Caught in the Middle (Ladies of Caldwell County Book #3)

by Regina Jennings

  Not a muscle on her face moved. He waited for the outburst. He waited for the dismissal that would rend his heart, but it didn’t come. Slowly her countenance fell from defiance to exhaustion. “I’m not ready to leave you, either,” she whispered.

  If only he could run with her. He would leave the mess in town, forget the Stanfords and their cronies, and start fresh—but with the law chasing after them . . .

  “I know it’s painful, but I want you to be brave and take the hard path.”

  Sammy flapped Anne’s hat in her face. She pushed it away to look at the horizon. “It’s almost dark. We have to stop tonight, anyway. I guess our decision can wait until morning.”

  He’d take any delay he could get. “I agree. Let’s set up camp, eat, and maybe we can figure out our plans from there.”

  “Sounds good. All but the eating part.”

  Nick’s jaw dropped. “I’ve been hiking through this forest all day, and now you’re telling me there’ll be nothing to eat?”

  Anne unscrewed the lid to the canteen and tilted it to Sammy’s mouth, spilling more than he drank.

  “We’re too close to Atoka for me to shoot something. The train’s been there for hours now. Your deputy friend could already be out hunting us. No use giving him a direction for his search.” The charming slant of her eyes tilted even more. “So go on and rustle up something for yourself. I have infant formula to mix for Sammy and a few biscuits to fill his tummy. Besides that, there’s not much to forage out here in the winter.”

  Nick’s stomach growled. The knowledge that he wouldn’t eat until morning, and maybe not even then, made him drastically hungrier. “I should’ve eaten more bear.”

  “Maybe there’s one following us even now.” She braved a grin when he looked over his shoulder.

  The wind whipped around them, flapping his jacket tails and inflating her duster where buttons were missing. She adjusted Sammy’s coat and looked over the valley spread beneath them.

  The sun rested low in the western sky. At first Nick thought the bare strip through the trees below them was a river, but it was too straight. Railroad. And the bright flashes of light reflecting from the east were the windows of Atoka.

  “If you think that you’re going to slip away tonight to get help, you should know I won’t be here when you return.”

  “I told you, Anne, I want you to hand him over. Otherwise there’s no guarantee you won’t take him back.”

  Her head dropped a bit. “The wind won’t be so strong on the other side of this hill. I’m settling in. Didn’t sleep much on the train last night.”

  Nick followed her, his shoulder pulsating with each step. How he’d slept soundly was still a mystery. Anne’s despair at the loss of her son and her offer of marriage had both made indelible impressions. He, too, was pained by the devastating news. He’d imagined that the little boy and his surrogate mother might someday live under his roof. If it weren’t for his duty to the people of Blackstone County and his conviction to see this through . . .

  Anne began her descent. The narrow shoulders before him bore such a heavy burden. He ached to hold her, to comfort her, but he couldn’t. Men had toyed with her before. And while the memory of her lips warmed him from within, their encounter had proved once again that she was fragile. Maybe she could aim a gun, maybe she could trek over miles of wilderness carrying a baby, but her heart was as delicate as a robin’s egg.

  Honestly, if he thought his love could pull her through the ordeal ahead of her, he’d offer it without reserve, but he was no substitute. He wouldn’t insult her by offering himself as a trade, and he wouldn’t base their relationship on a dishonest ploy to trick Sammy’s family. She needed more grace than he could offer, and he’d pray that she would turn to God and find it. Hopefully before his blistered feet got any sorer, hopefully before she made a life-changing mistake.

  The temperature dropped with the sun. The night would be frosty, cool even inside the cave they’d found. Anne hunched over and scurried through the low, wide opening almost on her knees, the kindling digging into her chest through her thick clothing.

  More than burning the chill out, she needed the light to make sure the den wasn’t already spoken for. Nick was keeping Sammy safely away from the mouth of the cave until she flushed it out. The man did have his uses.

  The match flared in the weak light. Smoke, then crackling as she blew life into the small pile. Anne sat back and stretched her arms. She was so tired. Her back ached. She couldn’t completely straighten her elbows. Even her feet hurt.

  She’d learned much from Mrs. Puckett, and she wouldn’t have traded that time for anything, but she’d lost the hardiness she’d always taken for granted. Even riding all day would probably wear her out in her condition, much less skinning a half-ton buffalo and handling their hides.

  Anne roasted a pine knot in the flames until it caught. The low ceiling prevented her from standing as she extended the torch around the damp room, searching for neighbors. Out of a black corner bats raced, swooping near her in their flurry to find their evening meal. She switched hands, the torch already shaking in her exhaustion. Anne crept forward twenty paces until the dark corridor narrowed. She extended the torch through the dripping rock walls once she’d gone as far as she could, but she saw nothing that posed a threat. The ceiling rose through the gap and would hopefully draw the smoke out of the room. If an animal was hiding in the tunnel it would have to be small to squeeze through the opening.

  The light flashed around the room as she inspected it, looking for further hiding places, but she finally determined it was clear.

  She dropped the stick into the fire and crawled outside.

  “Come on in.”

  Sammy staggered toward her the second Nick set him down.

  “He’s been fighting me ever since he saw you crawl in there. He’s afraid he’s missing out on the fun.”

  Anne grabbed Sammy’s chubby leg before he disappeared into the cave. He smelled. She’d planned to rinse out wet diapers and hope they dried overnight, but stinky messes . . . ? She wrinkled her nose.

  “Yeah, you don’t want to breathe that all night.” Nick fanned the air.

  “The Indians use rabbit skins lined with moss. They throw the moss out and wash the skin. Not sure bear skin would’ve worked so well, but I thought we’d reach the trading post by now—” She clamped her mouth closed, afraid to look at Nick. She’d been so careful not to share her plans. Not to give any indication of her destination, but she’d made a mistake.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if the cave is warm enough, clean him up, and let him sleep au naturel.” Nick’s mouth twitched to one side. “On the other hand, after the mess he made with the fern in my office I’d hate to see what he could do stark naked.”

  His smile reached through her concerns and tugged her to a lighter time. She’d felt so helpless when she’d stumbled into Nick’s office looking for aid, but it reminded her that someday she might look back at their adventures and laugh at what they’d been through. Someday she and Nicholas would tell stories . . .

  She hadn’t meant to gaze at him. Did her eyes match the wistfulness in his? Anne shook her head, clearing the cobwebs. “We’re not that desperate. I have a couple of spare cloths. Would you mind gathering more firewood while I change him? We’ll need enough to keep the fire going all night.”

  “Be glad to. Anything to get me out of the area when you unleash the monster that’s fouling his pants.” He strode off into the forest, his whistling echoing through the trees. Even injured, hungry, and tired he kept his good cheer. Was she really determined to send him on his way?

  Anne had to catch Sammy to keep him from following. She found a flat place to lay him and cleaned him with corners of his diaper that were untouched before pinning a clean cloth on him. After a full day of being carried he resisted her efforts to wrestle him into his stockings. Where did the boy get so much energy? She was exhausted and he was rearing to go.

/>   Much like Nick.

  She led him by the hand out of the camp a safe distance and let him collapse repeatedly into a pile of leaves while she buried his mess.

  “If Deputy Puckett has bloodhounds, they’ll find this from five miles away,” she murmured to herself.

  But Sammy didn’t care. He stood, reached his arms over his head, and fell stomach first into the pile of leaves again. Flakes of leaves stuck beneath his nose. The night air was making it run. Time to get him inside.

  Sammy crawled through the opening, bellowing excitedly at the echo that answered him. Anne followed him and parked herself between him and the fire. She fished the glass bottle out of her knapsack and the canister of formula. At the sight of the bottle Sammy bounced on his haunches until Anne had mixed the water from her canteen with the powder and secured the rubber nipple. His eager hands sought the bottle, and he turned his head to the ceiling, pulling long draws of milk.

  Nick’s voice came through the opening. Thick logs were thrust inside. Anne bent to pull them in the rest of the way and clear the path for Nick, dragging the last of them.

  “Nicer than some hotels I’ve stayed in.” He straightened and cracked his head against the low ceiling. “Oww!” His knees bent and his hand covered his head. “That’ll raise a knot.” Nick stumbled to the fire and lowered himself gingerly. “Low ceiling and dusty, but besides that—”

  “That’s not dust. It’s guano. From the bats.”

  “Bats?” He looked up.

  “Are you afraid?”

  “No, just hungry.”

  Anne’s eyes widened, until he laughed. He was fooling. Good thing. She didn’t want to sleep with the odor of roasted bat in her nostrils.

  Sleep. She needed some. Her trouble had worn on her for two days now. If she had any hope of slipping around Atoka without Deputy Puckett catching wind of it, she had to keep her wits.

  Sammy had emptied his bottle. He waved it as he got to his feet.

  Nick caught him as he passed, wrapped him in his arms, and growled, much to Sammy’s delight. After securing the glass bottle, he let Sammy wiggle away, but the boy returned, his fingers shaped into tiny claws to growl at Nick before pouncing on him.

  “Be careful,” Anne said. “He’ll claw your other shoulder.”

  But Nick didn’t seem to mind, and Sammy enjoyed the roughhousing. Anne found herself wondering if Finn’s father was young enough to play on the ground like Nick. Would he have the energy to keep up with the little fellow? She bit her lip. Of course he wouldn’t. That’s why she was keeping him.

  Nick fell on his back, groaning and laughing as Sammy pummeled him. He caught Anne watching them and sighed. “I can hardly bear the thought of not seeing him again. I can’t imagine what it’s doing to you.”

  “I’m not dwelling on it. Instead, I’m preventing it.”

  Nick was silent. He rolled to his side and prodded the fire with a stick while Sammy climbed on his back. “Do you think you’ll ever have children of your own, Anne?”

  In the firelight the stubble on his jaw looked almost red. The room was getting warm. Suffocating. She removed her duster, wadded it up, and reclined against it, keeping the fire between them.

  “When I married Jay, I wanted to have a little family, a house, a kitchen. I didn’t know much, but I had a general idea of what a real family with a ma and pa should be like. Sometimes when Jay was mean, I thought that if I bore his children, he would appreciate me. I thought he’d be gentler if he was a father. My own pa was rough around the edges, but he didn’t hurt us. He left us to fend for ourselves, so that’s the worst I could imagine from Jay.”

  She pulled a stick from the fire and tapped at the burning logs from her side. “There was a baby once. He wasn’t pleased and turned real nasty about it, always accusing me of . . . well, you can imagine.” The fire blinded her to everything else in the room. She’d never shared this part of her story, and somehow telling it made it real again. But maybe it could be real with Nick. Maybe if she lived it again but this time with his fearlessness beside her, maybe it’d lose its power. “I was at least five months along. The child moved, kicked. It was a joy. And no matter how mean he was, I could talk to my baby. I figured God had brought me someone who would love me back.”

  Now she was jabbing at the fire. Sparks rose, angrily bursting from the coals.

  “But Jay noticed. When he realized I was happy, he figured out how to steal it. He beat me, beat me good. Threw me on the ground and kicked me until—”

  The stick wavered. Her throat closed.

  “That was evil,” Nick said. “Pure evil that he did to you.”

  “He was a murderer, just the same as if he’d knifed the child in the chest. After that I didn’t care. I felt like he’d killed me, too, because I was as good as dead. He took the baby outside, but I found his body and wrapped it up. When he came back to the house, there I sat, rocking it like I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had, but it made him furious, so it was worth it. Even worth the whipping, because it didn’t hurt. Dead people don’t feel pain. But I couldn’t stay dead. I wished I could, but I couldn’t help but wake up in the morning and wish for something more. That’s when I tried to run away the first time.”

  “And a few months later you had to shoot him to protect Rosa?”

  She could still see the red spreading on Jay’s white shirtfront. The shock as he saw her holding the gun. The hatred when he realized what she’d done.

  “He would’ve killed her just as he did my baby.” Anne couldn’t believe the hurt could return as raw as the first day when she realized that the child would never know her. That the child was gone forever. “I promised myself I wouldn’t care that much again . . . not about anyone. And I kept my promise until I came to Garber.”

  Her chest felt banded. Nick watched her through the flames but gave her time to decide what she needed to say and what was best left unspoken.

  “I’ve grown fond of Sammy, but it’s not just Sammy I care about.” She dropped the stick into the fire and hid her trembling hands. “Nick, you’ve been good for me. I’ve wanted to tell you before we part . . .” When Nick’s eyes darted away, she stopped. Had she said too much? But Nick wasn’t listening to her. He rolled to his back and looked behind him.

  Anne sat up, expecting to see Sammy playing on the other side of Nick, but he was gone.

  “Where did he go?” She scrambled to her feet, her heart in her throat.

  Nick sprang up, grasped a firebrand, and swung it around the cave. “He didn’t go outside. I would’ve seen him at the opening.”

  That left only one other possibility. Anne’s stomach twisted as she ran for the back corner. In the shadows she searched the wall, sliding her hands over solid rock until she found the narrow crevice.

  “Sammy!” She thrust her hand through the void and reached as far as she could. Frantically she swept her fingers over the floor of the passage but felt nothing.

  Nick pulled her back and crowded the gap. Crouching he pushed a torch through the hole.

  “Do you see him? Do you see him?” How could she have let him out of her sight? What kind of mother was she?

  “Sammy!” Nick roared, his voice echoing against the unyielding rock walls. Anne touched her ears with shaking hands. “Sammy, can you hear me?”

  She listened, but there was no reply. Scrambling and pushing against Nick, Anne knelt at the gap to look for herself, but the torchlight only exposed bare rock. He had to be close. The alternative was too horrendous to consider.

  Nick stood. He paced the room, made a complete circle around the fire, inspecting every bump and depression. “There’s nowhere else he could’ve gone?”

  Anne wiggled forward. Her head fit but her shoulders were too wide. She curved them toward each other and was able to inch a bit further, but the space narrowed even more before the passage opened. Her arms were already pinned to her side. There’d be no way . . .

  With a tug at her waist, she was jerked backwards.


  “You can’t.” His breath was ragged, his face sickly white even by torchlight. “If you get wedged in there Sammy won’t be able to get out, and I’d lose both of you.”

  Anne swatted at his hands. “Maybe the rock will give if I push against it. The hole might break loose, and if we can get past the opening, the room widens.”

  He caught her hand. “No. Use your head, Anne. You can’t chip at any of these walls with your bare hands. The only way we’re going to break it open is with pickaxes. But there might be other ways. Someone might know of another opening. I don’t know, but we can’t do it on our own. We need help.”

  Anne turned again to the dark void in the wall. Was Sammy wandering further and further away from them? Was he crying in the darkness, tottering toward a pit or a deep lake? She clawed at the unforgiving stone and called his name. She had to reach him.

  “Anne.” Nick’s voice reached her from a strange distance. “I can’t stand by and let his chance of rescue slip away. I’m going to town . . . but I’d like your consent.”

  23

  “Do you know what you’re asking?” Her legs shook beneath her. She couldn’t believe it had come to this. All she’d done for Sammy, the daily care she’d given him, the unexpected love that had grown for him, and now her plans to carry him away—was this the end? “They’ll take him from me. If there’s any other way—”

  Nick dropped the torch and knelt beside her. “I love him, too, Anne.” He took her face in both of his hands and forced her to look at him. His blue eyes searched hers for—what? Acceptance? Forgiveness? “If I could trade places with him, I would. The man from Allyton, Anne, I know how he felt when he plunged into the roiling river, desperate to get the doctor. If giving my life would bring Sammy back, I’d do it. But to save him I have to get help. Please tell me you understand. Give me some peace.”