he approached, and an old man with graying hair stuck his head out the window and growled, “You point that thing at a man you better be ready to use it.”
Logan produced his badge and flashed it at the man with his free hand, not lowering his weapon. Inside the cab with the old man were two younger men, both wearing identical looks of anger.
“I’m here to inform Chance Bear that one of his employees took a header off the ridge earlier this afternoon and died. I was attacked by an unknown while in the process of notification, so until I have your cooperation, my weapon stands at the ready. Do you know where I can find Chance Bear?”
“Jesus H. Christ,” the old man muttered, making the sign of the cross. “Not another one. First Rip and now . . . Who was it this time?”
“Do you know where I can find Chance Bear?” Logan barked out again, ignoring his question. His gut told him it was Bear on the porch, but he couldn’t be certain. He needed confirmation Bear was on the ranch.
The old man swallowed then shook his head. “Ain’t seen him since this afternoon. Said he was headed into Twin Bridges on business and intended to stay the night. He’s got a woman up there he visits from time to time.”
Logan lowered his weapon and stuck it in his waistband. “Dead man’s name is Butch Johnson. The paramedics on the scene said he worked for Chance Bear. Is that correct?”
“Jesus. Yeah. Decent worker but he constantly moaned about moving to Florida. I told him Florida ain’t no place for a cowboy, though.”
“He have any enemies?”
“None that I know of,” he replied, then turned to the man next to him. “You know of any, Cobb?”
“He was too laid-back to piss anyone off,” Cobb replied. “Are you sayin’ this wasn’t an accident?”
“Just crossing my T’s,” Logan mumbled, putting out his hand for the old man to shake. “If you hear from Bear tonight, let him know I need to talk to him.”
“My name’s Mac. Mac Macey. I’ll let him know the minute he gets back.”
Logan started to turn to leave then looked back at the old man. “You been on the ranch a while, Mac?”
The old man nodded. “Been in charge of the chuck wagon goin’ on near twenty years.”
“You got a cell number I could have if I need to get in touch with you?”
Macey rattled off the number while Logan logged it in his contacts. When he was done, Logan decided the direct approach was best. “If I had questions about the operation here, would you talk to me?”
The old man seemed to pale before clearing his throat. “I, ah, I’m loyal to the Bear Claw. Unless you get one of them warrants and force me to talk, I’m not inclined.”
Logan studied the man and caught him glancing at the two younger men in the truck. He would talk, Logan thought. He was just keeping up appearances, so Logan leaned on the door and directed his next question to the two men beside Macey. “You ever seen Chance Bear with a hunting knife?”
The one farthest from Logan nodded his head before he thought better of it then shook it quickly.
“Yeah, me too,” Logan agreed, then tapped the roof of the truck twice and walked away. Bear might have an alibi for tonight, but he would bet his last dollar there were holes in it. Logan had puzzle pieces that needed to fit together. Duke was one. Rip was one. And Frank, to his way of thinking. How did Johnson fit together with the other three? If Loverboy were here he’d have mapped it out on a sheet of paper until all the pieces fit together. Logan decided it was time to channel Loverboy. For the first time since his brother’s death, the thought of him made Logan smile.
“Talk to me, Goose,” Logan mumbled, quoting a line from the movie Top Gun.
_______________
I sat quietly and watched Logan from our living room. He was currently at our dining room table with his head bent working on an accident report. But every now and then he would grab a sheet of paper and write something on it. He seemed lost in his head. Like he was picking over a problem that needed to be solved. Sipping coffee as my brothers watched Sunday Night Football, I noticed Logan kept glancing over at Josh. And Josh was doing the same, clearly intrigued