Chapter 30

30

T abby did her chores in the barn and then lingered, as if Logan would somehow miraculously appear in his stall as Beau or Better Behave , or she might suddenly hear him creaking around in the upstairs apartment. The horses nickered at her and shuffled around. She gave them extra scratches and pats, then went back outside.

His truck was still there, untouched. She went up the stairs and peered into the dark kitchen window.

She was just trying to decide what to do with herself when she heard faint hoofbeats, coming up the drive. She'd left the gate unlocked, still hoping for an Uber carrying Logan, but this was definitely not a car.

There were no lights along the drive, just one at the gate, and one at the house, and all Tabby could see was the dark figure of a horse, trotting tiredly up.

She didn't need to see the white forelock to know who it was, and she went down the stairs two at a time, nearly missing the last one, and bolted out to meet him.

He trotted faster to meet her and came skidding to a stop as she threw her arms up around his neck. "Logan, Logan, you idiot! Why are you a horse ?"

He nickered and snuffled at her neck and snorted and hooked her with his head to pull her close.

"Franzi was frantic ," Tabby lied, because she was the one who'd been a mess. "Why won't you shift?"

Logan blew out in clear frustration.

"Are you stuck this way?"

He nodded his big head like a cartoon.

Tabby had to laugh, because she was so relieved to have him back, whether he was a horse or not, and she didn't know what else to do. She leaned against Logan and simply howled, like it was the biggest joke in the world, and maybe it was.

"Oh, Logan. I don't know what to do with you."

But she did, because he was a horse, and he was covered in sweat and moved like he'd been running for two days straight. Tabby knew exactly what he needed.

"You don't get to collapse yet," she scolded him. "I'm putting a cooler on you and you're walking the short track until you cool down. Slowly. Nothing faster than a walk. I'll get you fresh water and some hay. No oats. You'll founder."

Tabby had his stall heaped with fresh straw when Logan came obediently back after doing the cooldown laps that she had commanded. He was walking stiffly, but not limping, and his breathing was slower. Tabby verified that his temperature was lower with a hand between his front legs. He hungrily munched at the hay as she rubbed him down.

"What the fresh hell is this?" she said, when she got to his left haunch. There was an angry red mark there, and he flinched when she touched it. "Did someone brand you?"

The mark was muddy, she couldn't pick a logo or design out of the burnt flesh, but it was the size and position of a brand—an old-fashioned hot iron brand, not the less painful new freeze-branding kind that was more acceptable now.

"You are mine," she told Logan through gritted teeth as she went for the first aid kit. "I'm going to find the asshole who did this to you and…and…" Tabby wasn't great at threats and had no idea what she would actually do. Something impulsive, probably, and not all that legal.

She cleaned the wound, and although she suspected it was sterile, slathered it with numbing antibiotic cream.

Then she brushed him from nose to tail, untangling his mane and tail and teasing vines and rose brambles out. "You had quite the adventure," she observed, finding a cigarette butt in his tail. Maybe he'd had to hide out in a ditch. Tabby could only imagine how challenging it would be to travel alone as a gorgeous horse like him. He'd probably had to evade several well-meaning rescue attempts. Maybe even some not-so-well-meaning rescue attempts. Montana wasn't free of wild predators, either. All the horrible things she'd tried to keep herself from imagining crowded into her mind and Logan couldn't reassure her they hadn't happened.

"Franzi's sleeping in my guest room," she told him, resting her head against his shoulder, "and I'll take her to day care in the morning, but Logan, I am not cut out to be a single parent and I…I need you back. We gotta figure out how to get you back to two legs, okay? When I said I had no use for you as a man…well, I was wrong about that, okay? Just wrong."

His head snaked around her again and pulled her close, his breath ruffling her hair.

Tabby let herself soak up the comfort he offered before she pushed off of him and dried tears that she didn't realize she'd shed. "I'm going to leave your stall open so you can come and go, okay?"

Logan gave a tired nicker and Tabby checked the straps on the waffle weave cooling blanket. He could get out of it if he wanted to and he looked barely awake enough to keep eating. Tabby made sure his water bucket was topped off and left the stable walking backwards because she wanted to keep him in her sight as long as possible. He'd already disappeared on her as a horse once.

She checked on the other curious horses, assuring them absently that everything was fine, and went back to the house in a daze. Was Logan being stuck shifted only temporary? Would it wear off like a drug? What if he really was a horse forever now? Would the bastard who bought and branded him come looking and find him here? Logan's weak technical loophole didn't actually work if he couldn't be a man again, and Tallier had a legal bill of sale for him. Tabby doubted that he'd just let her give the money back and call it done.

She couldn't let him be seen at all, which complicated her boarding and riding lesson business. She'd have to keep him living like a hobo in a back pasture by the fringes of the forest. There was an old run-in shed, but she'd have to see if the roof was still sound.

And what about Franzi? How could she explain taking over guardianship of the little girl while Logan figured out how to get opposable thumbs back?

Tabby froze with her foot above the first step of her porch.

Would Clancy get custody of Franzi?

Tabby was badly out of her depth and had no idea what to do. She staggered up the steps and settled into the porch swing.

She couldn't put sweet little Franzi in Clancy Kennedy's hands. Who even knew what dastardly cons he'd pull with her. No, Tabby had to keep custody of Franzi somehow, and keep Logan hidden from people who came hunting him, no matter that he was a fifteen-hundred pound beast with distinctive markings and…now a brand.

Tabby felt her temper sizzle.

Whoever came for either of them, they'd quickly find that Tabitha Swiftwater was not to be trifled with. Let them come. She'd be ready.