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

by Regina Jennings

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Trust. When I realized what a gift God had given me in Sammy, that’s when I started to love Him for opening up my world. But last night I realized that I had to love God even if He took Sammy away. Sammy was never mine. He’s been God’s all along.”

  Nick leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “That’s precisely where I’ve been. God’s given me all kinds of blessings. It was easy to believe and follow until this county mess showed me what I was really worshiping. Was I willing to follow God through deprivation, or would I keep chasing the benefits I expected out of life?”

  “Is God to be loved apart from His gifts?” Anne asked.

  “Is He to be obeyed despite the consequences?” Nick replied.

  They sat, eyes locked, affirming the truth they’d found.

  “He’s worth it, Anne. You did good today.”

  “I have a friend who’d already set a fine example.” Emotion filled her eyes along with a message that gave him hope.

  He watched her hands—well formed, capable, empty—clasping the edges of her old green duster. Nothing more than she’d arrived with on her first train ride to Garber. He was the one who’d had a turn of fortune, but the more time he’d spent with Anne the less he felt the loss.

  But what of her feelings? The clear light delineated her fine profile as she turned to the window again. He couldn’t look at her delicate neck and imagine that it’d once been bruised and swollen. She’d come so far. Was it too much to pray that she’d someday love fearlessly? How about him? Would he offer his love even if he was unsure that she would return it?

  Yes, she was worth it, too.

  25

  The braided strap of Anne’s knapsack dug into her shoulder. Had the road to the Pucketts’ house always been this steep? Her legs wearied as she approached. Nick grasped her elbow. Without a word he slid the knapsack off her arm and threw it over his shoulder—and she let him. Taking her arm, he braced her for the final steps.

  She’d rested poorly in the sleeping car the night before, finding herself reaching for Sammy on the narrow bed and then having to wrestle the heartbreak when she realized he wasn’t there. Well, at least their first night apart had been covered in prayer, because the early hours found her beseeching God on Sammy’s behalf.

  She’d needed the time on the train, a haven to tend her wounds and adjust her armor for the difficulties ahead. Despite Nick’s inquiries, she had no plans to share. Without Sammy she could return to Pushmataha and hunt, but doing so felt like defeat. Had God brought her all this way for her to return to the life she’d left?

  But what else could she do? Nick had been clear that he didn’t want to marry her, and that part she understood, but then exactly what was their relationship? Yes, they were close friends, but they were too close. How could Nick court another woman while she was around? How could she make any decisions for her life if he was going to claim first right to her company?

  Anne stopped before the house. As much as she wished for the comforting arms of Mrs. Puckett, she dreaded entering. No doubt Sammy’s blocks still filled the basket at the foot of the stairs, and his little tin cup rested on the cabinet. She’d watch around every corner expecting to find him in some mischief.

  Nick held the gate open, and before she knew it she was standing at the front door, grateful for his supportive hand at her back.

  Mr. and Mrs. Puckett were in the kitchen, but when they heard their approach, they both rushed into the parlor to meet them. Mrs. Puckett stopped a few feet away. She gaped at Anne’s empty arms and wrung her dish towel. Mr. Puckett rested his hand on his wife’s shoulder as her full cheeks began to quiver.

  “Oh, Anne.” Mrs. Puckett ran to Anne and swallowed her in an embrace. “I tried to convince myself that he wouldn’t be back, but I couldn’t give up hope. I kept praying that God would be merciful. . . .”

  Anne’s chin dug into Mrs. Puckett’s soft shoulder. “He was. He absolutely was. If you could’ve met the Hollands, you would’ve loved them. They’d prayed for years for the return of their son. . . . I wouldn’t want to take this joy from them, too.”

  Mrs. Puckett wiped her eyes with her dish towel. “If you say so . . . and I guess I’d do anything to get my hands on my grandchild. Still, it would’ve been easier if you’d never met him. So much needless pain.”

  “Pain, yes—” Anne found an unexpected smile tugging at her lips—“but not needless. I’ve known hurts that had no benefit. Loving Sammy wasn’t like that.”

  Mr. Puckett cleared his throat and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Well, it’s been a sorry business all the way round. A sorry business this baby snatching and the election, not to mention—”

  “The election?” Nick stepped forward. “What happened?”

  Mrs. Puckett’s cheeks set to quivering again. Mr. Puckett rubbed his forehead. “That’s right. You just got back into town. I’m sorry to tell you, Nicholas, but Philip Walton won your seat. There was a big push for him right toward the end. Rumors flew about you being in some sort of trouble and fleeing the state.”

  “Oh no.” Anne couldn’t bear the look on his face—the awful shock of an unforeseen blow. “You shouldn’t have come to Atoka with me.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Nick’s arms hung limp. His Adam’s apple jogged. “I knew we’d have rough track ahead, but I thought the election was assured. I assumed I’d be fighting the battle from my office in the county courthouse, but now . . .” His head bowed. He tilted his foot as if studying it from different angles. “I can’t believe people listened to them. Where did all my supporters go? How could people change their opinions so easily?”

  “I don’t understand, either.” Mr. Puckett’s chin jutted. “If there was any justice in the world, Ian Stanford would’ve ridden a rail out of town, but now that you’re back, maybe you and Joel can expose him.”

  “Without Commissioner Garrard’s records at the courthouse . . .” Nick shook his head. “Walton probably already figured out a way to dispose of them the moment he took office.”

  “And won’t people think you’re a sore loser if you accuse your former benefactor?” Mrs. Puckett asked. “Especially when you owe him so much?”

  “Harriet!” Mr. Puckett said. “Surely you don’t think you’re helping?”

  “She didn’t mean any offense.” Nick grasped Anne’s arm and ran his hand the length of it, catching her fingers with a squeeze. “I’d better go.” He dropped her knapsack on the sofa.

  “Wait. I’ll walk you out.”

  The evening air had cooled into another frosty night, but Anne shuddered more from tension than from the temperature. Two months ago her only worry was finding a cook for the Pushmataha depot. Now she feared for Nicholas’s business and his reputation, and on top of that there was a little boy in Atoka who’d be spending another night in a strange house.

  Nick grasped the chain hanging from the front-porch swing. Anne slid her hands into the pockets of her duster. “After all the work you put into this election, it doesn’t seem fair. Maybe the votes were tampered with.”

  The swing creaked. Nick straightened. “Maybe so, but it doesn’t matter. I’m standing here thinking about how I’ve let you down, how I wanted to offer you more, but in the end it’s not about my accomplishments.” A glint danced in his eyes. “So unless you were set on marrying a county commissioner, we might as well settle the critical issue first.”

  Anne’s eyes opened so wide they burned. He’d lost his mind. The strain of defeat had snapped his good sense like a fresh string of beans. Ever since they’d left for Atoka, Nick had thrown himself into helping her. Now, with his own problems facing him, he was acting as if nothing mattered. With a cocky grin, he rocked the swing like a pendulum. Was he waiting for her to say something?

  “Surely you could get a recount. Once they see that the judge and Ian Stanford were conspiring—”

  “Tomorrow I’ll see what can be done, but let’s forget abo
ut it for tonight.”

  “We can’t. If someone wronged you, they must be brought to justice.”

  He released the chain, and she tensed but managed not to flee as his hands slid beneath her open duster and around her waist. Her lungs swelled with a bubble ready to pop at the slightest bump. Nick kept her at arm’s length, but it wasn’t far enough to keep her heart from racing. Considering that he’d refused to marry her, his actions were pert near inexcusable.

  His blond lashes lowered. “I’m aware that reminding a lady of an unpleasant event is impolite, so I beg your apology in advance. On the train to Atoka you made a tempting proposal, one I wanted to accept but didn’t. Now it’s unlikely you’ll have another occasion to propose.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You rejected me. You said—”

  His thumbs drew circles on the waist of her cotton shirt. “If I would’ve agreed to marry you in Atoka, you would’ve been petrified. You would’ve spent the rest of your life wondering if I loved you or if I’d only done it for Sammy, so I said no. Under the laws of negotiation I have no obligation to further consider that offer. It is old business. Do you understand?”

  Anne clutched at his arms to keep from swaying and nodded.

  “This is new business.” His hands tightened. He winced and whispered something disparaging about a bear.

  Anne noticed a dark wet spot easing through the shoulder of his coat. “Have the doctor look at that.”

  “Shh! I’m about to make another speech, and I expect you to listen to this one.” He cleared his throat. “Anne, I’d like to promise that I could exchange your buckskin and canvas wardrobe for silk and satin, but besides the fact that you’d never wear them, I can’t afford it, which is fine, because my love for you isn’t the love of roses and troubadours. Roses wither and troubadours get hoarse. It’s the love of an oak tree that will grow stronger each year. It’s the love of Adam finding his rib, the missing part of himself, packaged in a breathtaking woman—”

  “Nick, stop!” Anne covered his mouth with her hand. “Mr. and Mrs. Puckett will hear you.”

  He took her wrist. “I don’t wish to embarrass you, although I do want—” He drew her nearer as a smile teased his mouth. “Close your eyes.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not your employee anymore, and still you’re bossing me around?”

  “Insubordination,” he said. “We’ll nip that in the bed.”

  “What?!”

  His eyes widened and he chuckled. “Bud. I meant bud. Have some compassion. This is my first proposal. I’m nervous.” Although his smile brimmed with confidence. No longer was he careful of her fears, but he didn’t need to be. They had vanished.

  Anne could tease him, argue with him, and would put her life in his hands. She already loved him. All that was left was to show him. And as he lowered his head toward hers she realized that she wanted to very, very much.

  She stepped into his embrace, hungry for the feel of his body against hers, wanting him to understand she would hold nothing back from him. She was not a child. She was not an innocent girl being taken advantage of. She was a woman who wanted to share a healthy, God-approved relationship with the man she loved.

  His arms were warm and welcoming, his lips sure and challenging. Was he testing her? This time she wasn’t afraid. Despite her spinning head, despite her fluttering heart, she didn’t flee, but instead reveled in the gift they were sharing and the promise of more to come.

  Maybe having the Pucketts within earshot was a good idea after all.

  Nick smoothed her curls away from her face and whispered into her ear. “Never did I imagine I’d enjoy kissing someone . . . in trousers.”

  Anne chuckled. “What the neighbors must think.”

  The curtains inside moved. Anne and Nick stepped apart and shared a grin at their sudden awareness. Nick took a seat on the porch swing, leaving room for her, but Anne couldn’t sit. Not all stirred up like she was.

  “How much work do I have to do?” He removed his hat to fan his face. “You are my friend—you will always be my friend—but I love you. I want more.”

  Anne wrapped her palm around the chain. “You’re more than a friend, Nicholas. I think I’ve known that for a while but was afraid to admit it.”

  He lowered his hat. “You never need to fear me, Anne. I promise that.”

  She leaned her weight against the chain, causing it to swing catawampus. “Remember when we stopped in Pushmataha on the way to Atoka? I didn’t tell you what Anoli said to me after you left the livery with Sammy.”

  Nick tilted his head up, the evening sky reflecting in his eyes. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “He said for me to be careful. He didn’t know if I loved you yet, but he could tell that I trusted you, and for me that was even more rare.”

  “You didn’t trust me. Not when I kissed you on the train.”

  Anne’s cheeks burned. “Even then I trusted you. . . . I just didn’t trust myself.”

  26

  Never before had Nick so appreciated a bath and a shave. He sloshed his straight razor around in the soapy water and then patted his face dry. Traipsing through Indian Territory was tough, but his return to civilization didn’t bring the relief he’d expected.

  Garber looked smaller, more crowded than he’d remembered. Before, he’d never noticed the constant noise around him—the creak of wheels, the rattle of chains, the boisterous voices urging their teams through town. Even inside, muffled voices oozed through the thin walls, hard-heeled shoes thudded down the hall, and the piano in the parlor was rarely silent.

  The buildings trapped the day’s dust—nowhere for it to escape. Same for the other odors that resulted from a mass of people and animals living in close proximity. Nothing like that on the mountain with Anne.

  Except for Sammy’s diaper.

  Nick dipped his comb in the pitcher of clean water and ran it through his hair. How was Anne doing this morning? He could hardly believe he was engaged, but it settled his heart. Of all the unknowns, his relationship with Anne provided a spot of peace. It was right.

  And he hoped the assurance of his love gave her some peace, too—particularly where the loss of Sammy was concerned. She’d think of the child every day of her life. She’d never forget him, but Nick hoped the memories wouldn’t block her joy for the other gifts God had in store for her . . . for them.

  Nicholas slid his arms into his coat on his way downstairs. He’d thought he’d risen early, but Joel was already waiting for him in the lobby, a doughnut in hand.

  “You aren’t going to believe this,” Joel said.

  “Ian Stanford’s been arrested?”

  Joel stopped chewing. “I wish . . . but he’s coming in for questioning today. That’s a first step.”

  “Seriously? That’s more than I’d hoped for.” Nick lifted the glass dome and took a sugar-dusted doughnut for himself. “Did Sheriff Green find something?”

  “Appears so. Evidently he and Harold got to the late Commissioner Garrard’s records before they were destroyed. They’re trying to gather up Stanford’s records, too. He’s not cooperating, but all signs point to him bribing officials. Did you know Philip Walton’s wife is now on the Stanfords’ payroll as a maid—probably the best paid help in the nation?”

  “Mrs. Walton’s a maid? Didn’t you suspect that Ian’s interest in her was more than political?”

  “That’s the rumor. And I’m surprised Ophelia lets a woman that beautiful anywhere near her home—especially with Stanford’s roving eye.”

  Nick shook his head. “You know, for all of Ophelia’s faults, I do pity her. No matter how much money she has, she’d probably rather have her husband’s devotion.”

  “I hope she doesn’t try to earn it now. There’ll be consequences if she’s caught impeding the investigation,” Joel said.

  “Jail?”

  Joel shrugged. “Depends on how much she was involved and how much she cooperates.”

  “I wonder if it�
��s too late to talk some sense into her—convince her to come clean.” Nick studied the shiny toes of his shoes. “Speaking of women in trouble with the law, thanks again for your patience with Anne. She put you in a tough spot, and you were gracious to her. But just so you don’t think she’s getting away with her bad behavior, I’m making her marry me. Giving her a life sentence.”

  “That’s rather harsh, isn’t it? And without a thought for my druthers.” Joel’s brow lowered in mock agitation. “Now Ma’s going to be all over me about being the last bachelor in town who hasn’t found a woman and settled down. Nice going, pal.”

  Nick guffawed. “If it’s helpful, I’ll keep Mrs. Puckett informed of any single young ladies who are on the market.”

  “I’d really appreciate it.” Joel’s beard stretched over smiling cheeks. “And while I hope y’all are happy, if you’re not, please let Ma know. It’d help my case considerably.”

  “I’ll report every fight and disagreement—and there’s sure to be several.”

  “Naturally. You need to be put in your place every now and then, and I’m grateful to Mrs. Tillerton for taking that duty on herself.”

  The empty cot pressed up against the foot of her bed. Anne smoothed the seersucker coverlet, letting her hand drift over it as she had so many times before when it covered the small, warm body that had lain near her. She wished Nick would come back, wished she had something to do besides fight the dangerous impulses that called her to throw away everything and go after the boy. Like an unruly dog she swatted down the temptation, only for it to bound up again and again.

  Sammy is crying at this very moment, wondering why you left him. Nick would understand. He loves you. He’d come find you wherever you end up, but you can’t leave your child with strangers.

  She took a deep breath and pushed away the rebellious thoughts. She couldn’t break Nick’s trust. That night at the cave she’d been filled with peace, but now all she had left were empty arms and a terror that she’d made a horrible mistake. How had she convinced herself that leaving Sammy with the Hollands was best?