Page 83 of More Than Meets the Eye

Logan urged Shamgar into a full gallop as they hit a patch of flatland. The eight-mile trek to Cooper that had taken a little over an hour on the way in needed to be cut in half. Even then, they might be too late to help Seth. All they could do was pray. And ride like a gale-force wind.

Shamgar responded well to his rider’s demands. The ex-cavalry mount had been trained for long-distance speed. Hamilton’s mount, on the other hand, struggled to keep up.

They hit a rugged section of terrain, forcing the pace to slow as they picked their way over eroded ground and miniature arroyos. Logan turned in his saddle to judge Hamilton’s progress. He had fallen well behind. His horse was heavily lathered, its head drooping.

“Go on,” Hamilton shouted to him. “If I push Jack much more, I’ll risk running him into the ground.”

“You sure?” It felt wrong to leave him behind.

Hamilton’s gaze met his, and even across the distance that separated them, Logan could feel his intensity. “Help my brother.”

The words cut through every barrier remaining between the two men. This Logan understood. This drive to protect one’s family. To rescue those who depended on him. He for his mother, Hamilton for his adoptive siblings.

“I will.” The vow echoed in the air. Firm. Resolute.

Logan set his jaw, faced forward, and touched his heels to Shamgar’s flanks. “Time to run, old boy. Seth needs the cavalry.”

Together they raced over hills and through trees—a regiment of one.

Gradually, the landmarks became more familiar. They were closing in on Ben Franklin. Maybe a little under two miles—

Boom!

The sound of distant cannon fire concussed the air. Shamgar didn’t so much as flinch, but Logan jerked his head up so quickly, he nearly unseated himself.

What on earth?

Slowing Shamgar just enough to take stock of his surroundings, Logan searched the horizon for any clue as to what had transpired. It hadn’t really been cannon fire, he knew, but something had definitely exploded.

There. A trail of smoke barely visible above the trees. North to northwest. Near the Ben Franklin schoolhouse.

His pulse thumping as loudly in his ears as Shamgar’s hooves, Logan leaned over his horse’s back and surged forward, praying for Seth with every stride.

“Wait!” Christie cried as the man who had the answers she sought ran away from her. She darted over to Evangeline and grabbed her arm. “We have to go after them!”

Evangeline didn’t waste time arguing. Seth wasn’t in any condition to chase down Earl on his own. He needed more time to recover before exerting himself again. “Let me grab the rest of the coffee first. Seth might need it.”

Christie nodded. “I’ll stash the lockbox back under the bed. I know where Earl keeps the still, so we won’t be far behind.”

Coffeepot in one hand and mug in the other, Evangeline ran as smoothly as she could, keeping her arm upraised and the pot’s spout aimed away from her body in case any liquid sloshed out. Christie kept pace with her, though Evangeline didn’t really need her guidance. The thick gray smoke billowing to the east pointed the way like an Old Testament pillar of cloud. Yet this cloud was far from holy. Even from a distance, she could smell the caustic odor of burnt corn mash.

Seth would never be able to breathe in there.

She had to get to him and take over the role of protector, whether he liked it or not. Just like when she’d warned him in the schoolhouse about Benson—dear heavens! Benson!

Evangeline threw her mug arm out across Christie’s stomach. The young woman exhaled a muffled oomph and stumbled to a halt.

“What is it?”

“A trap.” Evangeline peered ahead, into air thick with smoke. Smoke that would obscure the man who wished her friend dead. She scanned the area around them and spotted a stand of pecan trees. “There. Come on.”

Not taking the time to explain, Evangeline herded Christie like a recalcitrant ewe toward the grove, getting behind her and pushing her shoulder against the young woman’s back.

Once behind the trees, Evangeline set down the coffee supplies and took her friend by the arms. “Benson wants you dead. We know he’s here. We saw him. There’s a good chance he saw us as well. He’s probably the one who blew the still, hoping to draw us out. Lying in wait just like he did at the homestead.”

Christie’s green eyes flashed with panic. “Seth!”

“I’ll go after him, but you’ve got to stay here. Hidden. It’s the only way.” Christie shook her head, but Evangeline tightened her grip on the young woman’s arms, unwilling to let her think with anything other than cold logic. “Benson’s not after me or Seth. But if you go in there, he’ll get exactly what he’s been wanting—another chance to kill you with no witnesses.”