by Cassie Hayes
“Good morning, gentlemen!” Mrs. Arnette called as an armed guard unlocked the one room jail. Tilly shook her head at the idea these men could be called ‘gentlemen’. “Everyone form a line, and Mrs. Wheeler will serve you a hearty breakfast to get you on your way.”
The men shuffled out, looking haggard and rather green around the gills, and they all kept their heads down as they formed a line. Each mumbled his thanks as Tilly scooped out bowl after bowl of oats, and she couldn’t help smiling at how placid they all seemed this morning. Last night, they’d been ready to kill. Today, they looked as if they’d cut off an arm for a rasher of bacon.
“Thank you, ma’am,” muttered one young man who looked particularly ashamed of himself. “Sorry about causing so much trouble last night.”
“It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” she replied kindly as she handed him a bowl.
“Yes’m. Don’t know what got into us, honestly. We was just enjoying a few beers after our shift at the cannery. Some fella got to mouthing off about them Chinese and next thing I know, we’re marching down to the stable. Never been more ashamed in my life, truth be told.”
“Then this might be a good time to reflect on why you did what you did, and how you could make amends, don’t you think?”
“Yes’m,” he nodded, looking thoughtful. “Thank you, ma’am.”
The next man in line snorted. His head was down, but Tilly could see the tension in his shoulders. The young man in front of her rolled his eyes and moved off to join the others, leaving the man room to step up for his bowl of food.
The thought to withhold his breakfast crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. She’d be no better than the men who’d starved the poor shipwrecked survivors then.
“Here you go,” she said, handing the man a bowl topped with two rashers of bacon.
He tipped his head until one eye peered up at her from under the brim of his hat. A thousand spiders crawled along her flesh as his gaze swept down her body. Without any firm reason why, Tilly suspected this was the loudmouth who’d riled a tavern full of drunk men into marching on the stable.
“Next,” she called, trying to get the man to move on, but he stubbornly remained.
“You the Mountie’s wife?”
For such an innocuous question, it certainly made her uncomfortable — as if there was some innuendo behind it she didn’t quite catch. Instead of allowing him the satisfaction of seeing her discomfort, she gave him a steely smile.
“I am indeed. Is that a problem?”
“Nope,” he said, taking the bowl from her, but not before his fingers purposely skimmed along her hand.
Tilly had never wished to stick her hand into a pot of boiling water before that moment.
The next man in line gave him a poke in the shoulder. The man in front of her whipped around and pushed his ruddy face right into the other man’s, so close both their hats tipped back on their heads. The second man raised his hands and backed up a step.
“Whoa, Jack. I’m just hungry is all.”
Jack glared at the man a moment longer before turning to face her again.
Tilly had been taught not to visibly react to a person’s deformities or disfigurements, but when she saw the man’s other eye — the one which had been hidden under the brim of his hat a few moments earlier — she dropped her own to the pot of oats.
The next few seconds seemed to take forever. Something about his milky white eye tickled a memory, but she couldn’t quite…
Then it hit her. Silas had mentioned the man who’d shot him had a ‘wonky’ eye from an old injury. What was his name?
Black Jack Bitters.
Slowly, Tilly looked up into the sinister gaze of a madman.
Chapter 9
“Morning, sir,” said the guard who’d relieved Stuart sometime during the night.
“It certainly is,” Nolan grumbled, still exhausted from the night’s activities.
Twenty-four hours earlier, he’d been thinking of little else except the dessert Tilly had promised to make for dinner. Instead, he’d spent the night trying to save the lives of twenty-one shipwreck survivors twice — first from being left out in the elements, then from the threats of a pack of drunk ne’er-do-wells. No one ever said being a Mountie would be easy.
“Anything to report?” he asked the guard, yawning deeply.
The other man caught his yawn before he could answer, then a woman’s scream rent the air around them. Before the sound even stopped, Nolan sprinted toward it. It came from the direction of the jail and his blood turned to ice in his veins. As much as didn’t want to believe it, he knew in his heart it was Tilly.
Rounding the corner of a building, he skidded to a stop at the scene set before him. A group of ten haggard men huddled together, their eyes wide and their jaws dropped. Mrs. Arnette cowered behind the man Nolan had personally tasked with guarding the jail. If she’d expected the guard to protect her, she was dead wrong. His rifle pointed straight into the ground. Then there was Tilly…
A man hid himself behind her slight frame, one arm around her waist while his other hand held a pistol to her head. His back pressed against the front of the jail, preventing anyone from sneaking up on him. Tilly’s frightened gaze sought Nolan’s, and it took every ounce of his strength to not rush at them. He wouldn’t risk her life like that, but seeing the man touch her nearly drove him insane.
After sharing her tale on the train, Nolan had barely been able to think of anything else. Visions of a perverted old man trying to force himself on trusting, sweet Tilly filled him with an anger he’d never imagined possible. Part of him had wanted to stay on the train and go east, hunt down her old employer and teach him a lesson or ten. But his duty had lain in Prince Rupert.
Only dealing with the shipwreck survivors and the murderous mob kept the thoughts at bay, but not for long. Even his dreams had been filled with lecherous, leering faces.
And now yet another evil man was manhandling his wife, this time with a gun to her head. The vague anger he’d felt toward her former employer paled in comparison to the rage boiling inside him as he approached.
“Don’t move, Mountie, or your pretty little wife ain’t gonna be so pretty no more!”
Nolan held up his hands, woefully far from his own pistol. He took a deep breath to keep the fury out of his voice.
“Calm down, mister. I’m sure we can work this out. Why don’t you let her go? She’s never done anything to you.”
The man’s coarse laugh worried Nolan. Only men with nothing to lose sounded that mad. “You think that makes a difference to me, Wheeler?”
Nolan blinked in surprise that the man knew his name. Had they met before? What Nolan could see of his face seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place him. Then the man grinned and poked his head out from behind Tilly’s so Nolan could get a good look.
Black Jack Bitters!
Nolan’s hand twitched toward his gun, but Black Jack ducked behind Tilly again.
“Don’t even think about it,” he shouted, pushing the gun so hard into her temple it forced her head to tilt to one side.
“Don’t hurt her, Bitters!” Nolan shouted. “You may be a roughneck, but you’re no murderer.”
“You don’t know what I ain’t, Wheeler. It’s true, I didn’t plan on taking this little filly hostage. But once she recognized me, I didn’t have no choice. And now that I have, it seems like a mighty fine idea.”
Nolan ground his teeth. He’d rather die than see Tilly in the evil man’s hands, but Black Jack held all the cards.
For now.
“What do you want, Bitters?” Nolan growled.
“I want your horse. Ain’t no better steed than a Mountie’s mount.”
“We took the train, you moron,” Tilly said, her voice as cool as a fall morning.
That’s my girl!
“Shaddup, you! Bring me your horse, Wheeler, or you’ll be sorry. So will this mouthy little shrew.”
Nolan
had never known such fear as when Black Jack Bitters threatened Tilly. Even though his horse was almost an extension of himself, he would have gladly given her over to the outlaw to save his wife. He only hoped the man would believe the truth.
“She’s not lying, Bitters. We took yesterday’s train. I have no horse here.”
“Blast!” Black Jack thought for a moment, his gun hand never wavering. “Then bring me the fastest horse in town.”
That was good. Bitters would hop on the horse and ride out of town as fast as he could, like the coward he was. Then Nolan would sweep Tilly into his arms and kiss her until they couldn’t breathe.
“Mrs. Arnette,” Nolan said as calmly as he could, “would you please go find your husband and tell him I’m requisitioning the town’s fastest horse?”
The woman nodded, shooting him a grateful yet terrified, glance. Hopefully she had enough sense not to return until either Bitters was gone or Nolan had shot him.
“Don’t try no shenanigans,” Black Jack warned as she scurried away, which only made her move faster.
Nolan kept his voice even and edged a half-step closer. “Now, Jack, what do you say to lowering your gun just a little? Your horse is on its way, and I’m not going to try to stop you.”
“Not another step, Wheeler!”
Tilly gasped as Bitters jammed the barrel harder into her temple. Nolan nearly took another step, but managed to stop himself.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stay right here. How about you just take your finger off the trigger then?”
Black Jack’s good eye flicked over to his gun.
“Hear me now, Bitters.” Nolan’s voice grew steely. “You harm a single hair on her head and you’ll be dead before you hit the ground. I know you want out of this alive, so just move your finger an inch and you might actually make it.”
Bitters tried to glare down Nolan, but the outlaw was no match for a man desperate to save his wife’s life. Finally, he huffed and moved his finger to outside the trigger guard.
“Happy?” he asked.
“Not in the slightest,” Nolan snapped back. “Tilly, hold tight, my love. This will all be over very soon.”
Tilly’s eyes grew wide, then she did the strangest thing, considering the circumstances — she smiled. Up until that moment, she’d stood stiff in Black Jack’s arms, but her entire body relaxed and she just…smiled. Fear loosened its grip on Nolan’s heart, allowing him to return her mysterious smile.
While they waited for the mayor to bring the horse, Nolan tried to engage Bitters in conversation, but the man remained mute. A crowd of men had gathered by that time, their murmurs keeping Jack glancing around to make sure no one was trying to sneak up on him. Nolan prayed for some kind of miracle that would allow everyone — with the possible exception of Black Jack Bitters — to walk away unharmed. But time was running short and few things were more dangerous than a desperate man with a gun.
Tilly caught Nolan’s eye by mouthing something. He frowned, unable to read her lips. Under normal circumstances, he could have stared at her mouth all day, but he simply couldn’t make out what she was trying to say.
Frustrated, she rolled her eyes, then looked down at the ground. Nolan followed her gaze, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She looked up again, then jerked her gaze off to the left. She repeated the pattern three or four times before understanding started to leak in.
He still wasn’t entirely clear on her plan, but whatever it was, he didn’t like it. Trying anything at all would be dangerous at the very least. Nolan waited until Bitters glanced away from him before shaking his head at her, willing her not to do anything stupid.
He could sense her steeling her nerves to carry out her plan when the mayor walked up leading a horse. She was a beauty, and Nolan hated to think of her under the care of such a cold-hearted monster. But better the horse than Tilly.
“There you go, Bitters,” Nolan said. “You have your horse. Now send Tilly over to me, and never let me catch sight of you again.”
Black Jack guffawed. “Changed my mind. She’s coming with me!”
The world flashed red and the steam of rage hissed in Nolan’s ears. His mind raced, trying to figure out a way to reach Tilly before Bitters either shot him or her, but he was too far away. There had to be a way!
Tilly’s eyes grew wide as Bitters shuffled her over toward the horse. She locked onto Nolan and her expression grew furious. She spoke without uttering a word, and Nolan had no choice but to nod his agreement. It was now or never.
The moment Black Jack’s gun hand dropped slightly as he tried to figure out how to get her on the horse before him without holstering his weapon, Tilly screamed, “Now!” Bitters must have had a ferocious hangover, because instead of getting his captive under control, he winced.
Then Tilly stomped on the outlaw’s foot so hard Nolan heard bones crack. Black Jack shouted in surprise and pain, releasing Tilly altogether. She lunged off to the left — the exact direction she’d tried to communicate with her eyes — and stumbled to the ground.
Nolan didn’t hesitate in whipping out his gun. “Drop it, Bitters!”
Black Jack Bitters glared up at Nolan with his one good eye and sneered. He wasn’t going to go down without a fight. That was fine by Nolan, but he wouldn’t make the first move.
Every ounce of outrage Nolan felt over Tilly’s mistreatment — here and in Ottawa — bubbled up to the surface. Never again would anyone even think of harming her, and he’d take down anyone who tried.
So when Bitters jerked his gun toward where Tilly lay in a heap, Nolan pulled the trigger without a second thought.
“You shot me!”
Black Jack Bitters writhed around in the dirt not far from Tilly, clutching his bloody leg. His screams of pain and outrage drew even more people from their homes and canneries to watch the drama unfold, even though it was all but over now.
“I can’t believe you shot me in the leg!” he screamed at Nolan as three men ran forward to tie him up.
“Me neither,” Nolan growled as he stood over the criminal, radiating a power and authority that gave Tilly goosebumps. “I was aiming for your head.”
As frightened as she was, Tilly couldn’t stop herself from snorting out a laugh. Nolan never failed to amaze her. Holding a gun on the man who’d almost shot her, Nolan still held onto his sense of humor. She loved him all the more for it.
Once Bitters had been secured, Nolan holstered his weapon and rushed to her. When he dropped to one knee, she couldn’t help recalling the day he’d proposed and her heart nearly burst from the love she felt for this kind, funny, powerful, incredibly hungry man.
“Are you hurt, my love?” he asked as he searched her face for any sign of pain.
Beaming up at him, she whispered so no one else could hear. “I could listen to you call me that all day, every day.”
Nolan grinned back and pulled her into his arms. “Then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
He buried his face into the crook of her neck and tickled her skin by breathing in her scent. Her fingers dug into his red serge coat, holding on for dear life as sobs of relief and joy and overwhelming emotion shook her frame.
“I was so scared, Tilly,” he mumbled into her hair, oblivious to the people standing around staring at them. “I wanted to kill him, I swear I did. Ever since you told me about…your past, I’ve barely been able to think of anything else.”
There it was. She’d been right in thinking her story had upset him. But he was holding her so close, calling her his love. Maybe it wasn’t too late to apologize for not telling him sooner.
“I’m so sorry, Nolan—“ she started, but he quickly pulled away and frowned at her.
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
She blinked in confusion. “Um, well, for not telling you before. Isn’t that why you’re upset?”
His expression softened and he brushed a loose lock of hair away from her cheek. “Tilly, you have nothing to be sorry for. I knew y
ou’d had a hard time in your past, but I knew you’d eventually tell me, when you trusted me. It meant so much to me when you shared your story, my love.”
Tilly searched his face, but the openness she saw eradicated any lingering doubts or fears she might have had. Still, she had to be certain.
“Are you sure? You seemed so upset. You barely talked to me afterward.”
Nolan let himself drop onto his backside with a thump and scrubbed a hand across his unshaven cheek. “I was upset, but not at you. I was just trying not to jump on the next train to Ottawa to hunt down that perverted ex-employer of yours. He doesn’t know it, but ol’ Black Jack Bitters probably saved the man from receiving the hide-tanning of his life.”
Tilly laughed again, this time with a lightness she hadn’t felt since walking through Miss Hazel’s front door. Nolan knew everything about her, and he still wanted to be her husband. As hesitant as she’d been about their journey in the beginning, she couldn’t imagine being any happier than she was at that moment, sitting in the dirt of a rather smelly fishing town.
“When I saw Black Jack grabbing you like that…” Nolan trailed off, his furious gaze searching out the object of his hate. “He’s just lucky I didn’t want you to see me kill a man.”
“I thought you were aiming for his head.”
“If I had been, he’d be dead.”
Her skin pebbled at his words. Snuggling in close to him, she rested her head on his shoulder, her knight in shining armor. Or rather, her Mountie in red serge.
“I haven’t told you this yet, Tilly, because I didn’t want to put any pressure on you. But if you haven’t noticed, I love you. Not a single second has gone by since we first met that I haven’t given thanks to God you agreed to become my wife. Your generous heart makes me want to be a better man, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to earn your love and respect.”
