Page 46 of Beacon

He scoops her up into a tight, desperate hug. No matter who he is, no matter what kind of power he uses to claim this kind of authority in a rough, uncivilized territory, there’s no doubt he loves his daughter.

I’m touched by the feeling coming off both of them. I reach over and take and squeeze Mack’s hand when he comes around to stand beside me.

When Logan finally releases the girl, he has a short conversation with her. Then he takes her hand and leads her over to where we’re standing.

He’s not smiling when he reaches us. He scans me with a scarily astute inspection and then does the same with Mack. “Elizabeth tells me you rescued her from two men. Do you know who they were?”

I hesitate only briefly to see if Mack wants to be the one to answer. He doesn’t, and since Logan is meeting my eyes, it makes sense that I give the response. “We don’t know their names. But we heard one of them talkingabout Colt. They were taking her to someone named Colt.”

This means something to him. I see it registering on his face with a flash of cold anger. I can only assume Colt is a known presence in The Wild—a rival or enemy of Logan’s. What other reason could he have to kidnap the man’s daughter? But Logan only murmurs, “I see.”

“We were trying to follow so we could let you know where they were keeping her, but then we got the opportunity to get her back instead.”

“The two men are dead?”

“Yes. They’re both dead.”

Logan nods again, his eyes shifting down briefly to his daughter. “Thank you both. For bringing her back to me.”

I wait to see if he’ll offer us some sort of payment. We’d never accept it, but he might be the kind of man to offer it.

He’s not. “I owe you a favor now. I won’t forget it.”

“Thank you,” I say since Mack still isn’t talking. It seems clear that a favor from this man is a very big deal, so I don’t want to sound like I’m dismissing it. “We appreciate that, but mostly we’re glad to get her back safely.”

Logan hasn’t smiled at us. It doesn’t feel like he’s going to invite us to any sort of cozy meal or chat, and I know Mack wants to return to the cabin anyway.

So I look down at the girl and say, “It was really nice to meet you, Elizabeth. I’m glad you’re back home now.”

“Me too!” she says, brimming over with smiles. “Thank you, Anna! And you too, Mack! I’m real hungry, Daddy. Can I go ask Pope for a snack?”

“Of course. I’ll come with you.” Logan gives us one more look and another nod, clearly dismissing us.

I’m relieved that the meeting with this strange, unnerving man is over, and I’m happy to have accomplished a good thing.

But now I really want to get back to somewhere safe and familiar. I want to let down my guard. Get cleaned up. Climb into bed and fall asleep in Mack’s arms.

He’s still standing, staring blankly. So I squeeze his upper arm and try to turn him back around toward the ATV. “Come on, Mack. Let’s go home.”

9

Deep relief washesover me as we finally park next to the cabin.

This isn’t home. Obviously. But it feels more like home than anything has to me for a long time.

It’s a strange realization to come to on a November evening, but it only gets stronger as we unload our provisions, head inside, and put up the food we got at the market. Since it’s already dinnertime and we haven’t eaten much in the past two days, I start preparing a stew with some rabbit meat Mack pulled out of the freezer yesterday morning and a bunch of random vegetable remnants from the refrigerator.

“Gettin’ cold out there,” Mack says as he comes back inside with an armful of chopped wood.

“I know. I hope it doesn’t get down below freezing anytime soon.”

We’ve had a couple of terrible winters since Impact with far more ice and subzero temperatures than were normal in the southern US in the old world. But the climate has been stabilizing in the past couple of years, so I’m hoping we’ll start having more region-appropriate winters.

I’ve finished browning the rabbit when Mack gets a fire started in the woodstove and returns to the kitchen. He checks out the big pot and the food I’ve collected on a chopping board. Then he grabs the best knife and cuts up the carrots and the half a potato I scrounged.

We work together easily, softening the vegetables in the pan, adding flour and then some beef broth and what remains of a jar of stewed tomatoes before adding the cooked rabbit back in and seasoning it with salt and pepper.

Mack is quiet. Slightly subdued. But he’s not bristling or grumpy. And I enjoy the peaceful domesticity of cooking our meal together and then cleaning up the kitchen as the stew simmers.

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