“I can handle it,” Hamilton grumbled. “Logan here’s a guest. He should . . . take a load off in the parlor or something.”
Logan frowned. He wasn’t about to be painted as some kind of shirker in front of Eva. “I’m not really the parlor-sitting type,” he said, his jaw clenching in preparation for an argument. “Might as well put me to work while I’m here.”
Hamilton’s eyes narrowed. “I said I can handle it.”
Logan narrowed his right back. “I said I’d be glad to help.”
Hamilton advanced a step. Logan followed suit.
Until a dish towel flew into his face, jerking his head backward as he made a clumsy grab for the fluttering fabric. “What—?” He glanced toward the projectile’s source.
Eva stood at the stove, one hand on her hip, her eyes—both the brown and the blue—rolling in exasperation. She jabbed a thumb toward the interior doorway. “First room on the left, Logan. See if you two can manage to dispose of the tub without sloshing water all over the place. Might be a tall order with your egos constantly dueling, but I have faith in you.” She sweetened the scolding with a smile that promised favor to the knight who fulfilled her quest, and suddenly, obtaining her pleasure outweighed maintaining his pride.
Logan lobbed the towel back to her and grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
He eyed Hamilton warily as he strode over to the hooks on the far wall of the kitchen and hung up the hat he’d been too flustered to remove during the chaos of Seth’s attack.
Proving once again that he was soft where his sister was concerned, Hamilton let out a beleaguered sigh as he scooped up the porcelain washbasin Eva had brought out and marched toward her room. “Well, come on, then,” he groused, even though Logan was already on his heels.
But when they reached Eva’s doorway, Logan hesitated, memories assailing him with unexpected force.
His room. She was using his old room.
The furniture was different. His bed and small bureau had been packed up with the rest of their belongings when he and his mother left, but the walls stood in the same place, the window faced the same direction, and the floorboard. . . . Logan took a single step into the room and purposely pressed the toe of his boot against the third wooden plank. Yep. It still creaked. He’d always been careful to avoid that board when he’d snuck to the kitchen for a late night snack.
“I thought you said you wanted to help.” Hamilton’s aggravated tone snapped Logan’s attention back to the present. Hamilton dumped the leftover water from the basin into the half-filled tub, then dropped it onto the nearby washstand.
Logan gave a sharp nod. “I did.”
“Well, quit gawkin’ at my sister’s things and pick up your end of the tub.”
“Got it.” Logan bent and gripped the handle with his right hand.
He hadn’t really been paying much attention to Eva’s things, but now that Hamilton mentioned it, he couldn’t help noticing everything from the wrinkled coverlet on the bed to the open wardrobe with its colorful assortment of feminine garb to the dresser top with its brushes and ribbons and hairpins. She’d made it her own.
For the first time, the thought of taking it away from her seemed wrong.
“Whenever you’re ready, Your Majesty.” Hamilton glared up at Logan from his hunkered position gripping the tub’s other handle.
Logan returned the glare as he heaved upward and started backing out through the doorway behind him.
Taking away Eva’s home might feel wrong, but taking it away from Zacharias Hamilton still felt incredibly right.
15
Evangeline smiled as she handed the last of the washed dishes to her female companion to dry. She really needed to figure out the young woman’s name. She’d intended to quiz her in private while she combed the tangles from her hair after the bath, but the girl just stared at her lap while Evangeline worked out the knots, making no response to any of Evangeline’s queries. Then Seth’s asthma attack hit, and priorities shifted.
The girl wasn’t a stranger to hard work. In fact, she’d jumped up to help before Evangeline could do more than tie her apron strings. She knew her way around a stove, too. The pan gravy she’d made had saved the pot roast and corn bread from being far too dry. The roast had overcooked after the broth evaporated, and the corn bread had sat too long in the warming oven. Not that anyone complained. Seth breathing normally again was worth tough beef and overbrowned potatoes any day.
That attack had been a bad one. The first one he’d had in months, and the most severe in over a year. Usually Seth took every possible precaution to avoid anything that could seize his lungs, but he must have been distracted by their extra guests. Thank heavens Logan had been around to yell for Zach and help Seth into the house.
Of course, Seth probably wouldn’t have been outside in the first place if he hadn’t seen it as his responsibility to harass Logan. But that wasn’t Logan’s fault. Boneheaded brothers tended to fall prey to overprotective urges. There was no controlling it.
“I think it’s time for a family discussion,” Zach announced the instant the last dry dish left the girl’s hand to clink softly atop the stack of clean plates.
Evangeline swallowed her sigh. Speaking of overprotective urges. . . . She was going to have to do some fancy talking to get Zach to agree to let her new friend stay here.
The girl beside her didn’t react to Zach’s announcement, but then, she didn’t know Zach. Which was probably good. He could be rather intimidating.
Logan piped up next. “I think I’ll hang around for that.” He pushed his kitchen chair slightly away from the table and stretched out his long legs, getting comfortable. Apparently Zach’s intimidation didn’t work on Logan.
Case in point: when Zach scowled at him, Logan just grinned and took another swig of his coffee.
“You ain’t family, Logan.”
He shrugged. “Neither is the girl. But I figure she’ll be staying, since she doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Besides, the meeting’s going to be about her situation, right?” He crossed his arms. “I pulled her from the river. Gives me a right to have a say in her welfare.”
A muscle twitched in Zach’s jaw.
Evangeline touched the girl’s arm and led her back to the table, glaring at Zach as she went. Keeping her voice low—as if that would make a difference—she settled in the chair next to Logan and reached over to touch her brother’s elbow. “Someone tried to kill her, Zach. The more people we have looking out for her, the better.”
“Someone tried to kill her?” Zach slammed his palms on the table and came half out of his seat. His voice rose to a near shout. So much for delicacy. “All you said was that Logan fished her from the river. You didn’t say anything about someone trying to kill her.”
The girl shrank back, leaning as far away from Zach as she could. Seth gently took her hand. Her head swiveled toward him, and she started to jerk her hand away, but then she met his gaze and something changed. She calmed.
“Easy, Zach,” Seth warned. “You’re scaring her.”
Zach blew out a breath and lowered himself back into his chair at the head of the table. He ran his hand through his hair and visibly worked to control his temper.
Her eldest brother had always been quick to pull the trigger when danger threatened his family, but he could also be a meticulous, thoughtful planner. He’d been her rock for years. Solid. Reliable. She had faith in him to do the right thing. Shoot, just figuring out what the right thing was in this crazy situation would be a significant accomplishment.
Finally, Zach glanced toward her and Logan. “Start at the beginning.”
Evangeline shared a look with Logan on her left. He nodded. Then she glanced to her right to smile encouragingly at her new friend before turning back to Zach.
“Logan and I spotted a wagon down by the river as we were walking home. A man was struggling to carry something rolled in a large blanket. I feared he intended to dispose of an animal of some kind.” Why was
her mouth suddenly going dry and her voice quavering? These were her brothers; she could tell them anything. Yet she felt ridiculously close to tears all of a sudden.
All the terror and outrage she’d experienced when she’d first realized what had happened seemed to rise again to torment her. And what must the young woman next to her be feeling? To hear her near death described in a dry recitation of events.
Logan must have sensed her unease, for he shifted in his seat and stretched his right arm across the top of her chair back. He didn’t actually touch her, yet his show of support and increased closeness infused her with a much needed dose of fortitude.
“I couldn’t let that man hurt one of God’s creatures without trying to stop him,” she continued, steadier now, “so Logan took me up on his horse, and we raced down to the river, shouting at him to stop.”
Zach’s gaze flicked over to the second female at the table, then returned to rest on Evangeline. “I take it he didn’t have a dog wrapped in that blanket.”
Evangeline shook her head.
Bracing his right elbow on the edge of the table, Zach leaned forward. “Did you recognize him?”
“No. He drove off in his wagon before we got close enough to see any facial features. And by then, I was too focused on saving whatever he had shoved into the river to pay him much heed.”
“Not too tall,” Logan broke in. “Maybe five foot ten. Bulky build, but judging by his difficulty with the load he carried, I’d say the bulk was from something other than muscle. Dark hair. Tanned skin. Gray hat with a black band. Blue shirt. Brown trousers. Buckboard had a spring-mounted seat. Weathered wood. No paint or trim. Team consisted of one gray about fourteen hands, speckled haunches, dark mane and tail; and a black, closer to fifteen hands with white socks on both hind legs.”
Evangeline stared at Logan as he rattled off his list of observations. He had the catalog skills of a scientist! How had he seen so much? All she remembered was the gray hat. Yet Logan had absorbed details like wet paint grabbing dust from the air, sucking them in until they solidified in his brain. Amazing.
And incredibly attractive.
She couldn’t help but lean a little closer to him. Handsome. Heroic. Handy in a crisis. And brilliant to boot. Her heart was in serious danger.
But that danger was nothing compared to what the young lady beside her had faced.
Zach nodded a grudging thanks to Logan, then turned his attention to their other guest. He kept his voice gentle and calm, like he had when he’d helped Seth with his breathing. “Who tried to hurt you, miss?”
She immediately ducked her head and shook it from side to side.
“You don’t know, or you don’t want to tell me?”
She made no response. Not even a shrug. Almost as if . . .
Evangeline pondered a moment, then slowly rose from the table. Logan’s hand slid away from its resting place on her chair as he turned to watch her. He raised a brow in question, but she gave him a quick smile of reassurance and continued on. She moved behind the table to the stove, where the large, metal roasting pan sat, filled midway with soapy water to soak the baked-on grit.
As Seth rubbed the girl’s hand and promised protection, Evangeline carried the pan to the dry sink and poured the dirty water into the empty washtub. Zach asked the girl a second time about the man who had dumped her in the river, and again she made no response.
Evangeline walked back to the stove, then a few steps past. Zach and Seth paid her no mind, their attention focused on the girl. Logan, on the other hand, caught her eye, his intrigued expression posing more questions.
He’d have his answers soon enough. And so would she.
When Evangeline was in position, directly behind the young woman, she lifted the roasting pan shoulder high and dropped it.
The crash was so loud when it hit the floor that all three men jumped. Even Logan. The girl startled, too, but a hair slower than the rest.
“For pity’s sake, Evie!” Zach yelled.
She was pretty sure he was glaring at her, but she didn’t look his way to confirm. She kept her gaze locked on the woman who was turning in her chair to see what had happened.
Evangeline bent to retrieve the pan, then mouthed an apology to the woman. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t scare you too badly. She gave the words no actual voice, but it didn’t matter. Her new friend somehow read them in the shape of her lips. The girl smiled and shook her head as if to say everything was fine.
“You can’t hear me, can you?” Evangeline asked.
The girl’s eyes widened in horror, and she jumped from her seat, knocking her chair sideways in the process.
“It’s all right.” Worried that the girl would try to bolt, Evangeline dropped the roasting pan again and held up her empty hands in a placating manner. “I’m still your friend.” She slowed her words down and spoke in a louder voice. Then, realizing how silly speaking louder was, she grinned at herself and resumed her normal tone. She added a few hand motions, thinking they might aid communication. “You must be so smart,” she said, pointing to her head. “To figure out what people are saying without being able to hear.” She tapped her ear then pressed her palms to her own chest. “I’m so impressed.”
Tears glistened in the girl’s eyes. “I’m broken,” she said, her voice a little muddy, the ends of her words indistinct, yet Evangeline understood them. Understood but didn’t accept. She couldn’t allow this amazing woman to believe herself inferior.
Pointing one finger to her blue eye, then moving it to her brown one, Evangeline said, “So am I.” Then she gestured to the others in the room. “We all are.”
The young woman turned to look at each person around the table. First to Seth—no doubt remembering his asthma attack—then to Zach, and finally to Logan. Each of the men nodded as she glanced his way, confirming that they, too, recognized their own imperfections and flaws.
Logan nodded to the girl, but he also raised his eyes and speared Evangeline with a piercing look, as if he were trying to communicate a message. Something important. Something about flaws and imperfections, perhaps? She longed to delve and explore, yet even as her pulse sped at the lure of unraveling a piece of the mystery surrounding her new neighbor, she forced down the desire. Logan’s secrets would have to wait. She had more pressing matters at hand.
Drawing the girl’s attention back to herself by stepping close and touching her shoulder, Evangeline spoke the words on her heart. “People might try to hide their broken places and pretend to be whole, but the truth is that we all have failings. That is why we need each other.” She gestured to Seth and Zach. “My brothers make me stronger. They shore up my broken places with their love and support. And I do the same for them.” She reached for the girl’s hands and clasped them firmly. “Let us do the same for you. Please. We can help you. We can be your family.”
The girl’s arms trembled. Her chin quivered. Her focus darted to each occupant of the room, uncertainty and hope vying for supremacy in her eyes. Then she turned back to Evangeline, straightened her spine, and with a nod of her head, chose hope.
16
The woman was amazing. Well, both of them, really. After all, it wasn’t every day a man encountered a deaf person who could speak and understand what was spoken to her. Yet it wasn’t the girl from the river who astounded Logan. It was Eva.
We’re all broken, she had declared. Without shame. Wanting only to bond with a frightened girl who feared her secret would cause her to be cast out.
Who did that?
Society trained its members to hide their defects from an early age. Self-preservation demanded it. It was why he angled his hat to cover the scar slashing across his left eye. Why he concealed his last name. Why he bluffed in poker when he held weak cards. To be successful, one required an edge on the competition, even one built solely on perception.
Eva, on the other hand, forfeited her edge without hesitation. Despite her ingrained insecurity about her eyes and a history of outsid
ers devaluing her because of them, she openly professed her brokenness and offered it as a gift to a stranger.
Not only that, but she offered home and family, too.
Logan rubbed a hand against an odd tightness suddenly pressing against the inside of his chest, one that felt uncomfortably like envy. Would Eva be as accepting of his flaws and secrets when he finally revealed them, or was her generosity reserved only for those in immediate need?
Why did he care so much? It wasn’t like he wanted to be fostered into the Hamilton family. They were the enemy. Or at least one of them was the enemy. He couldn’t paint Eva with that brush, not even to protect himself from the doubts and inconvenient longings that cropped up with alarming regularity while in her company.
She couldn’t have been more than twelve when her brother stole Logan’s home. Too young to be culpable, too innocent to recognize the sin that had been committed. She’d probably never questioned how her brother had provided their little ragtag family with a home and security. Logan couldn’t hold her accountable for her brother’s actions.
Yet neither would he absolve her brother of guilt for her sake. Logan had family, too. A mother who depended on him. One who hadn’t been the same since the day she found her husband dead, which would never have occurred had Zacharias Hamilton not cheated Rufus Fowler out of his land.
“You got something you want to say, Logan?” The low, rumbling voice of his nemesis snatched him from his thoughts.
Logan jerked his gaze right, accusatory words clawing at his throat for release. However, the man beside him looked merely curious, not antagonistic. Logan bit his tongue.
Hamilton raised a brow. “Your face went dark all of a sudden. Do you have concerns about the girl staying with us? See any threats she might pose to Evie?”
The girl from the river. Right. Logan gave himself a mental shake. Focus, man. With his gambling background, Hamilton could probably read posture and expression as well as Logan. He needed to tread carefully.
Scrambling to come up with a sufficiently dark alternative thought to explain his lapse, Logan glanced at the females, who were clasping hands in silent solidarity. Fortunately—or unfortunately, as the case might be—coming up with a substitute worry was all too easy.
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