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 mile 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.

“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.