4

The stranger’s mouth lifted at one corner, and a little spurt of elation shot through Evangeline’s belly. She’d made him smile. She probably shouldn’t count that as such an accomplishment when she knew so little about him, but she couldn’t help it. He reminded her too much of Zach. All stern and gruff. Shoulders that seemed to bear the weight of the world. Men like that needed to be reminded how to smile. How to laugh. How to bask in sunshine instead of lurking in shadows.

Besides, he had been trying to save her, albeit from a nonexistent threat. Still, she appreciated his misguided heroism. It wasn’t every day a young maiden ran across a gentleman willing to put himself between her and a wild boar. Then spared the boar at the maiden’s request. A more fanciful woman’s head might be turned.

Evangeline kept hers facing him straight on while trying not to notice how close he was standing or how her palms were flattened against his very firm chest. There was no ignoring that. She cleared her throat and stepped back. His arms fell away.

“I’m Evangeline Hamilton,” she blurted, extending her hand into the space she’d just vacated. “You new to these parts?”

His hand closed around hers. Firm yet gentle. No more grabbing and hauling her around. Just a sincere shake and release.

“I’ve been here about a week.”

She waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t.

Yep. A lot like Zach.

Well, she had fifteen years of experience pulling information from reticent males. She’d not let him put her off.

“Since you’re new to the area, you might not be aware that you’re on Hamilton land.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Lifted her chin. Widened her stance. “My brothers won’t begrudge you snaring a rabbit or even taking down a deer if you’re in need of nourishment, but we don’t take kindly to squatters.”

His lips quirked again. What was it about her trying to act mean that made men grin? It was so annoying. Evangeline frowned at him.

His smile widened. “I’m aware of the boundaries. My camp is east of your property line.”

“But you’re not.” She unfolded her arms and poked him in the chest.

He stared at her finger then nudged his own against her shoulder. “Because I was trying to save you from being gored by a wild boar.”

“One that wouldn’t have actually hurt me.”

“That’s debatable.” He folded his arms and looked down his nose at her. “Even without tusks, that thing could do serious damage if riled.”

“Then you best not rile him.” Evangeline gave a sassy wave of her head, as if she could order Hezzy to attack at any moment. The only damage her pet would likely render involved pig slobber and a head butt that might manage to knock a fellow off-balance. But something told her this man wouldn’t be bowled over too easily.

“What about riling you?” He rubbed the scar that traversed his left eye. Subconsciously? Or was he trying to intimidate her with evidence of his dangerous character? As if such a puny mark would frighten her away. He had just tried to save her life. No matter how crotchety he was acting, he wasn’t dangerous.

“I don’t rile easily.” To prove her point, she smiled. If Zach were the one on the other end of this near-lecture, she’d jump forward, hug him, and plant a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek. Unanticipated affection always threw him off his game and spared her from unpleasant harangues. Too bad she couldn’t use that stratagem with a stranger.

Nevertheless, the old adage about catching more flies with honey hadn’t survived this long without holding a measure of truth.

“Thank you, by the way.” Evangeline smiled even more broadly when he blinked in confusion. “For your heroic rescue.” She dipped her chin. “Just because your actions were unnecessary doesn’t mean they’re not appreciated.”

He cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “You’re welcome.” His voice tapered up at the end, making the statement sound more like a question, but Evangeline chose to interpret it as a successful change of direction anyhow.

“You have a lovely horse.” She stepped to the side and twisted, letting her skirt twirl about her just a little. She’d never been good at standing still. The rhythmic twisting, even in small doses, calmed her growing nerves.

Now that the initial excitement of the discovery, chase, and tackle had subsided, she was becoming acutely aware of the fact that she was alone with a man. A man who actually treated her like a woman. Not a sister, not a freak of nature with unnatural eyes. But an ordinary, normal woman.

“He’s very handsome,” she said. “Your horse.” The horse’s owner qualified for that descriptor, too. That wavy dark brown hair curling over his collar. Gray eyes that had softened from steel to the color of fluffy storm clouds. Tall. Strong. A little rough around the edges. “And friendly, too.”

He mumbled something beneath his breath about horse sense not being what it used to be, but Evangeline chose to let that bit of cynicism go without comment.

“What’s his name?” she asked.

“Shamgar.”

Evangeline tilted her head. “Is that from the Bible?”

“Yep.”

Heavens. He hoarded words like a squirrel did nuts. “Which part?”

“Judges.”

“Was Shamgar a judge?”

“Yep.”

Now he was being deliberately reticent. She could tell by the slight crinkling around his eyes. Zach did the same thing when he was trying to get a rise out of her. Well, after all the years she and the boys had grown sorghum, she knew one had to mill a lot of cane to extract enough juice to make even a single crock of syrup. She might not be the most patient person in the world, but no one could say she wasn’t persistent. If this was to be a battle of wills, she fully intended to be the victor.

Her gentle twirling became a little more forceful. “I don’t remember that one. Who was he?”

Her would-be rescuer shrugged. “All the Good Book says is that he saved Israel by striking down six hundred Philistines with an oxgoad.”

“What’s an oxgoad?” Not that she really cared, but he’d actually given her a response longer than a single word, and she wanted to keep the syllables flowing while the pump was primed.

Unfortunately, all he did was shrug again, killing her hard-gained momentum.

“Well, at least we know we have something in common, now,” she said.

He raised a brow in question. Apparently the pump handle had seized up completely.

Evangeline laughed. Really, he was stoic to the point of being ridiculous. “We both have pets named for characters from the Bible.”

“I suppose we do.”

“And speaking of names,” she said, keeping her voice deliberately light and teasing, “you seem to be holding yours hostage.” She smiled, expecting him to apologize and rectify the oversight.

He didn’t.

Instead, he just stared at her—his gaze frosting slightly, his features dulling, his expression becoming as still as a shallow pond in a breezeless summer. It was as if the fire within the vibrant man who’d selflessly attempted to save her life had been snuffed. And all because she’d asked him for his name.

Who was this stranger, and what was his true purpose for being here?

“I’ve given you mine,” she said, gently pressing for the answers she sought. “Now it’s your turn. The trust train runs both ways, you know.”

A veteran poker player should have more self-control, but Logan couldn’t stop his lips from twitching. “The trust train?”

She raised her brows to comical height. “What? Would you prefer a trust wagon?”

He shook his head at her inanity. She grinned, her mismatched eyes dancing.

What kind of girl was this? So ready to choose laughter over taking offense. It had been a long time since someone surprised him. He read people for a living, but this slip of a girl had done nothing but surprise him since he’d tackled her. First with her wild fighting style, then her pet boar. Who in their right mind wanted a pig for a pet? Then the barrage of little girl innocence and determined cheerfulness that made his skin itch with irritation even as it created a senseless craving for more. And just when he thought he could dismiss her as some kind of rainbow-loving idealist who had no true understanding of reality, she zinged him with a challenge, proving her sunny disposition hid a keen mind.

If the girl ever took to the tables, she’d be able to bluff her way into a fortune.

Logan peered at her earnest face, finally detecting a hint of suspicion in the line of her brow. “Train, wagon, whatever you want to call it, I don’t travel that road easily,” he admitted. “In my experience, trust is something people exploit.”

There. She’d been warned. What happened from here on out was on her head.

“That’s a pretty cynical view.” Her brow softened, her suspicion melting under the bleeding-heart compassion he’d noted earlier. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but I can understand. People can be cruel. Hurtful. For no good reason.”

There she went surprising him again. Real pain flashed in her eyes. Logan’s jaw clenched. Who would hurt this sparkling delight of a woman? Then he remembered the saloon owner in Pecan Gap and that superstitious claptrap about her eyes.

And what of his own intentions? Logan tried to ignore the twist in his gut. He meant no harm to her personally, he rationalized, yet if he harmed her family, it would affect her. Just like Hamilton’s harm of Logan’s father had devastated him and his mother.

Enacting justice sometimes led to casualties. An unfortunate ramification, but not one that merited forfeiting his path. If he kept Evangeline close, maybe he could minimize the damage. Protect her from the worst of the aftermath even as he used her to advance his own ends.

A gentle touch to his arm made Logan jolt out of his thoughts.

“No matter how many people reject or betray you,” she said, her voice soft yet intense, “if you have even one person in your life that you can count on—really, truly count on—you can overcome any obstacle.” She stepped closer to him. “Trusting the wrong person might lead to temporary heartache, but trusting the right one provides a strength that can fuel you for a lifetime.”

Spoken by anyone else, that sentiment would ring hollow, but this girl’s eyes shone with such sincerity, such . . . belief that Logan’s cynicism found no foothold. “You are a remarkable woman, Evangeline Hamilton.”

Pink colored her cheeks. Her lashes dipped over her eyes. “I know what it’s like to be hurt by others.” Her lashes lifted, and the vivid contrast of her eyes struck him anew. “And I’ve learned to be careful—guarded, even—around people who aren’t family. But I’ve also learned how to recognize those with good hearts.”

Her eyebrows drew together as she stared up at him, and Logan had to fight not to squirm.

“You’re a stranger who won’t tell me your name nor reveal your purpose for camping on the border of my land. You’re reticent, stubborn, and have an obvious dislike of pigs.” She grinned momentarily before firming the line of her lips into a sober expression. “All marks against you. Yet you ran to my rescue when you believed me to be in danger, you’re familiar with obscure biblical characters wielding oxgoads, and you haven’t made a single comment about my eyes.” She glanced away. That last observation, tacked onto the end of the list, apparently carried the most weight.

Logan swallowed, an unwanted wave of protectiveness surging inside him.

“All marks in your favor.” She cleared her throat and turned her face back to him, those rare eyes probing beneath his carefully crafted mask of detachment—a detachment that seemed harder and harder to hold on to the longer he was in her presence. “I haven’t yet decided which column to lean toward. Any recommendations?”

Run away from me and never look back. The thought screamed through Logan’s brain, but the words never touched his lips. He would undoubtedly cause her pain by the time his game ended, but he didn’t want to send her away. She afforded him an advantage over his opponent. And beyond that, he actually liked her.

He’d spent such a large portion of the last seven years hanging around people he merely tolerated that he’d forgotten the pleasure that could be found in the presence of someone whose company he enjoyed. The men at the lumber camp were rough and crude, and when they weren’t swinging axes, they were swilling beer and swinging fists. And in the gambling halls, men were either weak-willed fools unworthy of his respect or sharps looking to steal his coin at the tables or at the point of a knife in the alleyway afterward.

So even though a true gentleman would send her away, he extended a hand and breathed easier when she clasped it.

“I’m Logan,” he said. “Your new neighbor.”