“I’m glad.” Whatever he’d suffered, she wanted nothing more than to be the balm that soothed his wounds and helped him heal.
Evangeline made a decision. No, a vow. She’d pray for this man with no last name. This man who carried heavy secrets and mysterious intent. She’d pray every night as she fell asleep and every morning when she awoke. She’d pray for healing of old wounds, for an abundance of new blessings, and for godly direction to guide his steps.
As Logan jumped nimbly to his feet and held out his hand to assist her in rising, she realized she’d better add another prayer to her list. One that involved an extra helping of discernment for her own heart. She was walking a tightrope with this one, and she very much feared there would not be a net to catch her if she fell.
8
Things were getting out of hand.
Logan hung back and watched Evangeline twirl like an autumn leaf caught in a whirlwind over the patch of ground he’d spent the last week clearing. His chest tightened as joy bloomed on her face.
“It’s perfect!” She stopped spinning and turned the full force of her smile on him. “Oh, Logan. It’s beautiful. A view of the river to the north, woods to the south and west. The creek out back for water until a well can be dug. You couldn’t have picked a better spot.”
And that was exactly why things were so out of hand. He’d spent two days riding back and forth across his acreage, searching for the location she would find most pleasing. Then he’d spent the last five days clearing brush, pulling stumps, and leveling the ground so it would support a cabin. Not because he cared about improving his land in order to make it a more attractive lure for Zacharias, but because he’d wanted this: Her reaction. Her pleasure in his efforts. Her pride in his accomplishment.
He’d done it simply to make her happy.
Well, and to have an excuse to see her for an extended period of time instead of the few stolen moments he managed to wrangle for himself when she took Hezekiah for his afternoon jaunt. Apparently her brothers weren’t all that keen on her spending time alone with the new male neighbor—shocking!—and she felt the need to limit her visits with him to no more than a quarter hour to avoid arousing her siblings’ suspicions.
Logan hadn’t argued, but he’d plotted a way to carve out a healthier dose of time to spend with her. He told himself it was all part of his plan to cultivate a relationship so she’d open up to him and share information he could use against her brother. Yet watching her just now, he wasn’t calculating his next move or revising strategies. He was simply enjoying the show.
“You should build a porch,” she declared as she traipsed up to the edge of the cleared area and spread her arms wide. “Right here.” Her eyes brimmed with excitement. “Just think how lovely it would be to sit on the porch in the evening and watch the sun go down.” She wrapped her arms around her middle as she lifted her face to look at the sky. “A cup of tea in your hand. Perhaps a dog sitting beside you, his head in your lap.”
Why’d she have to go and paint a picture? Especially with that dreamy voice of hers, as if she could see into the future. He didn’t have a dog. And tea? He rolled his eyes. A man drank coffee. Tea was a woman’s drink.
At the thought of women, his mental picture shifted. The porch stretched in his mind, widening to accommodate a second chair. No, a swing. One long enough for two. A man and a woman. And there weren’t no dog’s head in his lap. Instead, there was a woman’s head on his shoulder, his arm around her back, his fingers caressing her side as they watched the red and orange sky slowly fade to gray. A woman with fire in her hair and love in her eyes.
“Logan?”
He startled, and the image vanished. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “Did you say something?”
A peculiar look crossed her face, but then her smile resurfaced to brighten her features. “I asked if you liked the idea of a porch for your cabin.”
“It’s not my cabin, Eva. Remember?” His house was currently occupied. By Hamiltons. “This property’s just an investment.”
He expected her to argue or tease or shrug off his gloomy pronouncement as she so often did and continue laying claim to the rest of the floorplan, outlining where the kitchen should be, along with the parlor and bedrooms. Instead she simply stood at the edge of his imaginary porch and stared at him.
“Did you just call me Eva?”
Logan winced. “Don’t like it, huh?”
“It’s not that. I’ve just . . . never been called by that name.” She lifted her chin as if coming to a decision. “I like it. Much more sophisticated than Evie.”
“That what your brothers call you?” He closed the distance between them. If he could get her talking about her brothers, they might make real progress today. And all that brush-clearing and land-leveling would be worth the sore back and blisters.
She smiled with true fondness. “Yes. Unless they’re vexed with me.” She scrunched up her face to demonstrate, but she looked about as angry as a pouting kitten. “Then they call me, ‘E-van-gel-ine.’”
He chuckled. She might not be able to pull off the vexed face, but she nailed the annoyed brother voice.
She laughed along with him as she took the arm he offered and allowed him to lead her toward the creek. “In truth, I wouldn’t know how to react if they started calling me something other than Evie. That’s been their name for me since childhood.” She peeked shyly over at him. “But you can call me Eva.”
His pulse did an idiotic little dance at the idea of sharing a special intimacy with her, but before he could lecture himself out of the reaction, his companion did a little dance of her own. She flounced ahead a couple paces, her hand on his arm barely tethering her as she spun back around to beam a smile at him.
“Maybe I can call you Gan. Or Lo.”
He pulled an aghast face and was rewarded with an infectious giggle.
“Oh, I know!” she exclaimed, planting her feet and bringing them both to a halt. “Log. Very strong and manly, don’t you think?”
He rolled his eyes. “Get a few of us together, chink us, and you’d have yourself a cabin.”
She laughed deep and loud at his quip until she was forced to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. The blue one. The vibrant, glistening blue one that seemed to project joy to the same extent her brown one projected warmth. Together they were an addicting combination. One he found himself craving more and more of late.
“Perhaps we ought to stick with Logan.” He made that dour pronouncement, then resumed their trek toward the creek, staring at the ground in front of them rather than the spritely wood nymph by his side.
“I suppose that would be best,” she agreed, residual laughter coloring her voice. “Though it’s rather unsporting of you to have a name that fails to lend itself to shortening when mine has so many options. Zacharias has Zach. Hezekiah has Hezzy. Although, Seth is just Seth, so I suppose we do have precedent.”
A gentle silence fell between them as the trees thickened and the trickle of creek water drew them closer to their destination. Logan had searched out the ideal conversation spot earlier this morning. Secluded, perhaps even a touch romantic. A place to put a woman at ease and lower her intellectual guard. This bend in the creek had everything he’d required. A picturesque view where the water bottlenecked between two stones, then tripped over a ledge to form a miniature falls. Oak and pecan trees for shade. A fallen limb that he’d dragged close to the water’s edge to provide a bench.
When they rounded the bend, Eva’s indrawn breath sent satisfaction spiraling through him as they slowed to a halt. “I hoped you’d like it.”
“It’s beautiful.” She turned her radiant face toward him, and his chest constricted with pleasure at her obvious appreciation of his gift. “We don’t have anything half as lovely on our land. There’s a little pond that’s quite nice,” she said as she twisted back toward the creek bed, “but nothing like this. I could sit here for hours.”
“Well, we might not have hours,” Logan said as he gestured toward the large limb to their left, “but I can offer you a hand-selected seat and slightly questionable company if you care to take a small respite before returning home.”
“Oh, dear. I’m not sure about that slightly questionable company.” Her eyes danced as she teased him. “I do have my reputation to consider.”
Logan played along. Just to flatter her, of course. All part of the seduction process. Not because it actually made his heart feel lighter when they bantered.
“I misspoke. I meant to say questioning company.” He leaned close and gave her his best rogue’s smile. Though he hadn’t had much opportunity to practice it when all his training had been devoted to erasing as much expression from his face as possible to succeed at the poker tables. Nevertheless, the blush tinting her cheeks proved he wasn’t quite as inept as he’d feared. “I plan to question you mercilessly, my lady.”
“Question me? For what purpose, sir?” The smile didn’t slip from her face, but a hint of caution clouded her gaze.
“So that I might get to know you better, of course.” He waggled his brows at her. “You are the most intriguing neighbor I’ve ever met.”
Eva’s glance darted toward the water before shyly returning to his face. “I doubt that.”
“It’s true.” And it was. She fascinated him. He drew close and lowered his voice to a raspy whisper. “At my last residence, a drugstore clerk with thinning hair and a nose resembling a hawk’s beak lived to my left and harped at my mother for allowing her flowers to wander into his yard. Apparently he suffered from sneezing attacks during the growing season.”
Eva raised a suspicious brow, but he nodded and held up his right hand to attest to his veracity. Mr. Pickwick had been a decidedly unpleasant, yet very real neighbor. As was Mrs. Abernathy. “On my right lived a sixty-year-old widow who shouted every word she spoke as if unaware that she was the deaf one and not the rest of us.”
Eva chuckled softly, and the caution in her eyes faded.
Logan maneuvered her toward the improvised bench. “So you see, you far outshine any of my previous neighbors.”
“Well, in that case, how can I refuse?” She adjusted her dark green skirt, the same one she’d worn the first day they’d met, and took a seat. His tree-limb bench sat quite a bit lower to the ground than one of the normal variety, so he cupped her elbow and counterbalanced her descent. She smiled her thanks and waited for him join her.
“So tell me more about your family,” he prodded. “Despite the fact that you’ve returned unharmed from each of our visits, I’m rather surprised neither of your brothers has come out to threaten me about staying away from their sister.”
“Zach thought about it.” She grinned. “But after our first meeting and the welcome goodies I delivered, I’ve been pretty closed-lipped about our interactions, so he probably doesn’t suspect there’s a need.” She turned her attention to the creek and circled her arms around her knees. “He’s used to men keeping their distance from me. And me from them.”
If Arnold Dunn from the Lucky Lady was an accurate sample of the reactions of most local men to Miss Evangeline Hamilton, their lack of interest proved Pecan Gap was a town filled with idiots.
“What about Seth?” Logan asked, wanting to steer the conversation back toward her brothers. If he thought too long about the hurt feelings the beautiful woman next to him was trying so hard to hide, he was liable to get riled, and that wouldn’t aid him in wooing information from her. “Is he not the protective type?”
“He’s more the scolding type.” One would expect a beleaguered sigh after a statement like that, but Eva’s voice rang with fondness. “After we were orphaned at such a young age, Zach and Seth took over my raising. Zach was the oldest, so he carried the burden of providing for us. He’d be gone for long hours, scrounging up any odd job he could find in order to bring home enough food to fill our bellies for the night. A heavy responsibility for one so young.”
Logan’s jaw clenched. It was hard to hear her glowing account of her brother’s deeds. Maybe they had gone through hard times, but that didn’t excuse what Hamilton had done to Logan’s family once he’d grown. If he’d had enough money to play in a high-stakes game, he’d had enough to provide for his siblings without stealing another man’s livelihood.
Eva fell silent for a moment, gazing at the creek. “He might have looked like a man with his height and beard scruff, but he was only thirteen when he made the choice to keep our little family together instead of letting the Children’s Aid Society split us up.”
The corners of her mouth tightened slightly, and a pair of tiny lines crept across her brow. When she continued, her voice held a fierceness that hadn’t been there before. “He didn’t have to do that. Keep us together.” She flashed a glance at Logan before turning away again. The connection only lasted for a heartbeat, but she seared him with her fervor. “He could have taken a position with a family and worked for a field hand’s wages. He could have had a home. Security. But he made a vow to keep us together, and he did.” Her voice softened. “Sometimes I worry about what he had to do to keep us fed, how he might have been mistreated or abused. But he never complained. He just did what had to be done. Kept us together and kept us alive.”
Logan knew exactly what Hamilton had done to keep them together. He’d become a con man and a thief.
An uncomfortable stirring tugged on Logan’s conscience. What had he become to restore what rightfully belonged to his family? Many considered gamblers no better than thieves. Hadn’t he modeled his retribution after the very man who’d done the damage in the first place?
He ground his molars. It wasn’t the same. He wasn’t the same. He never cheated. Never took from men who couldn’t afford to lose what they placed in the pot. Well, at least none that he’d known of. Another ache poked at his chest. He might be able to read faces, but he couldn’t read minds. It wasn’t his fault if players wagered more than they could afford to lose.
Something heavy sank into the base of Logan’s gut. Zacharias Hamilton had probably justified his gain of the Fowler land with the same argument.
He didn’t want to see himself in his enemy. Didn’t want to picture the coldhearted man who’d stolen his father’s life as a hardscrabble youth doing anything he could to provide for his family. He’d wanted insight into his nemesis, not sympathy.
“Sounds like your brother is a good man.” Logan forced the words out even though they threatened to choke him. He needed to win Eva’s trust, after all.
“He is,” she said with unwavering conviction. Poor deluded woman.
“And Seth?” Logan shifted the topic, afraid that if he pressed too much for information on Zacharias, she might suspect his interest in her family stemmed from something other than his interest in her.
Eva leaned back a little. “Seth has weak lungs. Asthma, the doctors call it. Which means that when we were kids, he got stuck tending me while Zach hunted for work.” She laughed softly. “Poor fella. Just what every young boy wants—to be saddled with a whiny little sister.”
Logan scoffed. “I can’t believe you were ever whiny.”
The smile he’d been missing blossomed anew across her face. “Oh, I had my moments. I could be a downright terror when I set my mind to it.”
“That I can believe.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “I remember the wallop you pack when you get your dander up.”
“Well, in all fairness, you started it by tackling me.” She nudged his shoulder with hers, her eyes twinkling with humor.
Who knew making a gal smile could leave a man feeling so accomplished?
“Seth is my best friend,” Eva said, her eyes growing more serious. “He’s the smartest person I know. Reads all the time. Works miracles with numbers. Zach might have been the provider, but Seth was the one who ensured we survived on what Zach brought home.”
How wrong he’d been to think Eva’s cheerful nature sprang from an easy lif
e. This girl had suffered. Perhaps even more than he had. Lost her parents. Lived in poverty. Yet the darkness of hardship hadn’t tarnished her soul. It still shone with a brilliance that stole his breath.
“It took years for us to learn how to control Seth’s condition. Every time Zach managed to scrape together a few extra coins, he dragged Seth to another doctor. He tried burning ozone papers, smoking asthma cigarettes, and about every restorative potion the drugstores offered. Nothing helped. So Zach declared them all quackery and had Seth start keeping a written record of his daily activities—what he ate, where he went, what he did—noting when he had a flare up and when he didn’t. Eventually patterns emerged. It was brilliant really. Very scientific. It took years, and in truth Seth still makes notes every day, but we eventually discovered that the presence of dust, smoke, and cats increases the likelihood of attacks. Drinking coffee, mild exercise, and eating fish seems to prevent them.”
Logan fought a scowl. Again with Hamilton being the champion. The defender of sickly children and lost little girls. It wasn’t right for the villain in Logan’s story to be the hero in hers. Hamilton didn’t deserve her loyalty, her praise. He was a thief. A killer.
Eva shrugged, oblivious to Logan’s thoughts, his poker training paying steep dividends at the moment. “I can’t see how what you eat affects your lungs,” she said, “but I can’t argue with it. Seth fishes every day and rarely has an attack anymore unless he overexerts himself outside. We have a system, though. He works the garden first thing in the morning when the wind tends to blow less, and I take over when he feels his lungs tighten. He spends most of the day in the house where he can control his environment, then ventures down to the river for a short while every afternoon to catch his supper.”
Finally. Something Logan could use. He filed away the information. It was always handy to know where people were and when. Made snooping around without getting caught that much easier.
“I owe my life to my brothers,” Eva declared, twisting slowly until her gaze jutted squarely up against Logan’s. “Zach especially. He sacrificed his future to ensure mine. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”