His eyes held hers as if willing her to calm, willing her to trust. “You’re right about that. I made a dreadful mistake.” He pushed away from the wall, another foot or so. “But I’m afraid I have nowhere to go. I can’t move.”
Anne followed his gaze to the crates that had fallen against the back of his legs. He was holding back a tide of luggage that could crush her.
“If someone would give me a hand,” he called out.
But the passengers ignored Mr. Lovelace’s request. And then Anne saw why. Their attention was riveted on the masked man with the gun at the front of the car.
2
His train was being robbed? His train?
Well, technically it wasn’t his train, but as a contractor for the railroad Nick felt responsible for the safety of the passengers and the quality of their transport. The engines ran over track he’d provided, after all.
“Go on,” he whispered.
Only after Mrs. Tillerton ducked beneath his arm and filed out amid the crying children and angry men did Nick extract himself from the crates. A train robbery and he’d been tied down when it occurred. Didn’t see the horsemen approach. Didn’t hear the brakeman’s signal. Too diverted by a lady. Ian Stanford wouldn’t approve.
The last to depart the car, he had to fight the urge to clobber the outlaw as he walked past him. Nick’s thoughtless remark to Anne Tillerton had embarrassed him, and that embarrassment could easily turn to anger given the right target. Nick hopped the last giant step from the train to the packed ground beneath and heard the thud of boots as the man descended behind him.
Through the waves of heat shimmering from the engine he made out three masked men, one mounted. A skinny kid holding a rusty six-shooter waved him toward the group of men and Mrs. Tillerton. She hid among them, her dusty buckskin pants and floppy slouch hat blending perfectly.
From the passengers’ nervous glances toward the front of the train, Nick assumed more men were in the express car. One bandit remained on his horse, which pranced nervously, dancing sideways as the man kept his gun trained on the small gathering. The other two outlaws had trouble keeping their eyes off the tight cluster of ladies huddled in the midst of the vast prairie.
“Should we see what these ladies would like to contribute, Boss?” a stocky man asked.
The leader looked to the express car. His neckerchief stretched as he opened his mouth to answer. “Might as well. I don’t know how they’re faring with the safe.”
Sliding his pistol into his belt, the scrawny one ambled to the women. He took his hat off, revealing hair plastered to his head by sweat. “Pull those earbobs off. Drop your rings. Don’t make me come looking for them.”
Nick’s jaw clenched. Spoiled Miss Walcher and her friends could be pigheaded, but surely they knew to take these men seriously. Or not. His heart sank at the amount of tucking and arranging going on in direct defiance of the outlaw’s order. In seconds they had hidden most of their jewelry between the folds and flounces of their gowns.
Evidently the kid wasn’t as ignorant as he appeared. He stopped before Miss Walcher, recognizing her as the instigator. “Now, don’t you give me no trouble, miss. I saw that gold locket on my first pass. Where’d it go to?”
Miss Walcher’s eyes grew wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a locket.”
“You sure about that?” Nick didn’t like the gleam in his eye, nor did he like the chuckle of the other man. Didn’t appear they had any compulsion against harassing their victims. “Why don’t I have a little look-see?”
The robber shoved his pistol into his waistband and lunged for her. Her scream rent the peaceful prairie like Gabriel’s trumpet, definitely more painful than her weak swats at the robber, but neither slowed the man down. He grabbed her by the collar and forced her to her knees.
Nick had seen enough. He knew he shouldn’t get involved, but he wouldn’t stand by and allow a lady to be molested on the NTT line. Hollering at the outlaw would’ve only warned him, and Nick wanted a chance at him unprepared. His toes dug into the hard ground, propelling him forward. Blood pumping, he hit the man at a run, knowing the satisfaction of laying him flat before the fear of the consequences reached him.
The kid was no match for him. Pinning the outlaw beneath him, Nicholas punched him once in the jaw and took the fight right out of him. But the click of a hammer had the same effect on Nick.
The man on the horse sent a stream of tobacco flying to the dust. “Shoot him,” he ordered.
At first Nicholas thought the stout man refused to obey, then he realized he was merely dragging him off of his accomplice for a clean shot. Well, Nick wouldn’t go down without a fight. He might not live on the range like these hardened outlaws, but he’d been loading lumber wagons since he was tall enough to see over the bed.
When the man grabbed him by the shoulder, Nick pulled his knees under him, but before he could spring, a cloud of dust exploded in his face. He blinked and fell as the other robber scrambled out from beneath him. His hand covered his chest. He wasn’t shot. At least he didn’t think so. Now the leader’s gun was out, as well, and it was trained on their hostages.
The passengers scattered, leaving one lone gunman peering down her six-shooter. “You shoot him, you’ll die,” Anne said. “I took the toe off your boot, mister, and that wasn’t a miss. The next shot knocks your leader off his horse, and if you’re not one hundred percent certain that you’ll hit me, the second will drop you like a fly.”
“You talk awfully tough, son,” the leader said. “Don’t know that you’ve got the nerve.”
“She’s got nerve.” Nick needed them to be afraid. Terrified preferably. “She’s already shot her husband. She’ll plug you without blinking.”
“She?” The leader’s gun lowered, and his eyes turned cold as he studied Anne.
“Let’s go!” The cry came out of the express car. Two men loaded their saddlebags and climbed on their mounts.
“Take the money,” Anne said. “You got what you want.”
Take the money? Was she crazy? Nicholas started to protest, but the gun aimed at his cheek increased his intelligence.
Their leader spat again. “Come on, boys. Payout on corpses is mighty poor.”
“You owe her your life.” The gunman kicked Nick with his toeless boot. “You better do right by her, or I’ll come looking for you.”
“I appreciate your concern—” But before Nick could point out the irony of an etiquette lesson from a bandit, the kid shoved past him and jumped on his horse.
The whistle of the steam engine blocked out the sound of their thundering hooves, and in seconds they had raced out of range. Families rushed into each other’s arms and the ladies’ voices pitched higher and higher as each told her version of the events. Nicholas stretched his skinned knuckles. He hadn’t punched anyone since grammar school, and it stung more than he remembered.
“Mr. Lovelace, you are my hero.” Miss Walcher grasped his hand with both of hers and pulled it against her bosom. “You were magnificent.”
No, he wasn’t. He’d lost Mr. Stanford’s safe and nearly got himself killed. Even worse, his valiant attempt to be a hero had put Mrs. Tillerton in danger. Not the outcome he’d imagined.
Miss Walcher still held his hand. Her eyes filled with tears. Pretty thing, but no challenge. Extracting himself as gracefully as possible, he took his leave of Miss Walcher and searched among the animated throng for the britches-clad woman who’d stood down a whole gang of train robbers. He should express his gratitude no matter how bad he wished he hadn’t needed her help.
No one back in his hometown of Prairie Lea would be surprised to hear that Anne Tillerton had rescued him. Hadn’t she saved the life of their neighbor Rosa when Mr. Tillerton attacked her? Everyone knew she was capable of pulling the trigger, but what intrigued Nick was the flash of fear he’d seen in her eyes when he recognized her. Could she be more afraid of him than an armed outlaw? He would relive the harrowi
ng moment when he thought his life was over, but he would lose sleep wondering at the way she trembled when he fell against her on the train.
Where was she, anyway? Almost everyone had re-boarded. Had she slipped into the car without his seeing her?
With his back to the train, he made one last scan of the area. When the bandits rode off, everyone had rushed toward the passenger car, but she hadn’t joined them. If she’d headed in the opposite direction . . .
Nicholas jogged only a few steps and found her. She hadn’t made it far. Sitting half-hidden in the tall grass, knees pulled to her chest, the coolheaded warrior had been replaced by a shaken young woman in ill-fitting clothing.
She was the hero, but perhaps he still had a chance to help a lady in distress. “The train’s leaving. You don’t want to be left behind.”
“Go on. I’m fine.” Her shoulders quivered like it was frigid December. She didn’t raise her eyes. She didn’t raise her voice. And if she was in trouble, it was because he’d put her there.
“But if that train leaves, then I’m honor bound to stay with you, and that might get a bit uncomfortable. Just the two of us . . . alone . . . in the middle of nowhere.”
Now she looked at him. Her gray eyes reflected no emotion. Their gentle lift at the corners belied the solemnity they held. No response.
He shifted his oxford shoes on the hard sandstone. “It doesn’t look like a comfortable place to pass the time, but if you insist. Scoot over.”
Her mouth tensed. Rocking forward, she scrambled to her feet, ignoring his offered hand. She swayed and he was at her side in a heartbeat, but once again she refused his help.
Her first few steps were shaky, so she paused, hands on her hips, facing the horizon . . . and no telling what other terrors. Her chin lifted. Her brow wrinkled. A spasm ricocheted through her, yet she didn’t blink.
He wouldn’t intrude, not yet. If she needed a moment to master her demons, well, she’d given him the rest of his life. He could give her some time.
“I never wanted to do that again, but what choice—?” She couldn’t finish but continued to gaze across the prairie.
He waited until finally he had no option. They had to get on the train, and he wasn’t sure she was steady enough to make it on her own.
She seemed ready this time when he took her arm. Her posture didn’t sway, but he doubted she’d remember boarding the train. Nick frowned. He couldn’t question her bravery, but did it stem from a reckless disregard for her safety or from genuine concern for others? Not that he’d judge her. Especially after the nightmare she’d lived through—or at least what he knew of it. Rumors, mostly.
Every few steps she paused before mustering the will to continue. He didn’t wait for her permission but lifted her onto the step, quite a distance without the help of a depot platform, and followed her as she made her way to a solitary bench.
“There she is,” a woman said.
“Are you sure it’s a girl?” a man asked.
“Of course. Did you see the way he was gazing at her?”
Nick had to smile at the wistful tone. Leave it to the ladies to turn a disaster into a love story.
GARBER, TEXAS
Flashes of wood-planked buildings streaked past the window. Anne could make out barking dogs and impatient coach drivers waiting to cross the tracks as they sped by. They would be at the station soon, and she could finally be rid of the nosy man. Dressed so fine with his city manners—he reminded her of another man who’d impressed her foolish heart. She knew now that charm was more dangerous than fierceness.
“Do you have anyone meeting you at the station?” Mr. Lovelace asked.
Why hadn’t he humored the quibbling girls and joined them, as they’d begged? Anne lowered her eyes, refusing to remember the hour she’d spent listless as he’d sat guarding her. She should’ve insisted he leave. What a ninny she was.
“Once I find the cook I should be back in Pushmataha by tomorrow.” Anne leaned forward with the train’s deceleration. “Don’t fret over me—”
“You saved my life. I’d be singing with the angels if you hadn’t intervened.”
She grunted. “Even angels know not to jump into a gunfight without a gun.”
He rubbed his forehead. “I owe you. Besides, my sister would expect me to accompany you while in town. I’ll cancel my evening plans and help you find this cook of yours. Garber isn’t large—”
The train whistle interrupted him. Anne pulled her hat over her head. She would’ve been quit of the man much sooner if she’d let those yahoos have their way. Instead, he’d spent the whole trip watching her. She adjusted her gun belt. Why did he have to do that—really see her? Most people broke eye contact when she caught them looking. Either he couldn’t hide his curiosity, or he had no desire to.
“Stop staring.” She stood with the rest of the passengers. “I’m beginning to regret saving your hide.”
His neck tensed against his collar. Evidently he didn’t appreciate the reminder. Still, it didn’t dissuade him from following her off the train. “Too late for regrets. You’re in my town and I can’t have you going around unprotected.”
“You’re going to protect me? You weren’t much help during the holdup.”
Now he was annoyed. He crossed his arms. “But you certainly appreciated my company afterward.”
Anne’s throat closed at the memory of her weakness. Shame on her for having one.
She swung her knapsack over her shoulder to exit the platform. He was dangerous, mostly because he didn’t believe she was. She hadn’t made it two steps when he once again grasped her arm. This time she expected it.
Whirling, she flung his hand away. “You have no right to detain me, Mr. Lovelace. You do not intimidate me.”
A couple of men stepped closer. Whether looking for entertainment or to be of assistance, Anne couldn’t tell, but Mr. Lovelace eyed them warily. The all clear was called as the train left the station. He grimaced.
“I’ve made a mess of things, Mrs. Tillerton. I’ll let you depart, but first, please promise me that should you ever find yourself in a bind, you’ll call on me—Nicholas Lovelace, Lovelace Transportation Specialist, supplier to NTT Railroad. Anyone at the train station can direct you. Will you remember that?”
He was doing it again—looking past her battered clothing and wind-burned complexion, past his own inconvenience—at what she was trying to disguise. Vulnerability.
Everyone watched for her next move. Well, she’d got what she was after. She’d chased the annoying puppy away.
“My word.” She held out her hand to shake on it like her brothers had taught her, minus the spit in the palm, of course.
His hand engulfed hers, a broad, powerful hand with scraped knuckles that had pummeled a man earlier. The vitality that sprang from his clasp frightened her. What could he do to a woman her size? Anne pulled away quickly. She squinted up at him one last time. How odd that their paths should cross now. All that time in Prairie Lea and he’d never spoken a word to her. Of course, she hadn’t been allowed to speak. Not to anyone.
But no one controlled her now.
She ambled past the station house and studied the river unfurling outside of town. She’d grab some grub and slip away to the outskirts for the night. Better to sleep beneath the stars than at an inn where every creak or footfall would have her checking the lock on the door. And she’d need a good night’s sleep, for tomorrow she’d begin her search.
3
Feet propped up on his desk, pencil between his teeth, Nicholas could no more concentrate on the bid before him than he could endure the fit of a ready-made suit. During the holdup, he’d had the best intentions. Instead of shaking in his boots like a dandy, he’d charged into the fray. He hadn’t flinched when death seemed certain, but his salvation at Anne’s hands embarrassed him. His friend Joel would want to hear every last detail, and he’d howl when he heard that Nick owed his life to a buffalo-hunting lass.
Well, if his
good friend couldn’t laugh at him, he needed to be taken down a peg—and that’s exactly what this Anne Tillerton had done.
Nick’s assistant rushed into the room, pen still between his fingers, ink smudged on his high forehead. “I’m finished with the monthly report. I can look over the bid now if you want me to.”
“Thanks, Harold.” Nick swung his scuff-less shoes off the polished desk and grasped the half-blank paper. Where had the hour gone? He’d accomplished nothing since the last time Harold had checked on him.
Turning the paper facedown, he threaded his fingers together and adopted a pensive expression. “The main difficulty I foresee in the Karber bid is the transportation of the ties. If we don’t build another sawmill at the base of the Karber railroad, we’ll be paying Mr. Stanford to ship the wooden ties to his competitor.”
“Probably not a viable option.”
“I wouldn’t think so, but we don’t have the capital available to construct another mill. Either Karber would need to advance us some funds, or we’ll have to request a loan at the bank.”
Harold cupped the nib of his pen, saving the Oriental rug from an inky droplet. “Ask for the advance. You don’t want to pay interest.”
Nicholas smiled. “I thought that once the business was established, I’d never be as excited as I was in the beginning, but every expansion thrills me just the same.”
“Because each contains greater risks . . . and greater rewards.”
“If Karber’s railroad is as profitable as Stanford’s, we’ll be well rewarded indeed.”
Harold tapped the stack of envelopes on the corner of his desk. “You haven’t gone through your mail yet? I thought you’d wonder what the letter from the courthouse is about.”
Another task forgotten during his daydreaming. He slid the stack into his hand and rifled through them. The letter opener sliced through the heavy envelope. Nick’s brows lowered as he read. “Who would’ve thought?”
“Not bad news, I hope.” Harold had given up on his pen and deposited it nib up into his shirt pocket.
Caught in the Middle (Ladies of Caldwell County Book #3) Page 2
