nothing more than a nightmare.
"Do what?" Cade asked, standing a poker chip on end and giving it a spin.
Logan could hardly form the words, so much did they shame him. "Desert a child of mine."
The other two men winced. More than anyone else, Cade and Holt understood the thought process behind the statement because they'd grown up in an orphanage along with him. They understood what it meant not to have a father. They understood that today's revelation was a kick to the gut that had knocked Logan on his ass.
Because he was a friend, Holt tried. "It's not your fault, Lucky. You didn't know."
"That's no excuse. She's right about that—I should have checked on her myself, taken responsibility. I shouldn't have waited for her father to contact me if there was a problem." He sat back in his chair, hard. "Problem, hell. There was a baby."
"She could have contacted you," Cade suggested.
"How? Stop and think about it. I didn't keep in contact with anyone those next few years. Not even you two." Guilt closed around his throat like a noose as he tried to imagine what she'd gone through. Poor thing— her apron riding high, no husband, not a nickel to her name. It must have been pure hell.
He should have been there for her. For the boy. Instead, he'd been.. .worthless. Both to her and the boy and to himself.
Just like in Mexico. Just like in Oklahoma. He shut his eyes. God.
The piano player struck up a lively, upbeat tune. Logan wanted to throw his mug at him. Those years after he left the orphanage were lost years. Wasted years. He'd been a drifter, traveling from town to town, state to state, picking up odd jobs to support himself and moving on at a whim, always looking for something he never could define. Yet, in those days he'd never crossed the line. He was still a decent man when he married Caroline.
He had not yet hit bottom when he got tangled up with the Wilson brothers down south of the Rio Grande.
He'd never told another person about those dark months when his evil deeds had almost cost him his soul. He'd spent the past decade attempting to earn his redemption, and up until tonight, he'd believed his tab nearly paid. Now, he had to reassess.
"Lucky's right." Holt idly shuffled a deck of cards, then dealt them each a poker hand, though they weren't playing cards. "If not for Nana Nellie, we'd have lost track of one another completely."
Nana Nellie. Logan groaned softly at the memory. She'd be so ashamed of him today.
Officially, Nana Nellie had been the headmistress of Piney Woods Children's Home, but in fact, she'd been the orphanage's heart and soul. She'd lived the virtues and expected no less from those in her care. Growing up, Logan had chafed against her rules and expectations and upon leaving the orphanage he'd blatantly rebelled against them. What a dumbass he'd been. The one time in his life he'd had a run of good luck was the day he'd been turned over to Nellie Jennings's care. He'd just been too young, too stupid and too insecure to see it. Nevertheless, the lessons she'd taught had seeped into his bones, and on a mean, dark night in Saltillo, Mexico, he'd remembered them.
Standing over the body of the man—hell, the boy— he'd just killed, sickened and shamed by his behavior, he'd heard Nana Nellie's voice echo through his mind. Prudence, justice, fortitude, temperance. Kindness, generosity.
He'd walked out of the alley, bent over double and vomited.
It had been a warning, but unfortunately, one he'd failed to heed for another year. What that year cost him...
For just a moment, Logan was back in Oklahoma, in that house, back with the bodies and the blood and smell of death and his own weakness. Pain flashed through him as keenly as a knife.
Finally, he had learned. From that moment on, he'd done his best to live up to her example, and he'd been somewhat successful. He'd sworn off alcohol and made it three whole years before indulging once again. While the notion of chastity had never caught on
"Do what?" Cade asked, standing a poker chip on end and giving it a spin.
Logan could hardly form the words, so much did they shame him. "Desert a child of mine."
The other two men winced. More than anyone else, Cade and Holt understood the thought process behind the statement because they'd grown up in an orphanage along with him. They understood what it meant not to have a father. They understood that today's revelation was a kick to the gut that had knocked Logan on his ass.
Because he was a friend, Holt tried. "It's not your fault, Lucky. You didn't know."
"That's no excuse. She's right about that—I should have checked on her myself, taken responsibility. I shouldn't have waited for her father to contact me if there was a problem." He sat back in his chair, hard. "Problem, hell. There was a baby."
"She could have contacted you," Cade suggested.
"How? Stop and think about it. I didn't keep in contact with anyone those next few years. Not even you two." Guilt closed around his throat like a noose as he tried to imagine what she'd gone through. Poor thing— her apron riding high, no husband, not a nickel to her name. It must have been pure hell.
He should have been there for her. For the boy. Instead, he'd been.. .worthless. Both to her and the boy and to himself.
Just like in Mexico. Just like in Oklahoma. He shut his eyes. God.
The piano player struck up a lively, upbeat tune. Logan wanted to throw his mug at him. Those years after he left the orphanage were lost years. Wasted years. He'd been a drifter, traveling from town to town, state to state, picking up odd jobs to support himself and moving on at a whim, always looking for something he never could define. Yet, in those days he'd never crossed the line. He was still a decent man when he married Caroline.
He had not yet hit bottom when he got tangled up with the Wilson brothers down south of the Rio Grande.
He'd never told another person about those dark months when his evil deeds had almost cost him his soul. He'd spent the past decade attempting to earn his redemption, and up until tonight, he'd believed his tab nearly paid. Now, he had to reassess.
"Lucky's right." Holt idly shuffled a deck of cards, then dealt them each a poker hand, though they weren't playing cards. "If not for Nana Nellie, we'd have lost track of one another completely."
Nana Nellie. Logan groaned softly at the memory. She'd be so ashamed of him today.
Officially, Nana Nellie had been the headmistress of Piney Woods Children's Home, but in fact, she'd been the orphanage's heart and soul. She'd lived the virtues and expected no less from those in her care. Growing up, Logan had chafed against her rules and expectations and upon leaving the orphanage he'd blatantly rebelled against them. What a dumbass he'd been. The one time in his life he'd had a run of good luck was the day he'd been turned over to Nellie Jennings's care. He'd just been too young, too stupid and too insecure to see it. Nevertheless, the lessons she'd taught had seeped into his bones, and on a mean, dark night in Saltillo, Mexico, he'd remembered them.
Standing over the body of the man—hell, the boy— he'd just killed, sickened and shamed by his behavior, he'd heard Nana Nellie's voice echo through his mind. Prudence, justice, fortitude, temperance. Kindness, generosity.
He'd walked out of the alley, bent over double and vomited.
It had been a warning, but unfortunately, one he'd failed to heed for another year. What that year cost him...
For just a moment, Logan was back in Oklahoma, in that house, back with the bodies and the blood and smell of death and his own weakness. Pain flashed through him as keenly as a knife.
Finally, he had learned. From that moment on, he'd done his best to live up to her example, and he'd been somewhat successful. He'd sworn off alcohol and made it three whole years before indulging once again. While the notion of chastity had never caught on
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