21

“Easy, Logan. It’s just me.”

“Seth?” Not the Hamilton Logan had expected. He lowered his weapon and stepped out of the shadows. “What are you doing here? It’s near dark.” A terrifying thought jabbed his brain. “Is it Eva?” He surged forward, his long strides consuming the distance between him and his visitor. His heart pounded. “Was she hurt worse than we thought?”

Seth batted away his concern with a wave of his hand. “Evie’s fine.”

Thank heaven. Logan’s pulse calmed, and his pace slowed as he reached Seth.

“She and Christie turned in early.” The wind shifted, and some of the smoke from Logan’s campfire wafted over. Seth lifted a hand to his mouth and coughed. “Christie’s the reason”—cough—“I’m here.”

Logan took the reins of Seth’s horse. “There’s a path behind the house that leads to a creek. Head that way while I tend your horse and douse the fire.” The last thing he needed was for Eva’s brother to die of a lung seizure on his watch.

Seth managed a nod between coughs and swung down to the ground. “Thanks.”

Logan led the roan gelding over to where Shamgar was tethered, then rescued his coffeepot and skillet before kicking dirt onto his cook fire. He considered dumping the contents of his canteen on the coals, but he’d need to reignite the fire after his guest departed. Having a few embers banked beneath the sand would save time.

He shoved two more bites of bacon-bean-muffin crumble into his mouth, then downed a healthy swig of water from the canteen before striding toward the creek. Halfway there, he stopped, turned, and jogged back to his campsite. Coffee. Seth had downed the stuff as if it were a magical healing elixir the day his asthma attack hit at the homestead. Drinking some now couldn’t hurt. Logan snagged the pot and his tin cup and resumed his march to the creek.

He found Seth crouching at the edge of the water, scooping a handful up to his mouth.

“I brought coffee,” Logan said.

Seth turned, his eyes going straight to the pot. He pushed to his feet. “Great. Thanks.”

Logan filled the tin cup nearly to the brim, then handed it over with a warning. “It’s fresh.”

Seth nodded but still brought it straight to his mouth and downed a swallow that must have scalded his tongue and throat. Logan winced in sympathy as Seth’s jaw tensed and the tendons stood out from his neck. But he went back for seconds and thirds before slowing down.

After the fourth swig, he inhaled a slow, deep breath. When no coughing or wheezing ensued, he lowered the cup to a more relaxed position and focused on Logan.

“What did you learn in Ben Franklin?” Seth demanded. “About Christie?”

Wow. He must really be sweet on the girl. He hadn’t been able to go a full four hours before tracking Logan down and quizzing him about that vague reference he’d made earlier.

Logan grinned. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

Seth raised a brow. “Almost as bad as you.”

That sobered him up. Truth had a tendency to do that to a fellow. Logan’s smile slid from his face as he eyed his companion. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to tell. Not yet, anyway.”

“But you’ve got something, and something’s more than what I’ve got.” Seth blew out a breath, plunked his coffee cup atop a tall, flat rock, then paced down to the creek’s edge and back. “Whoever tried to kill Christie is still out there. For all I know, he’s plotting a second attempt. And I’m trapped inside a box, powerless to do anything to help her beyond keeping her in the box with me. That’s no way to win a war, holing up and waiting for the enemy to charge. Shoot, I don’t even know who my enemy is! He could walk right up to the front door, and I wouldn’t know it was him until it was too late.”

Logan kicked at a loose stone with the toe of his boot. “I don’t know who he is either, but I know who he ain’t.”

Seth stopped mid-pace and whipped his head around. “Who?”

“Her stepfather. Earl.”

Seth frowned. “Explain.”

Logan launched the stone into the creek with a swing of his leg, then set the coffeepot on the same knee-high rock holding Seth’s cup. “I’ve been worried about the girl, too,” he began.

“Her name’s Christie.”

Logan held up a hand in apology. “Right. Christie.” Seth’s scowl didn’t lighten much at Logan’s use of Miss Gilliam’s given name. Sheesh. Logan was starting to see the family resemblance after all. When riled, all three Hamiltons glowered with identical ferocity. “I pulled her from the river, remember? I’ve got a stake in her well-being, too.”

“Just tell me what happened in Ben Franklin.”

“Something about Miss Gilliam’s explanation of what happened that day never sat right with me. I don’t think she lied about anything,” Logan hurried to assure Seth when his brows started dipping into a deep V, “but I think she knows more than she let on. So I decided to do some digging on my own. Subtle digging, of course. Didn’t want to alert anyone of her whereabouts or my connection to her. I focused on the one lead I already had—whiskey.”

Seth’s eyes glittered. “You tracked down the bootlegger.”

Logan nodded. “Spent a couple weeks chumming with the locals at the Seven Ponies until I managed to get myself invited to a jug party behind the livery. The jug they passed around had a brown ribbon tied through the finger hole.”

Seth crossed his arms and gave a grunt of understanding. Color-coded jugs were Earl’s calling card.

Glossing over his hours of poker playing—no need to reveal his skill in that arena just yet—Logan filled Seth in on the rest of the pertinent details. “I mentioned I’d be interested in procuring a jug of my own. The livery owner took my money and arranged a pickup for the next afternoon. Hence my overnight stay.”

“And . . . ?”

“And I staked out the meeting place and waited for the deliveryman to show.”

Seth uncrossed his arms. “How do you know it was Earl? He could have hired someone else to make the run.”

Logan shook his head. “Don’t think so. He matched Miss Gilliam’s description. Bushy beard, older, lazy demeanor, carried a burlap sack to hide the whiskey. It was Earl. And he isn’t the man I saw at the river. Of that, I’m positive.”

“So we’re no closer to unraveling who wanted her dead.” Seth snatched up his coffee cup and downed the remainder of the brew before slamming the tin vessel back onto the rock.

“Maybe not.”

Seth peered at Logan expectantly, a tiny spark of hope lighting his eyes.

“You’ve spoken to her more than I have, but she gave me the impression that she didn’t go out much. That Earl kept her under his thumb most of the time.”

Seth nodded. “Christie’s never mentioned any friends, but that doesn’t surprise me. Ben Franklin’s not her home. She moved there after her mother married Earl. To keep her deafness secret from her stepfather, she would’ve had to hide it from the townsfolk as well and make everyone believe she’s a simpleton. These last few weeks have been the first days in years that she’s been free to be herself.” He gripped the back of his neck. “I can’t stand to think about what her life must have been like before. I’ve watched her devour books as if she’s starving for knowledge, and she can discuss the most complicated ideology like a trained scholar. Not to mention total a column of numbers in her head faster than I can manage with pencil and paper. She’s brilliant. Going back to that life, being trapped in that lie again—it would destroy her. But she can’t hide away forever, either. I won’t let her trade one prison for another. She deserves to live a rich, full life. And she can’t do that if the man who tried to kill her is free to try again.”

“Well, she needs to stay hidden awhile longer. There are handbills posted in the Seven Ponies about a missing girl. Someone’s looking for her. Might be Earl, might be the man who tried to drown her. Can’t be sure which. Posters say to report information to the town marshal. His is the only name on the flier.”

Seth frowned. “If the man who attacked her went back to check the river, he’d find her gone. He wouldn’t know for sure she wasn’t dead, but he’d have plenty of reason to suspect she survived. If he’s the type to tie up loose ends, he’ll want to discover what happened to her.”

“Exactly. So we need to stay ahead of the game.” Logan paced toward the stream, then pivoted and strode back with purpose. “We need to probe Christie for more information. Details about exactly where she was and what she did prior to her attack.” He moved closer to Seth and put a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “She trusts you. She’ll open up to you.”

Seth wagged his head and shrugged off Logan’s hand. “I can’t just interrogate her without giving her context,” he groused. “I’ll have to tell her about your investigation. Explain that we want to help her.”

Logan stiffened. “I don’t know if that’s wise. What if she balks? She might get angry about our interference and clam up. Or worse—leave.”

Seth froze, that last threat hitting the mark. He turned slowly, his eyes sad, his face haggard, but his jaw was as firm as the rocks lining the creek bed. “I can’t let my fear of losing her keep me from doing the right thing.” The quiet timbre of his voice heightened the conviction of his words. “Secrets create distance. Just look at Christie’s life before. No friends. No close relationships with anyone. All because of the secrets she kept. I won’t perpetuate that cycle with her. I care about her too much not to be honest with her about everything.” He looked away when he said that last word. Everything. He had other hidden truths he was now willing to bring to light. Because he didn’t want anything to impede the closeness he was building with Miss Gilliam.

A situation uncomfortably similar to Logan’s own relationship with Eva. Maybe her finding that letter in the cellar was a good thing. A chance for him to come clean. To test her trust, her loyalty. Seth was man enough to take the risk. Logan could do no less. Only his risk was infinitely greater, for he wasn’t simply hunting a threat, he was the threat.

But that was a problem for tomorrow.

“I think the key to uncovering the man who tried to kill Miss Gilliam lies in the book she found,” Logan said.

Seth’s brow crinkled. “Book?”

“Yes. Remember she said that the only thing different about her deliveries that day was that someone left a book instead of money in exchange for the moonshine.”

A thoughtful look crossed Seth’s face as he bent to retrieve the coffee cup and poured himself another serving. “You think the book is the key because it was the only thing out of the ordinary that day? Seems like a bit of a stretch.”

“Not when another book made a suspicious appearance today after Earl delivered my whiskey.”

The coffeepot clattered unsteadily back onto the rock. Seth straightened. “Another book?”

Logan nodded. “After Earl dropped off the jug in the schoolhouse privy, he didn’t just leave. He walked through the empty schoolhouse, and when he emerged, his burlap sack had something slender and rectangular inside.”

“A book.”

“Yep.” Logan propped his foot on the table rock and leaned forward, bracing his forearm across his thigh. “Two books in suspicious circumstances can’t be a coincidence. You need to find out where she picked up the book. Was it at the schoolhouse? What does she know about the local schoolmaster? He was dressed much more formally than the man I saw at the river, and he had a fancy black buggy instead of a beat-up buckboard, but his build was similar. Bulky. Overweight.”

Logan closed his eyes, trying to recall details about the horse hitched to the buggy. It had been black, but had there been white socks like the animal pulling the wagon at the river? He hadn’t considered the possibility until just now. He’d been focused more on matching the man than the animals.

He growled in frustration. “I can’t recall enough details to match the horse pulling the buggy to the team hitched to the wagon. It was black, like the second horse, but that’s all I remember.” He jerked upright. “I should have paid closer attention.”

Seth frowned. “I thought Earl was alone at the school. Was the teacher there, too?”

“No.” Logan waved a dismissive hand in the air, still disgruntled with himself for missing such a vital detail. “I spied him more than an hour earlier when he left the schoolhouse.”

“Then you couldn’t have known there was a reason to suspect him.”

Logan fisted his hands. “It’s my job to notice details! All of them.”

Seth raised a brow. “You a lawman or something?”

That surprised a laugh out of him. “No.” He shook his head and grabbed hold of his rioting emotions. Don’t get sloppy now, partner. Play it cool. “Just a businessman. I have an easier time closing deals when I pick up on nuances my competitors miss. Hence my habit of collecting details.”

Seth stared a little longer than Logan would have preferred, but eventually he let it go. “So I’ll ask Christie about the book and about the schoolmaster. Anything else?”

Logan shrugged. “Start with that, then follow your instincts.”

“That what you do?”

“Usually.”

Only with Eva, his instincts seemed to be running in such varied directions, it was hard to know which path to follow.

I can’t let my fear of losing her keep me from doing the right thing. Seth’s words jumped back into the forefront of Logan’s mind. Challenging. Prompting.

Maybe the time for secrets had passed.