Deciding speed was more important than the shrinking cover his current position afforded, Logan pushed against the left stirrup and returned to a more natural riding position.
“Come on, old boy,” he urged, focused on the quickly approaching bend. Hunching down to make himself as small a target as possible, he raced for safety.
A fourth shot rang out. Logan flinched, but no pain slammed into him, and Shamgar didn’t stumble. In the next moment, he was around the bend, safe as long as the shooter didn’t give chase—an unlikely development, since his attacker had been shooting from the cover of scrub brush, which was too short to conceal a man on horseback.
As Logan relaxed his posture, his mind ran the odds of this incident being a coincidence. Odds that long didn’t warrant consideration. There was only one explanation for shots being fired both at the Hamilton homestead and at him.
Benson had recognized him. Or, more accurately, his horse. He had been unusually interested in Shamgar this afternoon. The pieces clicked into place. Benson had spied Logan galloping on the road, just as he must have seen him and Eva racing down to the river on Shamgar’s back the day they rescued Christie.
If Benson had beaten a straight path at a quick pace from the livery in Ben Franklin to Pecan Gap, he could have asked about Logan in town. Ascertained where he lived. What girl he’d been courting. Where she lived.
A rescued female would be much more likely to take sanctuary with the family of another female, after all, than with a bachelor in an unfinished cabin. With the slow pace Logan and Shamgar had set on the way home, Benson would have had ample time to set up an attack.
Unfortunately, while they could show he had opportunity and motive, they had no actual proof unless Seth or one of the girls had spotted him. And now that Benson knew where the women resided, their plan to wait on the ledger had to be retooled. They no longer had the luxury of time. Or anonymity.
As he steered Shamgar off the main road and down the lane that led to Eva’s house, a scrap of red fabric above the roof caught his eye as it flapped in the wind. The signal for an emergency.
A vise tightened around Logan’s gut. Not that he hadn’t already concluded the first shot he and Zacharias heard had originated here, but the removal of all doubt churned his stomach.
Logan galloped Shamgar straight into the Hamiltons’ yard without slowing. Seth would probably have a gun trained on anyone approaching, but Logan trusted him not to shoot.
“Eva!”
Was she all right? Please let her be all right.
He cut hard to the right to slow Shamgar, then dismounted from the left before his trusty mount could fully halt. His boots slammed into the ground. Reverberations shot up his legs as he quick-stepped to keep his balance.
“Eva!”
The door cracked open, and the face he loved peered out. “Logan. Hurry!” Her arm emerged, frantically waving him closer. “Get inside. There’s a crazed gunman out there somewhere.”
He pounded up the steps. “I know,” he said as she flung the door wide to grant him entrance. “He took a few shots at me on the road.”
She gasped. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” The pinch in his side didn’t count. He slammed the door closed behind him then grabbed her arms. “Are you?” He scanned her body from head to toe with a critical eye. Disheveled and dirty she might be, but all her pieces were where they belonged, thank the Lord.
Though there was one addition he hadn’t expected. A rifle. She was the one standing guard? Where was Seth?
Her lower lip trembled as she nodded. “I’m fine. But Christie . . .” A sob caught in her throat as if she’d been holding it in too long. “Oh, Logan. Someone shot her!”
He reached for her, and she came with no hesitation. The rifle fell from her hand to clatter onto the floor as she dove into his embrace. Slender arms wrapped around his waist, stinging his sore side, but he didn’t care. She was back in his arms, her beautiful face burrowing into his chest.
All the unresolved issues between them vanished as he held her to him, stroking her back and laying kisses on her hair. This was where he belonged. With her. Forever.
Footsteps pounded outside. Logan thrust Eva behind him and snatched his revolver from its holster. The scrape of metal on wood told him she’d retrieved her rifle and stood ready to meet whatever trouble was headed their way.
Logan eased the door open. “That you, Hamilton?” he called.
“Stand aside, Fowler!” Zacharias Hamilton barreled up the steps at full steam, as if intending to stampede his way inside, regardless of who or what stood in his way.
Logan pulled the door wide and shifted backward to ensure Hamilton didn’t trample his sister in his haste.
Zacharias careened to a halt, his heavy breathing filling the tense stillness of the room. His gaze immediately found Eva’s. “You all right?”
She nodded.
“Where’s Seth?” He scanned the kitchen, his urgency only slightly ameliorated by the evidence of Eva’s well-being.
“In my room, tending to Christie. She was the only one hurt. I . . .” Eva’s bottom lip quivered, but she pressed her mouth closed and willed it into submission. “I’m not sure how badly. I had to stay out here and keep watch.”
Logan holstered his revolver, then reached for the rifle she held. His eyes met hers. “Go to her. Zach and I can manage out here.”
Relief and gratitude warmed her eyes, but a hint of uncertainty flared as well when she glanced at her brother then back to him.
Logan winked at her. “We’ll behave. I promise.”
She hesitated only a moment, then bounced up on tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered before dashing off to the room that had once been his.
She loved him. He stared after her, stunned. How could she love him when she still believed he intended to harm her brother? He hadn’t had the chance to tell her about his change of heart. Yet she said she loved him. Now. In spite of everything he’d told her.
His heart swelled to near painful proportions. He didn’t deserve a woman like her—one determined to see the best in him, to bring out the best in him. He didn’t deserve her, but he’d fight to his very last breath to keep her.
And considering the threat closing in on them, he might have to do just that.
Logan turned to Hamilton, who was winded but hiding it well. He grabbed a napkin from the table and ran it over his forehead and face to clear away the sweat.
“Whoever took a shot at Miss Gilliam took a handful of shots at me as well,” Logan said casually as he pulled out a chair and took a seat. “From a spot along the road about half a mile northwest. I think it’s safe to assume this particular attack is finished for the moment. The schoolmaster’s probably halfway to Ben Franklin by now.”
“So you think it was Benson.”
Logan pivoted at Seth’s voice. The other Hamilton walked into the room, his face grim.
“How’s the girl?” Zacharias asked.
Seth blew out a heavy breath. “Christie’s fine. The bullet took a chunk out of her right arm, but we got the bleeding stopped. She might need a couple stitches though, so if you really think the coast is clear, I’d like to drive her to town and get the doc to take a look.”
Logan pushed up to his feet. “I’ll ride with you, help keep an eye out.”
“I’ll do it,” Zacharias insisted. “The girl’s living under my roof. She’s my responsibility.”
Logan glared at him. “You’ve got another girl living under your roof, and unless you prefer that I stay here alone with her, you’d best rethink your stance. Even though I doubt Benson still poses an immediate threat, there’s no way I’ll risk Eva’s safety by leaving her here alone.”
“He’s right.” Seth crossed the room to stand between his brother and Logan. “In fact, I think we should all go.”
“What?” The question emerged from Logan and Zacharias with perfect synchronicity. Zacharias scowled at Logan a
s if affronted by the harmony. Logan grinned. Nice to know they could agree on something from time to time.
“If the shooter was Benson,” Seth said, oblivious to the tension between the other two occupants of the room, “then he knows where Christie is. Which means she’s no longer safe here. After we visit the doc, we can stop by the church and ask the Clems to take Christie and Evangeline in for a few days. Harder to ambush them if they’re in town. Too many witnesses.”
Logan nodded. “And with the girls out of harm’s way, we can take the offensive.”
Zacharias crossed his arms over his chest. “Any idea how we’re gonna do that when we still ain’t got any proof that Benson’s the one behind this?”
“Think of it like a poker game,” Logan said, giving Zacharias a look he knew the other man would comprehend. “Our opponent’s getting impatient. Taking chances. Telegraphing his next moves. But he still thinks he’s smarter than us. So we use that overconfidence against him. Change up our game play. Do the unexpected.”
A slow smile creased Zacharias Hamilton’s face, and Logan decided that having this man as an ally was much preferable to facing him as an opponent.
31
“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” Evangeline’s belly clenched at the sight of the red welt on Logan’s right side. The doctor’s wife was smearing it with a healthy layer of salve.
The sneak had waited for her to leave to set up their lodging with Mrs. Clem before seeking out medical attention. On purpose, no doubt. Hiding his injury from her. Not wanting her to worry.
Well, if the two of them were going to share a future, they had to share their worries as well. Evangeline lifted her chin. If Mrs. Clem hadn’t already been in conversation with Miss Abingdon, the Sunday school teacher, Evangeline would probably still be at the parsonage, trapped by the talkative preacher’s wife. Completely unaware of her man’s injury. Unacceptable.
Logan twisted his head to look at her. “It’s just a scratch, Eva. Nothing to get worked up about.”
“Worked up?” Evangeline stomped closer. “Logan Fowler, you have yet to see me worked up.”
“I’ll, uh, let you two converse in private.” The doctor’s wife closed the salve tin, and with twitching lips and dancing eyes, exited the examination room.
Logan turned to face her as he lowered his shirt back into place. Slowly enough to make sure he didn’t bump that scratch. Slowly enough to give her a lovely view of strong muscles that carried not an inch of excess paunchiness.
“Look, Eva . . .” The shirt fabric fell into place, obscuring the last bit of exposed skin.
Oh, right. She was perturbed with him. She stiffened her spine and marched straight to the table where he perched. Muscled torso or not, she had a bone to pick.
“No more secrets.” She jabbed her finger into the hollow of his left shoulder. “Isn’t that what you said?”
He raised a wary brow. “Yes . . .”
“Well, that includes injuries and scrapes and scratches.” She jabbed him again, but he was ready for the attack this time and grabbed her finger.
She jerked backward, but he held tight, tugging her closer until only the thinnest sliver of air separated them. She drew in a breath, shrinking the buffer even further.
His gaze pinned her in place with a heat that made her toes tingle. Slowly, he released her finger and placed both hands at her waist. “I’m fine, Eva.” He was so close, so warm, so blessedly alive.
She ducked her head, suddenly shy. “I know. I just . . . I don’t want you to hide things from me.” She forced her attention back to his face. “Even little things.”
“Little things, huh?” He grinned at her. “Like the fact that I know your brother’s last name isn’t Hamilton, but Mitchell, and that he’s the son of one of the most famous riverboat gamblers of all time?”
Her heart pounded. “He told you?” Zach never shared that secret with anyone. She wouldn’t know it herself if she hadn’t quizzed him about the monogram on his card case a few years ago. Even then, all he’d given her was the name—Jedidiah Mitchell. It had been Seth who’d explained the significance.
“Yep. It came up when I refused to play cards with him.”
Everything in her stilled. “You . . . refused?” Hope fluttered so fiercely in her belly, her knees took to trembling.
Thankfully, Logan held on tight—steadying her, supporting her. His lips curved into a self-deprecating grin. “Let’s just say the Good Lord got my attention and jabbed my conscience with a red-hot poker.”
Evangeline tried unsuccessfully to subdue a smile. “Sounds painful.”
“Yep. But effective.” He lifted a hand from her waist and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You were right, Eva. About all of it. In fact, once we get everyone settled tonight, I’m going to write my mother a long letter to explain my change of heart and ask what I can do to help her. I’ll throw a few apologies in there . . . tell her about you.”
Heat flooded Evangeline’s cheeks. She glanced away. “Me?”
He cupped her face and gently tilted her eyes up to meet his. “When a man meets the girl he wants to spend the rest of his life with, his mama needs to know about it, don’t you think?” The intensity of his regard stole her breath.
Just that morning, she’d believed she’d lost him forever. She’d grieved, prayed, then set her mind to fixing things, but it seemed there was nothing left to fix. God in his goodness had done the mending for her, responding to her petitions with a swiftness she’d never experienced. It left her a mite dizzy, truth be told.
“Do you mean it?” Her whispered words were barely audible, but it was the best she could manage with a blanket of awe mummifying her.
Logan smiled with such sweetness, she swore she could taste the sugar on her own tongue. “Did you mean it when you said you loved me?” he asked.
She nodded. “With all my heart.”
His smile brightened, his gray eyes twinkling like polished silver. “Then that settles it,” he announced with a slap to his thigh. “Time to hang up my gambling boots, finish our cabin, and get to work making a more reputable living. I was thinking cattle. Or we could clear the land and try our hand at cotton. What do you think?”
Our cabin. It was as if he had peeked inside her heart, seen her dreams, and then set himself the task of making them all come true.
“I might even shave off this hairy mess,” he said, since she hadn’t yet found the wherewithal to string any intelligible words together. He rubbed the beard that camouflaged the bottom of his face. “It gets mighty itchy in the summer.” He made a comically pained expression. “And since I don’t have to intimidate saloon folk anymore, I don’t really need it.”
Finding her balance—and a touch of boldness—Evangeline projected a ponderous mien as she took hold of his face and turned it from side to side. “Hmm. I suppose kissing would be easier without all this scruff in the way.”
Logan’s eyes widened. “Tonight.” He sat up straighter on the examination table. “I’ll shave it off tonight.”
She laughed softly, then leaned in and touched her lips to his. Not a deep kiss, just a light touch, a promise of love and belonging. Her lashes flickered closed as she savored the soft joining. Drawing back slightly, she ended the kiss but lingered nearby. Her lips hovered above his, almost touching. The memory of the kiss was so vivid, it was as if they were touching. Her breath mixed with his. Her pulse thrummed.
Then the door opened.
Dropping her hands from Logan’s face, Evangeline lurched backward. Logan didn’t let her go far, however, keeping hold of her with the one hand still at her waist.
“If you’re done mauling my sister,” Zach said, his scowl firmly in place, though his words didn’t carry their usual heat, “we got some plans to work out.”
Logan waggled his eyebrows. “I believe your sister was the one doing the mauling. Not that I’m complaining.”
“Logan!” she scolded under her breath,
mortified.
Zach grunted. “If you and that scratch of yours can walk, we’re supposed to meet Seth and Christie at the parsonage.”
Logan stretched his long legs down from the examination table and gained his feet. His gray eyes lost their teasing light. “We’ll be right there.”
Zach nodded once, then pivoted and left the room with the same abruptness with which he’d arrived.
Logan held out his hand to her, and she clasped it. “Ready?”
“Ready.” Because as much as she wanted to bask in her love for this man and revel in happy dreams of their future together, she couldn’t ignore the danger that threatened both him and the young woman they’d rescued.
Dreams would keep. Reality wouldn’t.
When darkness finally fell that night, Evangeline climbed beneath the covers next to Christie in Charlotte Clem’s guest room, fully expecting to fall unconscious the moment her head hit the pillow. This had to have been the longest day of her life. Her heart felt like it had been thrown around like a child on a twenty-foot seesaw—exhilarating highs followed by crashing lows, only to repeat with new joys and terrifying fears. It left her light-headed, off-balance, and a tiny bit nauseated.
Evangeline rolled onto her side and drew her knees up to her belly, breathing through her nose to help her stomach settle. She should be deliriously happy after Logan’s change of heart and declaration of intentions—this very moment he could be writing about her to his mother!—but the uncertainty of what lay in store for them over the next few days ate away at her serenity.
“Do you think their plan will work?”
It seemed she wasn’t the only one unsettled.
Evangeline stretched an arm across the bedside table, turned up the lamp, then rolled over to face Christie. “Having second thoughts?”
The girl nibbled her bottom lip. “Yes,” she finally admitted, “but not about trying to find the ledgers. Mr. Benson’s trip to Cooper offers the best opportunity to search the schoolhouse. I just wish Seth wasn’t the one doing the searching.”
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