A/N: A short chapter for all the Jean/Logan fans out there. I've been in your place before, so I hope not to disappoint you.
To Bothwell Mazero and Xphoenix: Wolverine is one of my favorite characters and one of the funniest to write, so I could never make him look bad - even if I'm a Jott fan nowadays.
For everyone who's been reading this story, let me know what you think. Review, guys!
Chapter 5 – The Howletts' Ranch.
Kurt spent the next couple of days with us, alternating between assisting Peter with the crops, helping Logan in the distillery, or lending Kitty a hand in her errands around the ranch. While I struggled to find where I fit amid the Howletts, the German trader blended in with them effortlessly, and I had to wonder how old his connection with James was.
To my great relief, my left wrist had been healing up nicely since Dr. McCoy's procedure. Most of the swelling was gone, and the painkillers allowed me to start doing some of the house chores. Thus, on the evening before Wagner's departure, I cooked a nice dinner of chicken fried steak with white gravy and green beans. I wanted to show Kurt, James, Kitty, and Peter how much I appreciated their help, and what better way to say thank you than with a mouthwatering homemade meal.
"I hope it tastes okay," I said as I served them.
Wagner's eyes widened after the first bite. "Mein Gott, Jean! This is the best chicken I have ever had!"
"It's delicious, Ms. Grey," Peter opined, his mouth full.
"It really is, Jean," Kitty confirmed. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"
Very pleased with their reactions, I smiled and answered, "With my mother-in-law."
The three of them exchanged embarrassed glances, probably afraid that I'd feel upset for being reminded of Mrs. Wyngarde. Except I didn't. My husband may have been a greedy bastard, but I had nothing but love and respect for his mother.
Kurt broke the awkward silence. "Well, I don't know about her, but you have got blessed hands, fräulein. Don't you agree, Logan?"
James shrugged nonchalantly. "It's better than Kitty's cookin'," he said without bothering to look at me. I confess that his indifference hurt me.
"That's not too hard, mein Freund," the Bavarian replied and snickered, receiving a playful slap on the arm from the girl.
"Hey! It's not my fault that nobody's ever taught me to cook."
"Don't mind them, Kitty. I'll teach you," I promised.
I watched them eating eagerly while I almost didn't touch my plate. I was acting happy and cheerful, but the truth was that I was dreading Kurt's absence. I still felt insecure among the Howletts, especially Logan. He had barely spoken to me since that afternoon in Dr. McCoy's pharmacy, and I wondered if he was having seconds thoughts about accepting me in his family. I didn't want to stay in a place where I wasn't welcome. My mind pondered if I it wouldn't be wiser to just leave with Wagner and face the road again.
After dinner, they retreated to bed. I spent the next hour cleaning everything, then went outside to get some fresh air and think.
To my surprise, Logan was sitting on the last of the three porch steps, silently smoking a cigarette under the moonlight. He turned around to look up at me as soon as I stepped onto the porch.
"Hey," he greeted me.
"Hi," I greeted back, already regretting not having stayed inside. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here. I'll leave you alone."
He snorted. "Ya know, Red, I may look like an old dog, but I don't bite. Ya can sit if ya want. Unless, of course, that sittin' on the floor is beneath a lady like yourself."
"I…," I didn't know what to respond. I hadn't done anything to make James begrudge me, or at least I thought I hadn't. And yet, he was being purposely mean to me now. That was the same man who had taken me to the doctor and had paid for my painkillers two days ago. His mood swings were a true mystery to me.
Not wanting to further upset him, I settled with, "You don't look like an old dog." He chuckled at my remark, and I took that as a cue to approach him. I sat beside him on the step but kept my distance.
He offered me a cigarette -an olive branch, perhaps-, which I accepted; I held it out and waited for him to lit it with a friction match for me. I took one long drag, sensing him watching me from the corner of his eyes while both of us enjoyed our smokes.
"Ya don't need to be afraid of me," he said all of a sudden.
Taken aback, I turned to face him. "I'm not. I just… was left with the impression that you don't like me. I mean, you never speak to me, and as soon as I enter a room, you leave. I thought I'd better stay out of your way."
Logan sighed, lowering his head a little and running a hand through his wild hair. "It's nothin' personal, Red… I just ain't used to havin' a woman around anymore, that's all."
Not satisfied, I pushed my luck. "So, instead of trying to get used to it, you opt to avoid me?"
My quip had him heated up and staring hard at me. "Look, I ain't no gentleman, okay? I'm nothin' like the dandy fellas ya're familiar with, that know how to bow and behave around a lady. I'm just an ignorant farmer who smokes and drinks too much. But I never laid a finger on a woman… that I can assure ya."
I considered Logan's words for a moment. Despite his evident inability to relate to the opposite sex, he had been thoughtful enough to let me stay with his family and had even given me his bedroom for the first nights. He may be rough, but he was a good person. I didn't want to give him the impression that I thought less of him because he was illiterate.
"Well, I'm sick of dealing with gentlemen, anyway. They're the worst," I replied, a tentative smile forming on my lips.
He chuckled for a second time. "They are."
We went back to our cigarettes, becoming quiet again. I looked up to the night sky and wondered where Jason might be. I no longer cared for him, but I was still curious as to his whereabouts. Was he still looking for me? More important, would he hurt me if he ever found me? Then I remembered being shot at on Shaw's driveway and shivered unconsciously.
James must have noticed it, because out of nowhere, he said, "The only way ya'll ever be able to defend yourself against a man is with a gun, Jean."
I blinked. "A gun?"
"Yes," he nodded. "Bullets give a woman leverage."
I recalled my recent encounter with the road thief. "I can't shoot," I told him.
Logan raised one eyebrow at me. "I thought ya said ya're a fast learner?"
"I am," I affirmed.
"Then I'll teach ya," he stated. "I've taught Kitty and Peter. They've got pretty decent aims nowadays."
"I-I don't know…" I replied. I already felt bad for having killed someone. The idea of learning how to use a weapon that could kill others didn't sit well with me.
"This is Fredericksburg, Jean, not New York City. Help is usually miles away, and sometimes ya need to take matters on your own hands if ya wanna remain alive." He looked dead-serious as he explained that to me.
"O-Okay," I finally agreed.
"Good."
Logan put out his cigarette and stood up. He walked to the front door, but before going in, turned his face to me. "By the way, dinner was great. Thank ya."
I smiled. "You're welcome."
"Sleep well, Red."
"You, too."
That night on the porch, I had a feeling that James and I would get along just fine.
Kurt left on the next morning with the promise to return in a couple of months. Before departing, he gave me the last of the three guns he had taken from the dead road thieves. It was a Colt Peacemaker.
"Logan will teach you how to use it, fräulein. Stick to him, and you'll be safe," he told me as I cried in his arms.
"I don't know where I'd be without you, Kurt. Thank you for everything."
The four of us waved him goodbye. Then Logan asked Peter to show me the ropes around the ranch while Kitty helped him with the liquor manufacturing. It was still summer, and her classes wouldn't begin for another month or so.
I found out that ranching wasn't easy; it demanded attention and long hours of hard working. Thankfully, Peter was a patient young man, and whenever he caught me struggling with a task, he immediately came to my aid.
"Chickens don't need this much food, Jean," he would tell me whenever I poured too many grains into the feeding tray, or "Pull the cobs by the ear, like this," he demonstrated if I was pulling the corn cobs the wrong way.
By the end of three weeks, I already knew my way around the place. Every morning I would help my new family wherever I was needed, then I would retreat to the kitchen to make lunch – I had even started a small garden on the back yard so I could have more vegetable options to add to their meals. During the afternoons, I took care of the clothes and the house, and whenever James had to go into town to sell his bourbon he left Kitty and I in charge of the distillery.
At least twice a week, before the sun set, Logan would take me riding to a secluded part of his property so we could shoot empty glass bottles without disturbing the livestock. He also used those opportunities to teach me how to ride a horse, something he had never been able to do for his adoptive daughter because she was terrified of the animals.
"I think the wagon crash's left her traumatized," he confided to me on one occasion, referring to the accident that had killed Katherine's parents eight years before. The girl would walk three miles on foot to school each day without complaining, but she refused to climb on a horse's back to make her journey less tiring.
For me, learning to ride proved to be quite easy – I guess that my days with the Wind Rider and Wagner made me comfortable around horses. Soon, Logan had acquired enough confidence in me to let me mount a mare by my own, and he even stated that I was getting pretty good at it. He couldn't say the same about me firing a gun, though – my aim seemed to be nonexistent.
To James, shooting was as natural as breathing. His Henry Repeater never missed an aim, while my Colt kept maiming the vegetation behind the bottles even after weeks of practicing.
I laughed at my inability to hit the targets. "I'm hopeless, Logan!"
He shook his head sideways. "I told ya a thousand times, Jean… ya need to stead your elbows!"
He looked serious, so I stopped laughing. "Fine." I turned to the awaiting bottles sitting on dead tree trunks and adjusted my arms. With one eye closed, I aimed at one item and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the trunk, but the glass flask remained intact.
"Jesus, woman! Ya'd be dead meat already if those bottles could shoot ya back!" Logan exclaimed, looking annoyed, and marched in my direction. Stopping behind me, he threw my black braided hair over my left shoulder and put his arms around me. "Here, Red," I heard his voice near my right ear. He placed his two hands over mine, steadied my elbows within his, and pulled the revolver near my face. "Keep your arms still. Then, align the front iron sight with the rear sight. Now, ya squeeze the trigger."
I heard James's command but couldn't respond. All I could think of was his hot breath caressing my cheek and his muscular arms bringing us too close together. I could feel every inch of his broad chest pressing against my back, but instead of becoming scared -like with Shaw-, I felt a welcoming warmth crawling inside of my stomach. Suddenly, I could no longer think straight.
Without realizing it, I turned my face toward his only to see his dark blue eyes watching me intently. "Squeeze the trigger, Red," he whispered. Logan had never sounded so sinful to me.
I realized our lips were mere inches apart. James started to lean in my direction when one of the horses neighed loudly, starting both of us.
Swiftly, I twisted in his arms, staring forward again, and took the shot. As soon as we heard the sound of glass shattering, James let go of my arms and gave a step back.
"Good work, Jean. It's gettin' dark. We should head back."
"Of course," I said, unable to look him in the eye. I secured the Colt in my holster and mounted the mare, following Logan back to the ranch house. When we arrived, he immediately wished me good night and took the two horses to the stable. It became clear to me that whatever it was that had happened between us, we wouldn't be talking about it.
I went to the room I now shared with Katherine, changed into a nightgown, and laid on my bed. From her bed, Kitty asked me how my shooting training had gone.
"G-Great," I replied.
I could still feel Logan's strong arms surrounding me, the sensation of his taut muscles against my back burning vividly in my mind, and how sick it was to think of him like that while talking to his daughter! I had to remind myself that I wasn't interested in a new romantic relationship. I was a fugitive, and a murderer. I couldn't afford to fall in love.
Eventually, I fell asleep. I dreamed of wet kisses and golden corn fields, but the images were soon replaced by huge burning flames. I woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, a familiar voice that I couldn't remember ever hearing whispering in my ear… "Fire Bringer."