Caught in the Middle (Ladies of Caldwell County Book #3)

by Regina Jennings

  Anne sighted the woman immediately. Although not clad in the same gown that she’d worn in Mr. Lovelace’s office, Mrs. Stanford’s dress was just as extravagant. She approached purposefully, and the expression on the man’s face made the whole encounter almost worth it. Mister Powerful-Influential-Romeo glowered at the lady in the expensive fitted gown, but his interest in Anne had vanished.

  “Why did you come back?” he asked.

  “I left my portfolio in the carriage.” Her eyes, sharp as knives, picked Anne apart feature by feature. And her words cut even cleaner. “I thought you would’ve left town by now.”

  Her husband stepped up and retrieved the portfolio for her.

  “I’ll leave as soon as I’m able,” Anne said.

  “Are you employed here?” The lady stood with perfect posture, her skirts fluttering where they flared from her knees downward, her hands folded together before her.

  “Temporarily.”

  The woman’s face remained impassive. She rotated slowly, took her husband’s arm, and led him away.

  Seeing her opportunity, Anne pulled the brake free and led the horses to the back of the barn, where the carriages would be stored. She found an empty stall and unharnessed the horses. She’d just led them out of the traces when the yard boss waved her down.

  “Here’s a half-dollar—a generous wage for the little time you spent, I’d say.”

  Anne looked at the men waiting for their horses. “That’s all you need? It looks like—”

  “That’s all. I’ve already had a complaint from one of my best customers. I can’t have you enticing the men here.”

  “Enticing? Listen, mister. You can string me up if I as much as smiled at one of your customers.”

  He looked as aggravated as she felt, but he didn’t change his mind. “Get on, now. No point causing a scene.”

  Anne shoved the coin into her pocket. She knew where the charge had come from, but there was nothing to do besides accept her money and leave behind another place where she was unwelcome. At least she’d made enough to pay Mrs. Puckett something for supper without tapping into her train-ticket money.

  She headed back to her temporary lodging. She couldn’t say that she missed the child—not when she was counting the hours before he’d be removed from her care—but she didn’t want her absence to trouble him. The boy needed someone who could love him. Everyone deserved that much.

  Nicholas hadn’t had much reason to go to the courthouse since settling in Garber. Occasional permits and taxes had to be filed, but neither increased his desire to visit the white marble structure, bland and devoid of ornamentation. If he had county work that needed to be done, he took the papers with him, which was exactly what he was doing as he left the courthouse. He much preferred to labor in his more comfortable space than in the utilitarian building. Persian rugs and potted ferns gave his office an air of luxury that the government found unnecessary.

  As did Commissioner David Anderson. Gaunt, bespectacled, and careful with his words, his only concession to fashion was a handlebar moustache that the town barber trimmed every Saturday morning. Meeting him in the vicinity of the courthouse wasn’t unusual, which was precisely where Nick saw him today.

  “Good morning, Nick.” The other man stood in front of the dry goods store located directly across the street. “Are you finding your way around the courthouse?”

  Nick joined him under the awning and out of the sun. “I have to count doors in that hallway to keep from walking into the wrong office, but I think I can remember now. Considering the short duration of my service, there’s not much to worry about besides the bridge project.”

  David peered over the rims of his spectacles. “The bridge project has provided enough worry, as it is.”

  “Tell me why. The only reason I’m given is that the river is too wide and not easily spanned, but if the railroads can bridge it, why couldn’t we?”

  “Your vote is yes?”

  “I haven’t had time to delve into the numbers yet, but if I vote no, it won’t be because of construction fears.”

  “Interesting.” David rubbed his chin. “Do you have any desire to run for election in November?”

  The white of the courthouse loomed like a palace across the street. “No. I mean, I hadn’t considered it. This was just an appointment.”

  “Someone will be elected to fill your spot. Maybe you could get an extension on the filing, considering the circumstances. We could use another honest man.”

  His tone caused Nicholas to look over his shoulder, but the potato barrel on the store’s porch was the only witness. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  “Only that things aren’t always what they seem—you, for instance.”

  But before Nicholas could puzzle out his meaning, Anderson stepped off the porch.

  “Good day, Mr. Lovelace.”

  Election? Nicholas shook his head as he made his way to his office. Every minute spent worrying over the bridge was a minute lost overseeing his own interests. He’d accepted this post, but he wasn’t looking to extend his stay.

  When he reached the rickety outside staircase to Lovelace Transportation Specialists, the door above him opened. Out stepped Harold, his arms full of files and ledgers.

  “Is it quitting time already?” Nick met him halfway up the staircase.

  “It’s Saturday,” Harold said. “I shouldn’t be here at all, but I came back to take another look at the figures we’re presenting to Mr. Stanford on the second line.”

  Nicholas slapped his back. “Don’t bury yourself in the books, Harold. Your wife will be mad at me.”

  “I’m charging you overtime, so she approves.”

  Harold turned sideways as Nicholas squeezed past him on the staircase. Nick hugged as close to the building as he could manage.

  “Don’t lean against that rail,” Nick warned. But it was too late.

  With a sickening crack the rail gave way, and Harold teetered at the edge. Nicholas made a grab for him but came up with only ripped paper.

  “Harold!” He leaned over the gaping hole to see his employee lying on the ground. “Are you all right?”

  Harold rolled to his back, exposing his right arm bent in places that arms shouldn’t bend. “Does it look as bad as it hurts?”

  Racing down the stairs, Nick’s heart hammered. “It looks bad. Can you move your legs?”

  “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “Just stay put and I’ll get a doctor.” Nicholas wasn’t feeling too healthy, either. The sight of the disjointed arm turned his stomach inside out.

  “Help me up.”

  Nick supported him the best he could without putting any pressure on his shoulder. Harold’s face turned white and his lips tightened, but he was on his feet, and they were on their way.

  The next hour Nick spent agonizing over each of Harold’s whimpers as the doctor set his arm. He should’ve insisted that his landlord fix that staircase. Harold’s injuries could’ve been much worse. By the time the doctor broke out the bandages, Nick’s teeth had ground themselves smooth.

  Joel’s voice carried into the office. “I know you’re here, Nick. You might as well speak up.”

  “Come on back.” Nick winced as the doctor wrapped another layer of bandages around the splint while Harold tightly gripped the bed frame.

  Deputy Joel Puckett stepped into the room, his wide-set eyes still carrying the innocence of youth despite six years as a Texas deputy. “When I spied that broken bannister, I was afraid something like this had happened.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Harold licked his lips. “But I won’t be doing any pencil pushing for a while.”

  “Well, I don’t imagine that Nick will put you out to pasture just yet.”

  Nick scratched his head. “Don’t know what we’ll do. Just pray that Harold’s arm miraculously heals.”

  “I don’t think God owes you that big of a favor,” Joel said.

  The doctor raised his head
only enough to catch them above the wire frame of his glasses. “I’m trying to work here.”

  “Go on home.” Sweat beaded on Harold’s face. “I don’t want anyone seeing me like this. Besides, Doc sent for my wife. She’ll be here soon.”

  Nick lifted his hand to pat Harold on the back but then thought better of it and followed Joel outside to the well on the back of the property.

  Joel took a seat on the stone wall and fiddled with the bucket rope. “I came to get your version of the train story. Sounds like you nearly got yourself killed.”

  Nick shrugged. “What’s a man’s life worth if he allows a woman to be harassed in his presence?”

  “So you put a stop to it?”

  “Well, yes. Miss Walcher was left alone after I attacked the offender.”

  Joel didn’t hide his skepticism. “Those must be the slowest drawing group of bandits to ever ride the range. I can’t believe not a one of them got a shot off on you. But it would’ve been a pity to lose two county commissioners to the Grim Reaper in a month.”

  “I’m more worried about Harold. The ink’s not yet dry on my oath, and now I’m shorthanded at the office.”

  “I foresee long boring hours with your beloved ledger and maps.”

  “I foresee extra expense for kerosene and coffee.” Nick leaned into the well and let his voice echo back at him.

  “Come on over to my parents’ place,” said Joel. “No use in starting this marathon on an empty stomach.”

  “I’ve eaten with your parents since you have. And just to prepare you, your mother wants to know—”

  “When I’m going to settle down and give her grandchildren.” Joel bounced a pebble down the shaft. “Thanks for the warning, but if I couldn’t predict that question, I’d have no business trying to track down outlaws.”

  8

  Another fruitless day. No work, no word from Anoli. Anne traveled the tidy walkway to the Pucketts’ home, glad that Mrs. Puckett had told some of the neighbors about her. At least a few braved tentative waves, but by the time they got used to her, she’d be gone.

  The crunch of gravel alerted her that someone was behind her. She didn’t change her pace. She didn’t look over her shoulder, but she read what signs she could. At long intervals she heard rustling. A man—not in a hurry but covering ground just the same. He carried more than the usual amount of hardware—two six-shooters at least. Her path led into the setting sun, so there was no shadow visible. Her gun belt was hidden by her coat, but if he was trouble he’d assume she had one. If an animal were stalking her, she would stop and face it. Men were more complicated. You couldn’t take a shot at one just because they threatened your territory.

  Especially when you didn’t own any territory.

  Three houses to pass before she’d reach the Pucketts’, but did she want to go there? A stalked mountain lion didn’t lead hunters back to her cubs. Better to see what he wanted.

  She stopped. His footsteps slowed and then resumed their pace until he’d reached her.

  The same young deputy who’d harassed her before stepped forward. Once again, he’d put her on trial when all she was doing was minding her own business.

  “I thought you were leaving last week. What are you doing in this neighborhood?”

  Anne tensed. Lawmen usually assumed she was guilty of something.

  “My plans have changed. I found a cook and sent her on to Pushmataha, but I’m staying here, boarding with the Pucketts.”

  Her answer displeased him. “How did that come about?”

  She matched his wary expression. “Are all the sheriffs of Garber as concerned about the boarding arrangements of women as you are?”

  “I’m a deputy, and yes, it does concern me when people claim to be living at my parents’ home.”

  Parents? Anne swallowed. If only a giant eagle would swoop down and carry her away. She pulled her hat low and nearly ran to the house. She’d heard about their son, Joel. No one had mentioned he was a deputy. He didn’t stop her but followed right on her heels. The previously friendly neighbors stopped to watch.

  She didn’t even pause in front of the house but walked around to the back, where she generally entered. The door didn’t close behind her before he caught it and whooshed into the kitchen.

  Mrs. Puckett wasn’t there. He watched her, waiting for her to act. If it weren’t for Sammy, she would’ve turned and fled, clear to New Mexico Territory.

  “Mrs. Puckett?”

  “Ma?”

  They hollered in unison. Quick clicks in the hall, then the door swung open.

  “Joel!” Mrs. Puckett handed Sammy to Anne and wrapped her arms around the relentless man. His arms returned the sentiment, but his face remained dark.

  “Is that her baby?” he asked.

  “Do you know Mrs. Tillerton? Why are you scowling like that, Joel? You have such a lovely smile. Haven’t I told you it’s unbecoming to frown?”

  Anne bounced Sammy on her hip. Must be difficult to act tough with a mother like Mrs. Puckett in town. She could almost feel sorry for the man.

  “She told me she was staying here. Sounded like a fabrication to me.”

  “Well, I never! Why would you doubt a lady’s word?”

  One eyebrow rose, letting Anne know what he thought of her claims to ladydom.

  “How exactly did this come about?”

  Before Anne could answer, Mrs. Puckett bustled to the stove and slid an apple pie inside. “Nicholas brought her to us. She’s from Pushmataha. Her husband died, and she’s here looking for work. We’re letting her lease a room, and I’m sitting with the baby.”

  “Pushmataha, you say?” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember any deaths reported in Pushmataha. How did your husband die?”

  Anne tried to freeze her face. No emotion. No response. “Your mother has the events a little confused. My husband died years ago. I came to Garber to find a cook for the depot in Pushmataha, and the cook I came after gave me the slip . . . and her son. Now I’m waiting to hear from the child’s father before I can return to the hunt.”

  “Where is he?”

  Anne could only shrug.

  “But she’s a decent, hardworking young lady,” Mrs. Puckett said. “I’ve told her she’s welcome to stay as long as she needs, but she insists on finding employment.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “And did you find any?”

  “It’s harder than I expected.”

  “But you know Nick . . .” He nodded slowly, and gradually that smile that made his mother proud began to emerge—a smile that made Anne mighty suspicious. “I might know of a position for you. Be ready first thing in the morning.”

  Despite his glowering demeanor, Deputy Puckett seemed to have plenty of friends in town. In their walk from his parents’ house to the business district they were never alone, always at the mercy of some man wanting to hear the latest town news or to report what he suspected. Others trailed along to hear what their neighbors had uncovered. Deputy Puckett listened much, spoke little, and never acknowledged the woman briskly striding next to him, proud that she was keeping up.

  He sped as he neared the fancy hotel and burst through the doors. Anne stayed at his heels with no time to take in the elaborate foyer or the startled guests as they rushed into a dining room that wafted with laughter and the clinking of dishes—all of which went silent when she and Deputy Puckett entered.

  “Where’s Nick?”

  All the wide eyes in the room turned to the far corner where Nicholas Lovelace was sipping his coffee.

  Perfectly attired from his jaunty Derby to his spotless shoes, his face lit up when he saw the deputy, then his brows lowered when he saw her.

  “Mrs. Tillerton, I see you met the elusive Deputy Puckett.”

  Elusive? Seemed like the deputy followed her everywhere.

  Anne marched to his chair. “You could’ve told me the Pucketts’ son was a lawman.”

  Someone by the buffet twittered. Nick stood, crumpling his na
pkin in his hand. “So you’ve made the acquaintance of your parents’ new boarder, Joel. Glad to see you’re getting along.”

  “I could hardly credit that Mrs. Tillerton is a friend of yours.”

  Anne could almost hear Joel’s tanned skin crackling as his face scrunched into a grin.

  “She doesn’t resemble your usual companions.”

  Nick’s eyes traveled the dining room. Every young lady present was in danger of slipping from her chair while leaning closer to catch their conversation. With a jerk of his head he motioned them into an unoccupied corner. “It’s a long story. Have you found Sammy’s father?” he asked Anne.

  “Not yet.”

  “That’s too bad.” Nicholas glanced wistfully at the room past them. “Well, if there were some way I could help—”

  “There is,” Joel said. “You’re shorthanded at the office, aren’t you?”

  “Yes and I’m running late this morning. My vest had a grease spot on it. Had to completely reconsider my wardrobe—”

  “Mrs. Tillerton needs a job.”

  In the silence that followed, Anne could’ve tracked a fox to its den. Nick’s blue eyes flickered once to her.

  “I don’t think so.” He started past them again, but Deputy Puckett restrained him with a hand on his chest.

  “You thought she was good enough to live with my parents. Is there a reason you wouldn’t allow her in your office?”

  Anne’s face burned when Nicholas didn’t answer. “I’m not working for him,” she blurted. “I couldn’t stand to be cramped all day in that tiny office. I’ll find somewhere else.”

  “But you haven’t. Mr. Lovelace was kind enough to introduce you to my parents’ charity, so surely he’ll be generous enough to give you a chance to pay them back.”

  “I will pay,” Anne said. “I insist on paying. As soon I hear from Anoli, I’ll have the funds wired here. Your parents won’t be out anything.”

  She kept her chin up, daring them to communicate over her head. Why had she come to Nicholas for help in the first place? Her position was insufferable. She wouldn’t allow him to fulfill his promise so begrudgingly.

  “Come on,” Nicholas said.