Caught in the Middle (16 page)

She’d come here to bolster Nick’s relationship with his biggest client. Instead, she’d certainly destroyed it. And now he was defending her. Anne sank even further into her chair.

Bailey wiped his mouth with his napkin. His dark eyes grew thoughtful. Was he thinking of what had happened along the banks of Plum Creek as she was? Bailey and his cousin Weston had heard her gunshot. Yes, he’d seen her work before. She didn’t regret saving Rosa’s life. How could she? But her heroism had cost him dearly. Wasn’t that the whole idea behind being a hero—sacrifice? But no one realized that her sacrifice was a daily burden. Her pain hadn’t ended with his life. As long as she felt her life was in danger at a dinner party, she was still paying.

 14 

The breeze had picked up during dinner. Nick considered offering Anne his jacket, but with her wool dress and the challenging pace at which she barreled down the road, he assumed she was warm enough and kept his excess clothing to himself. He tried to stroll, hands in his pockets, but had to give up the pretense of effortlessness in order to stay at her side.

“Thank you for going.”

She nodded once.

“The dress was a nice touch. Do you think you could wear it tomorrow?”

“You’re pushing your luck.”

Of course he was. Would he be having any fun if he weren’t? “I’m sorry you got caught up in the Stanfords’ feud, but I don’t think you did any harm. It’s an ongoing dispute. And nice work on the butler, by the way. Servants are notoriously untrustworthy. Always be on guard—”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, but it wasn’t funny to me.” She fumbled with the latch on the garden gate.

“Come now. Don’t you see the humor?”

She turned. “I don’t. He scared me. Why would you laugh when someone thinks their life is in danger?”

“But all he did was reach . . .” He passed his hand through the air to the right of her. Anne ducked, flinging her arm over her head.

Nicholas’s stomach dropped. “Oh, sweetheart . . .” When would he learn? He stepped backwards, giving her room, what she most desired. He’d tried to tease her out of her worry. He’d poked fun at the defenses she wore, but many times he lost sight of the fact that those defenses were in place for a reason. They’d been stormed and breached before, and he needed to be clear on his intentions. Would he let her remain protected, or would he stay to defend her if she came out of her fortress?

Her hand shone white against the dark fabric of her bodice. She pressed it against her waist and closed the gate, allowing it to separate them.

“I wish there was something I could do for you.” And in that moment, he reached his decision. He loved her. How that love would express itself, how she would allow him to proceed, he couldn’t predict, but he would proceed. “I wish you didn’t live in fear of the next blow.”

“It’s all right.” She straightened and brushed a stray curl out of her face. “I’m used to it.”

“But you don’t need to live like this. Jay Tillerton was an evil man. No one else wants to hurt you.”

Anne studied the gate. “But I can’t be sure, can I? And now I’m not just protecting myself, but Sammy also. My task is to raise him so that he knows nothing but love. Sammy should be able to stand tall and not expect pain and betrayal at every turn.”

“That sounds like a fine goal.” Nick leaned over the fence
that separated them, energized by his newly discovered resolve. He knew he’d spook her if he gazed too long, but when his eyes met hers, he was lost. Who would’ve thought that scary Anne Tillerton was really scared Anne? Who would’ve thought that the little banty rooster was as tender as a spring chick, and as quiet as a dove when she peeked out of her armor? “I have a goal, too,” he said before he could think better of it. “Someday you will know what it is to be secure in a relationship and loved by a touch.”

Her gray eyes met his and searched their depths—looking for what, he knew not. Her lips parted. She was so close, but he feared if he came any closer, daybreak would find her and Sammy with their backs to Garber, headed to goodness knows where.

Her fingertips brushed the back of his hand. “Carter is probably asleep.”

“Who?” He blinked. Oh yeah. His nephew. “I’m glad you reminded me. Molly would kill me if I returned to the hotel without him.”

“I’d forgotten, too.” Anne held the gate open for him and stayed by his side as he walked forward, unsure of where this path would lead.

After seeing Molly and Bailey off at the train station the next morning, Nick didn’t expect to find Harold when he walked into the office. True, Harold’s splinted arm meant that he wouldn’t be able to write, but with Anne to help him, they would make up lost ground quickly. Besides, Harold’s presence might prevent Nick from acting impulsively and frightening Anne away.

Where was their relationship headed? Nick was ready to find out, but above all he wouldn’t rush her.

After getting settled Nick and Harold caught up on the work that had been put together during his absence. Nick went over the new hires on the line and the new equipment ordered from the money borrowed at the bank.

“Looks like you have it lined out.” Harold dug into his sling to scratch beneath his bandage.

“We should be ready by the time Mr. Stanford breaks ground on the new track. The loan payments will squeeze our budget until we meet our first objective on the contract, but it will be worth it when we get both teams rolling.”

The outer door opened and Anne stepped inside. “Harold’s back?”

Nick hadn’t meant to sigh, but when Harold’s questioning face turned his way, he knew it’d been audible. And yet how else could he have responded to the beautiful, demure woman standing in the doorway?

She wore the same dark dress she’d donned the night before. Once again her curly hair was gathered and twisted up, and while nothing about her ensemble would’ve been considered fashionable, it affected Nick like a kick in the chest.

“He’s going to be in my office for most of the day,” Nick said, “but he still can’t write.”

She fidgeted. Nick forced his shoulders to relax. He knew to draw his gaze away before he embarrassed her. Lifting a paper before him, he continued, “We have paper work to talk over, so we’ll stay out of your way.”

“If there’s any way I can help—”

But before she could complete her thought the outside door opened. Anne looked over her shoulder and then grew sullen.

“It must be Ophelia.” Nick spoke, barely moving his mouth.

“You haven’t taught her to lock the door behind her?” Harold moved his chair closer to Nick’s.

Anne returned to her desk, clearing the way for Mrs. Stanford to enter.

“I’m surprised to see you with two employees, Nicholas. Surely we’re not paying you that well.” The rich rust of her gown shone like a copper penny. Using her parasol as a walking stick, she made her way to her customary chair and sank into it like a queen on her rival’s throne.

“Good morning, Mrs. Stanford, and while I appreciate your concern over my staffing, I promise nothing that happens in this office will adversely affect your business.”

“She affected my staff last night.”

“Regretfully so, but she can hardly pull a knife on Theo from here.”

Harold’s eyebrows lifted until they met his hairline, which was a distance, to be sure.

“You should worry about your own well-being. As you pointed out, you couldn’t stop her should she try something against your person.”

Nicholas allowed his face to harden. He leaned forward against his desk, enjoying the feel of his coat straining against his arms and spoke loudly enough for Anne to hear him in the next room. “I was merely jesting. Please don’t presume that I’m threatened—or burdened—by her. A woman with your resources and interests surely has more important concerns.”

Ophelia stood. Ever in control, she sauntered to the new fern, obviously aware that both men followed her every move. She traced the curve of the pedestal with a manicured finger. “No reason for you to get upset, Nicholas. The purpose of
this visit was to offer you a new opportunity—one that I think might interest you.”

She turned, spinning her parasol slowly. “We have two options for a track to Muskogee. One proposed route would go through Bakersville, the other through Vannatta. I recommended to Ian that you go with him tomorrow to scout the two locations and help make the decision about which route would be more profitable.”

“What did Mr. Stanford say? Can I leave so close to the election?” Nicholas hated that the prospect excited him so. And he hated that his eagerness pleased Ophelia.

“I insist. It’s not good for Ian to go on these trips alone. He’s susceptible to diverse temptations, and I’d feel better if you went along.” She trailed her fingers along the back of the chair. “There are times when business decisions are made that have nothing to do with contracts, but everything to do with appreciation. Favors, compromises, courtesies—they all play a part in the advancement of a career.”

A doubt gnawed at Nick’s gut—a fleeting regret that he hadn’t gone after another client and diversified his business after all. But why should he worry when such a shining opportunity was laid before him?

“Not only do I have the election, but we vote on the bridge a week from tomorrow. I can’t miss that.”

“Ah yes. The bridge. Ian wished to speak to you on that subject. Perhaps you’ll find time to visit while on your little excursion?” One eyebrow curved like the top of a question mark.

“I’ll need to talk it over and make sure the office can do without me, but exactly what will my duties entail on the trip?”

“Those two towns will wine and dine you—dinners, parades, samples of their wares. There will be offers of every kind made to the men who have the power to decide whether the town gets a railroad or not. Remember”—she walked around the chair to stand before him—“it’s not just a hotel and restaurant that will prosper. Farmers can get more money for their crops, because shipping will cost less. The goods for sale in the mercantile will be cheaper in the town with the depot, because those items will be unloaded straight off the train. No wagon fees. Every merchant, craftsman, farmer, tanner, and rancher will give anything for you to choose their town.”

“Is that legal?”

She waved away his scruples with a genteel gesture. “Certainly. Your choice will be based on which town has the most to offer. They are merely demonstrating their riches. And then there are the railroad easements. As a reward for your extra work, you’ll be deeded fifty acres of prime real estate on either side of the track. It’s a standard benefit.”

Nicholas studied his clean shorn fingernails. How many years of scrimping could he leapfrog in this one trip? The experience alone was worth the extra work. The faint sheen of greed glistened on Harold’s forehead. His index finger mimicked a woodpecker against Nicholas’s desk. Now that Harold was back and with Anne to help . . .

Ophelia’s cheeks pinked like a girl with her first beau.

“You mentioned compromises,” Nick said. “I assume you’ll expect something from me in return for your generous offer.”

She tapped her chin. “Ian has a matter that he’ll no doubt discuss with you on the trip, but I have my own agenda. If you think you’ll win an election—or that I’d want to be known as
your sponsor—when you employ an outcast who thumbs her nose at all that’s right and decent, then you are mistaken.”

Nicholas spun his pen between his fingers. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“Harold is back. There’s no excuse for her presence.” She jabbed her parasol into the rug. “Now, shall I tell Ian to expect you on the ten o’clock train?”

From the syrupy tone of her voice, Ophelia was smiling, but Nick didn’t look up.

“I’ll let you know before the end of the night.”