He took great amusement in his own macabre joke, laughing until his belly jiggled. Tilly quivered and burrowed closer to Nolan. When she realized she was clutching the stagecoach man with enough force to crush his ribs, she started and pulled away.
He tightened his grip and spoke near her ear. “Stay close. As long as Charlie is in view, we’re madly affectionate. If he wants my cooperation, he has to know how much you and the girls mean to me.”
His cheeks reddened. “You know what I mean.”
“I know.”
She did understand. Perhaps because the situation had turned dire, she was keenly aware of the stagecoach man. His expression was grave, but she noted the rapid rise and fall of his chest. When had her emotions gone topsy-turvy? She’d always assumed that she was the same person in any given situation, and that her inherent personality would surface under duress.
Yet here she was, cowering in the arms of a near stranger. She felt as though the outlaws had stripped away the thin veneer of her independence and exposed her weakness on a very basic level.
Tilly clamped shut her eyes. What was happening to her? The truth of her nature was disheartening. The woman she wanted to be wouldn’t count on this man for protection—she’d take care of herself. Except she wasn’t the brave person she’d thought herself. She was skittish and vulnerable, trapped between the outlaws and this quiet man.
Nolan’s hands moved in soothing circles over her back, heightening her awareness of him. Shocked by her flare of unwanted longing, she glanced away. She mustn’t read anything personal in his demonstrative actions. His caring was part of the act, nothing more.
As for her unexpected reaction, she was instinctively responding to his protection and his kindness. Wasn’t she?
No matter her own pitiable weakness, she had others to think about. “I have to speak with the girls, make them understand without frightening them.”
“We’ll keep them separated from the outlaws as much as possible,” Nolan said. “You’ll keep them busy.”
“How?” She tossed a glare at the outlaws’ backs. “I suppose we could start by digging our own graves.”
“Don’t even tease about that. No matter what happens, we have to stay focused on surviving.”
“All right then, but this town isn’t exactly teeming with activities. We can’t exactly visit the mercantile and select ribbons from the general store.”
“They’re children. How much entertainment do they need?” The stagecoach man appeared perplexed. “Keep them busy however you keep children busy. They’re your nieces, surely you know them.”
Barely. Even when Walter was away at war, Eleanor had always hovered over the girls. She’d never trusted Tilly alone with them beyond an hour or two here or there. Tilly was never an authority figure to her nieces.
“I’ve only been watching them for a few days,” Tilly explained. “And we’ve been traveling or packing for most of those.”
“You were a child once. What did you do to keep busy?”
Tilly snorted. “Eleanor gave me chores.”
“Then give the girls chores.” He pressed two fingers beneath her chin and forced her to look at him. “Your nieces are counting on you.”
She flashed a half grin. “I’d have them clean the relay station, but you’ve already scrubbed the wood grain from the floor.”
Something flicked in his eyes, an emotion she couldn’t read.
“I suspect they’ll make another mess soon enough.”
“You’re probably right.”
The girls were tidy. They’d grown up beneath Eleanor’s guidance, after all, yet they still managed to create chaos with shockingly little effort.
Eleanor had always striven for perfection, while Tilly had been content with disorder. In her teenage years, her sister had once sent Tilly to bed without supper for failing to put away her stockings properly. Treating the girls in the same manner didn’t seem right considering how much Tilly had chafed under Eleanor’s strict rule.
“Hey,” Dakota Red shouted. “You two quit your whispering.”
Her anger rose up. She wasn’t chattel to be ordered around.
“Get, woman,” the outlaw ordered. “The boys and I are hungry. Until I’m certain you don’t have any guns hidden around the place, the two of you stay together. Snyder will keep watch while you’re cooking.”
Tilly bit her tongue until she tasted blood.
Charlie crossed to his horse, making a deliberate show of brushing against her arm. Her flare of rebellion instantly died. Tilly shuddered and moved closer to the shelter of Nolan’s arms. The mercenary part of her feared being alone with the fugitives—she feared being separated from Nolan’s safety. Though she’d only known the stagecoach man for a day, they were banded together against the outlaws.
Their common enemy created an instant sense of union.
Her make-believe husband touched the spot where Charlie had brushed against her, as though erasing the mark of the outlaw. Their eyes locked and they both faltered for a moment. Her stomach did a little flip.
“Steady on, Miss Hargreaves.” His gaze softened, and one corner of his mouth tilted up. “Wasn’t Matilda called ‘The Good Queen’?”
“You’ve studied your history.”
“Only when forced. I’m certain your education is far more extensive. I grew up on a farm. I only attended school when I wasn’t needed for chores.”
Pressure built behind her eyes. This was the most he’d ever spoken to her. She hadn’t realized until then how very much she missed conversation. In the years since the war, as her employment with her father’s law practice had gradually dwindled, her circle of acquaintances had narrowed. As the men returned home, the ladies’ war-effort committees had gradually disbanded. Her friends had drifted away, moving on with their lives, marrying and starting families.
Everything had happened so slowly, she hadn’t realized until this very moment how isolated she’d become of late. How very lonely.
Nolan was staring at her, and his tiny quirk of a grin faded. “Tilly?”
He cupped her cheek and ran the ball of his thumb beneath her eye. “Don’t give them the satisfaction of your tears. Men like that feed off others’ weakness.”
“I’m afraid of being caught alone with Charlie.”
“I’ll see that you never are.”
“Thank you.”
At the quiver in her voice, his hand glided down her cheek. He stroked the pulse throbbing at the base of her neck. “He won’t touch you again. Not while I’m here.”
A delicate shudder rippled all the way to her toes. He was staring at her with an intensity that made her breath catch. Any hint of his previous cajoling smile had vanished. She couldn’t help but question what he was thinking. She sensed his inner conflict, and wondered at it. Her hand fluttered near his shoulder. She had an insane longing to caress him and comfort him, but she held herself in check.
One of the horses whinnied, and they jolted apart. The moment broken, Tilly glanced away. The wind caught her hair, whipping it across her face and eyes, obscuring her view of his expression. Had he been as affected by the moment as she had?
She’d consider the oddity of her reaction later, when they weren’t in fear for their lives. This wasn’t about feelings, this was about survival. Their pact was only temporary.
Nolan clasped her fingers and tugged her toward the relay station. His hand dwarfed hers, and the rough calluses on his palm chafed her skin. He caught her gaze and her heart kicked. She looked over her shoulder and caught Charlie following their progress, a speculative gleam in his beady eyes. She whipped back around.
Snyder grunted. “Let’s go.”
As far as the outlaws knew, she and Nolan were husband and wife. She’d been too stunned by Charlie’s unexpected attack to r
efute his words, but Nolan had latched on to falsehood. He’d used the lie as a bargain, and he’d saved their lives, and her virtue, in the process. Though she wasn’t adept at dealing with fugitives, she admired his ploy. He’d cleverly bargained his assistance for her safety and the safety of the girls.
Once inside the relay station, Snyder grabbed a heel of bread from the counter and bit off a hunk before wandering into the area containing the dining table. He didn’t appear in any great hurry to start his search.
Nolan led her to the meticulously ordered kitchen. Another tidbit she’d discovered about the stagecoach man in the short time they’d known each other—he was neat. Obsessively so. Her father and Eleanor had shared the same trait. They obsessed over even the tiniest imperfection.
If growing up in a spick-and-span household had taught her anything, the two of them were bound to clash. Tilly had never been praised for her tidiness.
While Eleanor and her father had been obsessively neat, Nolan’s living conditions were austere in the extreme. There were chalked outlines on the wall where the pots and pans had been arranged by size. Eleanor would probably swoon at the sight. An unexpected stab of jealousy focused Tilly’s attention. Eleanor wasn’t here. Eleanor was miles away, and Tilly had better keep her head clear. She’d already cost them with her inattentiveness.
Nolan lit the stove and adjusted the flame. “They’ll expect the woman to prepare the food,” he said. “Follow my lead and try and pretend you know where everything is located.”
She looked heavenward. “You should know that I don’t cook very well.”
Another piece of domesticity she’d never mastered. Women’s work was either frippery, like embroidering handkerchiefs, or tediously repetitious, like cooking and doing laundry. She hadn’t the patience for either.
They’d employed a housekeeper off and on over the years, depending on the state of her father’s law practice. That was another reason her volunteer work had dwindled. Since her father had to pay his current law clerk an actual salary, as opposed to Tilly’s free labor, she’d once again taken over the role of housekeeper.
“I don’t think they’re expecting much in the way of food,” Nolan replied wryly. “When Snyder is distracted, I’ll slip into the bedroom and retrieve my gun.”
“If he catches you retrieving a gun,” Tilly whispered harshly, “he’s liable to kill you.”
A crash sounded and Elizabeth toddled from the bedroom the girls had claimed.
“Uh-oh,” the toddler exclaimed ominously.
Victoria skidded from the room, Caroline close on her heels.
Caroline pointed. “It was her fault!”
“Was not.” Victoria’s lower lip protruded in an exaggerated pout. “She pushed me.”
Tilly heaved a sigh. “What’s broken?”
“Your looking glass.”
Tilly scrubbed a hand down her face. “Never mind.”
Of all the things that had gone wrong this day, a shattered looking glass was the least of her worries.
“Why don’t you three wash up for supper?” she directed. “Stay out of the bedroom for now. I’ll clean up the glass when I’ve finished with dinner.”
She paused on an expectant breath, waiting for someone to protest. When Caroline merely shrugged, Tilly exhaled loudly. She silently praised the innocent acceptance of children. She and Nolan were treading through a minefield with this charade. Who knew what pitfalls they were bound to stumble over in the next few days? Her nieces hadn’t questioned the fact that she was assisting Nolan with dinner, though he’d prepared the meals exclusively since their arrival.
She slanted a glance at Snyder, who’d been distracted by several burrs adhered to his canvas-clad calves. The men’s escape must have led through tall brush. He twisted around, his attention focused on the stubborn spikes. Tilly edged toward the bedroom Nolan occupied. The outlaw grunted and straightened, abandoning the effort.
Panic tightened painfully in her chest. Her three nieces crowded around the wash bucket, laughing and splashing each other, their argument forgotten as quickly as it had flared. Pain throbbed behind her eyes. They had no idea of the danger, and she was determined to keep it that way.
Nolan’s gaze darted toward the bedroom door at the opposite end of the relay station.
“You can’t,” she implored quietly. “It’s too dangerous.”
“We don’t have any other choice. Dakota Red has us trapped. He’s right, we won’t get very far without the horses.”
“Then we’ll help them. Once they have the gold, they’ll leave us be.”
Pity shimmered in his hazel eyes. “Sure.”
Her heart sank. “They’re going to kill us either way, aren’t they?”
“Let’s just get through tonight, we’ll worry about the rest later.”
He was backtracking on his words to keep her fears at bay, but she’d seen the truth in his expression. Once the outlaws had the money, their lives were forfeit. She glanced at the two long braids hanging down Caroline’s back. For the first time in her life she was entirely free of Eleanor’s authority and her father’s disapproval, and all she wanted was to crawl back home. She’d been angry with her sister for treating her as though she was still a child, and here she was behaving like one.
Eleanor had always been stronger, but something had changed since Walter’s passing. The facade of perfection had slipped, and her sister’s fragility had unleashed a desperate terror in Tilly. It was a truth she’d been unwilling to face. If Eleanor wasn’t the strong one anymore, where did that leave Tilly? As much as she chafed against her role in the family, at least she understood her place.
Victoria giggled and flicked water at her younger sisters. The juxtaposition of their innocence against the outlaw prowling the house was too much to bear.
Tilly’s chest pounded like a kettledrum. “Where are those blackberry bushes, Mr. West? Are they close?”
“Out the back door, and straight ahead.” He pitched his voice low. “You can call me Nolan when we’re around the outlaws.”
Her cheeks heated. “Of course. I keep forgetting.”
She squinted through the window. The three girls would be away from the house, but still within sight. Nolan was correct, they needed distance between her nieces and the outlaws at all times.
She grasped a bowl from the counter and approached Caroline. “Gather as many berries as you can. Take as long as you need.”
Once again Caroline shot her a speculative glance, but didn’t question the orders. Tilly made a note to watch herself around the middle child. All of the girls were intelligent, but Caroline was the most like Eleanor, and Eleanor had always known when Tilly was up to something.
Once the girls were gone, Tilly and Nolan began the meal. Snyder skulked about the station, poking his nose in all the cupboards and stomping on the floorboards. He emerged from the first bedroom empty-handed, and she and Nolan exchanged an uneasy glance. The barren rooms gave little clue as to who occupied them.
Nolan started for the door, but Snyder blocked his path.
“You stay where I can see you,” the outlaw ordered.
Nolan’s concentration remained focused, and Tilly sensed he was weighing his options, deciding if he could challenge the man alone. She studied the scattergun clutched in Snyder’s hands, then stared at her fingers. Nolan was the best hope for the girls. He was the only one who could truly protect them. He was the one the outlaws needed in order for their plan to succeed. Since she couldn’t let him put himself in harm’s way, she’d have to do this herself.
She wiped her hands on her skirts and straightened. “I can’t work with my hair unbound like this.”
She brushed past Snyder and marched toward the last bedroom. Nolan’s room. The room the outlaw hadn’t yet searched.
Snyder
grasped her upper arm in a viselike grip. “I like your hair just fine the way it is.”
Tilly shot him a quelling glance. “I prefer my hair bound.”
The painful hold on her arm eased. Snyder let her go and swiped at his mouth with his sleeve.
“Be quick about it, girlie. I’m hungry.”
“I’ll be quick as gunfire,” she said over her shoulder.
If she wanted to live her life as a brave woman who wanted to live a purposeful life, then she’d better start acting like one.
Chapter Five
The shotgun layout of the relay station allowed Nolan to view all the exits. There were two rooms flanking the front entrance, which opened to the kitchen and dining room areas, and two rooms lining the corridor to the rear exit. He crossed the space and peered out the back door. The top of Caroline’s head was visible behind a tangle of blackberry bushes. The girls laughed with each other, blissfully unaware of the tension brewing in the relay station.
The task should keep them busy for at least another thirty minutes, give or take.
He cast a glance at the door leading to his bedroom. How long did Tilly have before the outlaw grew suspicious? His gun wasn’t exactly concealed, but he hadn’t painted a bull’s-eye on the barrel, either.
Snyder flopped onto one of the dining room chairs. He hooked his heel over the rung of a second chair, yanked the legs nearer, then propped his loosely crossed ankles on the seat. Nolan clenched his jaw. Bad enough the outlaws were forcing their participation in a heist before they murdered them, but they were a slovenly bunch of fugitives, as well.
The outlaw rested his shotgun across his lap and threaded his hands behind his head. The scattergun was an odd choice, but given the item was probably stolen, the selection made more sense.
Nolan ladled beans into a serving bowl, and the outlaw grunted.
“You always do woman’s work?” the man sneered.
“With only the two of us running the station, we alternate tasks.”
The outlaw grunted again, apparently satisfied with the answer. Nolan’s gaze slid toward the partially open bedroom door. A thump sounded and Snyder straightened.
A Temporary Family Page 5
