Caught in the Middle (11 page)

“I knew I shouldn’t worry.” Mrs. Puckett’s knitting needles clicked cheerily. “Nicholas wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Rebuttal was on the tip of Anne’s tongue, but then she remembered the birdie lady from the train. At least one incident that spoke in his favor. Anne sat on the floor and didn’t resist when Sammy climbed into her lap. He babbled at her, swinging his arms, so she handed him two empty spools to beat together.

Mrs. Puckett continued in her singsong voice. “I prayed for you today. Every time I wondered how you were doing, I’d send
a quick request to the Lord to watch out for you, help you learn what Nick was teaching you, help you feel safe. I also prayed for Sammy’s father, that he’d be reunited with his son soon.”

Anne absently combed Sammy’s thin blond hair with her fingers. She didn’t like someone talking to God about her. Shouldn’t Mrs. Puckett have asked her permission first? Maybe Anne didn’t want her plight brought to His attention. Whenever God looked her way, it seemed that trouble followed hard behind.

“You are certainly quiet,” Mrs. Puckett said. “Probably worn out. If you’d like to go on up, I can bring Sammy in later. He took a late nap.”

“I’m not tired, just run out of things to say.”

“I can imagine. You worked all day long, and I feel awful about it. We don’t need any money. That Joel should tend his own affairs and leave us be.” The needles paused as she let out more yarn. “Having you and Sammy here has been a joy to my heart. My own daughters have carted my sweet grandchildren plumb out of reach, leaving only Joel, and he’s been nothing but a disappointment.”

The pronouncement dripped with indulgence. Clearly, Mrs. Puckett would forgive her son anything.

A luxury Anne couldn’t imagine.

“So tell me about your own family,” Mrs. Puckett urged. “Robert goes to bed so early that my evenings have been quite dull of late. I hope you don’t mind a tête-à-tête.”

“My family . . .” What to say? There was her father, who dragged home from the stone quarry to cradle his jug and sit on the porch. Many nights, long after her brothers had come in from their adventures in the woods and gone to bed, Anne lingered, hoping that her pa would notice the black-
eyed Susans she’d arranged by the washbasin, or that he’d have a kind word for the dinner she’d cooked. But he didn’t. And asking him if he noticed felt too needy, too pathetic.

“My mother died when I was born,” Anne said, “so my father and brothers had to put up with me.”

“You poor thing. I bet you were the apple of your father’s eye.”

Anne wedged her finger into Sammy’s grasp alongside the spool. “You could say that . . .”
Because
you weren’t there.

“So you married and moved to Texas? I can’t seem to recall exactly how your husband passed away.”

Anne’s mouth went dry. Mrs. Puckett was tying off her knitting, not even looking her way, but she couldn’t fib, not even to keep a roof over her and Sammy’s head.

“I shot him.”

Mrs. Puckett dropped the yarn, sending it rolling to Anne’s feet with a trailing line. She gave a nervous chuckle. “I’m sorry. I thought you said that
you
shot him.”

“Yes, ma’am. I did.”

Mrs. Puckett’s mouth trembled. She set her needles down firmly on the side table with a clatter. “Well, I’m sure he had it coming.”

Without thinking, Anne pulled Sammy against her and buried her nose in his sweet-smelling hair. “I had reason enough for two years, but when he attacked my neighbor lady, I knew I couldn’t stand by and watch. You can tell your son if you need to. The judge cleared me.”

“I won’t tell him if you’d rather me not, although he would be interested.”

“It doesn’t matter too much. Mr. Lovelace has surely spilled the beans by now.”

Mrs. Puckett’s eyebrows rose. “Nicholas knows? You were acquaintances then?”

“Not really. His sister befriended me after Jay died.”

Anne looked over her shoulder. Speaking his name aloud couldn’t summon him from the grave, but it did resurrect a hopelessness that had nearly destroyed her. While in his grasp she never knew whose hand would take her life—his or her own.

“What you must have gone through.” Mrs. Puckett continued her words of comfort, but they fell unheard as she gathered the ball of yarn.

Jay had stolen everything from her, and he was still destroying. She had no peace, she had no relationships, she had no safety. Everyone was suspect, and if she didn’t learn from her mistakes, it could happen again.

“I apologize for bringing up painful memories. Is there anything I can do?” Mrs. Puckett’s sweet face was furrowed with concern.

“I’m fine.” Anne didn’t lift her eyes from Sammy, and from the pause, she guessed Mrs. Puckett didn’t believe her.

“If you aren’t busy Sunday, we’d be honored to have you accompany us to church. My friends dote on Sammy, and they’d love to meet you, too.”

Anne grunted her approval. Anything to speed the coming of the night. She wanted to know what nightmares she’d be fighting. Mrs. Puckett was only delaying the inevitable.

“And, Anne, I want you to be assured that you are safe. At least here in my house you are. Mr. Puckett won’t lay a hand on you—he doesn’t even speak harshly. Joel acts gruff, but he’d never hurt a woman. And Nicholas . . . well, how could anyone be afraid of him? He is courtesy and charm personified.”

Anne wished she could believe her. The charming ones worked the hardest to hide what they really wanted. Nicholas might not even know what he was capable of—but she did.

There’d be no sleep tonight. Not for Anne.

The rock building with the sweeping arches and honey-colored pews was the finest structure in town, much nicer than the simple wooden church Nicholas had attended in his childhood. Sundays were his favorite day of the week. Fine manners, spiffy suits, languid lunches at the hotel—everyone gracing the church lawn was on their best behavior and at their most presentable.

At least that’s what he thought until he saw Anne.

“Is that the woman from the train?” Miss Walcher spread her fan over her lips while exchanging significant glances with her companions. “I don’t think she’s changed clothes since.”

“She has,” Nick said. “Those trousers are canvas, not buckskin.” And she wore them to church.

“Must be her Sunday best.” Miss Walcher’s fan fluttered under her eyes.

“Well, I’m glad she’s here.” Nick’s back straightened. “Don’t forget, she saved my life . . . while I was saving yours.”

Chastened, Miss Walcher clasped the gold locket at her neck, hopefully thinking of how her attempt to save it had put them all in danger. “You’re right. I must insist on an introduction. Would you do the honors?”

“Susan, you don’t mean it,” her friend gasped.

“She’s showing off,” another said.

“I’ll introduce any and all of you. Mrs. Tillerton won’t be in town long, but while she’s here it’d be nice to show her
some hospitality.” He didn’t wait to see their stunned expressions, but took Miss Walcher by the arm.

Anne was standing by a concrete bench in the shade, watching Mrs. Puckett pass Sammy around like he was the county fair’s prize pumpkin. Her determined perusal told Nick that she saw him coming and was doing everything in her power to ignore his approach, but he wouldn’t be discouraged.

“Mrs. Tillerton?” Her sharp eyes pierced through the curls that had blown across her face. “I’d like to introduce you to Miss Susan Walcher. You might remember her from the train robbery.”

“I certainly do. You still have your locket? It must be priceless to you seeing how you were willing to risk your life.”

Susan blushed but didn’t waver. “That was foolish of me. I never considered the consequences. If it weren’t for you, I’d have Mr. Lovelace’s blood on my hands, and I could never forgive myself.”

Anne watched her patiently and then seemed to make up her mind. “I appreciate your thanks.” She looked away.

Miss Walcher fidgeted, drumming her fingers on Nick’s arm. “Well, that’s all I had to say. I hope your visit in Garber is pleasant.” She nodded to Nick, disengaged her hand from his arm, and walked back to her twittering friends.

Nick sighed. “You have no idea how difficult that was for Susan. You could’ve made an effort at small talk.”

“I have nothing small to talk about.” Anne refused to meet his gaze. “What do Miss Walcher and I have in common?”

“I bet you thought the same about my sister. Until recently Molly’s never been concerned with anything important. Now she’s reaching out, leading the women of her church to minister to the outcasts.”

“That’s awfully nice of her, but how does she know God’s going to behave like He ought?” Anne asked.

“God behave?” Her question took him aback. “We have to worry about our behavior, not God’s.” What was she talking about? Heresy in front of the most expensive church in North Texas.

“You might do something good, but you have no guarantee that God’s going to return the favor. And if God is as powerful as you believe, He could ruin you without lifting a finger.”

Nick wanted to laugh at her simplistic statements, but she was deadly serious. He motioned her to the bench. “God wants what’s best for me. He wants me to be successful and to achieve great things.”

“So God’s not allowed to do anything to you that you don’t like? That doesn’t sound like you’re following Jesus. That sounds like Jesus is following you.”

His eyes widened. “That’s not what I mean at all. It’s just that we’re in agreement. God wants to prosper me and to bless me. That’s what I want, too. It’s simple enough.”

“If you’re only talking about prospering, where’s the pain? What if God wishes you ill and wants something bad to happen to you? You’re saying that’s fine?”

“He loves me. He loves everyone. He would never do that.”

Her eyes narrowed. “He wouldn’t? Hasn’t anything bad ever happened to you, Mr. Lovelace?”

His mind skipped across event after event, year after year. “My father had a bad spell a couple of years ago, but he’s recovered. Then there’s what Molly went through with that cad Edward Pierrepont, but it all worked out.”

“I’m talking about you. No wonder it’s easy for you. You’ve never had to make a choice between your own comfort and
living what you believe.” She was agitated, but about what he couldn’t guess. “No wonder you find Christianity an easy stroll down a flower-lined path. You only obey if God asks you to do something you want. It does make sense now that you’ve explained it.”

Before he had to answer, Mrs. Puckett arrived, leading Sammy by the hand. The child pulled free and staggered to Anne. She gathered him in her arms, much more comfortable with the boy than the last time he’d seen them together.

And while he couldn’t help but smile at their interactions, her questions bothered him. He shouldn’t be surprised that she would question his faith—she questioned everything else from women’s wardrobes to the honesty of law enforcement, but the manner she used made him feel as much of a heathen as she.

No, he didn’t expect God to always do what he wanted Him to do, but was it his fault that most of the time it’d worked out that way? Sammy pulled on Anne’s hat, trying to remove it in a game that had obviously been played before. Nick admired his exuberance. Why not try to win? Why not chase your dream? What did life mean without achievements? And wasn’t it God’s plan to help him succeed?

Nick believed that. Then why did Anne’s questions seem to distort his beliefs into something incredibly shallow and self-serving?

 10 

O
CTOBER
1883

Her answer had finally come.

Anne gripped the telegram in cold fingers and nearly ran to Nick’s office. A quick good-bye and then she could leave, not a moment too soon. This Nicholas Lovelace with his questions and arrogance was best kept at a safe distance, but he’d been worming his way closer ever since she’d arrived in Garber. Finally, she could flee.

She burst into the office, forgetting to marvel at his new staircase. His door stood open. He lifted his head. “You’re late.”

“I’m leaving. Anoli telegraphed. Finn is in Allyton.”

Nick laid his pen aside. “You’re leaving? When?”

“Now. I just came to tell you before I get Sammy.”

He didn’t say anything. He spun his chair toward the window, his fingers steepled together. “It’s going to rain.”

“It’s just water.”

“Do you know how to get to Allyton?”

“Just across the river, right? The telegraph man said the road would take me to the ferry and Allyton is on the other side.”

Nick continued to gaze out the window. “I’m really too busy for this. The bank has asked for last year’s records before they approve the loan, and with Harold gone—but I need to look the river over anyway. The bridge vote is a responsibility of mine, as well.” He clapped his hands together. “It won’t take long. I can get the records together tonight if needed.”

Anne blinked. “I didn’t ask you to go with me.”

“It’s a trip I need to make.”

“Then you better hurry,” Anne said. “I’m not taking any chance on Finn flying the coop.”

Nick grabbed his umbrella and in seconds was following her to the Pucketts’ house, where Mrs. Puckett gave Sammy a series of kisses and slipped her address into Anne’s knapsack, begging for a letter once she got settled. Sammy chewed on a hard biscuit, oblivious to the hustle around him even after Anne scooped him up and followed Nick to the ferry just outside of town.

“Ma-ma-ma,” Sammy chanted as he bounced against her.

“Your momma is gone,” Anne replied. “You’d better learn to say
Papa
. We’ll be seeing him soon.”

“Hopefully,” Nick said.

“We won’t take any more of your time, Mr. Lovelace. Once Sammy is safely with his pa, I’m boarding the first train to Pushmataha.”

“I’m not complaining on my behalf,” he said. “I’m happy if you’re happy.”

Of course he was. He’d be rid of her and she’d be rid of Sammy. When they reached the ferry, Nick stashed her belongings and his umbrella inside the locker. The wooden barge glistened darkly. Anne grasped the rail and widened her stance
just as the ferry dipped. The ferryman eased his pole into the water and pushed off, causing the ferry to lurch away from the levee.

The current fought against the guide cable above their heads. Heavy drops of rain began to pock the river like a slow boil. The deck tilted. Nick wrapped his arm around her and anchored himself to the rail.

“I didn’t think the river would be this rough.”

Anne couldn’t answer but focused on the opposite shore, willing it closer.

“Can you swim?” Nick asked.

She shook her head.

His jaw worked as he looked at the baby and then her. “We’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

Advice he couldn’t follow himself.

By the time the ferry bounced against the north levee, the ferryman couldn’t hide his nervousness.

“We made it.” He tossed the thick rope over the post to anchor the boat to the riverbank. “It must’ve rained a heap upriver.”

“Thank you for getting us here safely.” Nicholas pulled out two bits, even though the fare had already been paid. “Not an easy crossing.”

The ferryman removed his hat and swiped his handkerchief across his forehead. “I’ve seen worse but barely.”

The town of Allyton began only a few yards away, the street reaching the shore. The sprinkling rain hadn’t ceased. Anne wasn’t concerned, yet Nick stretched to keep the umbrella over Sammy and her.

“Don’t bother,” she said. “Your coat won’t wear the weather as well as mine.”

“No matter. I won’t have it said in Allyton that their councilman left a lady in the rain.”

They ducked into a small store and shook off.

“You didn’t just cross the river, did you?” The man behind the counter polished an apple and set it back on his display.

“Yes, sir, and it was nasty.” Nick took two apples, handed one to Anne, and sunk his teeth into his. “How often is the crossing bad?”

The shopkeeper rubbed his chin. “If you’re talking about flooding, only a few times a year. More often it’s the sandbars that keep us from crossing. When the water gets low, the ferry hits them before it can reach the levee. Cross on foot and you might have quicksand to contend with.”

Sammy watched Anne take every bite of her apple, but she didn’t think he should eat it. Mrs. Puckett had said something about smashing food for him to keep him from choking. She looked around the store as Nick kept talking. Maybe they had something she could get for him. Finn wouldn’t have anything for a baby. The voices faded. Anne realized they were both looking at her.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

The shopkeeper leaned against the counter. “He said you’re looking for Finn Cravens.”

“Yes, sir. Do you know where he is?”

“If you’re asking after the man with white hair, hair the same color as that boy’s there, he was here yesterday. Last I heard he was squiring Miss Turnbull around. You could inquire at the Turnbull place if you’re ready to face the truth.”

“Can you give me directions?” Anne kept up her tough attitude. Otherwise she’d turn beet red at the storekeeper’s
insinuation. He probably couldn’t wait to see her confront Finn in front of Miss Turnbull.

“Actually, now that I think about it, Cliff Turnbull is coming to town today. He’s got a load of pecans he’s bringing in, if this shower don’t stop him. This fellow might be with him, but if not, Turnbull will know where he is.”

Anne looked to Nick. “And what will you do?”

“I’m going to take a survey of local opinion of the bridge—wander a bit, visit with the townsfolk. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“We might be gone before you return.”

He smiled at Sammy. “Then I wish this little fellow the best. And you, too. Take care of yourself.”

A deep satisfaction spread through her chest. Nick was letting her go. He wasn’t tracking her down, threatening her, promising her that she could never hide from him. Maybe he could be trusted.

“Thank you, Nick.” Her cheeks warmed at the familiarity, but she was proud that she’d dared. “Thank you for watching out for us in Garber.”

Nick held out his hand. Anne met his grasp with a firm handshake. He chuckled.

“It was my pleasure.”

Nick headed to the first home the storekeeper had directed him to. Life would be easier without Anne underfoot, but he’d miss her. How dull the ladies of his acquaintance seemed in comparison. Now that he knew she frequented Pushmataha, he’d be sure to inquire after her when passing through. No longer were they strangers.

The man of the house answered Nick’s knock on the door. He was a leatherworker, and he knew to the penny how much it cost for him to ship his handiwork to Garber. “What’s more, when I break a tool or need materials, I pay extra charges for them, too.”

“How much a year would a bridge be worth to you?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know. A hundred dollars? One and a quarter? And if people think a businessman should just take his loss, they need to consider that I pass that expense on in the price of my goods. Eventually, everyone pays for the difference.”

At the next stop, the man of the house wasn’t home. He worked just south of Garber and didn’t come home every night because of the fare.

“So if there were a bridge, your husband would be home more often?” Nick asked.

“He’d better be.” The woman laughed, but her façade was fragile. “People were already talking before he took that position.”

Upon reflection, Nick had to admit that building a bridge may or may not help her marriage, but he tipped his hat and thanked her for her time. The people of Allyton certainly didn’t mind visiting with him. They probably thought he was insane, wandering through town while a storm was threatening, but he couldn’t afford to lose another day of work. As long as he was in Allyton, he’d make the best of it.

As he exited the post office, he saw Anne trudging through the rain, which had finally arrived in its full strength. Her head was bowed against the gusts until he could see only the top of her hat. Sammy squirmed, trying to get down, and by her posture she looked about ready to let him go his own way.

Unfurling his umbrella, Nick jogged to her.

“Are you looking for me?” he asked.

Anne raised tired eyes. “Finn’s gone.”

Nicholas held the umbrella over her and took the baby from her exhausted arms.

“Do you know where he went?”

“No. He had a falling out with Miss Turnbull and rode off, swearing he’d never return. So unless you have a better idea, I’ll go back to Garber—although I’d rather step barefoot into a rattler’s pit. Maybe Finn will show up there.”

Anne was returning? He’d already looked forward to locating her on his next journey north. Somehow he’d had time to imagine crossing paths in the wilds of Indian Territory.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted,” Nick said as they started toward the levee, “but word will get to him. You won’t have this boy much longer.”

“What if he doesn’t want him?”

“He has no choice. It’s his son. Even the shopkeeper recognized it.”

Anne kept her head ducked and dragged her bags behind her.

The river roared viciously, even more loudly than when they’d crossed earlier. And when Nick saw the ferry anchored on the bank, he knew they were in trouble.

With his hands full, he jerked his head toward the small shelter. Anne lifted the sign hung on the door.

“No Ferry Service Due to Weather,” she read. She let it drop and swing by its string. The door was unlocked. They entered to find the potbelly stove still warm, but no ferryman inside.

Anne held her hands out to the fire. “Now what? Can we catch the train?”

“Not until evening.” Nick lowered Sammy to the floor and consulted his pocket watch. “Six hours from now—six hours I don’t have to waste.”

With a gasp Anne snatched Sammy. “He was going to touch the stove. You can’t just let him loose in here.”

“What am I supposed to do with him? He wanted down.”

“He always wants down. He would’ve crawled right into the river if I would’ve let him.” She sat and latched her arms around his waist, even as he tried to wiggle away.

Nick stowed his umbrella beneath the bench and sat next to her. “With a child that busy, when are you supposed to rest?”

“When I’m working for you.”

His laugh almost teased a smile from her lips. Almost, so he laughed again. Those gray eyes sparkled before her dark lashes lowered and hid them from his view. With her boot Anne nudged Sammy’s bag toward Nick. “Do you know how to make a bottle?”

“Of course. Doesn’t every bachelor?” He pulled the bottle out of the bag. “Now, I just find a cow . . .”

“There’s a canister of infant food in there. You mix a spoonful of it with water. One of the women at the saloon showed me how after Tessa left.”