More Than Meets The Eye
More Than Meets The Eye
More Than Meets The Eye
A Tailor-Made Bride
Head in the Clouds
To Win Her Heart
Short-Straw Bride
Stealing the Preacher
Full Steam Ahead
A Worthy Pursuit
No Other Will Do
Heart on the Line
More Than Meets the Eye
K A R EN W ITEMEYER
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_Witemeyer_MoreThanMeetsTheEye_JB_djm.indd 3 3/5/18 4:36 PM
on
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exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products
of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to
actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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1879—Fannin County, TX
“Don’t lose heart, children. We have several strong families lined
up in Bonham. I’m sure we’ll find good homes for each of you.”
Four-year-old Evangeline Pearson smiled at the sponsor from
the Children’s Aid Society as the lady made her way down the
train car aisle, bracing her hand for balance against one empty
seat after another. Seats that had been filled with children when
they’d left New York.
Miss Woodson always made Evie feel better. Even after seven
. . . eight. . . . Evie scrunched her nose and unfolded her fingers
one at a time as she tried to count. How many stops had they
made? When she ran out of fingers, she gave up, huffed out a
breath, and flopped back against the wooden bench seat. It
didn’t matter. No one had wanted her at any of them. But Miss
Woodson had promised to find her and Hamilton a home, and
Evie believed her. She was such a nice person, after all. Noth
ing like the lizard lady sitting stiff and straight at the front of
the train car.
As if Mrs. Dougal had heard Evie’s thoughts, she twisted her
neck around and scowled, her bulging eyes and pursed lips mak
ing Evie shudder. She buried her face in her brother’s shoulder.
“Don’t let her scare you,” Hamilton whispered as he gently
lifted his arm and wrapped it around her. At nine, Hamilton was
ever so much bigger and stronger, and not afraid of anything.
Even when Mama and Papa died. Or when Children’s Haven
had decided the Pearson siblings would be riding the orphan
train west. Never once did he cry or fret. He just hugged her
tight and promised that everything would be all right. He was
the bravest boy who ever lived.
“She doesn’t like me.” Evie snuck a peek at the lizard lady,
found her still scowling at her, and burrowed deeper into her
brother’s side. “It’s ’cause of my eyes, isn’t it?”
Hamilton slid his hands under her arms and lifted her onto
his lap. He tipped her chin up and looked straight into her face.
“There is nothing wrong with your eyes, Evie. They’re beautiful.
God’s gift. Remember what Mama used to say?”
Evie’s chin trembled slightly. Thinking of Mama always made
her sad. Made her wish everything would go back to the way it
had been. Mama holding her in the rocking chair and singing
lullabies. Papa swinging her high into the air and laughing with
that deep belly laugh that always made her giggle. Her room
with rose paper on the wall. Her bed with the pink quilt and
soft pillow. But it was gone. They were gone. Forever.
“What did Mama say?” Hamilton insisted.
“That only special little girls get eyes with two colors,” Evie
mumbled. She wanted to believe it was true. She really did. But
if having two different eyes made her so special, why did no
one want her?
Hamilton nodded. “That’s right. And you know what?”
Evie glanced at her brother, envying his normal, matching
brown eyes. “What?”
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legs nearly as long as Papa’s had been. But she wasn’t about
to let her brother think she was scared, so she pressed her lips
together and let Hamilton drag her along.
“What d’ya want?” Zach lowered his leg from the bench to
sprawl across the opening between his seat and the rear-facing
one across the way, barring Hamilton from getting close.
But that didn’t stop her brother. He just climbed over the
barrier and sat in the seat facing the other boy, leaving Evie to
clamber up beside him.
“I need advice,” Hamilton said, his voice firm like Papa’s used
to be whenever he was instructing them on proper behavior. “The
sponsors think to split us up at the next stop, and I can’t let that
happen. So I need to know how you get people not to claim you.”
Slowly, Zach sat up and leaned across the open space between
the two seats. His dark blue eyes narrowed, and the edge of
his mouth lifted in a smile that looked downright scary. Evie’s
stomach clenched.
“I tell them that I’ll kill them in their sleep.”
Evie gasped. How could someone say such a terrible thing?
Surely he didn’t mean it. Did he?
Zach smirked at her. Evie whimpered.
Hamilton, on the other hand, nodded. “Right. Threaten to
kill them. Got it.”
What? Evie’s gaze jerked to her brother. He couldn’t!
Zach must have thought the idea outrageous as well, because
he shook his head and sighed. “Look, kid, just because it works
for me doesn’t mean it’ll work for you. You got one of them
angel faces. No one will believe you capable of murder.”
“Maybe he can cough, like me.” Seth wandered down the
aisle, a sudden hacking making everyone turn to look at him.
“Act”—he coughed into the handkerchief the sponsors insisted
he carry—“sick.”
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Zach shook his head. “Nah. He looks too healthy. They’ll as
sume he’ll get better.” The older boy lifted his hat and scratched
at a spot on his head, the meanness leaking away from his face.
“We gotta find something else.”
Evie looked from one boy to the next. Was Zach actually
helping them? Maybe Hamilton was right. Maybe he just pre-
tended to be awful. Though why someone would want everyone
to hate him, Evie couldn’t understand, not when she tried so
hard to get people to like her.
Zach eyed Hamilton up and down, then crossed his arms
over his chest and leaned back in his seat. “Spoiled rich kid.
That’s your angle.”
Hamilton frowned. “But I’m not rich. All I have are one
spare set of clothes and the cardboard suitcase the Children’s
Aid Society gave me. Same as everyone else.”
Zach unfolded his arms, a devious light twinkling in his dark
blue eyes. “Yeah, but with names like Hamilton and Evangeline,
it’d be easy as pie to get people to think you come from money.
Farm folk resent rich folk. Think they’re spoiled and have no
work ethic.”
Evie had no idea what a work ethic was, so she probably
didn’t have one. Maybe that was why no one wanted to take
her home. Hamilton must have one, though, since people liked
him. He’d have to find a way to hide it.
“Start throwing demands around. Then throw a fit. Yell.
Scream. Flail around.” Zach was grinning now. A smile that
actually looked happy instead of scary.
“And if all else fails, bite ’em.” Seth offered that bit of advice
once his cough settled. “Whenever I wanted the nurses to leave
me alone, I bit ’em. They stayed away for a good long while
after that.”
Zach slapped the frail boy on the back, nearly sending him to
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the floor. “Good idea! May have to try that one myself someday.”
He started chuckling, and the other boys joined in.
Evie laughed, too, even though she didn’t think biting was
particularly funny. A kitten had bitten her finger once, and it
hurt for two days afterward. But if biting would keep her and
Hamilton together, she’d bite someone, too.
“Get back to your seats, children,” Miss Woodson called
from the front of the car. “We’re almost to Bonham. You’ll
need to gather your belongings.”
Evie shared a look with Hamilton, then climbed off the seat
and headed back to where they’d been sitting. Her tummy
twisted and pinched at the thought of what might happen when
the train stopped, but she remembered what Mama had always
told her to do when she felt afraid.
Once in her seat, she folded her hands in her lap, bowed her
head, and closed her eyes.
Don’t let them take Hamilton away from me. Please. I need
somebody down here who loves me.
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The families started coming in, and Evie’s heart raced. Please
let someone want me. And Hamilton. Together. Please.
She did everything Miss Woodson had told her. She didn’t
fidget. Stood tall as she could manage. Smiled. All while hiding
her eyes. She kept her face downcast, watching feet instead of
faces move through the courthouse lobby.
Hamilton stood a few feet away, talking with a man and
his wife.
“We really only want a boy, one who can help in the fields,”
the man was saying.
“Remember the agreement you signed, Mr. Potter.” Miss
Woodson joined the group. “Any child you receive must be
treated as a member of your family. And if you expect a farm
hand’s labor from him, you must offer a farmhand’s wages.”
“I know. But he’s talkin’ about me takin’ on his sister as
well. She’s too young to be much help on the farm, and if
I’m payin’ wages, I won’t have the funds to feed and clothe
another child.”
“Let’s just look at her, John. Please? She’s got the same
reddish-brown hair Nellie did. Maybe if I had another girl
around the kitchen, I wouldn’t miss our daughter so.” A gray
skirt swished in Evie’s direction.
Evie smiled as wide as she could stretch her lips. Please want
me. Please want me.
The lady in gray stopped in front of Evie, then hunkered
down. Determined to hide her eyes, Evie kept her gaze focused
on the lady’s skirt.
“What’s your name, child?”
Evie swung back and forth, then remembered she wasn’t
supposed to fidget and stopped. “Evangeline.”
“That’s a pretty name. You remind me of my daughter, Nel
lie. She’s grown now. Married a man from two counties over, so
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I don’t get to see her very often. I miss having a little girl around.
I could teach you how to cook and sew. Would you like that?”
Evie nodded, her excitement building. “Yes, ma’am.”
A pair of rough boots plodded up beside the gray skirt. “Look
at a person when you speak to them, girl.” The hard, manly
voice made Evie jump.
What should she do? If she showed her eyes, they might not
want her anymore. But if she didn’t look up, they’d think her
defiant.
“Maybe she’s just shy, John,” the gray lady said. Her hand
came up to cup Evie’s chin. “My Nellie had such lovely brown
eyes. Are your eyes brown?”
Evie nodded. It wasn’t a lie. She did have a brown eye.
“Let me see.” The lady pushed Evie’s chin up.
Maybe she could just show one eye. Evie tried to open her
right eye while squeezing her left eye shut, screwing up her
mouth in concentration.
“Quit making faces, girl,” the man barked.
The sharp tone startled Evie, and she forgot to keep her left
eye shut.
The lady gasped and pulled her hand away. “Her . . . eyes.
Miss Woodson, what’s wrong with her eyes?”
Evie immediately shuttered her gaze, blinking back the tears
that rose.
“Nothing’s wrong with her eyes!” Hamilton rushed to Evie’s
side and grabbed her hand. “She can see just fine. That’s all that
matters, isn’t it? That they work. My sister’s smart, cheerful,
and strong for her size. You’d be getting a deal if you take us
both on. You wouldn’t even have to pay me any wages. I’ll work
for free if you take Evie, too.”
“So her eyes won’t ever . . . fix themselves?” The lady in gray
stood, backed up a step, then rubbed her arms against a shudder.
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of the railcar, Zach actually making room for Seth on the seat
next to him as Hamilton and Evie sat in the rear-facing seat
in front of them.
Evie thought them all crazy to be so proud of themselves for
such awful behavior, but she and Hamilton were still together,
so she wouldn’t scold them. Lizard Lady had done that enough
already.
The boys recounted the event over and over until Evie grew
bored. And sleepy. Being scared wore a girl out, and she’d been
more scared today than any day she could remember. The rock
ing of the train made her eyelids heavy, and her head started to
loll toward her chest.
“Here, Evie.” Hamilton set his back against the window
like Zach had done earlier and made room for her to nestle up
against his chest.
She curled up against her big brother and slept until a harsh
jolt tossed her onto the floor. Her head bumped against some
one’s bony knee, and she cried out as the terrifying sound of
braking train wheels screeching against the rails pierced the air.
Luggage fell from the overhead racks. The sponsors screamed.
Hamilton called Evie’s name before he dropped down over her
and wrapped his body around hers.
“Crawl under the seat, Evie, and hold on to the chair legs.”
She did what he said, hugging the ornate iron leg that con
nected the bench to the floor with all her might. Then the train
slammed into something. Hard. So hard, the force tore Ham
ilton away from her.
“Ham-ton!”
A loud groan rumbled, and the railcar started to tip. Evie
wailed her brother’s name.
“Hold on, Evie! Don’t let go!”
She did. Until the railcar tipped on its side, throwing her
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He was scaring her. The way his eyes looked at her. Sad.
Sorry. The way people had looked at her after Mama and Papa
had gone to heaven.
Evie struggled. “Ham-ton! I want Ham-ton!”
She stomped Seth’s toes and broke free. She stumbled for
ward, tripping on a window frame, but grabbed the edge of a
sideways bench to keep from falling. Everything was sideways.
Crumpled. Broken.
She spotted Zach hunched over, a giant plate of glass in his
hands that he yanked upward and tossed aside.
“Zach?”
She was going to ask if he knew where Hamilton was, but
when he turned to look at her, his face made her forget her
words. He didn’t look mean or tough now. He looked . . . lost.
“He saved my life,” he mumbled, his stare blank. “Pushed me
out of the way and saved my life.” Zach blinked, then seemed
to recognize her. He jumped to his feet and tore at his coat as
if it had suddenly caught fire. Finally, he flung it from his back
and tossed it on top of a pile of something behind him.
Seth joined them. “We need to get . . . her out. Shouldn’t
. . . see this.”
Shouldn’t see what? Evie looked from one boy to the other.
What were they hiding from her, and where was her brother?
“She needs to say good-bye,” Zach argued.
Say good-bye? To who?
“Evie?” A weak voice cut through the argument, stilling
everyone.
Hamilton!
Evie pushed past Zach and found her brother at last. He
lay on his back, not moving. Zach’s coat covered him up. She
stumbled up to where his head lay and wrapped her arms around
his neck. But he didn’t hug her back. Didn’t rub her hair and
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tell her everything would be all right. He just lay there. Still.
Too still.
“Ham-ton? You gotta get up.” She grabbed his shoulder and
tried to pull him into a sitting position. “Get up, Ham-ton!”
“Easy, princess. You don’t want to hurt him.” Zach crouched
beside her and patted her back. It felt awkward and stiff, but
it was warm, too. And Evie felt so cold, as if her heart had
turned to ice.
“Zach’s gonna . . . take care of you now,” Hamilton said,
struggling to open his eyes. “He made me a promise, and I trust
him . . . to keep it. You can trust him . . . too.”
“I don’t want Zach to take care of me. I want you, Ham-ton!”
Her brother smiled, or tried to. “I know, Evie, but I can’t
stay. I have to . . . go see Mama . . . and Papa.” He coughed,
and something red came out of his mouth.
Terror seized Evie, shaking her from top to bottom. Hamilton
couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t!
Zach helped Hamilton turn his head and wiped away the
blood, the tenderness so strange from the rough boy. Once he
was done, Hamilton looked at Evie again.
“I love you, sis. Always . . . and forever.”
“Don’t leave me, Ham-ton.” Her voice broke as she collapsed
on his chest and cried out her heartache. “Don’t leave me.”
Something gurgled in his lungs; she could hear it beneath the
coat. But she also heard voices. Seth and Zach arguing.
“They’ll never let you stay with her,” Seth was saying. “As
soon as we get back to New York, they’ll divide us up again.”
“That’s why we’re not going to New York.”
“What?”
“We’re making a run for it.”
“But we’re just kids. How can we—?”
“If you don’t want to come, don’t come. But I made the kid
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Seven years ago, the town had been brand-new, barely a post
office to its name. Dunn probably hadn’t even been around.
It wasn’t until the railroad came through in 1888 that people
started flocking to the area. Which made Hamilton’s crime
all the more severe. Logan’s father’s land would have tripled
in value with the railroad’s arrival, but Hamilton had stolen
it from him before that could happen. Had stolen his father’s
life as well.
The barkeep extracted his hand, then found a spoon and set
it on the counter next to the mug. As Logan stirred the dissolved
sugar into his coffee, he cast a quick glance around the room to
ensure no one was paying him any particular attention. Then
he casually brought up the topic he most wanted to discuss.
“You get many high-stakes games in here?”
Dunn chuckled. “Didn’t call her the Lucky Lady for nuthin’,
did I? Highest stakes in town. You a gamblin’ man?”
Logan took a sip of his coffee, studying the other man. “When
properly motivated.”
“Only go for the rich pots, huh?” Dunn’s mouth curved in
a sly grin.
Logan just sipped his coffee, letting the barkeep think what
he would. In truth, Logan despised gambling. Hated the greed
that accompanied it, the unnecessary risk, the completely irra
tional belief that one could actually control fate. He’d learned
to count cards, to run probabilities in his head, to read the faces
of those sitting at the table around him, but he still lost. Not
as often as most, and not more often than he won, but often
enough to remind him that control was an illusion. No man
controlled fate. God alone claimed that honor.
He eyed Dunn over the brim of his mug. “You got any big
players around here?”
Dunn shrugged. “Most of the folks in these parts don’t have
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much ready cash. The boys from the mill will get up a good
game when they’ve got wages burning a hole in their pockets,
but the rest play friendly games as a way to pass the time. Play
runs deeper here than at L. A. Campbell’s place, though. I
don’t put no limits on the stakes or kick people out if things
get a little rowdy. Unless someone starts breakin’ up the place.
That’s just bad for business.”
“A fellow by the name of Hamilton ever play here?” Logan’s
gut clenched even as he forced his expression to remain cool. He
wouldn’t want the man to think him too interested in the answer.
“Zach Hamilton?” Dunn’s eyebrows arched.
Logan lifted the coffee to his mouth in a carefully measured
display of nonchalance. “Man has the reputation of a player,
and I heard he lived around here.”
“Oh, he lives around here, all right. Probably’ll be your neigh
bor, seein’ as how his spread backs up to the river, too. But a
player?” Dunn shook his head. “I can’t picture it. Oh, I’ve heard
the rumors that he might have gambled in his younger days,
but I ain’t never seen him so much as touch a deck in my place.
Nowhere else in town neither, as far as I know.”
Logan froze, the cup halfway between his mouth and the
counter. Never touched a deck? That couldn’t be right. The
cardsharp his father had described would never just hang it up.
The thrill of the game? The addicting rush of power that came
with each win? Logan himself battled the pull, and he despised
the pastime. It made no sense for a gamester like Hamilton to
simply retire.
“Maybe he rides over to Ben Franklin to play,” Logan gritted
out as he slowly lowered his cup. It would make sense. If Ham
ilton had set up permanent residence in Pecan Gap, he’d not
want to stir up trouble amongst his neighbors. Beggaring them
with his underhanded gameplay would make any aboveboard
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cleaned the soil from beneath her fingernails and rinsed off
her face during Hezzy’s bath, ensuring no dirt smudged her
cheeks or nose. She might have a pet pig, but that didn’t mean
she wanted to look like him.
Seth nodded. “Thanks. I didn’t get quite as far as I hoped
this morning.”
Evangeline shrugged off his comment. “No problem. I didn’t
mind the extra time. It’s a pretty day.”
Years ago they had worked out a system. Seth would start
and she would finish whatever outdoor chores were required for
the day while Zach tackled the larger projects. Seth’s asthma
made it difficult for him to work when the wind stirred up the
dust, yet he refused to remain indoors like an invalid, so he went
out first thing in the morning when things were relatively still
and the air clean. He’d work until he felt tightness build in his
chest, then pass the job off to her.
“I heard your caterwauling all the way in the house.” Seth
grinned as he leaned against the doorframe.
Brothers. Critics, the both of them. As if either one of them
could sing. Seth’s voice wobbled like a sick cat, and Zach—well,
Zach never sang. Not even in church. So who knew what his
voice sounded like? But to Evangeline, music was like sunshine.
It brought things to life and made chores whiz by in a happy
blur. She loved singing. The louder, the better. Hymns, popular
tunes, even little ditties she made up on the spot. Didn’t mat
ter. She’d chirp out whatever came into her heart. Sometimes
in praise to God, sometimes for pure fun, and sometimes in
self-defense to keep the loneliness at bay.
“The potatoes didn’t seem to mind,” she quipped instead
of following her first instinct of sticking her tongue out at
him. At nineteen, she was too mature for such antics. At least
in theory.
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into the house and bottle feeds the thing? As if we don’t have
a big enough wild pig problem around here, you go and bring
one of the ugly things home.”
“Hezekiah is not ugly. Besides, you know I couldn’t leave him
out there on his own with no mama to protect him. His little
baby squeals broke my heart.”
Seth rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Well, he’s
no baby now. He must weigh a hundred pounds or more. Barges
into the house like he’s the family dog,” he grumbled. “It’s
ridiculous.”
“It’s charming,” she countered, ignoring Seth’s snort of dis
agreement.
After being abandoned and rejected time after time in her
childhood, Evangeline couldn’t bear to see any creature suffer
the same fate. Her adopted brothers had taken her in, fed her,
raised her, loved her. She could do no less for anyone or anything
in need. Even a slightly less than handsome hog.
“Come, Hezzy.” She tapped the side of her leg, and good
boy that he was, Hezekiah got up and trotted over.
Seth shook his head. “Even comes when you call him.
Crazy.”
Evangeline bent slightly and patted the hog’s bristly black
hide. “That’s because he knows his mama loves him. Don’t
you, Hezzy? Such a good boy.”
“Please.” Thick sarcasm flavored Seth’s tone as he pushed
past her, grabbed a wet dish towel, and immediately mopped
the section of floor where the hog had lain.
Evangeline wasn’t offended by his need to wipe away any
residue Hezzy might have left behind. After years of experi
menting, they’d finally figured out that keeping the house free
of as much dust and dirt as possible helped keep Seth’s lungs
from getting inflamed. So they had no rugs in any of the main
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Stay hidden in the trees. Collect clues, yet not directly engage
anyone she might find.
Whoever this interloper was, he wouldn’t know the terrain
like she did. That gave her an edge. One she intended to use
to full advantage.
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female turned on him. She flipped around and brought her knee
up into his groin. Air whooshed from his lungs as pain radi
ated through his lower half. He would have thrown her off him
except he was too busy dodging the fingers jabbing at his eyes.
Good gravy. She fought dirtier than a saloon brawler. If he
hadn’t spent so much time in disreputable establishments learn
ing how to stay alive, he’d no doubt be down at least one eye
by now.
When the heel of her hand narrowly missed the bridge of
his nose, Logan decided the time for chivalry had passed. He
grabbed her wrists, wrapped a leg around her hips, and rolled
her onto her back, taking extra care to pin her legs with his
weight. He had no intention of joining the soprano section of
the church choir.
She writhed beneath him, terror etching her face.
“Be still, would ya?” he growled, rearing back as she tried to
butt him with her head. “Land sakes, woman. I’m not tryin’ to
hurt you. I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?” she demanded.
“From the—”
Boar! A black shadow caught the corner of his vision a heart
beat before the beast’s head plowed into Logan’s side, bowling
him off the girl. Fearing she’d be trampled, he snaked an arm
around her midsection and dragged her back under him as he
pulled up on all fours. Using his body as a barrier, he gritted
his teeth against the force of the hog’s shove, bracing his arms
and digging the toes of his boots into the soft earth.
At least his damsel had the good sense to cease her attacks.
In this position, all his tender parts were at her mercy. She did
keep shouting “No” at him, though, in the same stern voice his
mother had used when scolding him as a boy.
The boar backed away—probably to get a running start at
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Logan scowled.
Her smile dimmed. Just a bit, but enough to make him feel
more in control. All this frivolous laughing and grinning was
bad for his digestion.
Her eyes found his again, and the playfulness vanished from
her gaze. “Everyone deserves to be treated like a king, even if
they’re only a humble pig.”
The bald statement stunned him momentarily. Then opened a
Machiavellian door in his mind. This girl had a bleeding heart,
an undeniable drive to right wrongs and champion the cause
of the downtrodden.
The perfect ace to hide in his sleeve.
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