More Than Meets the Eye

  Logan smiled, his eyes a little sad as he tilted his head toward the piece of fruit in her hand. “My mother would be glad to know her tree is producing so well.”

  Evangeline swallowed in a rush and wiped the back of her hand across her lips. “Her tree?”

  “Mm-hmm.” He glanced away and lifted his own peach up for inspection, yet his eyes didn’t seem to focus on it. “She pestered my father for months about planting fruit trees around the house. Peaches. Apples. Pears. He’d grumble that they didn’t have the money for such frivolous things. She’d insist he wouldn’t consider them frivolous when she put up preserves and pear butter and baked fresh apple pie. It took nearly a year, but Pop finally brought a pair of saplings home and planted them, one on either side of the front porch. She babied those trees like they were her children. Watering. Weeding. Covering them with a sheet to protect them from frost and snow.” Logan shook his head. “I think leaving those trees behind was harder on her than leaving Pop’s grave.” He met Evangeline’s gaze. “She knew his fate, after all. But she had no way of knowing what would become of her trees. Thank you for taking care of them for her.”

  Evangeline’s head swam. Logan’s mother had planted their peach trees. Nurtured them. Ensured their survival so the Hamiltons could enjoy their bounty.

  With those peaches, Evangeline had paid Charlotte Clem for cooking lessons. With those peaches, she’d baked pies, put up jam and the syrupy preserves Zach loved to spread on his flapjacks every Sunday morning. With those peaches, she’d just tried to woo a man into a forgiving mood. A man more deeply imbedded in her family’s history than she could have ever fathomed.

  “This was your home?” Why did that idea have such difficulty penetrating her mind? Logic grasped the concept, but she struggled to make sense of its emotional ramifications.

  Logan nodded. “Yes.” He bobbed his chin toward the house. “I helped my father build the house you live in. The barn that stables your horses.” He swept his arm in a broad gesture. “I’ve explored every inch of this land. I know the best fishing holes. The best places to snare a rabbit. The best climbing trees.” Memories lit his eyes, fond boyhood memories, and for a moment his countenance lightened. But when he turned his face back to her, shadows clouded his eyes once more. “Do you remember the day I told you about my father? About why I hate gambling so much?”

  The sweet taste of peach juice soured in Evangeline’s mouth. Her stomach cramped as trepidation twisted her insides. Thickness clogged her throat and blocked the words trying to exit. She managed a shaky nod instead.

  Oh, yes. She remembered the heart-wrenching story of his father taking his own life. Leaving his wife and son destitute and alone. All because he hadn’t had the sense to cut his losses at the poker table. He’d raised the stakes higher than he could afford, and his family had paid the price.

  How could a father do such a thing? Risk his family’s livelihood on the turn of a card. It was irresponsible. Foolish. But even that paled in comparison to what followed. Evangeline ached for the man who’d been broken by the consequences he’d brought upon himself, even as she bristled with indignation at the selfishness of leaving his wife and child alone to clean up the mess he’d created.

  No wonder Logan so passionately sought to restore what had been lost. He’d been thrust into the role of provider while just a boy. A boy who mourned his father and no doubt wanted things to go back to the way they were.

  So much pressure. The burden of responsibility. She’d seen the weight of that mantle on Zach’s shoulders for years. He’d carried so much from such a young age. Providing for them the best he could, doing whatever it took to ensure their survival, and keeping whatever darkness he encountered along the way deep inside himself so it wouldn’t taint her or Seth.

  Logan and Zach shared a history that should never be forced on a child.

  Shared a history . . .

  Her heart plummeted to her stomach. Oh, merciful heavens. They shared a history.

  “I see you’re putting the pieces together,” Logan said, his voice tinged with regret.

  The peach fell from her suddenly numb fingers and landed in the dirt at her feet.

  Zach had won their home in a card game. She recalled the night he came home with that deed in his hand. He’d woken her up and showed her the paper. He’d been so happy, so proud. He’d promised she’d never have to sleep in a ratty hotel room or abandoned barn ever again. That they could make a place that would be safe for Seth. They would finally have a home.

  She’d been so excited, she’d not slept a single wink the rest of the night. A real home!

  Never once had she considered that their gain meant someone else’s loss. Neither did she understand why Zach’s enthusiasm soured a few days later. Why he put away his favorite deck of cards—the only thing he had from his father—and never touched them again. He never spoke of what happened. Never offered explanations. Just put his head down and worked to build the home they all wanted.

  The home that should have been Logan’s.

  She couldn’t meet Logan’s eyes. Could barely form the words that had to be said. “Zach is the one who beat your father in poker that night, isn’t he?”

  Logan gently took hold of her chin and turned her face until her eyes met his. “No, Eva. Zach didn’t win that night. He cheated.”

  She pulled away from Logan’s touch and violently wagged her head from side to side. “No! He would never—”

  “He did.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “He cheated. Stole my father’s property and stole my father’s life.”

  The animosity in his voice slapped her across the face. Tears pooled in her eyes.

  Logan was mistaken. He had to be. Zach would never have done something so dishonorable. He was a good man. He worked hard. Selflessly. Did whatever it took to take care of their family.

  Whatever it took.

  Dear Lord. It couldn’t be true. Could it?

  25

  Logan watched the color drain from Eva’s face. He clamped his jaw shut and kicked his boot heel against the boulder behind him hard enough to bang his ankle. He hated destroying her illusions, but he’d vowed there’d be no more secrets between them, and he aimed to see it through, no matter how distasteful the task.

  Too bad blackening Zacharias’s name would eventually lead to blackening his own. At least in her eyes.

  His pulse ratcheted up a level, and he swallowed despite the sudden dryness coating his tongue. He might as well spill the rest before she recovered from the shock enough to slap him for slandering her do-no-wrong brother and run back to the house.

  “My full name is Logan Fowler,” he said as he studied her reaction. “My father was Rufus Fowler, a name you might recognize from the land deed, if you’ve ever seen it.”

  A spark of recognition lit her eyes, and he knew she had.

  “I knew that name sounded familiar. I just couldn’t place it,” she mumbled, and Logan nodded, startling her into meeting his gaze. She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing, but her eyes didn’t dodge away. “I looked in your saddlebags when I was trapped in the cellar. I found the letter from the land office. Found your name.”

  He smiled. She was so honest. So pure of heart. He could see the guilt weighing on her over an indiscretion so small, he would have barely blinked at it. Somewhere in the last seven years, the gauge on his conscience had lost its sensitivity. Maybe if she stayed with him after all this was over, she could help him repair the damage.

  If she stayed.

  He brushed back a strand of hair the breeze had blown across her cheek. “I know.”

  She look down at her feet. “Are you angry?”

  He lifted her chin with a finger and waited for her to reveal her glorious, vivid, purely Eva eyes. “No. I’m not angry. I understand what drove you to do it.” He stroked her chin with the pad of his thumb. “I just hope you can understand what is driving me as well, and offer the same forgiveness.”

  Her eyebrows flatte
ned into downward arrows. “You came to hurt Zach, didn’t you? I remember what you said about seeking recompense from the man who took your father’s land. That’s why you invested in the property next to ours, isn’t it? You were scouting us out, looking for ways to hurt us in return for how we hurt you.”

  “No, Eva. I’d never hurt you.” He hurled his peach over the entire pond, anger and fear lending strength to his arm. He planted himself in front of her and cupped her face in both of his hands, ensuring she looked at him. “I don’t even want to hurt your brother. Not really. I just want a chance to win back what was stolen from us, to restore what my mother lost.”

  She pulled away from his hold, her eyes flashing blue and brown fire. “Win? As in a poker game? Zach would never agree to that. He hasn’t touched a deck of cards in years. Besides, the land isn’t the same as it was seven years ago. We’ve worked it, improved it, added a cash crop. You wouldn’t just be taking back what was lost, you’d be taking what we’ve built as well. Which would make you as much of a thief as you claim Zach to be.”

  She rose to her feet, her arms stiff at her sides. “It wasn’t Zach who forced your father to wager something he couldn’t afford to lose. He did that all on his own. Zach would never make such a wager, so you’d have to force his hand somehow.” Her eyes narrowed. “At gunpoint? By holding me hostage?”

  “Of course not!” Logan’s mind spun at her accusations. How could she think he would do such a thing?

  “You’ve been deluding yourself all these years, Logan. It’s not justice you seek.” She raised her hands to his chest and shoved. “It’s revenge.”

  He allowed her to push him back, but he wasn’t about to let her leave. He charged after her. “What your brother did was wrong, Eva. He cheated a man out of his home. Turned a family out on the streets. Justice demands he pay a price for that sin.”

  She spun around to face him. “And what of your father’s sin? Does justice demand that we pay for that as well? Because that’s what we’d be doing. It wasn’t Zach’s job to talk your father out of wagering his property. It was your father’s job never to put it on the table in the first place. It was your father’s job to provide a new life for you and your mother, but he chose to abandon you instead. And as much as I hate the pain his choice cost you, I can’t let you blame Zach for decisions your father made.”

  “Do you think I don’t know my old man was a fool?” Tension radiated through Logan’s neck and back. As if he wasn’t fully aware of his sire’s crimes. It was she who didn’t understand the depth of her brother’s treachery. Logan widened his stance and dug his heels into the earth. “My father had no business wagering our home. You’re right about that. But it wasn’t his wager that destroyed him. It was your brother’s cheating.”

  Eva crossed her arms and jutted out her chin. “Zach is not a cheat. He’s worked hard for every penny he’s ever earned.” Her eyes glared with challenge. “And from an even younger age than you.”

  Logan crossed his arms, mocking her stance as he raised a brow. “I’m sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but your brother’s not the hero you’d like to think him. He’s a survivor. A scrapper. Life dealt him a worthless hand, so he bluffed and manipulated and cheated his way through until the cards got better. Some might consider that heroic, but I can’t. Not when my widowed mother is slowly being torn apart by a grief he caused.”

  Something flickered in her eyes. Uncertainty? It was hard to tell, because as fast as it appeared, it vanished again beneath resurging flames of indignation. “Do you have proof?” she demanded. “Proof that he cheated?”

  “My father told me what happened—”

  “Oh, your father told you, did he?” She scoffed as if he were the naïve one. “And he would certainly have no reason to lie, to blame another for his own faults.” She slashed her hand through the air. “Of course he’d tell the son who adored him that the loss was not his fault, that the winner had cheated. I might not be an experienced gambler like you are, but I would wager my entire savings right now that players who lose big at the tables are quick to cry foul, to claim the person who bested them had cheated. How else are they to salvage their pride? You’ve probably been on the receiving end of such an accusation yourself.”

  Logan’s jaw tightened, but he was unable to deny her words. “That’s beside the point.”

  She slapped her arms against her sides. “It’s precisely the point.”

  Taking a moment to inhale before he said something he’d regret, Logan relaxed his stance, let go of his defensiveness, and just shared his heart with her.

  “My old man played cards every Saturday night. Usually for pots of less than a hundred dollars, but every once in a while, he’d find a group interested in deeper play.”

  Eva’s face remained set in stiff lines, but she didn’t interrupt him, which meant she was probably listening. He’d count that as a win for the moment.

  “He was good, Eva. Had a mind for numbers. Could keep track of all the cards in the deck and calculate the probabilities of what would turn up next. The only time he wagered his deed was when he was certain he held the winning hand.”

  “He’d done this before?” She sounded horrified, and frankly, he couldn’t blame her.

  His father had been reckless. He won more often than he lost, bringing home jewelry for Mama and fine leather boots for Logan, but there were also times when Mama had to sell her jewelry and Logan ran around barefoot. Uncertainty hung over their household like an ever-present storm cloud. They never knew if it would bring a gentle restorative rain or pounding hail that destroyed everything in its path. Logan would never subject his family to such a thing. As soon as he made things right with Hamilton, he’d put away the cards for good.

  “He held four kings that night. The only thing that would beat him was a stack of aces or a straight flush. He’d discarded an ace earlier, so he knew that possibility was gone, and he’d seen enough middle cards from each suit during play to negate the likelihood of a straight. Yet when your brother called his bet by offering up his gun, saddle, and horse, he miraculously turned over the three through seven of clubs. An impossible run, unless the deck had been stacked.”

  Like a jousting knight of old, Logan held tight to his lance, not giving an inch. He had to unseat Eva’s brother from the pedestal she’d placed him on. She wouldn’t thank him for it now, but if he was to have any chance of winning her heart in the end, she had to recognize that Hamilton’s armor was just as dented and tarnished as Logan’s.

  “Your brother dealt that hand, Eva,” he said, wielding the sharpest weapons in his arsenal. “Controlled the cards. Probably even fed my father the kings to induce a large bid. He manipulated play from the start so that he could dictate the outcome. Without a care for who it might hurt, your brother shredded my father with ruthless precision. All for a house and a piece of land.”

  “A house that probably saved Seth’s life.” She threw out the rejoinder like a seaman tossing a bucket of water overboard from a ship already half sunk. The boat was going down, but she wasn’t yet willing to admit defeat. Her legs trembled, and this time when she crossed her arms over her midsection, there was no anger in the motion, only a bid for comfort, as if her insides had suddenly gone cold.

  Logan’s heart twisted, and he stepped forward, wanting to hold her, to ease her pain somehow, even though he’d been the one to cause it.

  She stumbled backward away from him, something wild entering her eyes. “Have I been a means to an end all this time? A tool for you to use against Zach? To manipulate him into a corner as some way to even the score?”

  “No, Eva.” He advanced and took her arms in his hands. He couldn’t let her think that, not even for a moment. But he couldn’t lie to her, either, not if he wanted a solid foundation to build a future upon. “Not all this time.”

  “But some of the time?” Eyes that had started to soften in relief hardened again with suspicion.

  Logan sighed. “I’m tired
of secrets between us, Eva. I want honesty, even when the truth is less than palatable. Don’t you want that, too?”

  She pressed her lips together, stared at him for a long, searching moment, then gave a shaky nod.

  “When I first met you,” Logan said as he rubbed her arms, “logic dictated that I keep you at a distance. Lower my risk of exposure.” A smile curved his lips as he remembered their first meeting. “But you were so different from what I expected. Different from any woman I’d ever met. Feisty. Cheerful. And with a generosity of spirit that stirred a craving inside me. A craving for sunshine.

  “So I started rationalizing. Telling myself that being friendly with you would give me an advantage. That I could mine you for information and later use it against your brother.” His hands stilled as he silently pleaded with her to hear the truth in his words. “The more time I spent with you, the less I thought about my plans for justice. I started making new plans centered on you. On a future free of plots and schemes. A future where we shared that cabin I’ve been building.” He reached for her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I love you, Eva.”

  Her eyes misted, the brown one pooling a little more deeply than the blue. “I’ve had the same dreams,” she admitted, and his heart tripped. “But I won’t abandon my family. Not even for you.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not asking you to.”

  “Of course you are.” There was no accusation in her words, only sadness. “You want me to choose you over Zach. To stand by your side and watch you destroy him.” A tear fell from that brown eye, moistening the pad of Logan’s thumb. “Don’t you see that by hurting him, you’re hurting me?”

  What could he say to that? She was right, and he could do nothing except push through and hope that with time she’d forgive him.

  “Please,” she entreated. “Just let this quest of yours go.” Her chin wobbled as she tilted her head back to meet his gaze more completely. “For me?”

  He wanted to. So badly that he physically ached. This was the woman he loved begging him. His knees nearly gave way from the force of his desire to please her.