Page 29 of More Than Meets the Eye

Pink stained her cheeks, but mischief danced in her eyes. “You? No. But I’d been getting awful lonesome for Shamgar.” She sidled around the edge of the rail and took the chestnut’s cheeks in her hands, reaching up on tiptoes to place her forehead against his white blaze. “You missed me too, didn’t you, sweetheart? All alone with that grouchy ol’ man. It must have been terrible.”

Shamgar snuffled, then bounced his head up and down as if in agreement. Eva laughed, the sound so delightful, Logan couldn’t help but grin. Though he quickly squelched the expression into a parody of an offended frown.

He swatted Shamgar’s flank with the flat of his hand. “Traitor. No oats for you tonight.”

“There you are, Evangeline.”

Logan flinched at the unexpected feminine voice. He’d grown accustomed to having Eva all to himself. For a moment, he had forgotten where they were.

Mrs. Clem, the parson’s wife, scuttled over to them, her smile wide in welcome and her eyes alight with curiosity. “I see our newcomer is not as much a stranger as I supposed.”

Logan’s heart seized for a moment until she held out her hand and began an introduction.

“Charlotte Clem.”

Logan took her fingers and bent politely over her hand.

“I’m the minister’s wife.” She glanced behind her to indicate the preacher still standing guard at the church door. “We’re so glad to have you visiting this morning. Will you be staying in Pecan Gap long? If so, you must meet my John. He’s not just the preacher, though that is his true spiritual calling.” She paused just long enough to draw in a breath and turn a pious glance toward heaven before turning back to Logan. “He also runs the sawmill.”

“I imagine he’s quite a busy man, then.” Logan made a mental note to go to Ben Franklin to purchase the lumber for framing his cabin.

“Oh my, yes.” Mrs. Clem fanned herself with a hand. “He used to be the postmaster as well until Mr. Wood took over. Fine man, Mr. Wood. Owns the newest general store in town. If you need supplies, I would highly recommend his establishment.”

She was something of a whirlwind, jumping from one subject to the next with the speed and adroitness of a thoroughbred leaping fences in a steeplechase. Fortunately, that quality made it easier to avoid answering her questions. He’d just hang on and wait for the next fence.

“Do you have a family, sir?” Mrs. Clem’s sharp gaze darted from Logan to Eva and back again, and suddenly Logan wanted to back the horse up to take another run at the Mr. Wood-and-his-new-store fence. “Pecan Gap might be small, but we have a fine school. We even have a music teacher, Mrs. Miller. She gives piano lessons to many of the town’s children.”

Logan fought the urge to run a finger under his collar. Mrs. Clem might be a jolly sort, but he knew a matchmaker when he saw one, and all his bachelor instincts were screaming at him to run.

“I’m sure she does a fine job, ma’am.” He shot a pleading look at Eva, who seemed unsportingly delighted over his predicament.

“Oh, indeed she does. As do all our teachers here in Pecan Gap, Mr. . . . What did you say your name was?”

Eva finally took pity on him and interrupted, drawing Mrs. Clem’s attention. “Is that Mabel Edwards?” She pointed to a pinched-faced woman in a dark blue dress who seemed to have planted herself in front of the parson, causing a bottleneck at the church exit. “She seems quite upset about something.”

“Oh dear.” Charlotte Clem’s face fell slightly, and she let out a sigh. “Poor John. I best rescue him. Mabel can be a bit . . . opinionated when it comes to biblical interpretation. She must not have cared for the sermon.” Mrs. Clem dashed away, only pausing long enough to throw a cheerful, “Hope to see you next Sunday,” at Logan before turning her full attention to the harried preacher in need of a little wifely salvation.

“Thank you.” Logan let out a breath and smiled at his own rescuing angel.

Eva shrugged. “Charlotte means well. She’s a bit . . . fluttery but as kindhearted as they come. Always chases me down after services to make sure I don’t get away without someone speaking to me.”

That was a comment begging for exploration. “Do you often—?”

“Ready to go, Evie?” A husky voice growled directly behind Logan, startling him into silence.

He stepped sideways and pivoted to face the man who’d successfully snuck up on him, though he already knew who he’d find. Mentally bracing himself, he ignored the clenching of his gut and the harsh thumping of his heart and relaxed his features into a bland façade.

Zacharias Hamilton glared at Logan with all the ferociousness of a coyote protecting its young. “Who . . .” His eyes narrowed as he took in Logan’s face. “ . . . are you?”

11

Logan forced an amiable smile to his lips as he stuck out his hand. “Name’s Logan,” he said, “and if you’re one of Miss Hamilton’s brothers, I suppose that makes us neighbors.”

Zacharias Hamilton’s fingers circled Logan’s palm and squeezed with more than customary vigor. His eyes were cold, assessing. Logan firmed his own grip, needing Hamilton to know he wasn’t easily intimidated. Then, deciding to take a card from the deck Mrs. Clem had been dealing, he continued rambling, hoping to disguise the fact that he hadn’t given a complete name.

“Your sister was kind enough to bring me a few foodstuffs last week. That strawberry jam of hers is delicious. You’re a lucky man to benefit from such sweet treats on a regular basis.”

“Evie’s the one who likes things sweet.” Having exerted his manhood enough to make the bones in Logan’s hand ache, Hamilton released his grip and folded his arms across his chest. “Me? I don’t like to sugarcoat things. I prefer my food and my conversation straightforward.”