17

It didn’t take long for Christie to find her niche at the Hamilton homestead. She was so determined to earn her keep that she’d cut Evangeline’s household chores in half. A circumstance that afforded Evangeline more time for afternoon exercise—which just happened to involve long walks through the countryside. Countryside shared with a particular neighbor who made her heart flutter in the most delicious way whenever he smiled at her. Or looked at her, for that matter. And if he happened to touch her—well, actual palpitations had been known to occur.

Who knew having a sister would bring so many benefits beyond simple female companionship? Not only did Christie free Evangeline to pursue more intriguing interests than dusting shelves and weeding gardens, but she kept Seth distracted. Evangeline grinned as she and Hezekiah navigated a shallow ravine at the border of Logan’s property. Seth hounded her a lot less these days about where she was going and what she planned to do while she was out. She’d like to think he was finally treating her like an adult and trusting her judgment, but Evangeline suspected that he placed fewer barriers to her leaving because it meant fewer barriers to him spending time alone with Christie.

The two had grown close over the last three weeks.

It was really quite sweet. Christie seemed to share a bond with Seth that went beyond even what she and Evangeline shared as women. She probably saw Seth as a kindred spirit—someone who had been dealt a handicap yet sought to control it instead of letting it control him, just as she did.

Christie went out of her way to dust every nook and cranny in the house on Seth’s behalf, exceeding even Evangeline’s tight standards. Who knew dust collected atop doorframes? Evangeline couldn’t see that high, let alone think to dust there. Christie always made sure the coffeepot was filled and warm as well, and joined Seth for fish every day. He had taken to bringing home two or three fish instead of his usual one. How the girl stomached eating catfish and crappie every day was a marvel Evangeline had yet to fathom. However, she could understand the desire to share a meal with a man she found attractive. The small basket containing corn bread muffins and a jar of honey currently dangling from the crook of her arm attested to that truth.

She whistled to Hezzy, who had stopped to root at the base of an oak tree, then continued down the thin path her many visits had worn into the ground on the way to Logan’s cabin. A cheerful tune absently danced through her mind, and she hummed the melody, matching her strides to the bouncing rhythm. The basket of goodies swung in time to her song as the framed-out cabin came into view.

It was such a nice cabin. Cozy. Homey. One she couldn’t stop imagining belonged to her. Easy to do when the craftsman regularly asked for her opinions and had basically been building it to her specifications.

Speaking of which, where was he? Usually she heard hammering or sawing before she made it this close to the site. She heard nothing now beyond a mockingbird chirping somewhere overhead and Hezzy snorting a few yards behind. Evangeline craned her neck, her humming temporarily fading as she scanned the vicinity for a familiar male form. No black hat bobbing between wooden slats. No handsome bearded jaw or intriguing gray eyes in evidence anywhere.

“Hello!” she called. “Logan?”

No answer. Unless one counted the mockingbird’s mimic.

Well, shoot. She’d missed him somehow. Evangeline’s pace grew sluggish, but she pushed on the rest of the way. She might as well see what progress he’d made since yesterday. Maybe she’d even take tea in the kitchen. She had no tea—or table for that matter—but she had cakes and honey. What more did a girl really need? All right, she had hoped to have more handsome company than a muddy-nosed swine, but surely she could make do and manage a perfectly lovely outing all on her own. Just think—with the spaces between the studs, the view would be unmatched. Perhaps a mite breezy, but she’d not complain. There was no one around to impress with fetching hair anyway. Not that there was much fetching left in her hair after traipsing through the countryside for half an hour.

Evangeline approached what would eventually be the front door and sauntered into the house. She started in the front parlor, took a shortcut into the first bedroom by ducking through the wall, then meandered into the hall, across to the second bedroom, and up into the kitchen.

Nothing had changed since yesterday. No new boards had been added to the back wall where he’d been working. The horizontal siding still only reached her waist. Logan’s toolbox hadn’t moved, either.

She lowered her basket to the floor next to it then knelt and ran her finger over the smooth wooden handle of the hammer that lay atop the other tools. He’d held these in his hands, toiled with them, built this very structure with them. The hammer and level. The wood plane and saw. So masculine. Strong. Purposeful. Like the man who owned them.

A man she’d wanted to spend the afternoon with. Too bad that didn’t seem to be an option at the moment. Evangeline let out a sigh. It bothered her more than it should that Logan had left without informing her of his plans, but that was his prerogative. She had no true claim on him. At least not yet.

That thought drew a grin. With new energy zinging through her, she spun in a quick little circle, watching as her skirt twirled out at her ankles like an upside-down trumpet flower. The afternoon was filled with possibilities, just like her future. She simply had to be bold enough to explore them. Maybe she’d go down to the creek that Logan had shown her, take her shoes and stockings off, and wade in the cool water. A perfect activity for a hot summer day. She could even give Hezzy a bath. She glanced down at her butter-yellow skirt. Perhaps not. She’d just laundered this skirt.

Evangeline stood and crossed the room, heading for what would be the back door. At the halfway point, the clicking of her heels dulled to a hollow echo. She glanced down at a thin rectangle outlined in the floorboards. The root cellar. Logan had never really shown it to her, the hole being too dark to see into without a lantern. Maybe this was what he’d been working on. He might have just run into town for some additional supplies.

Evangeline jabbed two fingers into the hole at the end of the trapdoor and lifted. It opened easily. She laid it all the way back against the floor and spied a rope tied near the hinges. Usually ropes were attached opposite the hinges so the person climbing down could pull the door shut once inside should there be a storm or some kind of attack. Yet this rope was fastened so close to the hinges that there would be no leverage to close the door. Logan was too meticulous to make that kind of mistake, so it must serve a different purpose.

She crouched down and peered into the dark hole. It smelled of damp earth. The sun angled down from the west and highlighted a small area inside. There wasn’t much to see, mostly just different shades of dark.

Wait. There, pushed back from the opening. Was that Logan’s duster? She’d seen him in the long black coat a time or two, especially when he was coming back from town, but in the heat of summer, it wasn’t the most practical garment. He must have decided to store it in the cellar. Sensible. It would be safe from anyone who happened upon his homestead while he was away.

What else did he keep hidden down there? Evangeline bit her lip, then shot a glance around her in all directions. Her pulse thrummed in her veins. She really shouldn’t. Snooping through another person’s belongings was a violation of their trust. Their privacy.

But what if she could learn something about Logan—something that shed light on his true purpose for being here? With all their conversations over the last weeks, he still hadn’t trusted her with his last name. And as much as she didn’t want to let that omission bother her, it did. He was hiding something from her. Something that surely tied into the justice he sought for his father.

What if he had something dangerous planned? Something that could lead to him getting hurt? She knew next to nothing about what went on in saloons, but she’d heard tales of card games ending in gunfights. Of knives and fists inflicting deadly damage.

Another thought struck her. Why had Logan chosen this particular piece of land to invest in when he first came to town? She’d not thought to question it before, but after spending time with him, she couldn’t help but wonder—had it been coincidence or strategy? Did his plan for vengeance somehow involve her family? Logan and Zach butted heads every time they came within ten feet of each other. She’d attributed it to Zach’s antagonism toward a potential suitor, but what if there was something more to it?

An unwanted heaviness settled in her belly. Logan was a good man, her heart argued. He rescued women from boars and rivers, he aided men in the throes of asthma attacks, he laughed and teased and never once stared derisively at her unconventional eyes. Yet he harbored secrets and plotted revenge. For it was revenge, no matter how much he dressed it up in the wrappings of justice. Didn’t she have an obligation to do whatever it took to protect Zach and Seth? They’d done so much to protect her over the years, some of which was probably as morally questionable as it was necessary. She could do no less.

She didn’t want to abuse Logan’s trust. She cared for him, she truly did. Yet if there was even the slightest chance that his intentions toward her family were less than honorable. . . .

Evangeline stiffened her shoulders. Zach and Seth came first. They had to. As much as she liked Logan, he wasn’t family. Until he was—was it crazy to wish for a future with him while she actively betrayed him?—her allegiance belonged to her brothers.

Taking hold of the rope whose tether now made sense, Evangeline lowered herself into the cellar. Well, it was more falling than lowering, seeing as how the rope slid through her hands the instant her full weight left the floor above. She managed to slow her descent enough not to lose all dignity by splatting on her rear, but the stinging in her hands made her reconsider the wisdom of this hastily crafted plan.

Oh, well. Now that she was here, she might as well see the deed done.

Shaking her scraped hands to alleviate the sting, she moved to where Logan’s duster lay and quickly rifled through his pockets. Nothing. Well, some might count the thirty-five dollars in cash stuffed in the outer right pocket as something, but Evangeline wasn’t interested in money. Information was the only currency she sought.

Just to make sure she hadn’t missed anything in the folds, she stood up, held the duster by the shoulder seams, and gave it a good, snapping shake. Nothing fluttered free. Sighing, she folded the coat back up and bent to drop it neatly into place. But before she released her grip, a sunbeam shimmered off something metal just a few inches deeper into the cellar. Setting the duster aside, she stepped forward and hunkered down again, extending her hands to feel her way around until she touched a leather pouch with a metal buckle. She grabbed it and dragged it toward the tepid pool of light beneath the overhead door.

His saddlebags. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the buckle.

“Sorry, Logan,” she murmured, the concession not doing much to dull the guilt riding her conscience.

Her fingers trembled, causing her to fumble the buckle, but she didn’t falter. She kept after it until the saddlebag was unfastened. For my brothers.

She reached into the first pouch and dragged out the contents. Clean shirt. Trousers. Comb. A small pouch of coins that she didn’t bother to count. She shoved her hand back in and worked her fingers into every seam of the leather, but except for caking an unpleasant layer of grime under her nails, she gained nothing from her hunt.

She turned her attention to the second saddlebag, the thinner of the two. She found matches, jerky, and two more bags of coins. Exactly how much money did Logan carry around, anyway? Losing heart, she reached in a final time. Something crinkled. Something smooth, like paper.

Stomach tightening, Evangeline sucked in a breath and wrenched her treasure out of the bag. A letter. She held the envelope up to what little light filtered down and squinted to make out the address. To Logan Fowler from the Delta County Land Office in Cooper.

Fowler. Satisfaction shot through her. She’d uncovered one of his secrets. His name. Logan Fowler. It was a good name. Strong. Capable. And just the tiniest bit familiar. Why was it familiar?

Evangeline shrugged off the question. She could ponder that later. Right now, she needed to see what was inside the envelope before the man it belonged to returned.

Once she had the letter free, she unfolded the single page and angled it toward the light.

Dear Mr. Fowler,

I am pleased to inform you that the land you inquired about is available. The forty acres immediately northeast of Zacharias Hamilton’s property can be purchased at the Delta County Land Office at your convenience. Please have any necessary financing arranged with your bank before you present yourself to the land agent.

Sincerely,

R. W. Downing

Evangeline lifted her head even as her stomach sank. Mere chance hadn’t brought her new neighbor into her life. Somehow he’d known who Zach was and had plotted to place himself in her brother’s path. For what purpose? Zach hadn’t even seemed to recognize him the few times they’d met.

Her shoulders sagged, suddenly feeling too heavy to hold erect. She couldn’t let Logan hurt Zach. Yet she couldn’t believe the man she was falling in love with would want to. Logan knew how much her brothers meant to her. How beholden she felt toward them. How dedicated the Hamiltons were to one another.

There had to be another explanation.

She glanced again at the letter. It was dated more than four months ago. Maybe things had changed since then. Maybe now that Logan had gotten to know her, to know Zach and Seth, he’d set aside his plan, whatever it had been. Maybe he truly intended to live in this cozy little cabin. To marry her and be permanent neighbors with her family. It was possible.

Heavy clicks on the floorboards overhead threw her into a panic. She shoved the letter back into its envelope, pushed it into the pouch, and dumped the rest of Logan’s belongings in on top of it. The buckle refused to yield to her shaking fingers, so she tossed the damning evidence away from her as the clicking grew closer.

She turned her face toward the opening and pasted on a bright smile. A face peered down at her. Dark. Hairy. An enormous nose.

Snort.

Evangeline clutched at her chest. “Mercy, Hezekiah. You gave me a start.”

Her pet just stared at her, as if chastising his mistress for putting herself somewhere she did not belong. Well, she wasn’t the only one.

“Shoo!” Evangeline waved the boar off. “You know you’re not supposed to be in the house.”

She swore she saw the pig shrug before he lumbered off, his hooves clicking on the floorboards. Insolent critter.

Evangeline rubbed the back of her hand across her brow to clear away the perspiration that had gathered there. She supposed she ought to climb out of this hole before getting caught for real. After taking a minute to tidy Logan’s second saddlebag and fasten it properly, she inhaled a deep breath, grabbed hold of the rope, and pulled.

Her arms tightened, her torso lifted. The opening was only a few feet above her. Her neck strained. It shouldn’t be too hard to climb out. Her legs kicked through the air. Well, unless one happened to have rope burns on her hands and embarrassingly little upper-body strength.

She dropped to the ground and cradled her sore hands.

Evangeline blew out a self-castigating breath as she crossed her arms and examined the thoroughly escape-proof cellar.

She was stuck. Apparently she had more in common with those foolish dime-novel heroines than she’d thought.