circumstances to shy away from scandal. After all, she made her home with mostly reformed outlaws. Nevertheless, even in Artesia, where society was for the most part forgiving and accepting, the stigma of divorce was difficult to overcome. It was better to be a deserted wife than a divorced woman.
Besides, it wasn't as if she had a reason to need a divorce. She had no beau. She hadn't wanted one. She had Will and Ben and Suzanne. That was enough. And on those nights when she'd lain in her lonely bed and yearned for something more, well, she told herself it didn't matter. Nobody's life was perfect. She should be grateful for the blessings she had and not be greedy about it.
A divorce. Caroline's hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob. If that's what this was about, then she would deal with it. Maybe its time had come. Maybe the usefulness of this marriage had ended yesterday when she told Logan Grey he had a son—a legitimate son. Knowing she stood on solid moral ground regarding the marriage had given her the strength to approach the man. Now that she'd confronted the past, perhaps she'd feel free to move forward once Ben was safe and sound.
"Think positive," she murmured as she opened the door.
Warm walnut paneling lined the walls of the outer office. A large painting depicting the fall of the Alamo dominated the room, and as she viewed the graphic nature of the scene, Caroline wondered at the reasoning behind hanging such a picture in this particular law office. Was it a warning? Something like Beware, this is a place of slaughter?
His gaze warm and admiring, a young gentleman stepped out from behind a desk. "May I help you?"
"I'm Caroline Grey. I believe Mr. Addison is expecting me."
"Yes, ma'am. Very good. This way. They're waiting for you." He led the way to a door at the end of a short hallway, then rapped on the frosted glass. "Mr. Addison? Mrs. Grey has arrived."
Seconds later the door swung open to reveal a dapper gentleman with kind brown eyes and a winsome smile that set her immediately at ease. "Mrs. Grey. It's a pleasure. I'm Tom Addison. So glad you could join us this morning."
Us? Caroline's gaze tracked into the office where she spied Logan standing at a window with his back toward her, a dark shadow framed by bright morning sunlight. Tension reignited and sizzled along her nerves. She pasted on a smile and said, "Hello, Logan."
He turned his head and her eyes widened upon seeing his black eye and the cut on his chin. What in the world had happened to him? He nodded, then turned back to the window without so much as saying good morning. Well, that's rude.
She tried to work up a snit, but failed. There wasn't room for any snit in amongst her guilt.
She'd barely slept last night because of it. All night long, images of Logan Grey's expressions as he'd listened to her accusations and revelations played across her brain. She'd misjudged the man. He truly didn't deserve the worry she'd dumped in his lap.
Logan believed his son to be in mortal danger when in fact, Will was happy as a pup with two tails getting to bunk with his best friend, Daniel Glazier, for a few days back home in Artesia. Not only was Daniel Will's favorite partner in mischief, but his mother, Ellen, was the best cook in the county. Her pot roasts were legendary, and she'd won the Best In Show blue ribbon for her desserts three years running at the Ector County Fair. Will was in far more danger of suffering bellyaches than bullet wounds at the moment, and it wasn't right that his father thought otherwise.
But it is for Ben. Don't forget that. You can't forget that.
"Would you care to sit down?" Mr. Addison's question jarred Caroline back to the present. He gestured toward one of a pair of wingback chairs in front of his desk. Caroline took her seat, smoothed her skirts and wondered if Logan would budge from the window and sit beside her. Instead, Addison sat in the chair and reached for the folder lying atop his desk. "We
Landon Dixon, Giselle Renarde, Beverly Langland