Page 18 of More Than Meets the Eye

She nibbled her lower lip as she made the rounds, filling a coffee cup first for Zach, then for Seth, before fetching the teakettle for herself.

“Sorghum’s growing a little slow. Probably ought to rotate it with oats next year,” Zach said as he lifted his cup to his mouth and leaned back in the wooden kitchen chair.

“Cotton’s a better cash crop,” Seth ventured.

Zach’s jaw clenched, and tension immediately filled the room.

Evangeline shot Seth a sharp look. If she were closer, she’d smack the back of his head. Not that it would make much difference. He’d just ignore it, like he was currently ignoring her glare. Her grip on the kettle handle tightened. Of all the nights to bring up this old argument. She already had one minefield to maneuver. She didn’t need a second.

“Everyone around here already grows cotton.” Evangeline purposely kept her voice light as she slid back into her seat at the table and poured steaming water from the kettle through the tea strainer and into her cup. “When have we ever followed the crowd? We Hamiltons forge our own path. Besides, with everyone else planting cotton, there will be more local demand for oats.”

Her cup filled, she set the kettle on the metal trivet in the center of the table, then looked at her eldest brother and smiled. “I trust your instincts, Zach. If you think oats are the way to go, then we’ll plant oats. You haven’t steered us wrong yet. Just recall that remarkable yield of syrup we had last year. We sold nearly a thousand gallons of molasses! Even if the yield is smaller this time, we’ll still have enough to get by, thanks to your capable management.”

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you, Evie?” Zach smiled around the brim of his coffee cup, and the tension gripping the room eased a fraction. “You don’t have to play peacemaker. We’re big boys. We can handle a little disagreement now and again.”

“Of course you can.” If one counted icy silence and grumpy stomping for the next two days as handling things. She needed them in a good mood right now. She winked at Zach, then turned to smile at Seth as well, adding a silent plea to her expression, begging him to let the matter drop. At least for tonight.

Seth managed the family funds—kept the books, studied the agriculture market, researched trends and innovations, monitored the accounts. He was the brains behind Zach’s brawn. Seth’s well-timed investments had slowly padded their income over the years, taking what Zach had scraped together through odd jobs and back-breaking toil and growing it into something substantial. Having gone to bed hungry more nights than not during the lean years after the train wreck, security was something they all craved. Yet lines still existed that could not be crossed.

Cotton was one of those lines.

Evangeline didn’t know all the details. Zach never spoke about his past, but she knew he despised farming. Cotton in particular. The fact that he had purchased a farm seven years ago and started raising sorghum and corn of his own free will testified to his love for his siblings. She was convinced that nothing else would have ever compelled him to work the land again. He’d proven countless times over the years that he’d do whatever it took to provide for her and Seth. And if farming was what it took, that was what he’d do. Even if he hated every minute of it.

Seth used to be content to let Zach make all the decisions, but the older he got, the more driven he seemed to assert himself. And judging by the stubborn tilt of his chin, this was fixing to be one of those times.

“Cotton fetches twice the price of oats, and you know it,” Seth challenged. “I don’t understand why we can’t plant a few acres just to try it out.”

Zach slowly set his coffee cup on the table, his whitening knuckles the only outward show of strain. “Be my guest,” he said with a wave of his hand. “You want to plant cotton, plant cotton. But I ain’t working it.”

Seth leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Why not? You work the sorghum, the corn, the oats when they’re rotated in. Why not cotton?”

“I got my reasons.”

“You got your reasons.” Seth’s voice rose, his temper slipping. He scraped his chair back and pushed to his feet.

“Please, Seth. Leave it alone.” Evangeline reached a hand toward her brother, but he pulled away from her.

“I’m not going to leave it alone. Not this time.” He stormed around the table to face Zach without a barrier between them. “All these years, he’s been the one deciding what’s right for us. What’s best. But we aren’t kids anymore. And this is not a dictatorship.”

Zach lifted his coffee cup and sipped, ignoring the rant, which only angered Seth more. Evangeline’s stomach cramped. She hated when her brothers fought. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it brought long-buried fears surging back to the surface. Fears of being abandoned again. Fears that they’d decide this little patchwork family of theirs wasn’t worth the effort any longer and leave.

Evangeline hurried around the table and placed herself between the two men she loved more than anything on this earth. She placed one hand on Zach’s shoulder, the other on Seth’s elbow.

“Zach provided for us when we couldn’t provide for ourselves. He kept us together. Kept us alive. He’s always put us first. Always.” She squeezed Seth’s arm, praying he would relent. “If he doesn’t want to work cotton, we don’t work cotton. We owe him that much.”

Seth turned hard eyes on her, eyes that shone with . . . hurt? “And what about what he owes us?”

That got Zach’s attention. He turned toward his brother, his face a blank mask that reminded Evangeline of another man she’d gone toe-to-toe with earlier in the day. “And what exactly do I owe you, little brother?”

Seth jerked his arm away from Evangeline’s hold. “Respect.”

Zach blinked. Twice. Then hardened the line of his mouth.

Seth continued, undaunted. “I’m a man, same as you, Zach. Not a boy. Just because I can’t work the same as you doesn’t mean my opinions hold no weight.”

Zach twisted in his seat and rested an arm on the chair back. “And here I thought you were the smart one of the family. I heed your opinions all the time. You have full control over the family finances. Wherever you say to invest, we invest. I hand my money over to you every time we bring in a harvest or butcher a hog. I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t respect you, Seth.”

“Yet you don’t respect me enough to treat me like an equal. I’m not your little brother. I’m your partner. Yet you still keep secrets as if we’re children who can’t handle a few rocks in our road.”