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

by Regina Jennings

  Her hand dropped to his shoulder as she allowed, no welcomed, the intimacy between them. She wanted to confront her terror from the safety of his arms, but no sooner had she lowered her defenses than a yearning was birthed and it alarmed her. A desire to be his, to share her heart and not just her hand in marriage. But that desire meant a loss of control. It meant putting herself in his power, and she wasn’t willing after all.

  Sensing her reluctance, Nicholas drew back. The questions in his eyes forced her to turn away. Pretending to check on Sammy she pushed out of his embrace.

  “I guess he’s still sleeping,” she said.

  “He is.” Nick’s breathing could be heard over the clacking of the wheels beneath them. Anne stretched the duster over Sammy and arranged it for the fourth time, afraid to settle her attention anywhere near the man sitting beside her.

  Finally Nick leaned over the gap in the benches to place a hand on Sammy’s cheek. “If you’re worried about him, I’ll find you room in the sleeper car. He’s snug for now, but it would be warmer in a bunk.”

  “Crowded in a room full of strangers? No thank you. Besides, I can’t sleep anyway.” It would take days for her heart to slow. Weeks for her lips to forget the feel of his caresses. Months before she stopped reliving—

  “If you’d rather stay with me, you’ll hear no complaints.” Nicholas kicked his feet up on the bench next to Sammy’s legs and stretched his arm behind her along the back of the bench. “I’m afraid I’m too exhausted to be any company, but I’ll offer my person to make this arrangement as cozy as possible.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulled her to his chest, and snuggled his cheek against her head. At the conclusion of an enormous yawn his body sank against hers. “Ah, you make a lovely pillow, Mrs. Tillerton. And before I fall asleep I’d be remiss if I failed to mention something. I’ve never once told you how beautiful you are, although I’ve noticed on countless occasions.”

  Anne’s insides quaked, still very aware of how strongly he’d affected her. How much she desired the security of a bond with him. “Just this once,” she said. “No need to tell me again, because I won’t ever forget.”

  Her cheek rubbed against his satin vest to the rhythm of the tracks flying beneath them. She tucked her hand up against his chest and felt his heartbeat—steady and strong. The heart of a man she’d like at her side always.

  “Nick, you never answered my question.” Her bravery would flee if she had to face him, so she kept her face buried against him. “Will you marry me so I can keep Sammy?”

  His chest rose in a deep breath. His voice drawled through the haze of exhaustion. “What if the Hollands refuse to give us Sammy? What then?”

  “Nothing happens.” Anne brightened. “We leave Atoka and never mention it again. No one would even know that we’d discussed marriage.”

  She felt rather than heard his sigh. He wrapped his other arm around her and held her securely. “Then my answer has to be no.”

  “No?” Anne pushed against him, angry tears springing to her eyes. “No? You said you would do anything to help. Isn’t it worth a try?” He didn’t respond. Was he pretending to sleep? She punched his chest. “If you weren’t going to marry me, you shouldn’t have kissed me.”

  His hand slid up her arm. “Are you sorry for it?”

  “Furiously! I’m sorry that you don’t have the backbone to save Sammy. I’m sorry that our friendship now has the taint of a regretful familiarity. And I’m absolutely sorry that you enjoyed it so much.”

  “Ah, you could tell?” He peered at her through drowsy eyes, his smile satisfied. “I really shouldn’t have any discussions when I’m this sleepy, but for the record I don’t feel a taint on our friendship, and I don’t regret the familiarity. Now, it should be obvious that you have me completely intoxicated and there’s no telling the foolishness I’m likely to spout, but I will promise this, tomorrow I’ll do my best to convince Finn’s parents that you are a good mother. That’s all I can promise. In good conscience I can’t inform them of our plans to wed when such plans were only created to reach another goal. I’m sorry to disappoint you. Now, once again I offer you safe escort to a bunk or”—he squeezed her shoulders—“a guard for the night. Either way, the stress of the week’s events is catching up with me. I won’t be a fit companion . . .”

  His didn’t complete his sentence. His chest stretched with a long breath, and then his head dropped against hers again. Unbelievable. By morning he probably wouldn’t remember a word of their conversation. At least she could hope. And as much as she’d counted on Nicholas to aid her, she had to accept that no help was coming from him.

  She and Sammy were on their own, and the only help Nicholas would provide was the fact that he seemed to be a heavy sleeper.

  The motion that had lulled him into dreamless sleep ceased. Nick opened his eyes, relieved to find Anne still in his arms. Before dozing off, he’d wrapped her tight and wedged himself across their aisle to block her path, but he’d still worried that she’d spirit away during the night.

  “Good morning.” He arched his back and released her. “Have you been awake long?”

  She shrugged his coat off her shoulders. “Not too long. I need to get out, please.”

  He looked at the boy bundled up on the bench across from them. “Sammy slept well. At least, as far as I could tell. He didn’t wake you, did he?”

  Anne shook her head. “Please. I need to go to the washroom. I’ve been trapped here all night. I couldn’t get around you.” Her lips were pursed, her eyes cold.

  Of course she was angry. They would be in Atoka in a matter of hours, and to make matters worse, he’d had to reject her desperate proposal.

  “I apologize.” Nick stepped out in the aisle and let Anne pass. She knelt and fished her knapsack and duster from beneath the bench.

  “Why do you need your knapsack?” he asked.

  She glared. “I’m going to the washroom to freshen up before the train starts moving again. Must I go into detail?”

  Nick motioned her past and collapsed in his seat. He’d have to find a way to win her back. It wouldn’t be easy if she returned to hunting, but he’d take the time to visit, woo her, let her know that he cherished her.

  He looked at the sleeping child. Sammy had brought so much good to Anne. Nick hoped she’d be able to remember the joy. He hoped that she would realize how much she’d healed and not go back to her isolated existence in buckskins and an old duster.

  Nick frowned. Last night her duster was wrapped around Sammy, but she’d carried it away just then. Whose coat was wrapped . . .

  His hand shot to the bundle, but instead of meeting a warm little body he felt the coat collapse. Empty. He jumped up and shook it out. He’d never seen the coat before, but more importantly, where was Sammy?

  Nick spun and ran toward the washroom, but before he could get half the length of the car a man blocked his path.

  “Excuse me,” Nick huffed.

  “Slow down, there.” The man halted him with a hand on his chest.

  The whistle blew. The floor shifted as the train began to move.

  “I must pass.” Nick tried to squeeze by, but this time the man deliberately blocked him. Furious, Nick looked up and recognized him.

  “You. You’re one of the hunters. Where is she? Where did she take Sammy?”

  The train rolled forward. A quick glance out the window told Nick his time was up.

  “Don’t worry about her. Let’s have a seat and I’ll tell you everything I know. I would like to get my coat back, though. It was chilly this morning.”

  Nick sized up the man. He could force his way through him, but he would lose valuable time. Besides, Anne wasn’t in that washroom. Not anymore.

  The car swayed. Nick spun around, grabbed his coat and hat, and then ran full speed in the opposite direction. He busted through the door and leapt over the connecting platforms, startling a porter.

  “There’s a deputy onboard by the name of Joel
Puckett. Please find him.” Air rushed past him as the train picked up speed. Nick stepped around the guardrail and hung free over the track as it moved beneath him. “Find him and tell him Nick has gone after Anne. We’ll meet him in Atoka.”

  “Don’t jump, sir. You might not clear . . .”

  But his words faded as Nicholas shoved off.

  He took the landing with bent knees and rolled backwards, propelling himself away from the deadly steel wheels as they picked up speed. Unable to regain his balance, he tucked and took the six-foot journey down the slope with as much grace as he could muster. When he stopped tumbling, all he could see of the train was the tops of the cars as they sped out of view, leaving him alone with the sound of birds singing their morning greetings.

  Nick bellowed out his frustration, silencing the birds. Anne’s reckless actions would destroy every step of progress she’d made. If she kidnapped Sammy, she’d have to spend the rest of her life hiding. She’d give up the friendships she’d made. She’d give up him.

  He wouldn’t let her. He loved her, and whether or not she ever loved him in return, he couldn’t allow her to start down this destructive path. Perhaps the love for Sammy that compelled her was noble, but she needed an intercessor. What he would do, how he would change her mind, Nick didn’t know, but he did believe God had given him this mission. Perhaps he’d faced his own sacrifice earlier to prepare him for this assignment.

  Where had she gone? Nick scanned the woods that pressed in around the tracks. Dense timber packed this section of the Choctaw Reservation. In seconds Anne could have disappeared in any direction, and he didn’t know what to look for. Footprints? Unlikely on ground covered with pine needles. He had a vague recollection of a scout at one of their lumber camps talking about broken twigs and bent grass, but Nick knew finding minute signs was beyond his ability.

  What did he do when he needed help? He asked for it. It’d always worked before.

  He raised his head to the sky and hollered loud and long. “Anne! Anne, where are you?”

  His voice echoed off the hills. She didn’t answer. But someone else did.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  For the first time Nick noticed a shed built at the forest’s edge. An Indian man dressed in buckskins like Anne favored stepped out and eyed him suspiciously.

  Nicholas stumbled forward. “My friend didn’t make it back on the train. Have you seen anyone?”

  The man scanned the forest in every direction, much as Nick had. He swung a smoothly polished walking stick against the moccasin that laced up his leg. “You are going to follow this friend into the forest?” His eyes showed clearly what he thought of Nick’s chances.

  Nick pulled on his coat. “It’s going to be a complete disaster, but yes. Can you help me? I’ll pay for a guide.”

  “You find your friend on your own. If he doesn’t want to be found, he’s not your friend.”

  That’s what most worried Nick. “Can you tell me anything to help? I’m pretty sure I’ll never find my way out of here alive.”

  The man nodded toward the east, causing the turkey feather in his hat to bob. “When you get lost and abandon your journey, go to the valley and find the river. Follow the river downstream to the bridge. Follow the bridge’s road west and it will bring you back here.”

  “Thank you. Which way should I start?”

  He pointed the stick. “See the break in the trees? Follow that trail.”

  “Is that the easiest path?” Nick asked.

  “No, but that’s the path your friend took,” he said. “The baby should slow him down for you.”

  Nick slapped his dusty dented hat on his head and scrambled across the rocky ground to the edge of the forest. Did he dare imagine what Joel must be thinking? Hopefully he’d at least believe that Nick hadn’t orchestrated her flight, but he had to admit it looked suspicious when they’d both disappeared.

  Once he’d found the trail, Nick broke into a jog. He had to find her before the trail forked. The fewer options available, the better his chances of success. At least she was on foot, and carrying a baby. If he hurried he’d catch up with her quickly.

  Round stones covered the ground, pieces of boulders that had broken and rolled to the bottom. He had to watch his step lest his foot land on one of the obstacles, but when he looked down, the branches swatted at him, catching his clothes. One switched him across the face, stinging like a whip, but he pressed on, expecting to see her at every bend.

  Should he holler for her or hope to catch her unaware? His advancement could hardly be called stealthy. She’d hear him before he came within a half mile of her.

  Hurrying, he held up his arm to protect his face but took his eyes off the ground. That’s when his polished Oxford shoe sank into a muddy depression and was sucked off his foot. Without thinking, Nicholas balanced himself with his sock in the mire. The cold, slimy moisture seeped through his sock. Nick groaned. A gentleman should never have mud between his toes.

  Bracing himself on a tree trunk, he retrieved the shoe and hopped to a drier spot. There was no way he’d insert the sopping sock into his custom-fitted shoes. They might be dirty on the outside, but the inside should be dry.

  Nicholas tugged off the offensive sock, cleaned his foot the best he could with dry leaves, and slipped on his shoe. Lacing it up tight, he resumed his pace, although slower now.

  The path dipped and climbed. It narrowed when branches obstructed his view, and it widened in private sunlit clearings. The rising sun told him that he’d been trotting along for an hour. Plenty of time to catch a woman carrying a baby. Either she’d left the trail or there was a branch-off he’d missed. Nicholas hopped over a clear spring. He started to dip his sock in the stream when he remembered he had a clean handkerchief in his pocket. The scratches on his face stung when touched by the icy water. The air had a bite to it, too, colder than it’d been in Garber. How did Anne think she was going to survive here with a child? How would he?

  But a rustling just ahead of him gave him hope. “Anne, is that you?” The branches thrashed, but they still hid her from his sight. “Please don’t run again. We need to talk. I promise I won’t force—”

  A low grumble emitted from the undergrowth. Nick’s hair stood on end. The leaves parted and a fat black bear ambled into the clearing. Swatting at the ground, it erupted in hoots and snorts like a bull preparing to charge. Salivating, it watched him with beady eyes almost lost in a massive head the size of a bushel basket.

  Bear attack. Nick had heard advice before. He remembered a logger from the northwest who’d survived a grizzly attack. Praying that he was doing the right thing but too afraid to try anything else, he fell to the ground and wrapped his arms around his head.

  “Get up! Fight it!” Anne yelled at him. She was there? But he didn’t have time to celebrate.

  “Get Sammy out of here!” He raised his head to look for her, but ducked it again when the bear charged. “I’m playing dead!”

  “You won’t have to play if you don’t get up.”

  Sammy’s cries mixed with the roaring. The bear hit him and he rolled beneath it. Searing pain stabbed his shoulder, and he smelled the bear’s putrid breath warming his neck. He needed a different plan.

  Nick flopped over and stuffed his muddy sock into the bear’s mouth with his left hand, barely moving in time to keep the razor-covered jaws from catching it. He swung with his right fist, but the bear’s thick fur muffled his strike, only angering it. He shoved both hands beneath the animal’s chin and forced its head high.

  The crack of a gunshot exploded, the sound ricocheted off the mountain, and the bear stopped its struggle. Blood coursed through the thick fur and dribbled down its snout onto Nick. Digging his fists into the bear’s chest, Nicholas heaved it off of him and rolled to safety.

  He gasped, his face pressed against the cold ground. What would’ve happened had Anne not appeared? How long had she been following him?

  “You took your time getting
the shot off,” he said, “but now you’ve saved my life twice. Is being in your company always this risky?”

  When she didn’t reply Nick lifted his head off the ground and found her pistol, if not pointed at him, still raised in his general direction. Sammy’s face had creased into soft folds of worry, and tears filled his eyes. He clung to Anne’s neck and, with a last shudder at the bear, hid his face against her shoulder.

  “What are you doing here?” Fear tinged her question.

  “I came to find you.” His heart pounded, unsure if he was safe yet or not.

  “Why?”

  Nick raised himself on his elbows. If he’d expected to find the breathless woman who’d clung to him the night before, he would’ve been disappointed. He knew better. He’d anticipated this warrior’s appearance since he’d first heard the news. “I’m here to convince you to give Sammy to his family.”

  Her grim expression softened enough to register hurt. Her chin lowered, but she didn’t take her gray eyes off of him. “You still believe I’m not a fit mother?”

  Lying on his belly, he spread his hands over the fine needle-strewn path. “You would be a wonderful mother under the right circumstances, but this . . . this is impossible. Hiding from the law, traveling from place to place without anyone helping you support him or raise him—no. Not only is it illegal, it’s also unfair to the boy. I can’t let you disappear with Sammy.”

  Her pistol wavered as she scanned the woods behind him, listening to sounds he couldn’t hear. “What are you going to do—yank Sammy from my arms?”

  It hurt that she thought him capable of force, but of course that was what she expected.

  He raised himself slowly, knowing he was a much easier target than the bear. My, she was beautiful framed by the greenery of the cedars, the fair-haired child and her authoritative stance casting her as some Valkyrie, one who hopefully wouldn’t shoot him.