Eva stepped aside as Seth collected the injured woman from atop the horse. When he settled her into his arms to carry her to the house, she made a grab for Eva’s hand, and all teasing vanished from Eva’s face. She cast a quick glance at Logan, begging him to understand.
He nodded. “I can find my way around,” he assured her. “I’ll tend to Shamgar, you tend to her.”
Her eyes warmed with gratitude, and his chest warmed with something else altogether. Something dangerous. Something that could derail his plans.
Logan clicked to Shamgar and set off for the barn. Time to remember why he was here.
Seth set the young woman on her feet once they reached Evangeline’s room. “I’ll bring in the tub,” he said, “and some extra blankets. The poor gal is shivering something fierce.”
Evangeline met her brother’s concerned gaze. “Thank you.”
Once he left, she extricated her hand from the woman’s grip and bustled over to the wardrobe to retrieve two clean skirts and shirtwaists. After laying them on the bed, she turned to face the woman, who hadn’t moved. Pointing to first one skirt and then the other, she asked, “Would you like the brown or the red?”
The girl pointed to herself, her eyebrows arching upward.
“Yes.” Evangeline touched her arm lightly, careful not to make any sudden moves. Then she looked the girl up and down and pretended to give the inane fashion decision serious contemplation. “The red, I think. No more blacks and grays for you.” She shivered, recalling the charcoal blanket dragging her down. Then a thought occurred. “Oh, unless you’re in mourning.” She eyed the soggy black dress plastered to the woman’s body. “I probably have something darker if—”
The woman shook her head and pointed to the red skirt.
Evangeline grinned. “Red it is.” She set the gored skirt off to one side and laid the matching calico shirtwaist on top of it. Sprigs of dark red flowers dotted the pleated tan bodice and puffed sleeves. “This will look lovely on you. All that dark hair of yours. I think I have a red ribbon somewhere, too.” She crossed to her dresser and fetched dry underclothes for both of them from the drawer, then pulled a ribbon from the basket that sat on top.
“I’ve got the tub,” Seth called from the doorway, the large copper bathing tub stretching his arms wide.
“Wonderful.” Evangeline tossed the underthings onto the bed and stepped past her guest to help her brother situate the tub along the interior wall in its usual place. She pulled two blankets out of the basin along with the toweling Seth had added and set them on the chair she kept by her writing desk.
Ten minutes later, Zach had filled the bath with water from the kitchen pump along with a pail from the stove’s reservoir and two steaming kettles. Evangeline plunged her arm in to test the temperature. Her skin was chilled enough that the sudden warmth was a tad uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Just what a shivering female needed to regain her equilibrium.
With the men gone and the door closed, Evangeline reached for her guest and clasped her hands. “The water’s warm. I’ll help you out of this sodden dress and let you soak for a while. Then I can wash your hair and help you comb out the tangles. Would you like that?”
The girl’s eyes misted, but she nodded, and Evangeline smiled. Heaven knew this poor dear had been through enough hardship for one day. A little pampering was definitely in order.
As Evangeline helped peel away the black dress and aided her guest out of her frayed petticoat and threadbare chemise, she fought to hide her rising anger. Bruises. All over the girl’s body. Purple marks in the shape of fingers along her upper arm. Shadowy contusions on her belly. Thin red marks on her back as if she’d been struck by a switch or a cane.
No wonder she hadn’t struggled when that beast had carted her to the water’s edge. She’d been beaten into submission. Probably into unconsciousness. Evangeline would have to take care with washing her hair. The girl had probably been knocked on the head before being rolled into that awful blanket.
Evangeline sniffed quietly and blinked away the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. The girl didn’t need pity right now. She needed hope. So Evangeline took her by the elbow, gave her a nod that promised a lending of strength until the girl could recover her own, and helped her into the bath.
Logan kicked the toe of his boot against the fence post and leaned his forearms along the top rail. What was he doing? For the first time in years, he was back on his father’s property, the barn and the house both at his disposal. The girl they’d pulled from the river made a perfect distraction. He should be searching for something he could use against Hamilton, some type of leverage to force him to the gaming table.
Instead, Logan was leaning over the rail of a pigpen, watching a boar named Hezekiah wallow in a slimy mud puddle and worrying about the welfare of a woman he didn’t even know. Not to mention obsessing over the woman he did know.
He hadn’t been able to stomach the barn for more than a few minutes. He’d loosened Shamgar’s girth, rubbed him down a bit, and walked him over to the trough by the well so he could drink his fill. Then Logan had turned his back on the mausoleum that masqueraded as a harmless shelter for animals and trudged in the opposite direction.
He’d needed to escape the darkness of his memories, to find relief from the vise tightening around his chest, the growing pressure making it hard to breathe. When he’d spotted the pig, he’d immediately crossed the yard to the pen and leaned over the fence rail. Not because porcine rapport was particularly comforting in and of itself, but the bristle-haired creature snorting in the corner brought a much fairer companion to mind, one who could siphon sunlight through the darkest cloud. And if ever he’d needed a dose of sunlight, it was now.
“I understand you and Hezzy have a history.”
Logan straightened and twisted his neck to cock a wry grin at Seth. He supposed he should be thankful the younger Hamilton brother had been the one assigned to quiz-the-suitor duty. After his brief stint in the barn, Logan didn’t think he was up for a confrontation with Zacharias.
“Well, I did try to shoot him when we first met,” Logan said, tipping his chin toward Eva’s pet, “but your sister insisted I spare him.” He leaned his weight on the fence after Seth rested his back against the wooden slats. “I thought maybe if I hung out with him, he’d grow on me.”
“Hasn’t worked for me yet.” Seth crossed his arms over his chest, his pale blue eyes scanning Logan’s face. “But the strategy is sound enough.”
Logan raised a brow. “Trying it on me?”
“Yep.”
Logan chuckled at the honesty. “Am I growing on you yet?”
Seth shrugged. “Too soon to tell. But be warned . . .” He straightened away from the fence, his arms still crossed and his eyes anything but teasing. “We’ve been dealing with Evie’s penchant for bringing charity cases home for years. We know how to protect her.” He nodded toward the boar who was giving his back a good scratch against a post. “Pulled Hezzy’s cutters out before they grew long enough to inflict any damage.” Seth dipped his chin, his gaze lowering to Logan’s waistband before lifting back to his eyes.
Logan tapped the brim of his hat in acknowledgment of the brotherly threat. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.”
They fell silent. Seth turned and braced a boot on the bottom rail of the fence as they both stared at the pig neither of them liked. ’Course, they didn’t much care for each other at the moment, either.
“So how’s the girl?” Logan said, finally breaking the silence.
“Under Evie’s wing.” Seth lifted his face toward the sun, as if he, too, thought of Eva as a bright spot in a dark world. “Best place for her right now.”
“Agreed. Your sister can raise a person’s spirits better than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Spoken like someone who’s spent significant time in her company.” Seth shifted to face Logan, his bland expression doing nothing to disguise his pointed intere
st.
Logan inwardly scolded himself for the misplay. The compliment to Eva had risen unbidden and slid off his tongue without thought. He’d played a card that should have been kept hidden in his hand. She had him off his game.
Seth eyed him with raised brows. “Exactly how much time have the two of you spent together, neighbor?”
14
Logan did his best to downplay his interactions with Eva. “We’ve met a few times out and about. She was kind enough to help me decide on the best place to build my cabin.”
Seth looked far from appeased. “She told us you weren’t planning on staying. That you’d only bought the property as an investment.”
“That’s true.” Logan didn’t blink as he met Seth’s stare, doing his best to project the aura of a man who had nothing to hide. “But your sister convinced me that I might have more interest from buyers if the property was improved upon.” He shrugged. “I don’t have any compelling appointments elsewhere, so I opted to follow her suggestion. I’ve got an area cleared and plan to start framing out the walls this week.”
“Does your hanging around have anything to do with your intentions toward Evie? You caused quite a stir after church this morning, you know. If you plan to entertain yourself with her company while you’re working on your land, then head on to greener pastures once you find a buyer, I’d advise against it. Evie doesn’t deserve to have her emotions trifled with, especially in full view of the town. My brother and I would take exception to such treatment.”
“As you should.” Logan pushed away from the fence, his jaw tightening. “Look, I know you want to protect your sister, and I respect that. But she and I have only known each other for a week or so. It’s too early for me to declare any specific intentions. What I can assure you is that I hold Evangeline in the highest regard. She’s a rare woman. Kindhearted. Funny. Yet not afraid to chew you up one side and down the other if needed.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked toward the house. “I’m drawn to her.”
The gentle breeze that had been swirling around them suddenly kicked up, gusting hard enough to flap Logan’s damp trouser legs. Yard dust pelted his face and stung his eyes. He turned his back to the gust only to find Seth’s eyes widening in alarm. Wracking coughs beset Eva’s brother out of the blue, harsh rasps that refused to let up. He yanked the top of his shirt over his mouth and nose and spun toward the house. He only made it halfway to the porch before he bent double and stumbled to a halt. One hand held the shirt in place while the other pressed against his chest as he gasped for breath. He sounded like he was dying.
Logan rushed to Seth’s side as pieces of what Eva had told him about her brother’s lung condition flooded his brain. “Here, let me help you.” He grabbed Seth’s left arm and dragged him toward the house. They had to get out of this wind.
Seth didn’t fight him, but he didn’t do much to help, either. Finally Logan stopped, hoisted Seth’s left arm across his shoulders, and grabbed him around the waist. “Hamilton!” he yelled as he struggled to keep Seth upright. “Get out here!”
Zacharias threw open the door and took one scowling look at Logan before his eyebrows shot upward. He sprinted down the porch steps. In a heartbeat, he reached their side and had Seth’s other arm around his neck. Together, they dragged Seth up to the porch and into the kitchen. Hamilton kicked the door closed behind them, then helped Logan sit Seth in a chair near the stove.
“Slow and steady, Seth. Remember the exercises.” Hamilton spoke in a remarkably calm tone, given the panic raging through Logan’s veins. “Slow and steady.” Yet Hamilton was anything but calm. He turned to Logan, worry lines etched into his forehead. “Grab a towel and dampen it. Then pour some coffee.”
After issuing that brusque order, he turned back to his brother, stripped the coat from Seth’s back, and flung it over to the corner by the front door. Then he yanked down Seth’s suspenders and started on his shirt.
Logan spotted a dish towel by the dry sink and dashed over to collect it, the sound of Seth’s wheezing urging him forward. He worked the pump handle until a trickle of water poured over the cloth. He squeezed out the excess and ran it back to the table.
“Here,” he said as he dropped the cloth next to where Seth sat.
Hamilton pushed the dishes that had been set out for lunch toward the middle of the table and picked up the cloth. He wiped it over his brother’s face in a long, smooth stroke. Cleaning away the dust? Must have been, for he cleaned Seth’s neck and hands as well after he tossed the shirt to the same corner as the coat, leaving his brother in nothing but his trousers, undershirt, and drooping suspenders.
“Coffee!” Hamilton snapped, and Logan jolted back into action.
He opened cupboard doors until he found a mug, then snagged the coffeepot from the back burner of the stove. A stove he recognized from when his mother had stood in front of it. Pushing aside the memories, he concentrated on pouring the dark brown liquid into the cup and carrying it over to the table. Just as he set it down, the sound of a door opening somewhere close by brought his head around.
“Here’s what’s left of the second kettle,” Eva said, rushing into the kitchen with a porcelain washbasin in hand. She brushed past Logan without a glance and set the steamy bowl in front of Seth. “I heard the commotion.”
Hamilton gently bent his brother’s face over the basin. He didn’t urge him to inhale, interestingly enough, just told him to feel the warmth of the steam. To close his eyes and relax.
He was good. Diffusing the panic instead of adding to it. His deep voice murmured a soft, steady cadence, like a drummer urging a soldier to march in step with his timing.
Seth’s hand trembled as he reached for the coffee. Eva helped him grasp the cup and bring it to his lips. He might not have been able to draw a full breath, but he could chug coffee as if his life depended on it. Although, from what Eva had told him, it very well might.
A movement in the doorway caught Logan’s peripheral vision. He turned and spotted the woman they’d pulled from the river. She was clean, her dark hair combed and braided, the ends tied with a red ribbon that matched the red skirt she wore. Her frightened gaze darted from one person to the next until Logan intercepted it. Then she latched on to his face, her light green eyes begging for an explanation.
He stepped closer to her and spoke in a low voice. “He has asthma.” Then he recalled her probable mental deficiency and thumped a hand onto his chest to try to help her understand. “He has weak lungs. The dust hurt him.”
The girl darted her attention to the threesome huddled at the table, then back to Logan, demanding more details.
Maybe she wasn’t as deficient as he’d thought. She certainly knew how to communicate with her face. Even a non-poker player could have interpreted that signal.
“He’ll be all right,” Logan assured her, hoping he wasn’t lying. Hamilton and Eva seemed well-practiced with their treatment regimen, so surely that meant Seth had survived attacks like this before. “He just needs to calm his lungs down, so they can work properly.”
As if compelled to help somehow, the woman sidestepped Logan and strode for the stove. She found the towel he had used to protect his hand from the hot coffeepot and put it to use herself, refilling Seth’s mug. Then she sat in the chair directly across from him, folded her hands, bowed her head, and started praying. At least that was what Logan assumed she was doing. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was moving, but she made no sound.
Logan followed her to the table, braced his hands on one of the chair backs, and bowed his own head. It seemed like the right thing to do, though he felt a little awkward praying with someone when he couldn’t hear the words. He figured he could guess the sentiment, though.
Help his lungs work, Lord.
Not the most eloquent of prayers, but he figured it would get the job done. What else needed to be said? Logan opened his eyes. Apparently the river gal could come up with a few more requests. Her lips were still running a mi
le a minute. Logan turned back toward the Hamiltons, his heart clutching at the distress lining Eva’s face. An amendment to his petition rose from his rusty spirit.
Eva’s lost enough in her life. She doesn’t need to lose another brother. Please spare him.
Ironic, really, that he should be praying on behalf of a Hamilton while standing in the very kitchen they had stolen from him. Yet he didn’t regret it. How could he, when Eva glanced over at him with gratitude shining in her eyes? Besides, he didn’t wish true hardship on these people. Just justice for his father and restitution for his mother.
Seth drank the second cup of coffee. When he plunked the cup down on the table, the girl sitting across from him opened her eyes. They stared at each other, their eyes locked as if nothing else existed in the room. Seth’s wheezing lessened, and his bent spine slowly straightened.
Whether it was the coffee, the prayers, or the calming effect of a mysterious young woman sitting across the table, Seth’s breathing gradually eased. As did the tension clawing at everyone in the room.
All five of them sat in the silence for a handful of minutes, listening to Seth’s slow, even breaths as if they were the finely tuned notes of some fancy orchestra.
“Well,” Eva said, finally breaking the silence, her smile brave yet wobbling slightly, “I’ll see to getting dinner on the table.”
Seth’s face reddened as he pushed away from the table. “I’ll, uh, get a fresh shirt.” He glanced over at the girl, who rose from her chair as well. “Sorry about all the excitement. I hope the pot roast didn’t dry out.”
“Even if it did, it’ll still be better than the canned beans and jerky I thought I’d be eating today.” Logan chuckled, earning a small grin from Seth as he turned and stepped away from the table.
“Zach,” Eva called, “why don’t you and Logan empty the bathing tub while we womenfolk put the finishing touches on dinner?”
Logan’s gaze slammed into Hamilton’s. The other man looked as loath to agree as Logan felt.
More Than Meets the Eye Page 13