Page 52 of More Than Meets the Eye

Then Shamgar nickered and accomplished what Logan had been helpless to do all evening—focus his mind.

Hooves plodded against earth, leather creaked, and a lantern bobbed in the dinge of twilight. Somewhat blinded by the fire, Logan stepped out of its glow and into the darker recesses of the unfinished cabin. Slowly, he slid his pistol from the holster at his side and took aim at the approaching horse and rider. The glare of the lantern masked the rider’s identity, but Logan could think of only one man with reason to challenge him tonight.

“If that’s you, Hamilton,” he shouted, “you better declare yourself before my trigger finger gets twitchy.”

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.