Montana Creeds: Logan. Linda Miller Lael

Briana said suspiciously, juggling the bags and heading for the table to set them down. “What have you guys been up to?”

      “I’ve been doing my history homework on the computer,” Josh said loftily, and whatever Web page he’d been looking at faded into cyber-oblivion at the click of the mouse.

      “And I swept the floor,” Alec volunteered. “After I did my homework, of course. Not that stink-face would let me use the computer.”

      “What did I say about name-calling?”

      The boys exchanged poisonous glares.

      “Don’t do it,” they chorused dolefully.

      Briana had been concerned that Alec and Josh might head for the orchard—it was infested with bears, to hear Logan tell it—or dash off to Cimarron’s pasture to play matador the moment she’d driven out of sight that morning. Instead, they’d probably watched something they weren’t supposed to on TV, or gotten into her secret stash of snack-size candy bars.

      Or both.

      “What are we having for supper?” Alec asked, as Briana began taking things out of the bags—milk, oversize cans of soup, packages of hamburger and chicken breasts, bread and fresh fruit, frozen potatoes compressed into little cylinders.

      “A casserole,” she said.

      Alec frowned in obvious disapproval while Wanda scratched hopefully at the back door, asking to be let out. “You do remember that we’re having company tonight?”

      Briana smiled hurriedly, went to open the door for Wanda, and then put away everything except the soup, two pounds of lean hamburger and the potato chunks. “Yes, Alec,” she said. “I remember.”

      “I think cowboys eat steaks,” Josh observed, drawing nearer. This particular casserole was Briana’s specialty—her dad had taught her how to make it—and both boys loved it. usually.

      “Not tonight, they don’t,” she replied, going to the sink to wash her hands before assembling the meal. She would shower while the dish was in the oven, and put on fresh mascara and lip gloss, too. There was no time for a shampoo, so she’d wind her braid into a chignon at her nape, pin it into place and hope for the best. “Tonight, it’s Wild Man’s Spud Extravaganza or nothing.”

      Alec made a face. “Josh is right,” he said, in an Ihate-to-admit-it kind of tone. “Cowboys like steak and stuff like that.”

      “Sorry,” Briana said, sounding a bit manic. Wanda was scratching at the door again. “No steak. Somebody let the dog in, please.”

      Josh did the honors, after a brief stare-down with Alec.

      “And then feed her,” Briana added.

      “We’ve been cooped up in the house all day,” Josh said, looking like a slave hauling construction materials to a pyramid as he dipped Wanda’s bowl into the kibble bag, brought it out overflowing and set it down on the floor for her. “I was hoping we could have another picnic at the cemetery.”

      “I told you what Mr. Cre—Logan said about bears.”

      “When was the last time you saw a bear, Mom?” Josh persisted.

      Briana sighed. She’d never seen a bear, at least not around Stillwater Springs, which was probably why Dylan hadn’t warned her when she and the boys moved in. He had told her, during one of their rare phone conversations, that the cellar floor was rotting in places and the furnace needed three good kicks to get going when the temperature fell below freezing in the winter and that she should let the neighbor feed Cimarron and keep away from him herself.

      If bears were a threat, wouldn’t he have said something?

      Wouldn’t Jim Huntinghorse or one of the dozens of other people she knew in town have said something?

      Her mood, already slightly frenzied, darkened a little. Logan was either paranoid about bears, or he simply didn’t want her and her sons having the run of the property.

      For a moment, she wished she hadn’t invited him over, that or any night. What other ridiculous fears was he going to plant in her head?

      “When, Mom?” Josh prodded, because he never let any subject drop before he was satisfied that all the angles had been covered.

      “Okay,” she said. “We can still go to the cemetery for picnics—but not tonight. I am not lugging a hot casserole across the creek.”

      Josh and Alec gave each other high fives, in an unusual show of accord.

      Hastily, she browned the hamburger in a cast-iron skillet, drained it, mixed it in with the cream of mushroom soup and a few dehydrated onions, poured the potato thingies over the top and put the whole concoction into the oven at three-fifty.

      The phone rang as she was stepping out of the shower.

      Vance, calling to say he’d be arriving early or not coming at all?

      Logan, begging off on supper?

      The bathroom door creaked open and Alec stuck his head through the crack, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Mom!”

      Briana, wrapped in a towel, chuckled at the sight. “What?”

      “We won a week’s vacation at Lake Tahoe,” Alec said. “All we have to do is look at a time share and watch a video. They’ll even fly us down there!”

      “It’s a sales pitch,” Briana said, reaching for her robe with her free hand. “Hang up.”

      “But I told the guy you were in the shower and I’d come and get you. Mom, we won.”

      Briana was in her robe by then, belt pulled tight. “You can open your eyes now, Alec,” she said. “I’m decent. Go back, tell ‘the guy’ we’re not interested and hang up.”

      Alec dragged off to the kitchen to do as he was told—Briana hoped—and she slipped into her bedroom to put on clean underwear, cut-off jeans and a white tank top. She slipped her feet into sandals, pinned up her hair, applied a spritz of the drugstore perfume the boys had given her for Christmas and examined her reflection in the blurry mirror above the bureau.

      She definitely needed mascara and lip gloss, she decided.

      The savory scent of the casserole filled the kitchen when she made her entrance. She drew up, a little thrown, when she saw Logan sitting at the kitchen table, with Josh seated at his right side and Alec at his left.

      “I’m early,” he said, looking apologetic as he rose from his chair. He’d brought wildflowers in a canning jar and a bottle of light wine, both of which were sitting on the table.

      She gave him credit for good manners. But he looked too fine in his new jeans and pressed white shirt, open at the throat. His dark hair was still damp from a shower, and there were little ridges where he’d run a comb through it.

      The back door was open, and through the screen, Briana saw Sidekick sleeping contentedly on the porch. She’d had to look away from Logan for a moment, in order to steady her nerves, but now she made herself look back.

      “That’s okay,” she said, too brightly and a beat too late. “Supper’s ready.”

      “Smells good,” Logan said. He sounded shy.

      She knew he wasn’t.

      Was he putting on an act?

      “It’s Wild Man’s Spud Extravaganza,” Alec announced proudly, evidently over his earlier fixation about serving steak.

      Logan, sitting down again at a nod from Briana, raised an eyebrow, and a slight grin quirked one corner of his mouth. “Who’s Wild Man?” he asked.

      “Our Grampa,” Josh answered. “He was a famous rodeo clown.”

      “Oh,” Logan said, his eyes never leaving Briana’s face.