Page 84 of More Than Meets the Eye

“But Seth—”

“I’ll send him to you,” Evangeline interrupted. “Be ready with the coffee. If he’s in that smoke, his lungs will be seizing. He needs to know exactly where to find you. I’ll tell him to look for this copse of trees. Once he’s here, get that coffee into him, then get him as far from the smoke as possible. Can you do that?”

Christie stiffened her shoulders and nodded.

“Good. Be watching.”

Without the coffee paraphernalia to slow her down, Evangeline flew down the well-trodden path into the woods. The deeper she went, the more smoke she encountered. What started as a slight haze quickly darkened and obscured every loping step she took.

Then she heard the sound she most dreaded. Hacking, uncontrollable coughs. She spied Seth’s tan shirt through the trees and raced for him. He stood bent in half, a handkerchief tied around his face, a hand clutched to his chest.

“Seth!” She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, trying to move him back the way she had just come. “You have to get out of this smoke.”

“Earl . . . couldn’t . . . follow . . .” His body shuddered as coughs wracked him.

“Don’t worry about Earl. I’ll go after him.”

He shook his head. “No. Too . . . dangerous . . . Benson . . .”

“Benson wants Christie, and she’s alone by a stand of pecans a hundred yards back. Go to her, Seth.” If she’d managed to get Christie to stay put by convincing her it would help Seth, the reverse ought to work as well. “She’s the one in danger, not me.”

He tilted his head and gave her the look that said he knew exactly what she was trying to do. Obviously, he had much more practice divining her machinations than Christie did, but he couldn’t deny that she spoke the truth, even if it was an incomplete version.

“You’re not doing anyone any good here, Seth.” If cajoling didn’t get him moving, maybe harsh truth would. “The smoke’s too thick for you to follow Earl, and your lungs are too weak to stay here, even if your hard head doesn’t want to admit it.” Another set of coughs quaked through him as if to make her point for her. She raised a brow at him. “Go to Christie. Watch over her. Clear your lungs. Trust me. I’ll stay hidden and use the smoke to my advantage. I won’t interfere with anything. I’ll just keep an eye on Earl.” She set a hand on his arm. “We need him, Seth. He can testify against Benson.”

Seth was stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. With a tight nod, he straightened, his hand going to the buckle of his gun belt. “Here,” he rasped as he shoved the heavy accessory at her. She reached for it, but he hesitated in letting it go. “Stay . . . safe.”

“I will,” she vowed, the love and concern in her brother’s face making her eyes itch more than the haze of smoke. She took the belt and strapped it around her waist, the holster hanging low over her hip. On impulse, she clutched Seth in a quick, fierce hug, then gave his shoulder a little shove. “Go.”

Her heart surged in thankfulness when he turned and staggered into a jog that took him away from the smoke.

Evangeline ratcheted up her skirt and yanked at the petticoat beneath. Her hems were always ragged, thanks to her regular jaunts with Hezzy, so it took little time to find a tear she could exploit. Using both hands, she yanked a large section of cotton free from the lower ruffle, then tied the material around her nose and mouth. Inhaling what would be her last gulp of halfway decent air, she squared her shoulders and forged deeper into the thicket.

Within minutes, Earl’s angry voice rasped through the trees.

“You destroyed my still! I’ll see you hang!”

“Moonshining’s illegal, friend.” Another voice. Benson? “I’m doing the community a favor.”

Evangeline slowed to a near halt and skirted away from the path, moving from tree to tree, looking for a safe vantage point from which to watch the confrontation. She squeezed between the trunks of two oaks growing practically on top of each other and squinted into the smoke. Her eyes, raw and stinging, watered. She brushed at them impatiently with the back of her hand. Just then, a breeze blew, clearing a path for her to see. Secreting her body behind the larger of the twin oaks, she peered around the trunk.

Earl stood with his back to her near a pile of rubble that looked to be a mess of barrel shards and copper tubing.

Another man stood across from him. A man in a black suit, with a shiny bald head.

And a shotgun.

“They’ll thank me for ridding their town of an unwanted bootlegger,” the man in the suit argued in a smooth, cultured voice. Calm. Confident. Controlled. Not even the smoke seemed to affect him. “You’re the criminal here. Not me.”

Earl limped forward, ducked his head to cough and spit something vile upon the ground, then advanced again. “I reckon they’ll see things differently when they learn you tried to kill my stepdaughter.”

Silence, thick as the smoke billowing up from the splatter of sour mash, filled the air.

Earl pressed his advantage. “She can talk. Betcha didn’t know that, did ya? Told me what ya done. How you used my wagon to cart her down to the river. My own wagon.”

Evangeline cringed. Stop talking! The fool was giving too much away. He was going to endanger Christie even more with his bravado.

Earl continued ranting, too worked up by the destruction around him to consider the consequences. “You’re a bold one, Benson. Too bold. I will see ya hang.”