Wildflower by Lynda Bailey Page B

grabbed the bridle to steady the animal. “Let go of my horse.”
    “First tell me what’s got you angrier than a peeled rattler.”
    “Maybe I don’t like you being a dang town crier, telling everybody we’re married.” She turned Turk, but Logan held tight. She glared at him. “I said to let go of my horse.”
    “It’s not safe for you to ride to the herd alone. Wait for me.”
    Her sharp laugh echoed against the livery walls. “Not safe? Who do you figure will bother me?” She pulled back hard on the reins and Turk tossed his head, dislodging Logan’s grip. She spurred the pony into a dead run out of town.
    ~ ~ ~
    Logan pivoted and strode to the back of the livery. “Gus! I need my horse.”
    The blacksmith looked up from where he was bent over, Sergeant’s hoof between his legs, nails sticking out of his mouth. “Be ‘ nuther thirty minutes,” he mumbled around the metal between his lips.
    “You got another horse I can borrow?”
    Gus shook his head.
    “Goddamn it!” Logan slammed his eyes shut in frustration and spun away. He stomped back to the street and glared at the diminishing cloud of dust left in Matt’s wake. The urge to take off after her pulsed across his skin. But he couldn’t. Not without his damn horse.
    Hands on hips, he stared at the boardwalk and inhaled a stiff breath. It helped to lasso his temper, at least some. He walked toward the mercantile where Chuck and Dave were waiting by the buckboard.
    “Where’s Matt?” the cook asked.
    “Took off for the herd.”
    Both men gawked at him in disbelief.
    “You let her go by herself?” Dave asked.
    “Not by choice,” Logan snarled. “My horse threw a shoe. Gus won’t be done for another half hour.”
    “You want to take the buckboard and go after her?”
    “No. It’d take me longer to drive the damn wagon there than to wait for Gus. ‘Sides I need to finish up business with Upton. You two head back to the ranch. I’ll see you at supper.”
    Chuck and Dave clambered into the wagon and took off down the street. Logan watched for a moment then stepped into the mercantile.
    Mrs. Upton stood beside her husband as he walked to the counter. “Where’s your wife?” she asked. “I thought she wanted to borrow the latest Mark Twain book.”
    “She, uh, left. But I’d still like to order that wedding band for her, if I could.”
    Mrs. Upton glanced at her husband then backed away. Mr. Upton eyed Logan, his mouth set in a grim line rather than the usual easy smile. “How you planning on paying for it?”
    Dread crept along Logan’s neck. “I planned to put it on the Standing T tab. Is there a problem?”
    Upton scratched his chin. “I’m afraid so.” He angled away from the other patrons, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Seems Gene put quite a bit on credit here.”
    “How much?”
    “Forty-three dollars.”
    Logan swore under his breath. He crossed his arms. “And you’re just now discovering this? You’re the owner. How is that possible?”
    “Because Gene dealt mostly with my wife.” The merchant cast a loving look to Mrs. Upton pouring more coffee for the men by the stove. “Wonderful woman, but a bit too generous when it comes to people. The ring she says you want will cost an additional twenty dollars.”
    Another colorful curse rang through Logan’s head. He rubbed at the headache behind his eyes. Sixty-three dollars. Could this day get much worse?
    All he had was forty-eight dollars. Money saved up for when he struck out for the Dakotas to stake his own claim. But he wasn’t going to the Dakotas anymore. His stake was right here, with the Standing T.
    He could pay off the debt, but not buy Matt’s ring. Hell, maybe he shouldn’t even get her a ring, considering how surly she’d been about a few folks knowing they were married. That thought twisted like a knife.
    No. A man’s wife deserved a ring on her finger, even a churlish wife. He looked back at Upton. “I’ll clear the unpaid bill then start a