Montana Creeds: Logan by Linda Lael Miller Page A

smelled of hay and grass and fertile earth.
    Or was that Logan?
    She’d barely touched her wine, but Briana Grant felt moderately drunk. “Why did you tell me to watch out for bears?” she asked. “I was almost afraid to let the boys leave the house.”
    He didn’t take her hand, but he moved closer, their knuckles touched and a hard, burning thrill ripped through Briana’s system.
    “I wasn’t trying to scare you,” Logan said. “Bears feed at the landfill, mostly, on the other side of town. But once in a while, they pay a visit to the orchard. I’d say it was because of people encroaching on their habitat, but the fact is, they’ve been raiding those pear and apple trees since the first season they bore fruit. And that was back in old Josiah Creed’s time.”
    Briana shivered, hugged herself, though the night was warm.
    “Bears are like most wild animals,” Logan went on. “They’re only dangerous if they feel threatened, and that happens when you take them by surprise.”
    “I guess I could beat a spoon against the bottom of a pan or something,” Briana said seriously. “When we go to the cemetery, I mean. We don’t have much reason to pass through the orchard.”
    Logan grinned. “You could do that,” he said.
    Was he laughing at her?
    Briana got her back up a little. “I don’t want my boys to be afraid,” she said. “Not even of bears.”
    “A little fear is a healthy thing sometimes,” Logan retorted. “Especially where bears are concerned. And that old bull of Dylan’s.”
    She stole a sidelong glance at Logan, but whatever she’d heard in his voice as he mentioned his brother didn’t show in his face or bearing. “We’ve never had any trouble with Cimarron,” she said.
    “God only knows why he keeps that bull anyhow,” Logan mused, with a distracted shake of his head. “He doesn’t run cattle. It would make sense if he had heifers to breed.”
    “You don’t like him much, do you?”
    “Cimarron?” Logan asked, hedging.
    “Dylan,” Briana said.
    “I wouldn’t say that.”
    “What
would
you say, then?”
    “That we had a falling-out a long time ago,” Logan told her. His tone was stiff; she’d crossed a line. “It happens with brothers.”
    Briana looked up ahead, at her boys, and felt the usual surge of wild, helpless love for them. “Alec and Josh argue all the time,” she confessed. “But if they grew up and hated each other, I don’t think I could stand it.”
    Logan didn’t answer for a few moments. “I don’t hate Dylan,” he said.
    Briana glanced at him, saw that his jawline had tightened. Since she’d already said too much, she decided to hold her tongue. No sense in digging herself in deeper.
    Logan whistled, the sound low and distinctly masculine, and both boys and both dogs turned at the sound, sprinted back toward him.
    “Thanks for supper,” Logan said. “Sidekick and I had better be getting back home now. Big day tomorrow.”
    Briana merely nodded.
    Logan said goodbye to the boys, and then he and Sidekick headed off toward the orchard. If either one of them were worried about encountering a bear, it didn’t show in the easy way they strolled that country road.

CHAPTER FIVE
    L OGAN’S CELL PHONE rang as he walked through the twilight-shadowed orchard, the dog prancing briskly alongside. He squinted at the caller ID panel, swallowed hard and thumbed the appropriate button.
    “Hello, Ty,” he said.
    The responding chill was transmitted in milliseconds, bouncing from Tyler to some satellite and straight into Logan’s right ear to pulse through his whole head.
    “You left a message?” Tyler asked. His voice was deep—the last time they’d spoken, it had still been changing.
    Logan suppressed a sigh. “We need to talk,” he said.
    “Maybe
you
need to talk, big brother,” Tyler countered, “but
I’ve
got nothing to say to you.”
    Logan stopped in the middle of the orchard, looked up into the branches arching over his head, in case a