The Loner Read online

  She didn't like the sound of that. She truly needed him to be lucky for this whole scheme to succeed. "Oh? Like what?"

  "I haven't been in thirty gunfights without being wounded."

  "How many gunfights have you had?"

  "It's not the number of gunfights. It's the wounded part. I have a nice little scar just above my hip bone." He waggled his brows. "I'll be happy to show it to you later."

  She ignored that and pressed. "So you're saying you're not the Luckiest Man in Texas?"

  "Exactly. That's just silly sensationalism for the newspapers to have something to write about. Damned newspapers make up half of what they print."

  "That's not true," she protested. "My family runs a newspaper and we don't make things up. But back to this snowball. There must be something at its center to send it rolling downhill. You must be lucky."

  He had to be lucky. Otherwise, she couldn't ask him to go into Black Shadow Canyon after Ben.

  His intense green eyes studied her. "It's important to you that I'm lucky."

  "Yes!"

  "You'd think I'd be accustomed to this by now." His mouth twisted in a crooked grin. "All right, then, Caroline. I guessed the correct number of pickles in the barrel at the general store and won a new hat when I was fifteen, so I guess that makes me lucky."

  "Oh, stop it. I'm not talking about pickles and new hats. I want to know what is at the heart of your reputation."

  He sighed heavily. "You don't want the legend, you want the truth."

  "Exactly."

  He frowned at her and delayed by checking his pocket watch again. She could tell he really didn't want to take the conversation in that direction. "You're the one who suggested we get to know each other. The only way to do that is to share the important things."

  He repeated his sigh. "Oh, all right, but I want you to understand that I'm sharing something I ordinarily keep to myself. It sounds strange to say, and I'm not asking you to believe in it, but the truth of the matter is that I.. .well.. .I sense trouble."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I can't explain it other than to say that more often than not, I get this feeling when trouble is headed my way. It's like my senses grow sharper. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Sometimes it even seems like time slows down. I'm totally aware of everything going on around me, and because of it, I'm able to get out of the way of trouble."

  "You have a Guardian Angel."

  "Could be. When I was young I liked the idea that my mother was up in heaven watching out for me. That notion grew troublesome once I started romancing the women, so I decided instead that I have an extra sense. A trouble sense. I pay attention to it, and as long as you're hanging around with me, I hope you will, too."

  She eyed him suspiciously. "That depends. It appears to me as if a man could take advantage of such a claim."

  "I could." He stretched his legs out into the aisle and crossed his ankles. "However, I won't. That's just wrong. As soon as I start using my gift to manipulate people, I'm liable to lose it."

  "You are superstitious."

  "Sure am. What man who is still standing after thirty gunfights wouldn't be? Look, I don't know if this thing I have is a gift from God or a quirk of nature or the result of my tuning into something every one of us possesses, but whatever it is, I appreciate having it. It's saved my life more times than I can count, and it's helped me save the lives of other folks. I'm not going to jinx it by using it wrongly." He paused, stared her straight in the eyes and added, "I don't need my trouble sense to get you back into my bed. I have other weapons for that."

  Staring into those mesmerizing green eyes, Caroline didn't need a sixth sense to know that he intended to use those weapons at the first opportunity.

  Heaven help me.

  Logan figured he'd come up with the perfect solution to the problem. He wanted this woman. Badly. And he didn't need his sixth sense to know it. She fascinated him. It was more than her beauty, more than the sexual attraction that hummed between them. Caroline Kilpatrick Grey had backbone, and he found it infinitely appealing.

  Look at what she'd accomplished in her life, all that she'd overcome. Many women would have folded in the face of the adversity that had come her way. Not Caroline. When life knocked her down, she'd climbed right back onto her feet, dusted off her skirts and made a home and family for herself that from all appearances made her happy. A man had to respect that.

  Logan respected it. He respected her. She had those same qualities that made the McBride sisters such strong women. She was intelligent and courageous and determined. She was generous, kind and committed to those she loved. Nana Nellie would have called her a virtuous woman.

  Logan didn't need to know more. Fate and her father had given him this opportunity. Only a fool would allow it to pass him by, and Logan was no fool. He would use these hours between now and their arrival in Artesia when they were simply man and woman, husband and wife, to win her.

  "I need to stretch my legs. Care to walk with me, Caroline?"

  "I'm fine here."

  He stood and grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Walk with me."

  "Where? There are only two passenger cars to walk through."

  "So we'll turn around and walk them twice."

  He led her out to the open vestibule where the two cars connected, but instead of opening the door to the second car, he stopped. He backed her against the railcar and boxed her in, one arm on either side of her. "I didn't really want to walk," he told her, moving close. "I felt the urge to back up my words, and I didn't want witnesses."

  Her eyes were round and wary, but he didn't miss the excitement flickering within their depths. "Which words?"

  "I'm flashin' one of my weapons."

  Then he kissed her.

  And made it count.

  Logan branded her with his mouth, pouring every bit of talent and technique he'd developed over the years into the act. He tempted them both by lingering over her lips, ravishing her with his teeth, his tongue. He wanted her boneless and aching and aware of all he had to offer.

  When his control stuttered, he knew it was time to pull back. He nipped her bottom lip as he lifted his head away, then spoke in a deep-throated, gravelly tone. "You are the most intoxicating woman, Caroline Grey. You make me lose my wits. We are going to be so good together."

  "That's manipulation."

  "No, darlin'." He touched her soft cheek and smiled into those sea-blue eyes. "That's seduction, and you're as guilty of it as I am."

  "I'm not trying to seduce you."

  "You don't have to try. You just do. It's a natural happenstance." He stepped close to her and inhaled her citrus-and-spice scent. "Since I'm married to you, maybe I should rethink the whole snowball idea. Maybe I really am the Luckiest Man in Texas."

  But as he bent his head to take her mouth once again, something stopped him. A black sense of foreboding swept over him. Oh, hell.

  Immediately, he went on alert, one hand going for his gun as he turned to shield Caroline with his back and take stock of the situation. He didn't have far to look.

  The threat was real and ugly and as frightening as anything he'd ever seen. The dark cloud of the thunderstorm had turned a shimmering shade of green and now bore down on the train.

  But what brought Logan's heart to his throat was what he saw dipping, churning, twisting toward the ground. On the ground.

  Tornado. Big and black and violent.

  It was headed right toward them.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Logan's thoughts fired like rounds from a Gatling gun. The people on this train were sitting ducks, but stopping the train and getting off wouldn't do them any good. There wasn't a damn bit of shelter anywhere on this plain.

  Yet, the damned thing could change directions. Twisters were known to do that. Or, it could lift back up into the cloud. It could miss the train entirely.

  But that wasn't going to happen. He knew it.

  The dark cloud churned to
ward them. It had to be a mile across in width. They had to prepare, to protect themselves as best they could and hope for a measure of good luck.

  Caroline cried, "Oh my God, Logan. Look!"

  "Yeah. Let's get inside."

  He led her back into the railcar saying, "We got trouble. A twister is bearing down on us. A big one. We don't have much time."

  Cade and Holt came to their feet as a woman passenger cried out in fear. Nervous conversation rose around him as Logan made a quick head count. Ten people total in this car. Probably fifteen or twenty in the other car, plus the railroad crew. Could be a lot of hurt folks before this was over.

  Cade said, "What do we do, Lucky?"

  "Not much we can do. I think—" Logan broke off as he sensed a change in the momentum of the train. "They're braking."

  They heard the squeal of brakes as the train began to slow.

  "Son of a bitch," Holt muttered, staring out the window. "It's huge."

  Caroline spoke in a calm, collected voice. "We should protect ourselves from flying glass."

  "True." What Logan truly feared was that they'd need to protect themselves from flying railcars. A storm like this one had the capacity to lift a train and toss it about like a stick.

  One of the passengers cried out. "Dear Lord. We're all gonna die!"

  "No, we're not," Caroline insisted. She gestured toward Logan. "This is Lucky Logan Grey, the Luckiest Man in Texas. He will not die in a tornado today, so we're lucky to have him with us."

  "Come stand by me," a man called.

  "Nobody needs to be standing." Holt shifted his gaze from the window to Logan. "The twister isn't changing direction. It's time for us to move."

  "Move where?" Cade asked. "Under benches?"

  Logan focused on the cloud and listened to his instincts. "If we stop soon enough, I think we're better off underneath the railcar as long as we have time to get there."

  "It'll be close," Holt said.

  "Well, I'm not going anywhere," another passenger said.

  Logan glanced at Caroline. "Go stand at the front of the car, honey. Be ready to move at my word."

  Brakes continued to squeal. The railcar's speed continued to slow. Logan watched the twister advance and was awed by the display of nature.

  The thunderstorm stretched from north to south and moved in an easterly direction. Away from the tornado, lightning flashed from cloud to ground. Rain fell in inky-blue sheets from green clouds that so often indicated hail. The twister hooked down from the southern edge of the storm, a black, twisting vortex with a peculiar kind of beauty. At the base of the funnel where it touched the ground, dust and debris billowed up into the air. It was chewing up everything in its path.

  "It could miss us," the female passenger said, hope in her tone. "I'm gonna pray that it misses us."

  "You do that, ma'am," Cade responded as she hit her knees. "Prayers never hurt."

  Logan figured the angles. Nope. It wasn't going to miss. It was just too big a storm and its path hadn't changed in the two or three minutes since he'd first spotted it.

  The air around them had gone hot, sticky and still. Heavy. Ominous. In that moment, he knew. "Let's go. We have to move now."

  Cade and Holt didn't hesitate and they pushed Caroline along with them. Logan jumped to the ground behind his friends and wife, vaguely noting that only one of the other passengers accompanied them. The railcar's wheels rolled a slow half turn, then stopped.

  They scrambled beneath the train as a roar, the loudest sound Logan had ever heard, bore down upon them. Lying between the rails, Logan climbed on top of Caroline, shielding her as best he could while he dug the toes of his boots against the railroad ties.

  Cade positioned himself at Caroline's head, Holt at her feet. Both men grabbed hold of Logan, an unspoken testament to their faith in his good luck.

  Logan could feel Caroline trembling beneath him, and in an attempt to distract them both, he spoke into her ear. "I've thought about lying on top of you, but I was hoping for better circumstances."

  She made a gurgling noise that might have been a laugh or could have been a scream just before the roar of the twister drowned out all other sound.

  Logan braced himself as the world started to shake. Seconds passed like hours. He closed his eyes and hunkered down and prayed that his luck would hold. He and Caroline couldn't die here and now and leave their son orphaned and in trouble.

  Logan quit thinking as hell descended upon them. The noise—a huge, howling, earsplitting roar unlike any he'd heard before—rolled over them as the twister ripped and tore and destroyed, the unholy wind battering everything in its path. Logan's ears popped as the railcar above them rocked once. Twice.

  It lifted from the rails and flew away.

  Exposed to nature's fury, Logan pressed himself into Caroline, into the ground, his hands gripping the rails as he tried desperately to hold on and anchor them to solid ground. Something hit his shoulder hard. He heard Cade shout out in pain. The wind tore at him, sucked at him. It went on and on and on.

  He couldn't hold on much longer.

  Logan felt his grip slipping. His left arm stung as something pierced it deep. His legs lifted. Caroline screamed.

  He lost his hold and went sailing into the storm. Something hit his head and blackness descended.

  The world finally went still.

  Her breath sounded harsh to her own ears as Caroline cautiously lifted her head and opened her eyes. "Oh, dear God."

  Death and destruction surrounded her. Railcars lay smashed and peeled open like tin cans. Scraps of metal, wood, paper and cloth scattered the area like oversize confetti. Black smoke rose from a fire burning west of her.

  The bodies of horses and of humans littered the ground.

  "Logan." She eased up onto her knees and looked around. Holt was giving his head a clearing shake. Was he hurt? She didn't see Cade or Logan anywhere. "Logan?"

  The fear that had eased a bit upon the tornado's passing came pulsing back. He had lain on top of her— protected her—and now he was missing. "Logan!"

  No response. The only sounds to be heard in the eerie, deathly silence were keening wails, broken sobs and cries of pain.

  Holt muttered a curse, then climbed to his feet. "Lucky! Cade!" he yelled out, his voice just a little bit shaky. When no one answered, he closed his eyes for just a moment, and when he opened them again, the fierce determination Caroline saw in them reassured her.

  "You all right?" he asked, helping her to her feet.

  "I think so. Yes. I am. Holt..."

  "We'll find them," he said, his smile grim. "They'll be all right, too."

  She covered her mouth with her hands as she stepped off the railroad track and identified the nearest prone figure with unseeing eyes as the man who'd joined them beneath the railcar. Oh, dear Lord.

  "Help me. Help me," came a weak voice.

  Caroline followed the sound and spied the woman who'd stayed in the railcar to pray lying pinned beneath an unidentifiable scrap of metal some yards away. Beyond her a good twenty yards from the rails sat the other passenger railcar, flipped over onto its side. She heard a child's cry coming from inside. "We have to help these people," she told Holt.

  "We need some organization, a system. We need to assess all the injuries then determine who needs help first."

  "While we look for Logan and Cade," she said.

  "Exactly. We'll cover more ground if we split up. You okay with that?"

  She nodded. "Most of the debris is north of the track. How about I take east of here and you go west? We'll meet back here as soon as—"

  She broke off abruptly when movement off to the northeast caught her notice. Someone ran toward them, coming fast, the figure too far away to see clearly. Nevertheless, she knew. "Logan. Logan!"

  She picked up her skirts and started running. He cradled one arm against him as he ran, but when he saw her, identified her, he opened his arms wide. She ran into them, wrapped her own arms around him,
buried her face against his chest and sobbed. "You're alive!"

  "Yeah. How are you? You okay?"

  "I'm fine. Frightened, but okay. Logan, was Cade with you?"

  He stilled. "No."

  Holt caught up with them. "You're covered in blood, Grey."

  He glanced down at his left arm. "It's just a poke. Nothing important." He met his friend's gaze. "Cade?"

  Holt shook his head. "We were just headed out to look for you two." He gave Logan a quick rundown of their plan.

  "Please!" came a weakening female voice. "Somebody help me! I can't stop the bleeding."

  Caroline made a quick decision. "You two go. I'll stay here and do what I can to organize—"

  A loud explosion ripped through the air.

  Logan moved to shield Caroline, hollering, "It's the locomotive. I could see it burning from where the wind dropped me."

  "Fire," Holt breathed as flaming debris launched into the sky, then fell back onto ground. In some places, rain-dampened ground failed to catch fire. In others, brush kindled and burst into flame. "Jesus. What next?"

  Tornado survivors screamed and ran as chaos reigned. Logan shrugged out of his jacket and took charge. "We have to stop it before it gets out of hand and kills us all. Caroline, check the woman. Holt, come with me. You, there!" he called toward two men who stood around in shocked inactivity. "Help put out these fires!"

  Caroline rushed toward the wounded woman's voice and found her bleeding profusely from a cut in her upper thigh. She stripped off her petticoat and tore it into stripswhich she used for bandages, first on the woman, then on a child she pulled from the railroad car and finally on the puncture wound in Logan's arm.

  Under his direction, the men succeeded in containing the fire. He then directed efforts to assist the wounded and free those trapped inside the railcars and beneath large pieces of debris. As soon as his conscience would allow, he left in search of the missing.

  With the fires put out, an uninjured passenger took a quick count which showed they had seven dead, fourteen injured and four unaccounted for. Eight passengers and one crewman had made it through the storm relatively unscathed. Caroline was thrilled to discover that one of the injured was a physician. He had a lump the size of a small fist on his head, but once his thoughts cleared, he set about sewing up cuts and splinting broken bones.