing, gathered up her purse and her canvas tote bag that held her pen and notepad.
“I have a feeling,” Ribas muttered warningly, “that you’re the kind that if we give you an inch, Logan, you’ll take a mile.”
“Not while I’m around,” Lea promised. “He’s been the perfect patient for the last week.”
“Yes, well the antsy disease sets in about now.” Ribas chuckled, shaking her head. “So, time him on that fifteen minutes, because it’s very important.”
“I will,” Lea promised, heading for the door before Logan could get to it on his crutches.
“We need to go to the fairgrounds office,” Logan said, standing. “I need to start catching up with Jody, who’s spearheading this in my absence. The opening of the fair is August fifth through the tenth, this year.”
“We’ll go there,” Lea promised.
* * *
Lea drove toward the fairgrounds from the clinic. She’d learned quickly that Logan was going to do things on his own—or else. She was relieved of having to help him dress by the third day. He’d gotten the hang of it and although awkward, he’d managed fully on his own so long as she brought him clean clothes and left them on the dresser, near his bed. And he’d also started shaving the same day, grumbling that he did not want to grow a beard. He was tough-minded and focused. It didn’t hurt that he was adaptable, either, making the crutches friends instead of enemies. There were many things he tried to do to help relieve her of kitchen duty.
Maddy had come over for a visit, giving them an update on Alvin’s condition. He would have to have open-heart surgery within the next six months, but the doctors wanted him to recuperate as much as possible before that. Age was a factor in his present condition and it was a plus. He was an outdoors guy, an athlete of sorts, running two to three miles every other day. The doctors couldn’t wish for a better patient. Plus, Alvin did not smoke or drink alcohol. Two more pluses.
Lea had seen Maddy circumspectly looking around the place with her keen housekeeper’s eyes. Luckily, Lea’d cleaned the house! As for making dinners, she wasn’t the best, but Logan was pitching in, giving her recipes he knew from memory, and they were beginning a cookbook that they put on his office Apple desktop computer. Maddy also dug out a cookbook from the pantry, nearly sixty years old, belonging to his mother, and that was helpful to Lea, too. If Logan was bummed out that Maddy wouldn’t return for probably nine months to a year, he didn’t show it. Instead, he asked how he could support her and Alvin during this time. That made Lea feel joyful. But she’d seen this care from Logan toward everyone, not just them. It was a pleasant surprise to see a man being thoughtful toward others, just as her father was.
“We’re here,” she told Logan as she eased the pickup through the front gate, which had a sentry, one of their wranglers, at the entrance.
“Good to get back to work of some kind,” Logan said. “I’m not a good patient.”
“No, and you never will be.” Lea laughed, parking the truck in front of the office.
“Hey! Logan!” Jody called, rising from her desk behind the long, wooden counter in the fair office. “You’re alive!” She laughed, walking quickly up to him, grinning and giving him a careful squeeze of hello.
“Barely,” he teased. He looked around. The counter was busy with five lines of people coming in to sign up for various classes, contests, and prizes that would be handed out during the fair itself. There were five women behind the counter, doing the paperwork. “Looks like you’re busy.”
“Well, it’s crunch time organization-wise. It might look early to get started, but most of the signing-up happens now,” she agreed, reaching out and touching Lea’s shoulder, telling her hello. “Want to come around the counter? I’ve got some chairs at the desk where you can sit down and take some stress off that foot.”
“Yeah,” Logan grumbled, giving Lea an amused look, “Lea’s gonna time me on everything. Dr. Ribas said I could ride in the passenger side of the truck on the ranch but it couldn’t be more than fifteen minutes at a time. Blood clot scare or something.”
Opening the swinging counter door, Jody said, “Dr. Ribas is right. Blood clots form where circulation isn’t good. And with that swelling around the surgery on your ankle, it can happen. So, stop moaning and groaning. Come on around.” She gestured toward the end of the counter.
“Is everything under control?” he asked, heading for the desk that he usually occupied during the fair.
Jody pulled out one of the chairs, placing it at one corner of the desk for him. “Yes. Hank and your wranglers are getting the bleachers up in all contest areas, cleaning them off and painting them right now. Anything having to do with the classroom lectures is already done. The contests for different flowers, baked goods, sewing, quilting, jams, jellies, pies and such, are underway and we’re ahead of schedule.” She turned to Lea. “Here in our valley, garden veggies and flowers are ripe and the flowers at full bloom in early August. We set our fair opening based upon our climatic conditions.”
“I was wondering about that. Out in Brookings, we have our fair in late July.”
“Yes, and in Arizona they have a fair, mid-May, but their growing season is a lot earlier than ours is, too,” she said, smiling.
Logan sat down, placing the crutches against one side of his chair. “What about livestock contest arenas?”
“Barry pulled another four wranglers off the Wild Goose this morning and they’re busy making sure all are painted. They just finished putting down a nice sand mixture in the riding arena for horse events. Everything is either on schedule or about half a day ahead of it.” She sat down and crossed her fingers. “That is, if everything goes as planned.”
“Do you like doing this kind of work better than on the Wild Goose?” Lea asked.
Wrinkling her nose, Jody said, “It’s okay for a change of pace, but I’m kinda like Logan: I like being on the move, not stuck or rope-tied to a desk.” She pointed down at it and laughed, giving him a wink.
“Any security issues?” he asked.
Jody frowned and clasped her hands on the desk. “We noticed that someone has shot out four of our ten cameras that we have up in certain areas, Logan. We don’t know when this happened, but I have cameras on order to replace them, and they’ll be installed before the fair opens.”
“That’s never happened before,” Logan growled.
“Want my guess? It’s the frackers. The places where the cameras were knocked out are at different points around the fairgrounds. We have the ten-foot-high cyclone fences that your dad installed decades ago, around the whole outer perimeter. That’s where those cameras were shot up and destroyed.”
Logan looked over at Lea. “My dad wanted a secure fairgrounds so that teens couldn’t drive sprint cars in there and race them on the track anytime they wanted. He worried about insurance issues, so he spent nearly a quarter of a million dollars to erect this fence.”
Lea gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of money.”
“It was worth it,” he said, frowning. Turning, he looked at Jody. “Where, specifically, were these cameras knocked out?”
Becoming grim, she said, “At every entrance/exit point, Logan. Don’t worry, on the first day when my team and I were inspecting the outer perimeter, we made notes, took photos, and called in the sheriff, as well as the insurance company. The sheriff came out, took the report, took our photos, and he also brought out his forensics unit. They dusted for fingerprints and took DNA swabs on the posts where the cameras were located, and they found some boot treads in the dirt around them. They made plaster casts of them.”
“That’s good. I think you’re right: It’s the frackers.”
“Why do you think they’re doing this?” Lea asked.
“Cause damage of all kinds. The fair closes at ten p.m. We have a lot of lighting around it, but if someone wanted to come in and damage, let’s say, an arena where livestock is being judged? That is a big deal. All kinds of things can happen and go wrong.” Logan rubbed his chin. “You said you contacted our insurance about this damage?”
“Yep, they sent out a claims agent yesterday to assess the damage. We should hear something from them shortly,” Jody said. “I didn’t want to tell you anything about it until now, Logan. You were recovering from the surgery and I knew I could handle the situation.”
“Well, from now on, if anything else happens or looks out of place? I want you to call me right away.” He pointed down at the crutches. “I may be gimpy right now, but I can get around. This burglary act concerns me.”
“Sheriff Seabert is concerned, too. You’ll probably get a call from him today. I guess the plaster casts on the shoe treads is a match from a prior burglary attempt out on the Wild Goose.”
“Oh?” Logan’s scowl deepened.
“Remember when the frackers cut our barbed-wire fencing and the cattle got out?”
“Yes.”
“Dan told me one of the treads in the dirt matched the one at that fence cutting.”
“We didn’t have video cameras around at that time,” Logan muttered, shaking his head.
“The cameras I’ve just purchased,” Jody said, “have a second camera which is attached down below it, so if someone hits the main one, the video is stored in the second one, which is hidden behind the pole, and it keeps on videotaping. You’d have to be inside the grounds to see it, Logan.”
“That’s a great idea,” he praised.
She grimaced. “Based on that, I put in an order to replace all the cameras everywhere on the outside fence. It cost four thousand dollars, and it’s within the fair budget, so I ordered them. They will be here tomorrow, and Barry has two wranglers who will set them up for us. Under the circumstances, I don’t trust the frackers won’t come in and try to do some damage while the fair is going on. They are after you to sell the ranch to them, Logan, and I think this is just another way for them to make your life miserable so you’ll sell and leave the area.”
Logan whispered a curse under his breath, giving them both a look of apology. “That will never happen.” Normally, if he cursed, it was away from everyone else. His hand clenched and then he forced himself to relax in the chair. “We need a security crew who drives around that outer fence for the duration of the fair, Jody.”
She grinned. “Already done, Boss! Barry has been helping me a lot. He called several of the ranches around the valley, asking if they had wranglers who would volunteer to drive the trucks around that perimeter from dusk to dawn.” She picked up a clipboard on her desk. “Here,” she said, getting up, leaning across the desk and handing it to Logan. “The men and women who are volunteering their time to do this for us. They don’t want pay. But they all ask if they could come into the fair for free with their families, instead.”
“Of course, they can,” Logan said, looking at the ten ranches, all owned by friends of his. There were plenty of volunteer wranglers to help them out. “This is nice, Jody. You’ve been busier than a one-armed paper-hanger. You know that?” He grinned tightly, giving her a look of admiration.
“Just part of this job. Remember? The last five years you’ve been running this fair, I’ve always been your assistant. I know where all the bodies are buried.” She giggled.
Logan laughed and nodded. “That you do, Jody.” He handed the clipboard to Lea. “If you want to see how well the people of this valley work together to support one another? Look at this list of ranches.”
Taking the clipboard, Lea recognized the names of six out of the ten ranches. She didn’t know them personally, but she knew how tight the people of this valley were now, as never before. “I think this is incredibly generous of them to all volunteer to help you out like this. The sheriff’s department doesn’t have that kind of person power to pull it off.”
“Which is why the ranchers stick like glue to one another,” Logan said. “And a number of the wranglers are part-time deputies with the sheriff’s department, which is even better.”
“Maybe another way to thank them would be for you to hold one of your world famous summer barbecues sometime this early fall?” Lea asked him, handing the clipboard to Jody.
“Wow! That’s a great idea, Lea!” Jody beamed at her. “What about it, Logan? Are you up for that? Sometime after your ankle is healed? That would be so much fun! And the kids just love swimming in your small lake. Early September is warm and the water will be just right. That would be a really fun day for everyone.”
“I like the idea,” he told them. “Maybe Labor Day in September, when it’s the hottest. The local kids do enjoy coming to swim in the lake.”
Rubbing her hands together, Jody said, “This is a wonderful idea! I’ll let the ranches know, get their feedback on it, and I’m sure they’ll be up for it. This valley loves celebrations of any kind.”
“Maybe hold a September barn dance as well?” Logan wondered out loud.
“Ohhhhh,” Jody sighed wistfully. “I love barn dances! Everyone in the valley does, too.”
Logan said to Lea, “During the summer, all the ranches get together and put money in a pot to hire a band. Normally, three or four of the ranches in a given year, open up their barns for a dance. We’ve already got four planned, and this would be the fifth one.”
“The people of the valley will love it!” Jody said. “A huge barbecue, children swimming in the lake, and dancing in the barn is always a good time out for everyone.”
Lea saw the pleasure come to Logan’s eyes over Jody’s unvarnished enthusiasm, and she smiled. She liked that not only did he think of others, he looked for ways to compensate in a way that also rewarded everyone’s volunteering efforts. What was there not to like about Logan? Every day, there was something new she was discovering about him. Didn’t the guy have warts like the rest of them did? She was sure he did. Otherwise, he was like the dream cowboy for her, and that still scared her, although not half as much as before. Maybe she was getting used to having Logan in her life in many different ways. Was this what her parents had in their marriage? That seamless ability to be like water moving around the rocks or challenges in their lives? It was sure beginning to look like that.
“Catch me up on anything else, Jody? I need to get back to the ranch and take a rest, although I hate admitting that to you.”
Snorting, Jody said, “That’s normal, Logan. You’re only a week out after a huge trauma, a broken bone and then surgery. Of course, you’re going to get tired a lot quicker. Shock is the number-one killer of people, and very few know that. You’re still wearing off that shock around your stellar event,” she said, gently teasing him. “I know you think you’re invincible, but no one is.” Shaking a finger in his direction, she said, “Go home. From now on, anything that comes up that you should know about, I’ll call you or text you. Fair enough?”
“Music to my ears,” he said, picking up his crutches. “Thank you.”
June 17
“The swelling has gone down quite a bit,” Dr. Ribas told Logan on their two-week checkup. “Are you able to get around more comfortably on the crutches?”
Logan gave Lea an amused look and then turned to the doctor. “She’s got a fifteen-minute stopwatch she uses on me when I ask her to take me out to the fields by truck.”
The morning sun at nine a.m. was leaking through the stained-glass window behind the doctor’s desk. It featured a beautiful pink lotus floating on water, something very serene-looking to him. He wondered if Dr. Ribas had chosen that particular stained-glass art for the reason that it would be soothing or calming to the patients she took care of. He thought she might have.
Dr. Ribas said, “You need that kind of watching over, Logan.”
“But my ankle is fine,” he said. “You had to change my removable cast. The swelling has gone way down.”
“Your bones are just starting to knit in week two,” she warned him. “Size of the cast doesn’t matter. Keep using your crutches.”
“Is he allowed more than fifteen minutes in the truck?” Lea asked.
Leaning back in her black leather chair, Ribas said, “Half an hour. There, does that satisfy you, Logan?”
“Sure, that sounds really good, Doc. Is it because the swelling has gone down?”
“Yes, because that means better circulation flow through that area now and less chance of a blood clot. I still want you on one aspirin a day for the next week, however.”
He perked up. “When do I start my exercises?”
“Not until the bones have fully knitted together,” she warned. “Minimum of six weeks, and usually eight or ten weeks. Just depends upon the individual and their body’s healing schedule.”
Grunting, Logan sat back. “Can I trade my crutches in at some point for a cane or something else?”
“Maybe, we’ll have to wait and see. Just depends upon your body.”
“But, I’m young, in great shape and good-looking. Doesn’t that account for something?”
Both women burst out laughing, trading a look women knew all too well.
“No,” Ribas deadpanned, “to all the above.”
“Shucks,” he muttered. And then he gave her a silly grin. “I had to try.”
“Men are very trying,” Ribas shot back good-naturedly.
“Glad I’m not standing between the two of you,” Lea laughed. “This is getting to be lots of fun standing on the sidelines watching these battles.”
Ribas rolled her eyes. “I have patients just like Logan. They’re all male. And I don’t give them an inch, because, frankly, they’ll take a mile in a heartbeat if you don’t rope and hogtie them first.”
“Guilty as charged,” Logan admitted drily. “Okay, I’ll be a good boy for next week, Doc.”
“Use your crutches. Continue to keep the weight off that leg.”
He rose after scooping up his crutches. “Yes, ma’am.”
* * *
“Do you deliberately bait poor Dr. Ribas on purpose?” Lea asked as they drove out of the clinic’s parking lot.
“Oh,” Logan said, slanting her an amused look, “probably so.”
“Why do you do it?”
“Because she enjoys our repartee as much as I do, I suspect.”
“I think you’re right.” She looked out the window of the truck and then turned to head back toward the Wild Goose Ranch.
“But I like what we’re discovering with one another, too,” he murmured, holding her gaze momentarily.
“I’ve not been available very much,” she apologized. “I’m at a critical point with those two cabinet doors.”
“I know you are, and that’s fine. I like being able to pop in and watch you work.”
“That has to be boring,” she said, chuckling.
“Not really.” He settled back, enjoying the early morning of the day that stretched in front of them. “The way a person works? It tells you a lot about them. Have you ever thought of that, Lea?”
“No . . . not really. I’m finding you’re a lot more observant about people than I am.”
“Surviving Afghanistan demands that of a person, Lea. You learn to watch the little things, things that give someone away, and whether they can be trusted or not.”
“You can trust me, Logan. But I think you know that by now.”
“I do. I like the way you work. You’re organized and you’re disciplined. Not everyone in life is. I especially like to watch you with the boxes of different varieties of wood, how you’ll pick up a piece, feel it, run your fingers over it. I know you’re looking for just the right piece, but there seems to be more going on than that.”
“Oh, there is,” she said, giving him an enigmatic look.
“Tell me about it?”
Shrugging, she said, “Not much to tell, really. My dad, when I started showing an interest in wood carving, would take me out in the field with him when he was looking for a particular piece of wood. I’d watch him touch the trunk of a tree, he’d close his eyes and I would wait. Then, afterward, he’d walk slowly around, beneath the tree, looking at fallen branches, big and small. One by one, he would pick a piece up, hold it, and then either choose it or set it back where it had been.”
“You do the same thing.” He gave her a searching look. “What is going on?”
“Funny. I asked my dad the same thing: What are you doing? Why do you hold them and run your fingers lightly over them? And promise you won’t laugh.”
“Me? No, I wouldn’t laugh.”
She waved her hand for a moment and then rested it on the steering wheel once more. “It’s about energy. How a piece of wood feels to me. My dad explained how alive everything is, and that includes rocks, twigs, blades of grass, or a flower. Mother Earth is alive. My dad sees all of life as her children, including humans, of course. I guess I inherited his talent or whatever you want to call it, for picking up energy.”
“How does that feel? Is it like a shock?” he wondered.
“Not a shock. It’s fainter than that. More like a subtle tingling sensation.”
“Fascinating. And does every type of tree limb have the same feeling to you?”
“No. My dad would feel a branch and as he did, he told me he was feeling for any cracks or weakness in it. He said he could tell the different frequency of energy in the wood, and if it was cracked or weakened in a particular spot, the sensation was different. I guess you could say, he could ‘read’ the wood.”
“And you can do the same thing?”
“Yes.” She smiled a little. “My mother says I inherited my dad’s gift of what the Irish call the Sight, only he could ‘see’ into wood. When I lightly run my fingertips over the surface of a piece of wood, I’m feeling that sensation of conflicting tingling. Where it’s different, it means there is a crack in that area. Or, there’s a weakness to the limb.”
“That’s rather amazing,” he murmured, giving her a look of respect.
“I’ve never talked to anyone about it before,” she confessed, “because I didn’t want to be seen as strange or odd.”
Nodding, he shifted his foot a bit on the floorboard. “Do you have that feeling when you touch, say, a horse? Or pet a dog?”
“No. It’s really weird, Logan. And my father doesn’t, either. I guess it’s the gift of the trees speaking to us. I don’t have any other explanation. It’s certainly not scientific or logical.”
“Did wood sculpture run in your family?”
“Yes, through my father’s side. Wood, at one time, was plentiful in Ireland, but then, as the trees were cut down for firewood, the island was deforested over thousands of years. Later, in the seventeenth century, the Irish discovered that coal could be used to keep a hut warm and to cook with it, instead. I remember my dad telling me that only one percent of the native woodland is left on the island today. And that is sad.”
“Back in that day, furniture was made from trees on the land,” Logan said. “On top of that, Ireland is an island. They couldn’t go elsewhere to get wood or coal.”
“Right you are. Today, Ireland gets its coal from Colombia. There are no longer any mines on the island itself. The coal veins were all used up and are gone.”
“I think my great-great-grandparents realized that using wood to burn for heat and cooking would eventually deplete our area here,” he said, gesturing out the window. “And that’s another reason why they planted seedlings and created these huge groves that would restore trees to our area.”
She gave him a quick look, keeping her focus on driving. “Don’t you find it rather mystical that we’ve met and both our families, in some sense, have trees and wood in common?”
“Hmmm,” he murmured, “no, I hadn’t, but you’re right. Is that a good sign?” He gave her a grin along with a teasing look.
She laughed. “Maybe it is. Who knows?”
Logan looked out the window, appreciating the green, rolling pastures bracketed with fencing. “It was wood that brought us together,” he said, thinking more deeply. “Maybe wood is magical?”
The corners of her mouth curved slightly. “Wood has always been magical to me, Logan. When I’m working in your shop, I just sort of lose myself to the process, to the different scents of the wood, the different texture each one has. Never mind the energy sensations I pick up from it.”
“I wondered about that, because you sometimes have two or three pieces of wood and you study them. One morning, I almost asked you if you were talking to them.” He gave her a silly look.
“Well, there are worse things than talking with a tree.” She laughed. “I don’t know. I’ve never looked at or questioned how I work the way I do. Sometimes it’s the color of the piece, whether it’s the correct color, tone, or shade to go next to the one I’ve chosen on the door of the cabinet. I’m not communicating with them telepathically, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m just weighing in my mind the right color, right texture. My father does talk to the tree’s spirit, and he’s always told me that.”
“Poppy doesn’t make any bones about talking to trees, you know?”
“Really. I didn’t know that.”
“People think she’s magical. Children love to be around her.”
“Remember? I told you that she read my tarot cards for me,” Lea admitted slowly. She slowed the truck, getting ready to make that turn, her gaze flicking to the rearview mirror. There was no one behind her. She wondered if she’d ever not look to see if a pickup was barreling down upon her as it had the day she’d arrived.
“I do remember.”
“I know she read the tarot cards for you,” Lea told him. Up ahead, she could see several wranglers on horses, moving a large group of cows and calves to another, richer pasture.
“As a matter of fact, she did,” he said.
“Did you ask her to do it? Or did she volunteer?”
“She volunteered to do it because I was in there one morning for one of her donuts, and things were slow at the restaurant.”
“How long ago?”
“About a month before you arrived.” He grinned. “Okay, I’ll tell all. I can see you’re dying to ask me what she said. Poppy told me a woman of the trees was going to come to the ranch.”
Her mouth about dropped open. “No! Seriously?” She turned into the driveway, parking the truck.
“Yes,” he said, watching her reaction, “she did.”
“Am I that woman?”
“The woman of the trees? Yes, I think so,” he murmured, pushing the door open and picking up his crutches from where they leaned against the console, resting them on the gravel below.
“Well,” Lea pressed eagerly, “what else did she say?” Her heart pounded a little harder in her chest. Poppy’s card-reading had been accurate so far for her, so she was dying to know what Logan’s card-reading was all about.
“Oh, no,” he said, sliding carefully out of the cab, “I can’t tell you the rest.”
Flustered, she climbed out. Coming around the front of the truck, she saw him swinging on his crutches toward the fence gate. She hurried past him and got there in time to open it for him. “Well,” she said, squinting against the sunlight, “why can’t you tell me?”
He grinned and shook his head. “Maybe someday. Okay?”
Giving him a dark look, she stood aside. “Well, was it good or bad?”
“Oh,” he said lightly, “all good . . .”
Whatever that meant! “You are exasperating, Logan Anderson!”
His laughter was deep, and Lea grinned belatedly, locking the gate. He was a man with many secrets!