Caught in the Middle (28 page)

His smile reached through her concerns and tugged her to a lighter time. She’d felt so helpless when she’d stumbled into Nick’s office looking for aid, but it reminded her that someday she might look back at their adventures and laugh at what they’d been through. Someday she and Nicholas would tell stories . . .

She hadn’t meant to gaze at him. Did her eyes match the wistfulness in his? Anne shook her head, clearing the cobwebs. “We’re not that desperate. I have a couple of spare cloths. Would you mind gathering more firewood while I change him? We’ll need enough to keep the fire going all night.”

“Be glad to. Anything to get me out of the area when you unleash the monster that’s fouling his pants.” He strode off into the forest, his whistling echoing through the trees. Even
injured, hungry, and tired he kept his good cheer. Was she really determined to send him on his way?

Anne had to catch Sammy to keep him from following. She found a flat place to lay him and cleaned him with corners of his diaper that were untouched before pinning a clean cloth on him. After a full day of being carried he resisted her efforts to wrestle him into his stockings. Where did the boy get so much energy? She was exhausted and he was rearing to go.

Much like Nick.

She led him by the hand out of the camp a safe distance and let him collapse repeatedly into a pile of leaves while she buried his mess.

“If Deputy Puckett has bloodhounds, they’ll find this from five miles away,” she murmured to herself.

But Sammy didn’t care. He stood, reached his arms over his head, and fell stomach first into the pile of leaves again. Flakes of leaves stuck beneath his nose. The night air was making it run. Time to get him inside.

Sammy crawled through the opening, bellowing excitedly at the echo that answered him. Anne followed him and parked herself between him and the fire. She fished the glass bottle out of her knapsack and the canister of formula. At the sight of the bottle Sammy bounced on his haunches until Anne had mixed the water from her canteen with the powder and secured the rubber nipple. His eager hands sought the bottle, and he turned his head to the ceiling, pulling long draws of milk.

Nick’s voice came through the opening. Thick logs were thrust inside. Anne bent to pull them in the rest of the way and clear the path for Nick, dragging the last of them.

“Nicer than some hotels I’ve stayed in.” He straightened and cracked his head against the low ceiling. “Oww!” His
knees bent and his hand covered his head. “That’ll raise a knot.” Nick stumbled to the fire and lowered himself gingerly. “Low ceiling and dusty, but besides that—”

“That’s not dust. It’s guano. From the bats.”

“Bats?” He looked up.

“Are you afraid?”

“No, just hungry.”

Anne’s eyes widened, until he laughed. He was fooling. Good thing. She didn’t want to sleep with the odor of roasted bat in her nostrils.

Sleep. She needed some. Her trouble had worn on her for two days now. If she had any hope of slipping around Atoka without Deputy Puckett catching wind of it, she had to keep her wits.

Sammy had emptied his bottle. He waved it as he got to his feet.

Nick caught him as he passed, wrapped him in his arms, and growled, much to Sammy’s delight. After securing the glass bottle, he let Sammy wiggle away, but the boy returned, his fingers shaped into tiny claws to growl at Nick before pouncing on him.

“Be careful,” Anne said. “He’ll claw your other shoulder.”

But Nick didn’t seem to mind, and Sammy enjoyed the roughhousing. Anne found herself wondering if Finn’s father was young enough to play on the ground like Nick. Would he have the energy to keep up with the little fellow? She bit her lip. Of course he wouldn’t. That’s why she was keeping him.

Nick fell on his back, groaning and laughing as Sammy pummeled him. He caught Anne watching them and sighed. “I can hardly bear the thought of not seeing him again. I can’t imagine what it’s doing to you.”

“I’m not dwelling on it. Instead, I’m preventing it.”

Nick was silent. He rolled to his side and prodded the fire with a stick while Sammy climbed on his back. “Do you think you’ll ever have children of your own, Anne?”

In the firelight the stubble on his jaw looked almost red. The room was getting warm. Suffocating. She removed her duster, wadded it up, and reclined against it, keeping the fire between them.

“When I married Jay, I wanted to have a little family, a house, a kitchen. I didn’t know much, but I had a general idea of what a real family with a ma and pa should be like. Sometimes when Jay was mean, I thought that if I bore his children, he would appreciate me. I thought he’d be gentler if he was a father. My own pa was rough around the edges, but he didn’t hurt us. He left us to fend for ourselves, so that’s the worst I could imagine from Jay.”

She pulled a stick from the fire and tapped at the burning logs from her side. “There was a baby once. He wasn’t pleased and turned real nasty about it, always accusing me of . . . well, you can imagine.” The fire blinded her to everything else in the room. She’d never shared this part of her story, and somehow telling it made it real again. But maybe it could be real with Nick. Maybe if she lived it again but this time with his fearlessness beside her, maybe it’d lose its power. “I was at least five months along. The child moved, kicked. It was a joy. And no matter how mean he was, I could talk to my baby. I figured God had brought me someone who would love me back.”

Now she was jabbing at the fire. Sparks rose, angrily bursting from the coals.

“But Jay noticed. When he realized I was happy, he figured
out how to steal it. He beat me, beat me good. Threw me on the ground and kicked me until—”

The stick wavered. Her throat closed.

“That was evil,” Nick said. “Pure evil that he did to you.”

“He was a murderer, just the same as if he’d knifed the child in the chest. After that I didn’t care. I felt like he’d killed me, too, because I was as good as dead. He took the baby outside, but I found his body and wrapped it up. When he came back to the house, there I sat, rocking it like I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had, but it made him furious, so it was worth it. Even worth the whipping, because it didn’t hurt. Dead people don’t feel pain. But I couldn’t stay dead. I wished I could, but I couldn’t help but wake up in the morning and wish for something more. That’s when I tried to run away the first time.”

“And a few months later you had to shoot him to protect Rosa?”

She could still see the red spreading on Jay’s white shirtfront. The shock as he saw her holding the gun. The hatred when he realized what she’d done.

“He would’ve killed her just as he did my baby.” Anne couldn’t believe the hurt could return as raw as the first day when she realized that the child would never know her. That the child was gone forever. “I promised myself I wouldn’t care that much again . . . not about anyone. And I kept my promise until I came to Garber.”

Her chest felt banded. Nick watched her through the flames but gave her time to decide what she needed to say and what was best left unspoken.

“I’ve grown fond of Sammy, but it’s not just Sammy I care about.” She dropped the stick into the fire and hid her trembling hands. “Nick, you’ve been good for me. I’ve wanted to
tell you before we part . . .” When Nick’s eyes darted away, she stopped. Had she said too much? But Nick wasn’t listening to her. He rolled to his back and looked behind him.

Anne sat up, expecting to see Sammy playing on the other side of Nick, but he was gone.

“Where did he go?” She scrambled to her feet, her heart in her throat.

Nick sprang up, grasped a firebrand, and swung it around the cave. “He didn’t go outside. I would’ve seen him at the opening.”

That left only one other possibility. Anne’s stomach twisted as she ran for the back corner. In the shadows she searched the wall, sliding her hands over solid rock until she found the narrow crevice.

“Sammy!” She thrust her hand through the void and reached as far as she could. Frantically she swept her fingers over the floor of the passage but felt nothing.

Nick pulled her back and crowded the gap. Crouching he pushed a torch through the hole.

“Do you see him? Do you see him?” How could she have let him out of her sight? What kind of mother was she?

“Sammy!” Nick roared, his voice echoing against the unyielding rock walls. Anne touched her ears with shaking hands. “Sammy, can you hear me?”

She listened, but there was no reply. Scrambling and pushing against Nick, Anne knelt at the gap to look for herself, but the torchlight only exposed bare rock. He had to be close. The alternative was too horrendous to consider.

Nick stood. He paced the room, made a complete circle around the fire, inspecting every bump and depression. “There’s nowhere else he could’ve gone?”

Anne wiggled forward. Her head fit but her shoulders were too wide. She curved them toward each other and was able to inch a bit further, but the space narrowed even more before the passage opened. Her arms were already pinned to her side. There’d be no way . . .

With a tug at her waist, she was jerked backwards.

“You can’t.” His breath was ragged, his face sickly white even by torchlight. “If you get wedged in there Sammy won’t be able to get out, and I’d lose both of you.”

Anne swatted at his hands. “Maybe the rock will give if I push against it. The hole might break loose, and if we can get past the opening, the room widens.”

He caught her hand. “No. Use your head, Anne. You can’t chip at any of these walls with your bare hands. The only way we’re going to break it open is with pickaxes. But there might be other ways. Someone might know of another opening. I don’t know, but we can’t do it on our own. We need help.”

Anne turned again to the dark void in the wall. Was Sammy wandering further and further away from them? Was he crying in the darkness, tottering toward a pit or a deep lake? She clawed at the unforgiving stone and called his name. She had to reach him.

“Anne.” Nick’s voice reached her from a strange distance. “I can’t stand by and let his chance of rescue slip away. I’m going to town . . . but I’d like your consent.”

 23 

“Do you know what you’re asking?” Her legs shook beneath her. She couldn’t believe it had come to this. All she’d done for Sammy, the daily care she’d given him, the unexpected love that had grown for him, and now her plans to carry him away—was this the end? “They’ll take him from me. If there’s any other way—”

Nick dropped the torch and knelt beside her. “I love him, too, Anne.” He took her face in both of his hands and forced her to look at him. His blue eyes searched hers for—what? Acceptance? Forgiveness? “If I could trade places with him, I would. The man from Allyton, Anne, I know how he felt when he plunged into the roiling river, desperate to get the doctor. If giving my life would bring Sammy back, I’d do it. But to save him I have to get help. Please tell me you understand. Give me some peace.”

They had to find him. Even if they gave him to the preacher all wasn’t lost. Wouldn’t she find an opportunity to steal him back? Unless Finn’s parents intended to guard his nursery window, she’d have no trouble reversing the day’s events. Their custody would be a temporary inconvenience.

“Go.” Anne gripped his wrists. “I’ll light a fire in front of the cave so your way back will be easier.”

The fear didn’t vanish from his face, but he kissed her on the forehead and scrambled out the low opening into the night.

Branches snapped as he barreled forward, and then the sound faded. The silence terrified her. Was she alone? Was Sammy already beyond their grasp? She rolled onto her stomach, sliding buckskin against the rock floor until she could once again feel the damp air from deeper in the cave’s belly.

“Sammy! Can you hear me?”

Her heartbeat was the only answer. “Sammy, Momma’s right out here. If you can hear me, please come this way.”

Not a sound.

Anne dropped her head to the rock. Maybe someone from town could help. Maybe they’d rescue him and then . . . and then they’d give him to the reverend and his missus. She scratched at the rock barring the way ahead of her, willing it to turn into chalk and flake away, but her efforts were futile. Unless he happened back to their opening, she couldn’t reach him. They needed a miracle.

A sinking realization settled on her. She was planning a kidnapping, designing lies for the Hollands while Sammy was still in danger. Wasn’t this the time to bargain with God? Shouldn’t she make some desperate plea with Him before she decided to steal a reverend’s grandson?

“God, there’s no reason this boy needs to die,” Anne hollered into the crevice. “If you’re doing this to teach me a lesson, then bring him back. I’ll do what you want.”

Had she expected an answer? Anne realized she was listening for one, but why? Why did she feel that God was
right on the other side of the wall, waiting for her to figure something out?

“Isn’t that what you’re waiting for? For me to give him up? Fine, then. Just please keep him safe. Lead him back to me.”

The second her voice dropped, the silence engulfed her. What if Sammy was trying to find his way out? What if he could barely hear her? She tried to keep the panic from her voice. She didn’t want to scare him, but every second he could be wandering farther and farther from safety.

“Are you hungry, Sammy? Do you want a biscuit? Momma will get you something to eat. Or I could hold you. It’s got to be cold in there.” Her fingers dug into the damp floor. “I know you’re getting cold, baby. Please come here.” She dropped her head; her anger boiled at the thought of the child whimpering in the vast darkness.

“What’s Sammy ever done to you?” she cried. “Why would you let him get lost? It’s not his fault. Whatever bad I’ve done, it isn’t right for you to punish him. I thought you were supposed to be just.”

No longer did she wonder if God was there. He was. But He was withholding something from her. There was something just out of reach, but she couldn’t grasp it without His consent. And she knew attaining what He offered meant the world.

“What do you want me to do? Grovel? If you are who they claim you are, you know that I’d say anything to get Sammy out of that cave. You know that, so why go through the motions?”

A noise sounded behind her. Anne shoved away from the hole and spun around, but it was only a log on the fire that fell through the burnt timbers beneath it.

She’d promised Nick a fire to guide him. Leaning into the
gap once again, Anne called for Sammy and then rose to build the bonfire outside.

Grasping the unburned ends of the logs, she rolled them through the porthole before exiting herself. The presence followed her even outside the cave, but she had nothing else to offer. The greatest sacrifice she could make would be to hand Sammy over, and she’d already promised . . .

But she hadn’t meant it.

An empty promise wouldn’t suffice. He’d know after all. But could she give Sammy up? Was that the test?

She stacked the logs and ransacked the fallen leaves looking for more hidden beneath. Sammy had been wandering in the dark for over half an hour. He might be gone to her already. She heaved the fallen branches onto the pile. If it was truly between his dying alone in a cave or living with the Hollands, then of course she’d rather he be safe in their home.

Safe? The word hurt. She’d spent three days claiming he was in jeopardy with them. She’d thought she could protect him from everything, from everyone, but just that quickly he was out of her reach. Safety had eluded them after all.

She surveyed the slope of the mountain before her, but she could see nothing through the darkness. Why didn’t Nick hurry? Without her duster she felt the wind cutting through her clothes, bringing sharp pinches on her skin.

Anne scurried into the cave and half ran, half fell to the hole in the shadows. Pushing herself into the gap, she called his name, but again no greeting was returned.

She had no pickax, but maybe she could smash the way open. She searched the cavern floor until she found a loose rock. The first blow crushed her fingernail. She adjusted her grip and hammered again. And again.

With Jay she hadn’t bent. She hadn’t bowed. She’d endured living with him, but she’d kept a part of herself back. He would not master her.

And while Nick deserved her appreciation and loyalty, she’d never consented to follow him. She might compromise with him over her clothing or aid him when he needed an employee, but she’d never put herself under his authority. She would be her own boss.

And now, here she was again. The law said that Sammy belonged to his family. Anne disagreed. She wouldn’t acknowledge any power above her own. But she had no answer that would bring Sammy back to her. Maintaining her independence wouldn’t help him. And if she made a pact with God, He wouldn’t accept any portion less than total lordship. Complete surrender to His will. No arguing over what He wanted from her. No negotiating. If she agreed to follow Him, she was giving up her rights. She was giving up control of her life.

Flakes dropped from each strike, but most were from the stone in her hand, not the solid wall she pounded repeatedly. Her options were vanishing. She couldn’t even know that Nick would find his way to town. What if he met with trouble? What else could she do for Sammy?

Only one option she hadn’t tried—one that she should’ve offered long ago.

Anne felt like she was tearing away from something—ripping her soul out of a clawed paw. This would be no death-bed conversion. No empty bargain. If she promised God her life, she wouldn’t go back, even though she knew now what sacrifice He required of her.

Finally the tears began to fall. What if God let her down?
But she’d already crossed that river. He was her God and this was a commitment she’d longed to make for years. She would follow Him. She prayed He would save Sammy, but Sammy’s future was His to decide. God alone had the right to determine what would happen to the boy. And she promised not to interfere with His plans.

“Sammy?” she whispered. Her tears dripped off her jaw onto the rock floor. “Sammy!” But her voice echoed back unanswered.

She wouldn’t give up. With renewed purpose she grabbed the end of a glowing stick and thrust it through the opening. The darkness devoured the light in every crevice, revealing little of its secrets. She waited, listening for any noise that would assure her that the child was near.

The fire popped behind her. A green pine limb burst, its resin sizzling in the heat. Leaves rustled just outside the mouth of the cave. Was it Nick? The odd sniffing noise didn’t sound human. She barely had time to stand before a dog scrambled through the cave opening. The hound’s ears swung as he spotted her. He sat on his haunches, unsure of his mission.

Nick and the dog’s owner must be close by. The bonfire needed to be lit.

The dog got to his feet as Anne did, but instead of exiting he skimmed his nose over the ground and circled the cave, inspecting the area where Nick had wrestled with Sammy. He must have followed Nick’s scent to the cave, but now he’d reached the end of his trail. A sudden burst of inspiration had Anne grasping Sammy’s blanket and thrusting it beneath the dog’s nose.

“That’s right. Fill your head with this.” The dog’s tail thumped, then he trotted off to sniff the room once more.

“Good boy. Go hunt.” But the hound didn’t need her encouragement. She clutched the blanket to her stomach as he plowed into the crevice. Would he find Sammy? Could he get him out? Anne held her breath until the dog’s bawls broke the silence. His bass voice echoed in the cavern.

“You found him?” Her torch wavered, but nothing was visible. The dog continued barking, and then . . . then a baby’s whimper.

“Sammy? Sammy! Come here.”

The whimper turned into a full-blown cry. The dog barked again, and Sammy screeched.

“Sammy, this way.” Once again Anne held the torch through the opening. “Come here. Come toward the light, sweetie.” She gulped the damp air coming from the depths before her. Suddenly the torchlight reflected off two sleepy eyes. Streaked with dirt, Sammy crawled forward and then sat down just out of reach.

The dog danced between them. Sammy pushed away from the dog and turned to go deeper into the cave. Anne gasped. “Please, God,” she cried, now more certain than ever that His presence was with them.

The hound barked again, trying to alert his master of his accomplishment. Sammy threw his head back and yawned, looking about him as if to find another comfortable place to lie down.

“Come here, Sammy.” Her pleas bubbled with joy at the sight of him unharmed. “Are you hungry? Do you want a drink? Come this way.”

With a last rueful look at the dog, Sammy lunged to his knees and crawled through the tunnel until she could brush him with her fingertips and drag him into her arms.

Anne pressed him against her, covering him in kisses. She ran her hands over his arms and legs, inspecting him for injuries, though the tot only wanted to find a quiet place to finish his nap undisturbed.

“Don’t worry. We’ll rest soon enough, and I won’t make that mistake again. No, the next time . . .”

Her heart wrenched. She cradled Sammy to her chest. How long did she have? Only minutes before the men found them. Maybe she should run—not permanently, just far enough to give herself some room and time so she could decide what to do. She needed to make sure this was the best decision.

Anne pulled on her duster and snatched up her knapsack, Sammy, and a torch. She stooped out of the cave. She could leave. She could. Without Nicholas she could travel faster and leave less of a trail. No matter what he said, she’d write him. She couldn’t bear the thought of his disapproval. Given time he’d forgive her, and they could be friends, at least, no matter the distance. He couldn’t expect her to do something as heartbreaking as to give up her son.

Anne’s knapsack dropped to the ground. Nick was different. He might understand, but he wouldn’t approve. He wanted her to do better.

But could she?

The dog behind her barked. Men’s voices could be heard in the valley below, drifting up in the chill night air. She couldn’t stay, not on her own, but she wasn’t on her own any longer. She’d made a promise to God. He’d delivered Sammy to her arms. She must take him the rest of the way.

Before her resolve vanished Anne sprang to the stack of logs and stabbed the brand into the dry wood. Down the hill
she saw torches. Voices, the neighing of a horse, and Nick’s urgent coaxing reached her.