Caught in the Middle (2 page)

“Oh?” He stepped into the alcove, took the seat across from hers and stretched his legs. “You can understand my confusion. I thought my sister’s friend, Anne Tillerton, was the only woman in North Texas who dressed like a man.”

The courage Anne had mustered fled like field mice when the barn door opened. He must think her a fool. She dared a peek, and met such keen blue eyes that she regretted it immediately.

“We’re not in Texas, Mr. Lovelace,” she said.

“But we will be shortly.” He smiled. “It’s kind of you to acknowledge our acquaintance. I wasn’t quite sure that we’d ever been properly introduced back in Prairie Lea.”

“We most definitely weren’t.” Anne had enjoyed only a few days of proper society in her life, and those had ended long before she’d been carted to Caldwell County.

“Then allow me to rectify the situation. Nicholas Lovelace, at your service.”

Anne narrowed one eye like she was sighting down her rifle, but he didn’t appear the least bit discomforted and continued unabashed.

“Now that all the niceties have been observed, what has brought you to Indian Territory, Mrs. Tillerton?”

Anne tugged on the leather thong that laced up the neck
of her loose shirt. Her business was her business. Besides, she had her pistol if he made a nuisance of himself. No reason to fear him. “I’ve been here for a while. What about you?”

“Me? My company provides the lumberjacks and the wooden ties for the railroad. We stay ahead of the line and use the resources from the railroad’s own land allotment.”

He acted as if she should be impressed. He’d get used to disappointment.

“How’s Molly?” she asked.

His head tilted. Those blues twinkled. “My sister is well. She and Bailey are keeping the old sawmill rolling, taking care of Mother and Father, and raising a couple of mischievous progeny. She’ll be thrilled when I tell her that you are . . . what exactly did you say you were doing here?”

Anne pursed her lips. Her heart raced at the memories Nicholas Lovelace resurrected. The Lovelaces. The Garners. Prairie Lea. She’d tried to forget that town, but the pain wouldn’t fade. She couldn’t change the past, but she could avoid rehashing it. Anne straightened her shoulders. How to deal with the prying Mr. Lovelace?

“I’m a buffalo hunter. I hunt with an outfit in Indian Territory.” From the concern on his face, she realized that her bluster wasn’t convincing. She hardened her jaw. “It pays well. The freedom is . . . it’s important to me.”

“A buffalo hunter, you say?” Mr. Lovelace clasped his hands together. “Quite a profitable occupation, so I hear. Our trains carry the hides out by the carload.”

Anne unclenched her fist. He hadn’t laughed at her. He hadn’t tried to persuade her to find a more ladylike pursuit. Perhaps he, like his sister, could be trusted. At least for the duration of the train ride.

“And I bet you bring down your share of the beasts,” he continued. “From what I remember, you’re a dead aim.”

A look of abject horror crossed Mr. Lovelace’s face when he realized what he’d said, but it was too late.

The memories burst forward like the bloom of crimson that had stained her husband’s vest. Anne sprang to her feet even as Mr. Lovelace reached to detain her. Twisting, she pushed her way past his knees and into the aisle. She made her way blindly to the back, not caring where she was going, not concerned where she’d end up. She only wanted away from him and his awful knowledge.

“Please wait.”

But she wasn’t listening. She entered a narrow corridor flanked on one side by luggage stacked to the roof. The paneling on her left blurred as she hurried away from the quick footsteps behind her.

“Mrs. Tillerton, please.” He grasped her elbow and turned her.

Anne flattened herself against the wall, jerking her arm away in the process. “Don’t touch me.”

He lifted his hands in the air. “I’m sorry. I just wanted—”

The train lurched. The wheels screeched like a mountain lion as the car teetered.

Anne’s head bumped the wall as Mr. Lovelace was flung toward her. He braced himself with outstretched arms on either side of her.

The violent rocking stopped. The screams of the passengers quieted, and Anne was face-to-face with the man. His breath fanned her cheek. His disconcerting eyes were just inches from hers.

“The remark was completely innocent. If you—”

“Step away,” Anne ground out between clenched teeth. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

His eyes held hers as if willing her to calm, willing her to trust. “You’re right about that. I made a dreadful mistake.” He pushed away from the wall, another foot or so. “But I’m afraid I have nowhere to go. I can’t move.”

Anne followed his gaze to the crates that had fallen against the back of his legs. He was holding back a tide of luggage that could crush her.

“If someone would give me a hand,” he called out.

But the passengers ignored Mr. Lovelace’s request. And then Anne saw why. Their attention was riveted on the masked man with the gun at the front of the car.

 2 

His train was being robbed?
His
train?

Well, technically it wasn’t his train, but as a contractor for the railroad Nick felt responsible for the safety of the passengers and the quality of their transport. The engines ran over track he’d provided, after all.

“Go on,” he whispered.

Only after Mrs. Tillerton ducked beneath his arm and filed out amid the crying children and angry men did Nick extract himself from the crates. A train robbery and he’d been tied down when it occurred. Didn’t see the horsemen approach. Didn’t hear the brakeman’s signal. Too diverted by a lady. Ian Stanford wouldn’t approve.

The last to depart the car, he had to fight the urge to clobber the outlaw as he walked past him. Nick’s thoughtless remark to Anne Tillerton had embarrassed him, and that embarrassment could easily turn to anger given the right target. Nick hopped the last giant step from the train to the packed ground beneath and heard the thud of boots as the man descended behind him.

Through the waves of heat shimmering from the engine he made out three masked men, one mounted. A skinny kid holding a rusty six-shooter waved him toward the group of men and Mrs. Tillerton. She hid among them, her dusty buckskin pants and floppy slouch hat blending perfectly.

From the passengers’ nervous glances toward the front of the train, Nick assumed more men were in the express car. One bandit remained on his horse, which pranced nervously, dancing sideways as the man kept his gun trained on the small gathering. The other two outlaws had trouble keeping their eyes off the tight cluster of ladies huddled in the midst of the vast prairie.

“Should we see what these ladies would like to contribute, Boss?” a stocky man asked.

The leader looked to the express car. His neckerchief stretched as he opened his mouth to answer. “Might as well. I don’t know how they’re faring with the safe.”

Sliding his pistol into his belt, the scrawny one ambled to the women. He took his hat off, revealing hair plastered to his head by sweat. “Pull those earbobs off. Drop your rings. Don’t make me come looking for them.”

Nick’s jaw clenched. Spoiled Miss Walcher and her friends could be pigheaded, but surely they knew to take these men seriously. Or not. His heart sank at the amount of tucking and arranging going on in direct defiance of the outlaw’s order. In seconds they had hidden most of their jewelry between the folds and flounces of their gowns.

Evidently the kid wasn’t as ignorant as he appeared. He stopped before Miss Walcher, recognizing her as the instigator. “Now, don’t you give me no trouble, miss. I saw that gold locket on my first pass. Where’d it go to?”

Miss Walcher’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a locket.”

“You sure about that?” Nick didn’t like the gleam in his eye, nor did he like the chuckle of the other man. Didn’t appear they had any compulsion against harassing their victims. “Why don’t I have a little look-see?”

The robber shoved his pistol into his waistband and lunged for her. Her scream rent the peaceful prairie like Gabriel’s trumpet, definitely more painful than her weak swats at the robber, but neither slowed the man down. He grabbed her by the collar and forced her to her knees.

Nick had seen enough. He knew he shouldn’t get involved, but he wouldn’t stand by and allow a lady to be molested on the NTT line. Hollering at the outlaw would’ve only warned him, and Nick wanted a chance at him unprepared. His toes dug into the hard ground, propelling him forward. Blood pumping, he hit the man at a run, knowing the satisfaction of laying him flat before the fear of the consequences reached him.

The kid was no match for him. Pinning the outlaw beneath him, Nicholas punched him once in the jaw and took the fight right out of him. But the click of a hammer had the same effect on Nick.

The man on the horse sent a stream of tobacco flying to the dust. “Shoot him,” he ordered.

At first Nicholas thought the stout man refused to obey, then he realized he was merely dragging him off of his accomplice for a clean shot. Well, Nick wouldn’t go down without a fight. He might not live on the range like these hardened outlaws, but he’d been loading lumber wagons since he was tall enough to see over the bed.

When the man grabbed him by the shoulder, Nick pulled his knees under him, but before he could spring, a cloud of dust exploded in his face. He blinked and fell as the other robber scrambled out from beneath him. His hand covered his chest. He wasn’t shot. At least he didn’t think so. Now the leader’s gun was out, as well, and it was trained on their hostages.

The passengers scattered, leaving one lone gunman peering down her six-shooter. “You shoot him, you’ll die,” Anne said. “I took the toe off your boot, mister, and that wasn’t a miss. The next shot knocks your leader off his horse, and if you’re not one hundred percent certain that you’ll hit me, the second will drop you like a fly.”

“You talk awfully tough, son,” the leader said. “Don’t know that you’ve got the nerve.”

“She’s got nerve.” Nick needed them to be afraid. Terrified preferably. “She’s already shot her husband. She’ll plug you without blinking.”

“She?” The leader’s gun lowered, and his eyes turned cold as he studied Anne.

“Let’s go!” The cry came out of the express car. Two men loaded their saddlebags and climbed on their mounts.

“Take the money,” Anne said. “You got what you want.”

Take the money? Was she crazy? Nicholas started to protest, but the gun aimed at his cheek increased his intelligence.

Their leader spat again. “Come on, boys. Payout on corpses is mighty poor.”

“You owe her your life.” The gunman kicked Nick with his toeless boot. “You better do right by her, or I’ll come looking for you.”

“I appreciate your concern—” But before Nick could point
out the irony of an etiquette lesson from a bandit, the kid shoved past him and jumped on his horse.

The whistle of the steam engine blocked out the sound of their thundering hooves, and in seconds they had raced out of range. Families rushed into each other’s arms and the ladies’ voices pitched higher and higher as each told her version of the events. Nicholas stretched his skinned knuckles. He hadn’t punched anyone since grammar school, and it stung more than he remembered.

“Mr. Lovelace, you are my hero.” Miss Walcher grasped his hand with both of hers and pulled it against her bosom. “You were magnificent.”

No, he wasn’t. He’d lost Mr. Stanford’s safe and nearly got himself killed. Even worse, his valiant attempt to be a hero had put Mrs. Tillerton in danger. Not the outcome he’d imagined.

Miss Walcher still held his hand. Her eyes filled with tears. Pretty thing, but no challenge. Extracting himself as gracefully as possible, he took his leave of Miss Walcher and searched among the animated throng for the britches-clad woman who’d stood down a whole gang of train robbers. He should express his gratitude no matter how bad he wished he hadn’t needed her help.

No one back in his hometown of Prairie Lea would be surprised to hear that Anne Tillerton had rescued him. Hadn’t she saved the life of their neighbor Rosa when Mr. Tillerton attacked her? Everyone knew she was capable of pulling the trigger, but what intrigued Nick was the flash of fear he’d seen in her eyes when he recognized her. Could she be more afraid of him than an armed outlaw? He would relive the harrowing moment when he thought his life was over, but
he would lose sleep wondering at the way she trembled when he fell against her on the train.

Where was she, anyway? Almost everyone had re-boarded. Had she slipped into the car without his seeing her?

With his back to the train, he made one last scan of the area. When the bandits rode off, everyone had rushed toward the passenger car, but she hadn’t joined them. If she’d headed in the opposite direction . . .

Nicholas jogged only a few steps and found her. She hadn’t made it far. Sitting half-hidden in the tall grass, knees pulled to her chest, the coolheaded warrior had been replaced by a shaken young woman in ill-fitting clothing.

She was the hero, but perhaps he still had a chance to help a lady in distress. “The train’s leaving. You don’t want to be left behind.”

“Go on. I’m fine.” Her shoulders quivered like it was frigid December. She didn’t raise her eyes. She didn’t raise her voice. And if she was in trouble, it was because he’d put her there.

“But if that train leaves, then I’m honor bound to stay with you, and that might get a bit uncomfortable. Just the two of us . . . alone . . . in the middle of nowhere.”

Now she looked at him. Her gray eyes reflected no emotion. Their gentle lift at the corners belied the solemnity they held. No response.

He shifted his oxford shoes on the hard sandstone. “It doesn’t look like a comfortable place to pass the time, but if you insist. Scoot over.”

Her mouth tensed. Rocking forward, she scrambled to her feet, ignoring his offered hand. She swayed and he was at her side in a heartbeat, but once again she refused his help.

Her first few steps were shaky, so she paused, hands on her hips, facing the horizon . . . and no telling what other terrors. Her chin lifted. Her brow wrinkled. A spasm ricocheted through her, yet she didn’t blink.

He wouldn’t intrude, not yet. If she needed a moment to master her demons, well, she’d given him the rest of his life. He could give her some time.

“I never wanted to do that again, but what choice—?” She couldn’t finish but continued to gaze across the prairie.

He waited until finally he had no option. They had to get on the train, and he wasn’t sure she was steady enough to make it on her own.

She seemed ready this time when he took her arm. Her posture didn’t sway, but he doubted she’d remember boarding the train. Nick frowned. He couldn’t question her bravery, but did it stem from a reckless disregard for her safety or from genuine concern for others? Not that he’d judge her. Especially after the nightmare she’d lived through—or at least what he knew of it. Rumors, mostly.

Every few steps she paused before mustering the will to continue. He didn’t wait for her permission but lifted her onto the step, quite a distance without the help of a depot platform, and followed her as she made her way to a solitary bench.

“There she is,” a woman said.

“Are you sure it’s a girl?” a man asked.

“Of course. Did you see the way he was gazing at her?”

Nick had to smile at the wistful tone. Leave it to the ladies to turn a disaster into a love story.

G
ARBER
, T
EXAS

Flashes of wood-planked buildings streaked past the window. Anne could make out barking dogs and impatient coach drivers waiting to cross the tracks as they sped by. They would be at the station soon, and she could finally be rid of the nosy man. Dressed so fine with his city manners—he reminded her of another man who’d impressed her foolish heart. She knew now that charm was more dangerous than fierceness.

“Do you have anyone meeting you at the station?” Mr. Lovelace asked.

Why hadn’t he humored the quibbling girls and joined them, as they’d begged? Anne lowered her eyes, refusing to remember the hour she’d spent listless as he’d sat guarding her. She should’ve insisted he leave. What a ninny she was.