A Temporary Family

by Sherri Shackelford

  Snared by the strength of his feelings, he remained stock-still. A prudent man would put some space between them, at least until the intensity of the moment passed.

  Nolan took another step nearer. “The damage to the boat is worse than I remembered. I’ll need more time than I originally thought to complete the repairs.”

  She turned her wistful gaze on him. “What time is the stagecoach today?”

  “Noon.” His stomach clenched. Another stagecoach pulling through town was another chance to reach help, and another chance for disaster. The injury to Captain Ronald had brought home the precarious nature of their situation. “You and the girls should leave. Now. While the men are sleeping. I’ve got two saddles. You can be on your way in less than a half hour.”

  “What about you?” She clutched the edge of the stove. “I won’t leave you behind.”

  “I can’t leave the captain. He’s injured. He can’t ride yet. We said we’d take the first opportunity that presented itself, and this is an opportunity. Wake the girls and leave. Get as far from here as you can. They’ll be slow to follow.”

  “And then what?” She pushed away from the stove and pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead. “I don’t know where I’m going. I’ll be wandering through Indian country alone with three girls. It’s too dangerous. They’d catch up with us before we reach safety.”

  “You’re in as much danger staying here.”

  “I can’t leave.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to face the danger alone.” She dashed at her eyes. “Now you know the truth. I’m a coward at heart.”

  He had a sudden need to comfort her. To pull her toward him. To cup her head in his hands and pull her lips to his own.

  “You’re not a coward. The idea of letting you out of my sight terrifies me. I only want what’s best.”

  “Do you truly think the girls and I are safer if we run now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then work on the boat.” Her movements jerky, she set two mugs on the table. “It’s safer for us to stay and wait and escape together. We can travel faster that way, and we certainly won’t get lost.”

  She laughed hollowly.

  He took another step closer, crowding her nearer to the stove, halting her agitating pacing. “I only want to do what’s best for you and the girls.”

  “I know.” She covered her eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I haven’t slept well in days. I feel as though I’m going mad.”

  The walls were closing in around them all. They were living on borrowed time. He knew well enough what she was feeling, how constant fear was invading her thoughts.

  Human beings were incredibly malleable, adjusting to even the most appalling living conditions. Yet everyone had their limits.

  “Living in fear is exhausting,” he said.

  “How did you survive Rock Island?” She flattened both palms against his chest. “How did you live in the uncertainty without going mad?”

  He started at the shock of the contact. “You don’t. Not entirely.”

  Her fingers were long and tapered, with neatly trimmed nails. The faint blue veins on the backs of her hands reminded him of how fragile she was, how delicate. He was acutely aware of her, entranced by her gentle touch.

  Her fingers trembled against the rapid beating of his heart.

  “Why do you say that?” she asked in a breathless whisper. “You’re not mad.”

  “You’ve seen how I live.”

  “If keeping tidy is a sign of madness, then half the world would be in a sanitarium.”

  “There are other things. I sometimes count things.” She was looking at him with far too much admiration. She deserved the truth of his nature. “Obsessively. I count them and count them again.”

  “I don’t understand.” Her fingers curled into the material of his shirt. “What was the last thing you counted?”

  “The day you discovered the raccoon in the stove. I counted all the plates. I prefer even numbers.”

  She didn’t appear disgusted, only curious.

  “Why?”

  “I suppose because even numbers signify order. I feel I have some control of the world around me if I can create that order.”

  “I envy you.” She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “I’m remarkably unmoved by disorder. I’ve never told anyone this, but there’s a part of me that needs chaos. I worry that if I had control over events around me, then I’d be responsible for their outcome. My sister always said that I was irresponsible, and I’m starting to think she was right.”

  “You’re not irresponsible.” He’d seen how she doted on her nieces. “We’re simply opposites, you and I.”

  “Perhaps we have something to teach each other.”

  “There’s nothing from me you want to learn. I’ve gotten worse over the years. I can’t stand the thought of losing control. I thought I would heal, but I’m not.”

  Her smile was sympathetic, and he searched for any sign of pity. He could tolerate her disgust more than her pity.

  “It’s no wonder you’ve gotten worse living in this wilderness with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company,” she said. “I can’t imagine anything worse.”

  “You don’t understand.” Her censure of his living conditions brought an unexpected flare of anger. “I shouldn’t have spoken so candidly.”

  Her posture tensed. “You’re right. I don’t understand.”

  He rubbed his forehead. Attempting to explain the inexplicable was a waste of time and breath. He appreciated her caring, but he knew the truth of his condition. Remaining isolated was his best chance of recovering.

  His father’s own words came back to haunt him: They’ll think you’ve gone mad.

  “I shouldn’t have pried,” she said.

  “It’s all right.” He’d erased the adoration from her eyes. There was no need to share any more confidences. “You were only trying to help. Some problems simply can’t be fixed.”

  Tears sparkled on the edges of her eyelashes. “I’m afraid.”

  “I know.” Without pausing to consider his action, he reached out and caught the moisture on the tip of his thumb. “I won’t let anything happen to you and the girls. I’d give my life for you.”

  “I know.”

  “Would you...?” She tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “Would you hold me? Just for a moment.”

  He opened his arms and she collapsed against his chest with sob. “I don’t want to go to New York anymore. I want to go home and crawl under the covers and sleep for a week.”

  Holding her trembling against him was sweet torture. His feelings for her were unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’d known infatuation, he’d known longing. Never before had he known this soul-deep yearning.

  “You’ll go home, Tilly, I promise.” He would not break that vow. His own life meant nothing in comparison. “Whatever I have to do, I’ll see that you go home.”

  He rubbed her back in soothing circles and her arms tightened around his middle.

  “I’m tired and confused.” She sagged against him. “There’s always been somebody telling me what to do and when to do it. There’s always been somebody criticizing my actions. First it was Eleanor, and then my father. Nothing I ever did was good enough for either of them. I’ve lived my whole life wanting to be independent and self-sufficient. I thought once I was away from them, I’d be different. Better, somehow. But I’m the same person, making all the same mistakes. Except without the benefit of someone correcting me.”

  “I think you’re doing fine, Tilly. Better than fine. You’ve been superb.”

  “Independence is far more grueling than I imagined.”

  She tipped back her hea
d and met his gaze. He touched her forehead with his own and let his lips rest against her sun-kissed apple cheeks. Their noses bumped, and he felt her smile. Her breath whispered against his face. The longing within him deepened, and he traced his lips toward the corner of her mouth.

  She turned her head and caught his lips against hers. Her hands slid up his back and she deepened the tender embrace. Melting warmth flowed through his veins, and he shook from the force of his raw emotions.

  Noises stirred from where Captain Ronald was sleeping. Nolan loosened his hold. He desperately wanted to ignore the interruption and shut out everything that stood between the two of them. For just this moment, he could pretend he was whole again. He could pretend all the world was new. Instead, he nuzzled her lips and set her away from him.

  She stared at him, her cheeks flushed, looking as charmingly dazed as he felt.

  The captain limped into the room. “Is there coffee?”

  Though Nolan had already put a space between them, they both jumped in guilty confusion.

  “On the stove,” Tilly replied. She turned away and fumbled with the burner setting. “Should be ready soon.”

  The captain hobbled toward the promise of morning coffee. “What’s the plan for today?”

  “The boat,” Nolan replied, surprised to find his voice calm and modulated against the rapid tempo of his heartbeat. “Repairs.”

  “The boat? What good is a boat again?”

  “They’re keeping a close watch on the horses. The river is our best chance. The boat is small, little more than a dinghy, and in bad repair.”

  “Have you crossed the river lately?” The captain gave a negative shake of his head. “The current is dangerous. I’ve never seen the water this fast or deep. Is there no other way?”

  Nolan flicked a gaze toward Tilly. “The girls can’t travel without horses. You’re injured. It’s miles by land to Yankton. We can make the trip in a fraction of the time by river. Unless you think help is coming, this is our best option.”

  “I doubt help is coming.” The captain sat back in his chair. “At least not in time.”

  Tilly fiddled with the bun at the nape of her neck. “Time is in short supply.”

  She turned her back, and the captain looked between the two with a keen scrutiny. “I can see you’ve thought this through.”

  Nolan braced one hand against the wall and worked his foot into his boot. “The outlaws have been in one place too long. They’re growing desperate. When the gold doesn’t arrive as expected, they’ll be infuriated. We have to be well out of their path when that happens.”

  “You’ve made your point.” The captain slumped in his chair and stretched out his injured leg. “What an abominable mess. I snared myself with my own trap. My pride has taken a blow, I can tell you that much.”

  “Your pride is the least of our worries. I need to make the repairs without attracting attention. They don’t watch us very closely, but they do watch us. They’ll notice if we change our routine.”

  “Why don’t the both of you go before the outlaws wake?” the captain said. “I’ll keep an eye on the girls. I’ll send one of them to fetch you when the men stir.”

  Tilly nodded eagerly. “I’d like that. I want to feel useful.”

  “You’ve been more than useful,” Nolan assured her. As much as he wanted space between them to sort out his deepening feelings for her, he also wanted her near. “We should go. Quickly. We can assess the repairs and gather supplies before the men are fully awake.”

  “Thank you.” Her eyes shimmered with gratitude. “I’ll fetch my boots.”

  She returned quickly, her cheeks flushed with anticipation. Though Snyder dozed at his watch post, they took the extra precaution of slipping around the back of town, just in case.

  Once inside the dilapidated barn, Tilly gasped. “Are you certain that can be repaired?”

  The boat had been propped against the wall. There were two large, jagged holes in the bottom boards. The paint was chipped and flaking, and the bow was warped. Under the best of circumstances, the project was daunting.

  “It will float,” Nolan replied grimly. “But it’s going to take patience and time.”

  “The two things we don’t have.”

  “If we plan to accomplish the impossible, then we’d best get started.”

  “You think we can achieve the impossible?” She flashed him a teasing smile. “I’m supposed to be the optimist.”

  “You’ve changed me.”

  The flippant words hung in the air. Her eyes held a mutual understanding, and warmth passed between them. The moment of sharing soon evaporated, and he turned his back to hide his confusion. He was changing.

  Was he healing?

  He reached for a wooden box and his hand came away dirty. He absently retrieved his handkerchief and rubbed at the smudge. The stain remained. He scrubbed until the spot grew red and painful. Unable to breathe, he hung his head.

  Some wounds ran too deep to heal.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tilly stifled a sneeze. “How can I help?”

  “I need a place to work.” He glanced over his shoulder, not quite meeting her gaze. “We can clear a space.”

  A droplet splashed against her head and she scowled at the hole in the ceiling. “Let’s find a place away from the leak.”

  “Good idea.”

  “I am heartily sick and tired of all this rain.” She stepped over the growing puddle from the hole in the ceiling, cringing at the mud on her hem. She hadn’t felt clean in days. The damp air and the mud sucking at her shoes had grown from being annoying to unbearable. “Have you ever so much rain in your life?”

  “Not here. Not like this.”

  They worked in silence for several minutes. Tilly slanted a glance at Nolan. There were times when she felt as though there was something between them, a growing understanding. But there were other times when she felt as though she didn’t exist to him. As though she was standing next to Eleanor in a roomful of potential suitors, and she was invisible beside her beautiful sister.

  Frustrated by the turn of her thoughts, she stacked several wooden boxes. The more she considered the boat, the more uneasy she grew. Events were building inexorably toward a precipice, and she was terrified of peering over the edge.

  Her worry for the girls threatened to consume her. How had Eleanor survived all those years living in the rough conditions of Virginia City? The men inhabiting the coarse mining town had the same desperate look as the outlaws.

  Lately the idea of traveling to New York left her feeling flat and uninspired. What was wrong with her? She’d turned into the manifestation of Eleanor’s predictions. She was the sort of person who flitted from activity to activity, without ever being content with anything.

  She was flighty and irresponsible. She didn’t know what she wanted for herself, she only knew what she didn’t want.

  Overcome with uncertainty, Tilly sat back on her heels. “When were you the happiest?”

  “Why do you ask?” Nolan replied absently, his attention focused on maneuvering a rotted bale of hay from his path. “Seems an odd topic under the circumstances.”

  “I want to think about something happy. I’m tired of worrying about whether or not I’m going to die in the next week.”

  “No one will die, Tilly. Not if I can help it.”

  “I know. But I want to take my mind off things.”

  “Fair enough. Let me think.”

  He rolled back the sleeves on his shirt, and her gaze was riveted to his muscled forearms. Her mouth went dry.

  “I was happiest when both my parents were alive,” he said. “At home. I enjoyed farming. Working with the earth. Growing something. There was always a challenge.”

  He grasped the bow of the boat.
His shirt stretched across his back, highlighting his straining muscles.

  Tilly dabbed at her brow.

  “I drove my father to distraction,” Nolan continued. “I was always trying to find a better way of doing things—a better plant, a better crop rotation, a better seed mixture. My father preferred the tried-and-true methods. He wasn’t much for experimentation.”

  Tilly gaped. She’d expected a yes-or-no answer, or one of his terse replies.

  Encouraged by his success, she continued. “Why don’t you farm now?”

  “What’s the point? The land is gone.” He moved to stand before her. “Stay clear. I’m going to right this thing.”

  She scooted backward.

  He pushed off on the stern. The boat teetered before falling. She cringed, expecting the wood to splinter into a thousand pieces. To her relief, the frame held together.

  “Couldn’t you petition for the return of your land?” she asked. “As a former soldier, you deserve nothing less.”

  “A former Confederate soldier.”

  “But what about the Reconstruction?”

  “The Reconstruction died with President Lincoln. The land is lost to my family forever. Had my father chosen to side with the Union, things might have turned out differently.”

  “Where is your family now?”

  “My father is all that’s left. He moved to Cimarron Springs, Kansas, after he lost everything. His sister and her husband settled there.”

  “And you didn’t want to be near him?”

  “I tried. It didn’t work out.”

  “You can still homestead in Nebraska and Kansas,” she said. “They can’t deny you a homestead.”

  He grasped one of the boxes she’d moved and placed it beneath the bowed edge for support. “Maybe I will. Someday.”

  “What are you waiting for?” She knew immediately that she’d broached a forbidden topic. The muscles along his back tensed. “Never mind. Only I’ve seen your garden. There’s no way you lost heart in farming.”