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

by Regina Jennings

  “I missed dinner. Thought I’d stop by for a bite to stretch until supper.”

  “Oh.” The porcelain cabinet pull was within reach, but she had to slow down. “I-I thought Sammy might be getting hungry, too. If we had some of that powder food, I thought I’d go ahead and use it up before he outgrows it.”

  Mr. Puckett grunted. “I thought he already had. He’s been drinking cow’s milk for a while now. Besides, isn’t it about his naptime?”

  Anne bounced the increasingly frustrated child on her hip. He leaned over her arm stretching for the floor and freedom. It wouldn’t do to take the canister up to her room, and mixing it in the kitchen would only waste it. She’d have to get it later.

  “You’re right. Maybe that’s why he’s fussing.” She transferred Sammy to her other arm. “We’ll be upstairs.”

  As much as she’d like to find a quiet corner and drink in his every movement, she couldn’t afford to waste time. Anne took the stairs, paying particular attention to the creaky spots, although she’d located each one the first week of her stay. Once in her room she released Sammy to the freedom he sought and fished her knapsack out from under the high bed.

  She threw her buckskins and trousers into the bag, leaving one pair out to wear. If they needed to skedaddle, she was ready. Her money and gear were in Pushmataha. She trusted Anoli to send them to her if she asked, but where? Nick might know the railroads, but that’d be the first place they searched. They’d have to rely on her skills. She could get Sammy somewhere safe.

  Anne had no desire to return to Ohio. Her father had worked diligently to arrange her departure. Nothing, no one remained for her there, but that left the rest of the country. Going east toward Arkansas would provide more cover and a woodsy terrain like she’d grown up in. On the other hand, they were more likely to find work and anonymity if they went west. Maybe it wouldn’t come to that. Hopefully, Nick would straighten out the mess, but the outcome was too important to leave up to chance.

  The bag wasn’t nearly full. She wouldn’t take any of the dresses Mrs. Puckett had loaned her. She needed to travel light and fast. Checking to see that Sammy wasn’t watching, Anne took the gun belt down from the high shelf in the wardrobe. As usual the barrel was loaded and not a leather loop on her belt was missing its bullet.

  She returned it to the top of the wardrobe and then dug Sammy’s gowns from a lower drawer, thankful for those she’d sewn and those she’d purchased with her own funds. He helped her empty it, strewing his gowns, long socks, and wool coat across the room. They took next to no room in the bag, so Anne crammed all the diapers she could fit on top and pulled tight the drawstring.

  With winter coming on, she shouldn’t head north for long. Not without shelter and warmer clothes for Sammy. Thankfully, she wasn’t fleeing alone. For the first time in her life Anne had someone willing to sacrifice for her—someone who didn’t view her as a nuisance or a possession. But as sweet as he was to get involved, Nick didn’t know the first thing about traveling through the wilderness with a baby. Well, maybe his plans were more civilized. The least she could do was to give him a chance. After all they’d been through together, she owed him that much.

  19

  The attendees said that Nicholas had done well with his speech, but he couldn’t remember it. Yes, he announced that the bridge project had passed—a crash of applause and hats thrown in the air weren’t quickly forgotten—but he’d lost interest recounting his business success and construction experience. He grew impatient answering the same questions over and over. It was getting late. Time for him to leave. The encounter with Anne loomed larger than any election.

  Had the wanton cook returned for Sammy, he could reasonably argue that Anne could provide a better future, but grandparents—a pastor, no less?

  He wished he had a villain to blame, but with Joel administering the law and the grandparents seeing to their familial responsibilities, everyone doing as they ought. Would Anne?

  His resources were at an end. Usually Nicholas stayed a couple of steps ahead of the game, and if something didn’t work out, he wasn’t troubled. Other opportunities would present themselves. Even with the painful loss of his business, he had hope. He’d find a substitute, another venue for his aspirations.

  But losing Sammy had no upside. More exciting opportunities weren’t opening. This tragedy would devastate someone he cared for—cared deeply for. It was a thick stone wall. He couldn’t see any light through it; he couldn’t see any good that would come of it. And if he couldn’t find a way to help, he would lose her.

  Nicholas walked the quiet street, trying to ignore the poster plastered to the wall of the pharmacy, blazoned with his name and tomorrow’s date.

  He didn’t know what was ahead, but God did. He had to trust that He had good planned for Anne, and he’d pray that God would let him see that good. Without Sammy, there’d be no reason for Anne to stay in Garber. Not unless Nick gave her a reason. But he was afraid he wasn’t enough.

  Nick pulled on his ear. If the people back home knew he was keeping company with crazy Mrs. Tillerton, they would laugh. Then again, they might know already. Molly had been quick to notice the attraction between the two of them, but in the past Molly had been the only one to see through the shell of toughness Anne had cultivated.

  No lamplight glowed from the front of the Pucketts’ house. Nicholas stuck his head around the corner, but everything was dark. Had Anne already retired for the evening? It was probably for the best. Hiding the truth from her hadn’t been easy. He’d just have to make sure she had enough time in the morning to pack and catch the train.

  He’d walked back to the street when he realized that ever since he’d approached the house, some bird had been sounding a distress call. Nick could barely identify a hoot owl’s greeting, but this sounded peculiar even to his unqualified ears. Keeping his eyes trained on the giant magnolia tree, he stepped around Mrs. Puckett’s flower bed to view the figure perched atop the sagging branch.

  “Don’t look at me,” Joel whispered urgently. “I don’t want her to see me.”

  “Why are you hiding?” Nick followed his gaze to the dark window that must have been Anne’s room. “If you wanted to spy on her, why not go inside?”

  “Anne knows. Sheriff Green told her.”

  Nick rubbed his neck, hating the ball of guilt knotting there. “I should’ve told her.”

  “Well, now I have to keep an eye on her, and Ma wouldn’t want me watching a guest of hers like a cat at a fishbowl.”

  “Good to see you’re honoring her wishes.”

  “Shh. Step back so she can’t see us.”

  Anne lifted the shade on her bedroom window and studied the yard below. Dark and quiet, just as she’d hoped.

  She tied off the leather drawstring at the neck of her billowing shirt and crammed her shirttails into her britches. She couldn’t afford to waste any more time. As soon as Sammy began rubbing his eyes with his grimy fists, she’d given him his bath, hidden the infant formula in the towel, and gone upstairs. She had to find Nick first, but just in case, she was prepared to cover miles before daybreak.

  On tiptoe she reached for her gun belt, careful not to wake Sammy until it was necessary. The leather rasped against the shelf and then swung free, the metal buckle clicking in the air. She fastened it just above her hips, a little high for a true gunslinger, but most gunslingers weren’t shaped like she was. Out of habit she fitted the palm of her hand over the grip and loosened it from its holster. Not that she planned on using it, but one didn’t carry a gun without the realization that someone might challenge them.

  She looked around the room one last time. Of all the places she’d lived, this was the only home she’d known. Her father’s cabin in the woods of Ohio had just been a place to get out of the rain. The farmhouse in Prairie Lea had been her prison. Sleeping outside with the buffalo hunters had given her space, but no sense of belonging. No one else had worked at cultivating a relationship like Mrs. Pucket
t had. Anne’s time in Garber had grown her and softened her.

  But now she was sensitive and she hurt. Whatever shield she’d lowered had to be taken up again to protect her son from those who would tear him away from her.

  While here she’d learned to love, just as she’d learned to survive from her time in the woods. Now she’d need both lessons at her disposal to find her way.

  Anne slung her knapsack over her shoulder and gathered Sammy in her arms. Nick might tell her to go home for another night, but she couldn’t rest without understanding his strategy. As daunting as the journey before her was, at least she had help.

  Nick thought he saw movement at the front door. Joel’s whispered soliloquy halted as Anne stepped outside and skimmed to the edge of the porch, leaving the door open behind her. With one foot touching terra firma she froze. Her head cocked and she turned slowly to where Nick stood, even though he’d thought the darkness hid him.

  As silent as a shadow she rushed toward him with Sammy in her arms. She let the knapsack tumble off her shoulder and land at his feet, looking relieved, as if she’d expected to find him standing in the yard at midnight, waiting on her. Her grip on the sleeping baby loosened.

  “So you did know about this. I thought so from the way you were acting this morning, but you’re right—probably better to wait until tonight when no one’s watching. I knew you wouldn’t let Tessa take Sammy, but I couldn’t wait until morning to hear your plan. I was pacing that room like a rabid animal.”

  She watched him intently, her curly hair dancing unhindered in the breeze. The child sleeping against her breast created a perfect picture of motherly love. A picture he would see destroyed.

  “Tessa has nothing to do with it. It’s his grandparents—Finn’s parents.”

  She shook her head. “Finn said he was an orphan.”

  “He lied. His parents live in Atoka—Reverend and Mrs. Holland. They heard about his death and now they want the baby.”

  Her lips tightened. “Not if we have anything to say about it. They raised Finn. They can’t be good people.”

  Anne noticed the movement in the tree before Nick did. Joel swung down, stirring the dust with his landing.

  “You might as well take the boy back to the house. We’ll talk in the morning,” the lawman said.

  “I can’t have a word in private with Mr. Lovelace? Last I checked citizens were free to converse without supervision.”

  “You can do what you want. I’ll take the kid back inside while you and Nick chat.” He held out his arms, but Anne was having none of it.

  “I think I have the right to know what’s happening tomorrow.”

  Joel couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Tomorrow I’m taking Sammy to Atoka on the eleven o’clock train. His grandparents are expecting him.”

  The plains of her face sagged, pulled down by an invisible weight.

  Nick placed his hand on her arm. “We’re going, too. That’ll give us more time.” It wouldn’t be enough. He knew that, but he was trying to give what he could.

  She stared at him, as if trying to decipher some hidden message.

  “You want me to go with you? With Deputy Puckett?” Her head tilted.

  “I hope you will,” Joel said. “Have his duds packed and ready when I come get y’all.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked Nick.

  “We can talk tomorrow on the train,” he said, and for some reason his answer seemed to comfort her.

  Anne cradled Sammy against her chest with one arm and bent to pick up her knapsack. With one last meaningful look at Nick, she turned and trudged back to the house.

  “I should’ve told her.” Nick rubbed his forehead. “I hated hiding it from her.”

  “You can explain tomorrow, but now you’d better get some shut-eye. I can sleep on the train, but one of us needs to watch her at all times.”

  Nick’s shoulders drooped. As if he could look away.

  20

  The line at the courthouse was short when Nick arrived thirty minutes before the polls opened. What was the point of secret ballots? No one had voted yet, but from the men’s reaction to his presence he could gauge their opinion. And overall it was positive.

  As the time for the opening of the polls approached, many walked up the line to shake his hand or wish him luck, but a few dropped their voices as he neared and murmured in a most disapproving fashion.

  What had Ian Stanford accused him of? No way would Ian leave the election up to chance, and no way would he feel any compunction to tell the truth. Funny how quickly, how completely, a friendship could disappear. He thought of Ophelia and all the times she’d tried to engage him in small talk as if she genuinely cared about his opinion. He thought of Ian’s flamboyant praise and predictions of his success, but when it came down to it, they were only there to see what they could get out of him. When he ceased to be useful, they wanted him buried six feet under.

  He’d won the bridge vote, but there was much more to fight for. Nick couldn’t leave the county in the hands of a crooked judge and a ruthless businessman. Anne’s trouble devastated him, but he couldn’t lose sight of his purpose. Just as she wanted to rescue Sammy, he was obligated to bring justice to the political process. The two didn’t conflict, but one would have to wait until the other was settled.

  The courthouse door cracked open, was shoved wide and propped open by a pollster. Up the steps went the line, and soon Nick was holding a ballot.

  The blue ink smelled fresh. The orange county crest proudly denoted an up-and-coming community that could afford two-tone printing. He scanned the short list of sheriff, treasurer, and commissioner candidates until he saw his name: Nicholas Lovelace—County Commissioner, District #5.

  He ran his finger over the print. His name. While inclusion on this list of who’s who hadn’t taken much effort, it had cost him everything. He’d volunteered to finish Richard Garrard’s term only thinking of the prestige it’d bring, but staying true to his oath and his own conscience meant that he’d lost more than he’d imagined possible.

  He hoped he’d never look back and regret what he’d done. With every hardship, he’d have to remember that obedience had led him to that consequence. As much as he enjoyed fine things, he’d have to learn to appreciate honest austerity over guilty luxury.

  Nicholas lifted the pen from the inkpot and tapped the excess on the rim. With a quick flourish he circled his name, marked the other candidates he’d chosen, and dropped the ballot into the glass jar.

  One vote. That was all he had to give today at the courthouse, but much more would be required at Anne’s side. Was what he offered enough?

  She followed Joel like a criminal to the gallows. Sammy rested on her hip, drawing attention with his grins and babbled greetings to everyone they passed. If she only had the grace to return the cheerful acknowledgments . . .

  Courage. She needed courage, because this wasn’t the end. Today was Election Day and Nick wouldn’t miss it for a joyride to Indian Territory. When she thought of all he’d given up to oppose the Stanfords, she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to fight this injustice, as well. Nick was taking care of her. And Sammy. He wouldn’t let Finn’s family win.

  But there was Joel. Anne couldn’t imagine Nick openly opposing his deputy friend, which left two options. Either Nick planned to challenge the grandparents legally, or he would distract Joel to give her an escape. Most likely he’d try the first and save the latter for use only if the situation became desperate.

  The cold air tingled on her cheeks. She tucked Sammy tighter against her duster. Mrs. Puckett had begged her to dress appropriately, thinking that a good impression might sway the family. Despite her pleas, Anne refused. She wouldn’t rely on the kindness and judgment of strangers—or friends for that matter. All she could count on was the abundance of a forest to feed and conceal them if needed. And for that she couldn’t be decked out in a cumbersome skirt.

  Anne’s steps slowed as they neared the train station. Joel turned
quick as a cat, ready to snatch her if needed. He transferred her bag to his right hand and took her arm with his left.

  “We’re almost there,” he said.

  Barely two months ago Anne had arrived in Garber. Two months ago if Sammy’s grandparents had claimed him, she would’ve thanked the Lord, handed him over, and trekked back to Pushmataha to resume her hunting. Now she was determined to keep him, no matter what the cost. But giving up buffalo hunting had been easy compared to walking away from the weeping Mrs. Puckett . . . her son notwithstanding.

  “You don’t need to drag me.” Anne pulled away from him. “I’m right behind you.”

  “Do you want the porter to take that knapsack?”

  “No. It has Sammy’s food, diapers, and pins in it. I can’t expect the porter to get it every time he’s wet or hungry.”

  “At least put your guns with the luggage. We’re going to be on the train for two days. You won’t need them.”

  “Have you forgotten?” Nicholas joined them, his own satchel in hand. “Anne saved my life in a train holdup. If anyone has a right to be armed, it’s her.”

  Warmth crept across Anne’s chest in response to his thoughtfulness. Of course she needed to be armed. Finally she wasn’t facing a battle alone.

  “You voted already?” She tried to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, but her hat got in the way.

  “I did. Harold and I went over any possible decisions he might need to make in my absence, and rebuttals in case the Stanfords choose to protest today’s results. With that done, I’m at your service.” His eyes didn’t sparkle with their usual merriment but watched her intently, his thick lashes tipped in gold.

  “I’ve already purchased the tickets.” Joel handed Nick two slips of paper and took his satchel from him. “Maybe you want to carry the babe.”

  “I think Anne’s quite capable.” But he took her arm, which seemed to pacify Joel and bent to whisper, “He’s behaving poorly because he caught you sneaking out of the house.”