Caught in the Middle (4 page)

Anne watched the child with fascinated horror. The baby. His presence threatened to undo her, especially in the cramped bedroom, so similar to one she’d learned to loathe, but Tessa couldn’t know how her stomach churned at the sight of him.

“I’m so glad you found me, Anne. This baby is bound and determined to ruin my life. Eddie said that he won’t step out with me if I bring Sammy again.” Tessa licked her finger and then pressed it to her eyelashes, curling them upward.

“Eddie? I thought you came to town to find Finn.” Anne tried to open the window to dilute the dank air, but it was nailed shut.

Tessa snorted. “Finn Cravens better hope I don’t find him, that scoundrel. If I ever lay eyes on him, I’m handing him his son and running for the hills. How dare he leave me with a baby—”

Anne frowned. “Go back to Pushmataha. Anoli needs a cook and the men enjoy having Sammy around. A room above a saloon is no place to raise a whelp.”

Tessa turned away from the mirror. “You’re right about that. Eddie’s asked me to go with him out west. It’ll be tough at first—”

“—but better Sammy be on the frontier than here.”

With a hand to her hip, Tessa stared at the child. Savoring his mother’s attention—which Anne feared was rarely awarded—Sammy babbled “Ma-ma-ma” as he bounced vigorously on his haunches. His soiled diaper gapped around his chubby legs.

“Fix him for me, will you, Anne?”

“Fix him? You mean change his . . . his . . .” Anne twisted her mouth to the side. “I’m a buffalo hunter. I might take the hide right off him.”

Tessa tossed her a slightly damp diaper and flipped Sammy onto his back. “Nonsense. I’ve seen you covered in filth. You won’t mind nearly as much as I do.” She pushed him toward Anne, whose hands hovered above him, not sure where to start . . . not sure if she could start.

“I don’t know what to do,” Tessa continued. “If Finn had any family I’d send Sammy to them, but he’s an orphan. My own family is out of the question. I’d rather he be raised by coyotes than endure what I went through.”

Gingerly, Anne laid a hand on his stomach and unclasped the safety pins. She had no sympathy for the whining woman, not while trying to keep two kicking legs from landing in the mess. Using the front of the diaper she wiped him off the best she could before rolling up the soggy cloth and replacing it.

“How do you pin this? I could do it up tight, but he’d have saddle sores by morning.”

Leaning against her bureau, Tessa didn’t answer at first, but
feeling Anne’s disapproval she snapped to. “Oh, he’ll be fine. It’s time for his nap. Just give him a spoonful of Godfrey’s Cordial, and he won’t move until this evening.”

Anne straightened. “Give him a sleeping draught? He’s an infant. Besides, I’m not watching him.”

“You don’t have anywhere else to stay, do you?”

With a glare Anne bent to clasp the second pin and then lifted the child to his feet. Holding onto the bed for support, Sammy squealed at her and then laughed delightedly when the diaper slid to his ankles. Anne wasn’t amused.

“Listen to me, Tessa Drumright. Sammy is your responsibility. You can’t put him in a stupor while you go out. It isn’t right.”

Tessa wrung her hands. “You’re right, of course. Sammy needs a better home. He needs a better mother. I’m not good for him. Surely you agree.”

“But you could be. You decide what kind of person you’re going to be, and you be that person. If you want to be friendly, you talk to people. If you want to be strong, you keep your distance. If you want to be a good mother, you stop chasing after men like a lovesick polecat and take care of the kit you already have.”

“Easy for you to say.” Tessa picked up a powder puff and dusted her bosom. “You don’t mind being lonely, but I need a companion. I want attention.”

There were worse ills than loneliness. The child swatted at Anne’s knee and grinned impishly. His white-blond hair fell in long wisps across his forehead, just like his father’s. Finn’s devil-may-care attitude had been frustrating to work with when running alongside a stampeding herd of buffalo, but back at the depot he’d had the gift of spinning windies.
Tessa in particular had found him charming. Two years and a child later, she wasn’t as impressed.

Sammy plopped onto the floor and began to explore on all fours. No matter what Tessa thought, Anne didn’t enjoy the prospect of going through life alone. The choice had been made only when all other options had proven too dangerous.

“Well, you aren’t going to find a cook sitting in the room.” Tessa clasped a string of beads around her neck. “Why don’t you go downstairs and ask around the kitchen? There are a few establishments on the other side of the square that might know of someone looking for work.”

“You won’t come back to Pushmataha?”

“No. My heart belongs to Eddie. I’m going with him.”

Silence fell. Tessa lifted a pick to her hair and jabbed at a tangle. Anne winced. Better to be attached to a job than a man.

“I guess I have no choice if I want to go back on the hunt.”

“But you are coming back?” Tessa asked. “You’re staying here tonight, right?”

Ugh. But once you found your target you stayed with them until they were bagged. “I’ll stay here and hope I can talk some sense into you before I leave tomorrow.”

Some of the tension that Anne had carried beneath her duster had faded away. Her mission had been successful. Took most of the afternoon, but she’d finally found a cook and purchased the widow-woman’s ticket to Pushmataha. Tomorrow they’d board the train together and head back to the depot. By the next evening she’d be on her bedroll,
gazing up at the stars sprinkled generously across the sky, away from the curious stares of strangers. Back to the life she’d created for herself.

Speaking of strangers . . .

Footsteps sounded behind her as she marched across the squares of light thrown through the saloon windows onto the boardwalk. She paused at the batwing doors, and the steps halted. In a motion that was universally understood, she slid her right hand inside her duster to her hip, where the smooth handle of her six-shooter met her fingers.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” the voice behind her called.

Anne remembered to deepen her voice. “Are you going to shoot me in the back?”

“The lawmen of Garber don’t shoot citizens unprovoked. Turn around slow.”

Anne extended her arms to her sides and turned to face a scowling young deputy.

“Evidently Garber lawmen don’t mind harassing visitors.”

He didn’t answer until he’d looked her over. His dark beard wasn’t quite grown in but accomplished what he no doubt wished by covering his youthful face.

“Visitors are invited and last time I checked the guest list it didn’t include a woman masquerading as a man. I’m only looking for a chance to become better acquainted with a new face in my town.”

Anne stiffened. His words could be misinterpreted by a woman. What were his intentions?

His face reddened and he stammered. “Just tell me your business and I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’m a buffalo hunter out of Pushmataha. Anoli Parker,
our outfit leader, sent me here to find a cook for the depot. First train north, I’m headed out.”

“A buffalo hunter?” He nodded. “Then welcome to Garber. I hope your stay is pleasant and your journey home uneventful.” He tipped his hat and reversed course.

“A train ride without the holdup would be nice,” she muttered and continued on to Tessa’s apartment.

A thin scrap of the sun’s disk hung behind the row of buildings. No possibility of watching it all the way to the horizon. Out on the plain, it was Anne’s favorite time of day. Physically exhausted, Anne would toss her saddle on the ground away from the fellas, rest her head in the seat, and wait for the sky to fade. She’d catch snippets of their ribald stories, a song on the harmonica, low laughter, and she was at peace. Under Anoli’s protection, none of them dared mess with her. She was safe from everything—except her memories.

If the stars were bright enough, the music lively enough, and it’d been a good day, Anne could almost imagine that she’d come to buffalo hunting straight from her home in Ohio. Bull’s-Eye Annie leaving school to chase down the stampeding herds and clear the land for the settlers.

But most days her few years of bondage as Jay Tillerton’s wife erased anything that came before and overshadowed everything that came afterwards. No relationship was untainted from her fear of once again falling under the influence of an evil man. No exchange escaped assessment.

She’d do whatever was required to remain free, and her best defense involved her disappearance from society. The sooner she could get out of town and back to the isolated outpost, the better.

Certain that Tessa wouldn’t have any plans to feed her, Anne walked into the saloon on the ground floor of Tessa’s apartment. The bartender stood behind a row of glasses, drying them one by one with a wadded cotton rag. Without looking up he asked, “What’ll it be?”

“What grub do you have for supper?”

His head popped up. “A woman in britches? That would make you Tessa’s friend. Well, you’re late and I don’t appreciate it.” He set the glass down with a thump before picking up the next. “It’s not my place to play nursemaid.”

“Listen, mister. Tessa is not my problem and her son even less so. If she left him with you, I had nothing to do with it. I tried telling her she shouldn’t be leaving him at all.”

“Well, that’s what she’s done. Her and that drifter Eddie Starkley have pulled up stakes and skipped town. If the stagecoach driver hadn’t come in to wet his whistle, I wouldn’t have got the room lease out of the two of them.”

“Stagecoach?” Anne placed both hands flat against the bar and leaned forward. “You don’t mean—”

“Gone. They hightailed it out and told me you were the child’s new ma. Poor kid never stood a chance with that flighty woman.” The bartender paused to scrutinize her thoroughly. “Can’t say you’ll do any better.”

Anne sputtered. “She left without the kid? She can’t do that. I’ve got to go back to Pushmataha tomorrow.” Her eyes went so dry she couldn’t blink. Her fingernails dug into the bar. “Where is he?”

The man turned the glass around the rag until it squeaked. “Maude is upstairs with him. Cute little pup. Congratulations.”

Anne couldn’t respond. Who gets congratulated for a disaster? These people didn’t think she wanted him, did they?
She ran up the steps, swung around the finial, raced down the hall, and burst into Tessa’s room. The sleeping baby jolted awake and sat upright. His face screwed into a wrinkled mess and opened to emit a monstrous howl.

“
Shh . . .”
The woman glared at her. “I just got him down.” Sighing, she gathered her knitting. “He’s your problem now.”

“Wait! I don’t know—”

But the woman didn’t give her a chance to continue. Anne stood in the doorway, watched the tears pool in the boy’s eyes, and almost shed a few of her own. She spun around the room, taking in the empty wardrobe, the bare vanity; even the pillowcase had been removed. All she could do was sit and watch him howl.

“Go on and cry. Your momma left you. You have every right.” Should she track down Tessa? It wouldn’t be difficult. Even once they left civilization, Anne could strap the cub on her back like a papoose and follow Tessa anywhere.

But then what would his prospects be?

His round little face grew redder as he worked himself into a fit. Tessa didn’t want him. Her new beau resented him. What would happen to Sammy out on the frontier with no one watching? What had Anne suffered as an adult when people should have noticed? At least Tessa had given him a chance of having a family that wanted him.

Hadn’t Anne survived growing up without a mother? Her pa had seen that she had a roof over her head. He didn’t offer much by way of guidance or affection, but she’d learned to take care of herself. If she could, couldn’t a boy?

She would find his pa. If Finn Cravens wanted to put his child in an orphanage, that was his business, but he deserved
the opportunity to do better by the boy. Who knew? He might change his ways when he realized that he was solely responsible for a baby. Stranger things had happened.

Anne knew nothing about caring for babies, but surely she could keep him alive until his father could be tracked.

 4 

The next morning Anne practically exploded out of the saloon with one arm tucked around Sammy’s chest, holding him against her, and the other bearing the weight of two knapsacks, a food parcel, and a baby blanket. Sammy flailed his arms upward and squirmed until his chin was hung in the elbow of her thick duster, his gown pulled up beneath his armpits.

“Stop it, Sammy, or I’m going to drop you.”

A woman gasped and stopped on the boardwalk to glare.

Anne wished she didn’t feel the need to defend herself, but she did. “It’s a prediction, not a threat. I wouldn’t purposely drop him.”

“What a relief,” the woman sneered. “It’ll be a comfort knowing when he hits the ground it was an accident. I only wonder how the poor babe survived this long under your care.”

Anne wrinkled her nose at the snooty bat, and with a bounce of her hip repositioned Sammy into a more manageable hold. She’d stayed ahead of a stampeding buffalo herd. She’d survived a spring storm with hail the size of tomatoes,
but nothing had exhausted her like getting Sammy ready for an outing.

This baby required more gear than a whole troop of buffalo hunters.

She hoped the new cook would relay her message to Anoli and that he’d waste no time finding Finn. Until then she had to locate a safe place where they could stay while she waited, preferably with someone who didn’t mind lending a hand with the boy. Surely there was a widow woman with a boardinghouse nearby.

Papers waved from a notice board tacked up across the way. Anne looked up and down the street before trudging across. The writhing child against her bosom hampered her usually acute perception. A horse could barrel down the road right on top of them, and she’d never hear it coming. Not over the kid’s grunts.

Her glance skittered over the various advertisements and legal proclamations until she spotted what she’d been looking for. She recognized the street as one she’d crossed when leaving the train depot. Not a far distance she hoped.

Sammy fussed. He crammed his fist in his mouth. There’d be no place to get him food between the main street and the neighborhood, but once at the boardinghouse she could get him some milk or even figure out the strange powder Tessa had left behind with the glass bottles and rubber nipples. As long as he didn’t see the bottles again. When she’d pulled them out of his knapsack, he’d started fussing. When she put them back without feeding him, he’d gone berserk.

By the time she knocked on the door of the tidy house, Sammy was throwing a royal tantrum. The peephole slid open, Anne was inspected, and then the door moved cautiously.

“How might I help you?”

Anne bounced Sammy on her hip, hoping he’d shush and she could be heard.

“I’d like to let a room.”

One eyebrow rose on a humorless face. “Excuse me . . . er, ma’am?”

Anne shifted Sammy to her opposite side and let her knapsacks slide down to her boots. “It’d only be for a day or two while I find the kid’s father. I don’t plan to stay long—”

The woman’s chin lifted. “My boardinghouse serves only the finest clientele. Women dressed in men’s clothing, toting around illegitimate children, are not welcome.”

“He’s not illegitimate.” Anne stopped. “Well, actually he is, but he’s not mine, and I had nothing to do with this mess. His mother left him—”

“Your appearance would distress my boarders. I’m sorry, but I’m unable to help you.”

With that the door slammed firmly in her face.

Sammy slurped on his fist, still hungry. Anne drew a long breath, picked up the bag, and trudged back toward town. She’d have to buy them a meal after all, which meant that more than likely Sammy was headed back to the Velvet Palace.

Wednesday afternoons mustn’t be a busy time for county government, because the halls of the courthouse were nearly vacant. Nicholas gave his name to the judge’s assistant. “I was told to report to Judge Calloway. Is he busy?”

“Of course he’s busy.” The assistant rubbed his eyes beneath smudged glasses and then motioned to a chair.

Nick sat and flicked a speck of sawdust off his trousers.
He’d thought he’d sent all his traveling clothes to the washwoman, but he must have missed some. Had Ophelia not noticed? She always expected perfection from those in her circle of society. Not that the Stanfords were what his mother would call society. No, they’d climbed the ranks on wooden ties like those he provided, but in the meantime he was riding along in their wake, following the path they’d blazed.

A bell hanging on the wall suddenly dipped, its mellow chime disturbing the office. The assistant sat a bit straighter. “Mr. Lovelace, Judge Calloway will see you now.”

Nick straightened his cravat and strode to the massive door with heavy brass trimmings just beyond the assistant’s desk. Taking the curved knob in his hand, he opened the door.

There was a flurry of activity at a second door behind the judge’s desk. The judge pushed it closed and turned with fire in his eyes.

“You didn’t knock.”

Nick’s mouth went dry. “I’m sorry, Your Honor. You rang for me. I thought—”

But Judge Calloway strode to his desk without further comment. He picked up a pen and began scribbling furiously, ignoring Nick’s contrition.

Even without the robe that hung on the hook behind him, everyone recognized the judge. He had more hair than a wigmaker, combed in golden swoops over his temples and forehead.

Nick eyed the chairs positioned before him. Better not risk it. Instead he studied the wall hangings, various documents with thick gold seals declaring that the man before him was entitled to make you wait. Latin. Not his best subject in school.

“Sit,” the judge finally said.

“Yes, sir.” In two strides he reached the chair. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I didn’t know—”

“There are times when I must trust my instinct. I believe I’ve found the right man for the job, and I solemnly hope you won’t disappoint me.”

Nicholas clasped his hands together and sat as proper as a choirboy. “We share that hope, sir. I couldn’t imagine why you’d think to honor me—”

“As you know, Commissioner Garrard died unexpectedly. Ghastly. And so despite my numerous contacts I decided to turn to someone untested. This situation could use fresh insights. Under normal circumstances I’d wait until after the election when the new commissioners are installed, but there’s a vote that we are anxious to get settled. It’s about a bridge.”

“The Choctaw River Bridge?” Nicholas leaned forward. “I’ve heard talk over it.”

“It’s been debated by this commission for the better part of a year, and the vote is scheduled for next month. Everyone wants it settled before a new slate of county commissioners comes in and decides to revisit all the findings. I’ve been a judge for twenty-two years and can’t remember any committee vote that’s seen more controversy. I hope you’ll see the issue through.”

“Me? I’m going to vote on the bridge? Are you saying—”

“You are reported to be an intelligent man. Your experience with the construction of the railroads and your knowledge of the various forms of transportation to and from Garber make your appointment as county commissioner a logical choice.”

“I don’t know how much time I have to research—”

“Commissioner Garrard’s office is already empty. Consid
ering the brief span that we will require your services, you might want to minimize any changes to the décor.”

Nick wouldn’t change the décor. He might not have time to check the mail. “There could be a conflict. This is a busy month for me. Mr. Stanford is expanding his business, and I don’t have much time to spare.”

“You should find Mr. Stanford willing to wait.” The judge studied him through sparse eyelashes. “Now, learn what you need to know about this bridge, so this issue can be put to rest. The vote is at the end of October.”

“Yes, sir.” What did he know about building bridges or commissioners’ meetings or county government? Still, it was a simple vote. Yes or no. His vote might not even make a difference.

The judge cleared his throat, reminding Nicholas that he hadn’t left.

“Sorry, sir.” He hurried out of the room, unsettled by the thought that he may have committed to more than he’d expected. And yet, a vote on a bridge couldn’t affect his ability to process lumber into railroad ties. As long as his crews and machinery were working, what happened at the courthouse couldn’t touch him.

The smell of spilt liquor oozed out of the dirty floors. Anne sat in the Velvet Palace, her back against the wall, and cradled Sammy. After downing two bottles of milk the baby was slowing, getting drowsy as he lolled the nipple around his mouth. The day was half gone and she’d accomplished nothing besides spending many of her precious coins and attracting attention from a table of poker players.

She couldn’t make out what they were saying exactly, but
every now and then play would halt, jeers would fly her way, and the table would roar with laughter. Best to ignore them. Or ignore them while taking inventory of their features and whatever arms they carried. She’d want to recognize them should they cross paths again.

With a sigh, Sammy gave in to sleep. His warmth made Anne’s eyelids heavy, too. She leaned her head against the wall. If only she had somewhere to close her eyes for an hour. Babies didn’t sleep much at night, at least this one hadn’t, and neither had she.

“Can I help you?”

Anne bolted awake. She hugged Sammy to her as the table erupted into hoots of laughter. Before her stood who could only be the saloon manager. He was a wide man, soft with a thick beard reaching to his chest.

“No, sir. I’ll be on my way.”

“Is this Tessa’s boy?”

Anne took the bottle from Sammy’s hands. “I don’t reckon that’s any of your business.”

He shrugged. “I’d heard she’d left him with you. Where are you staying?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“We have rooms.”

Anne’s eyes flickered to the men at the table. They were awfully quiet. Too quiet to be doing anything besides eavesdropping.

“I don’t want to stay here. Not with a baby.”

“A few of our ladies have children. In fact, they don’t mind helping each other out when necessary.”

By intoxicating their babies with cordial? But where else would she and Sammy sleep that night?