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
LOGAN’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 bear was about to land on him. The weight of what lay between him and Tyler was heavier than anything that could have dropped out of a tree, though.
“Don’t hang up, okay?” he asked. He’d had to swallow a measure of pride before he could get the words out.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,” Tyler snapped, but at least he was still there. Still listening—if that stony stillness could be considered listening.
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