Make-Believe Marriage

When Tilly Hargreaves and her three nieces are stranded at his small stagecoach station in an abandoned town and threatened by outlaws, Nolan West must protect them. And the only way he can do that is by pretending he’s married to Tilly. But can the former soldier, whose only wish is for solitude, stop himself from growing attached to his temporary family?

Tilly knows the charade is necessary to keep her and the girls safe, but now her heart is in danger. The longer she pretends the stoic station agent is her husband, the more genuine their union feels. Nolan believes he’s better off alone, but Tilly’s certain that if he’d only open his heart to his make-believe family, he’d want to claim them as his for real.

Dear Reader,

For this installment of the Prairie Courtship series, I decided to explore other areas of the Great Plains during an earlier time. In the years following the Civil War, trains and steamships opened the American frontier. I’m fascinated by the people who decided to settle such a harsh and unforgiving land.

Nolan was a challenging character for me. I’m the exact opposite of him. I have an alarmingly easy time living in chaos. I organize my desk between each book, which means my desk is clean for precisely two days a year. Most of us, however, can relate to anxiety. We all find ways to feel as though we have some control over events swirling around us. Nolan and Tilly had both learned to manage their anxiety in solitude, but circumstances forced them to work together.

I love connecting with readers and would enjoy hearing your thoughts on this story! If you’re interested in learning more about this book, or others I’ve written in the Prairie Courtships series, visit my website at SherriShackelford.com, or reach me at sherrishackelford @gmail.com, Facebook.com/SherriShackelfordAuthor, Twitter @smshackelford, or regular old snail mail: PO Box 116, Elkhorn, NE 68022.

Thanks for reading!

Sherri Shackelford

As far as the outlaws knew, Tilly and Nolan were husband and wife.

She’d been too stunned by the outlaws’ unexpected attack to refute his words, but Nolan had latched on to the falsehood. He’d saved their lives, and her virtue, in the process. Though she wasn’t adept at dealing with fugitives, she admired Nolan’s ploy. He’d cleverly bargained his assistance for her safety and the safety of the girls.

Nolan led her to the meticulously ordered kitchen. He lit the stove and adjusted the flame. “The outlaws will expect the woman to prepare the food,” he said. “Follow my lead and try to pretend you know where everything is located.”

She and Nolan were treading through a minefield with this charade. Who knew what pitfalls they were bound to stumble over in the next few days? Her nieces had no idea of the danger, and she was determined to keep it that way.

Nolan was the best hope for the girls. He was the only one who could truly protect them. He was the one the outlaws needed for their plan to succeed.

If she wanted to live her life as a brave woman with purpose, then she’d better start acting like one.

SHERRI SHACKELFORD is an award-winning author of inspirational books featuring ordinary people discovering extraordinary love. A reformed pessimist, Sherri has a passion for storytelling. Her books are fast-paced and heartfelt with a generous dose of humor. She loves to hear from readers at sherri@sherrishackelford.com. Visit her website at sherrishackelford.com.

A Temporary Family

Sherri Shackelford

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For thou, Lord, art good, and ready to forgive;

and plenteous in mercy unto all them

that call upon thee.

—Psalms 86:5

To Roy E. Shackelford, my greatest fan

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Dear Reader

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Stagecoach relay station

Pyrite, Nebraska, 1869

Nolan West couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched.

He flipped open the cover of his timepiece and checked the hour. Twenty minutes before the next stagecoach arrived.

For the past year, he’d been manning the Pioneer Stagecoach relay station out of the abandoned town of Pyrite. Three years before his arrival, an overly optimistic prospector had discovered gold in the nearby Niobrara River. A town had sprung up practically overnight. Within a year, the claim had dried up, and the town was abandoned. Only the relay station remained occupied.

Prairie grass nudged through the slats in the derelict boardwalk, and a wet spring had fed the wild brush reclaiming the spaces between the empty buildings. A cacophony of crickets, frogs and birds called from the shelter of the lush buttress.

Nolan’s sense of unease lingered, raising the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. He searched the shadows, catching only the rustle of the cottonwood leaves. He was alone. Yet the sensation lingered.

A bugle call sounded, startling him from his reverie, and Nolan replied in kind. He replaced his instrument on the peg just inside the livery door, ensuring the bell tube was directly vertical and the mouthpiece rigidly horizontal.

He slapped the reins against the rumps of the hitched horses. There was no time to waste. Because he worked the station alone, when he finished here, he’d have to hightail it back to the kitchen and serve the passengers dinner.

The rumble of hoofbeats sounded, and the distinctive orange Concord, with its gold trim, rumbled down Main Street. Harnesses jingled, echoing off the block-long stretch of deserted and dilapidated buildings. The driver swayed in time beside an outrider who cradled a shotgun in his arms. Reflections of the passing stagecoach appeared in the few windows that hadn’t yet been broken or boarded over.

As the driver slowed the Concord parallel to where Nolan’s hitched team waited before the town livery, the wheels kicked up dust. His horses surged forward.

The outrider stowed his gun and leaped from his seat. Bill Golden was a perpetually rumpled, stocky man in his midforties with a grizzled face and a mop of graying hair beneath his tattered hat. Considering he was usually drunk by this point in the journey, he appeared remarkably steady on his feet.

Bill lifted his hand in greeting. “Top of the day to you, West.”

“You’re early.”

“We’re traveling light.”

The stocky outrider pulled down the collapsible stairs and swung open the door.

A little girl, no more than three years old, appeared in the opening. A passenger inside the traveling carriage held the child suspended with her legs dangling. Bill grasped the child around the waist and set her on the ground. Two more girls appeared—chestnut-haired, brown-eyed, identical replicas of each other, probably around five or six years of age respectively.

Nolan tilted his head. This route served Virginia City, Montana, and catered almost exclusively to prospectors seeking their fortune.

Bill extended his hand, and a woman grasped his fingers. Her bonnet concealed her face and hair, and Nolan allowed himself only one brief, admiring glimpse of her figure, which was encased in a lively green calico dress. Though he’d come to appreciate his solitude, he couldn’t help but notice her. The last woman he’d seen had been the sixty-year-old wife of the traveling doctor.

“Thank you, Mr. Golden,” she said, her voice at once crisp and soothing. “How are you feeling?”

Bill doffed his hat. “I feel all right, I guess, ma’am. I mean, Miss Hargreaves. Thank you for asking.”

She fixed her gaze on the outrider as though she was peering into his very heart. The intensity of the moment raised Nolan’s guard, but there was nowhere to hide while he held the horses. Shifting on his feet, he glanced away and back again.

“I know the change hasn’t been easy.” Her attention didn’t flicker toward her new surroundings. She kept her interest directed solely on the outrider. “But you’re doing well. I’m proud of you. Whenever you find yourself straying from the path, remember what we talked about.”

“Yes, ma’am.” A flush spread across the outrider’s face. “I will, ma’am. I surely do appreciate your kind words and all. I’ll try and do my best.”

She patted his arm. “That’s all any of us can do.”

Her words were gentle and sincere, and a pulse throbbed in Nolan’s throat. He made a mental note to avoid the woman at all costs. Since returning from the war, he kept to himself. He didn’t want anyone looking at him the way she was studying Bill. He didn’t want anyone peering close enough to see the troubling battles he fought each day.

“I’d best see to the horses, Miss Hargreaves.” The mottled blush on Bill’s face deepened. “This here is the dinner stop. You can stretch your legs and enjoy some solid ground. If you need anything, let me know.”

“You’re too kind,” she said. “Solid ground sounds marvelous. When I agreed to assist my sister, this was not at all what I imagined.”

While Nolan pondered the odd change in the normally taciturn outrider, the second-oldest girl clutched her stomach and pitched forward.

“I don’t feel so good, Aunt Tilly.” The girl groaned.

“Are you certain, Caroline?” Miss Hargreaves was by the child’s side in an instant. “Do you not feel good a little or a lot?”

“I’m certain,” the girl replied with a gulp. “I don’t feel good a lot.”

“Oh, dear.”

The woman glanced around and Nolan caught his first glimpse of her face. His curiosity deepened. She was younger than he’d expected. On first impression, her looks hovered somewhere between plain and pretty. On second glance he placed her nearer to pretty. She had eyes the color of a Virginia bluebell, a complexion bronzed by the sun and a pert nose. Though none of those features was particularly remarkable on its own, taken together they were uniquely pleasing.

She caught his interested gaze. “What should I do?”

Nolan placed a hand against his chest. “Are you asking me?”

Miss Hargreaves nodded.

Passengers rarely paid him any mind. Nolan frowned. He preferred it that way.

“Well, uh,” he stuttered. “There’s a privy out back.”

“Excellent suggestion, thank you.” She draped an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Mr. Golden, will you kindly look after Victoria and Elizabeth for a few minutes?”

“Absolutely,” Bill said. “Take as much time as you need.”

Nolan’s frown deepened. The outrider rarely showed even the barest consideration to any of the passengers. Bill also loathed delays of any kind; he was scrupulous about the schedule.

Once she’d rounded the corner and disappeared, the driver leaped from his seat and set about unhitching the horses. With Bill’s help, the three men had the horses switched out in record time. Throughout the well-honed operation, the two remaining girls assembled daisy chains with dandelions they’d plucked from the overgrowth between the unused buildings.

Nolan backtracked to the relay station and set the table for supper. When the passengers failed to appear, he returned to the corral and propped one foot on the lowest slat.

Bill sidled nearer. “Maybe you oughta go out back and see what’s taking Miss Hargreaves so long.”

“She’s your passenger.” Nolan hoisted an eyebrow. “What’s gotten in to you today, anyway?”

“She has a way of talking to a fellow.” The outrider slid his hand beneath his coat, as though reaching for the flask he usually kept in his breast pocket, then stilled. “I told her things I ain’t never told anybody. I even quit drinking.”

“You were sober when you told her those things?” Nolan’s curiosity swelled. “Why would you do that?”

“She asked.”

“You’ve killed six highwaymen in the past ten years. You’ve fought Indians. You once outran a prairie wildfire. And you’re telling me you’re intimidated by that slip of a woman?”

“It’s not like that.” Bill swallowed, and his Adam’s apple worked. “She never asked me to quit. Instead, she asked me why I drank as much as I did.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I didn’t know. Then she started asking me about my family, and about my experiences. The next thing I know, I was blabbering my whole life story.”

Nolan’s stomach dipped. He’d rather be sitting behind enemy lines again than prattling to a stranger about his life. After spending two years as a Confederate prisoner of war at Rock Island, he’d become intolerant toward people. While living in the prisoner camp, he’d acquired certain quirks that set him apart from regular folks. He’d become obsessively neat and austere about his possessions. Each evening he spent an hour checking the placement of each item and ensuring the buildings he occupied had been secured. If he didn’t, he had nightmares that sometimes turned violent.

He’d survived the War for Southern Independence only to return home and discover his family farm had been confiscated. He’d gone adrift after that, moving from job to job and state to state. Over time his eccentricities had become increasingly difficult to disguise. He’d gradually accepted that the war had changed him in ways that ran too deep to fathom. In order to camouflage his dilemma, he’d settled in this remote, abandoned town. He fully expected that after a few years away from the company of other folks, he’d be healed. Having strangers underfoot exacerbated his troubles. The sooner this bunch ate dinner and moved on, the better.

The woman finally appeared, her arm still resting protectively around the girl’s shoulders. Nolan heaved a sigh of relief. They’d be gone soon.

Except Caroline looked worse than when she’d left. Her face was pale with an almost greenish tinge, her forehead was screwed up and both hands protectively covered her stomach.

Bill cleared his throat and elbowed him in the side.

Nolan flashed the outrider a questioning gaze.

“Tell her about dinner,” Bill mumbled beneath his breath.

“There’s dinner at the relay station,” Nolan declared. “Boiled beans, bacon and bread.”

The woman’s nose wrinkled ever-so-slightly. “That sounds edifying. Let’s have some bread, shall we, Caroline? Bread is good for an upset stomach, isn’t it, Mr.—?” She raised her voice in question.

“Mr. West.”

He hesitated in revealing something as simple as his name. He needed some distance between them. He’d considered Bill as tough as hardtack, and she’d somehow wheedled her way into the man’s confidence.

Bill hitched his pants. “Me and Digger ate at the last stop. We’re gonna catch some winks in the livery.”

“You’re going to sleep?” Nolan couldn’t mask his incredulity. “Now?”

“I think that’s a fine idea,” the woman said with a smile. “Rest is often the best medicine.”

“But...” Nolan’s voice trailed off.

“But what?” The outrider bared his teeth in defiance. “I never argue with a lady.”

There wasn’t much Nolan could say to that, which left him alone with the woman and the three girls. With no other choice, he pivoted on his heel and trudged toward the sprawling relay station. The building had originally housed overnight guests, but since he’d taken over the post, there hadn’t been any need. Another reason he kept this job. Except for twice a week when the stagecoach came through town, he was alone.

Ten minutes later they were all seated around the rectangular table. Despite his carful maneuvering, he’d gotten sandwiched between the woman and the youngest girl.

He held out the bowl of beans. “Mrs. Hargreaves.”

“Not Missus,” she amended. “It’s just Miss. I’m not married. These delightful pixies are my nieces.”

Keeping her head bent, Caroline broke off a small crust of bread and nibbled on the edge.

“After Aunt Tilly takes us to Omaha,” Victoria said, reaching for the blackberries, “she’s traveling to New York City.”

Miss Hargreaves absently poured her niece a cup of water. “My father’s cousin serves on the board of The New York Widows and Orphans Society. Since the war, they’ve been positively overwhelmed. I can’t imagine a greater good than helping those displaced by the Southern rebellion, can you?”

Nolan flinched at the reference. “I guess not.”

The war went by different names depending on which side of the Mason-Dixon Line a fellow called home.

Victoria nodded eagerly. “Aunt Tilly promised to post us a letter every week and tell us all about her experiences.”

Caroline’s cheeks puffed out and she pressed two fingers over her mouth. Nolan’s breath hitched, and he frantically searched for the slop bucket. The girl appeared worse with each passing minute.

“I should have plenty of fascinating things to write about,” Miss Hargreaves said. “There are so many different people to meet. According to my father’s cousin, the sidewalks are packed day and night in some places. You can’t walk down the street without brushing into someone.”

“You don’t say.” Nolan’s gaze darted toward the sick child once more, but she appeared to be holding steady. “Aren’t there any interesting people where you live now?”

“I’ve exhausted the supply in Omaha.”

Following the war, he hadn’t been able to tolerate anyone touching him. Pushing through crowded streets sounded like a nightmare.

“I’m dreadfully bored these days.” Miss Hargreaves ladled a generous heaping of beans over her bread. “During the war, I helped my father with his law practice after his law clerk was conscripted. Since the war, there’s been few opportunities for me. My sister, Eleanor, thinks I’ll quit within the week, and I’m determined to prove her wrong. She thinks I’m flighty and lack direction. Have you ever felt as though people only see the worst in you?”

“Not particularly.”

He’d felt exactly that, but he sure wasn’t confiding in Miss Hargreaves. At least he had some sympathy for Bill. Her willingness to share her vulnerabilities naturally invited others to do the same.

“What about excitement?” She clasped her hands. “Don’t you get dreadfully bored out here all by your lonesome?”

“The quiet suits me.”

“The solitude would drive me mad. There are more opportunities for women in larger cities. I’m not exactly certain what I want in life, but I know what I don’t want. I don’t want to feel useless. Women were perfectly useful during the war, I don’t know why men believe we’ve suddenly become inept simply because peace was declar—” She glanced at her niece. “Oh, dear, Caroline. Do you need another trip to the privy?”

“Water.”

Miss Hargreaves shoved a full glass across the table.

The girl downed the liquid and sighed. “Better.”

“See there?” Miss Hargreaves’s smile brightened. “You’ll be right as rain in no time.”

Keeping a close watch on the girl, Nolan pushed back his plate. He’d been raised the only child of a dirt-scrabble farmer along the border of Virginia and Pennsylvania. As a child, he’d planned on farming like his father before him. Except his father had lost everything: his home, his land and his livelihood. Many of the farms on the losing side of the border had been confiscated during the war, and the land had never been returned. Following the war, his father had moved to Cimarron Springs, Kansas, to live near his sister, Nolan’s aunt Edith.

Nolan had lived with his father for a time, but if he didn’t follow certain patterns during the day, his sleep was marked by night terrors that sometimes turned violent. After nearly assaulting his own father during an episode, he’d retreated to the remotest location he could find. If he didn’t show some improvement by the time the railroads shut down the stagecoaches, he’d travel farther west. Maybe California or the Wyoming Territory.

Miss Hargreaves rested her elbow on the table and planted her chin in her hand. “It’s such a little thing, isn’t it? Wanting to be useful? Getting married and having a family is all well and good, but I’d go mad if all I had was the washing up to keep my mind occupied each day. Do you know how many documents must be filed with the county before the railroad claims a plot of land?”

“Nope.”

“One. But it’s quite complicated. The Douglas County clerk said I had a talent for land negotiations. A lot of good that does me. No one will hire a female for land management. I told my father I’d do all the paperwork for the cases, and he could take the credit. I don’t know what all the fuss is about.”

“Fuss?”

“My father. He doesn’t think that I know what I want. He’s right, I suppose. Except I know what I don’t want.” She grimaced. “He thinks we should all be more like my sister, Eleanor. Content with supporting her husband, even if that husband drags her all the way to Virginia City and then dies. Sounds dreadful to me. I have grander plans.”

Nolan had forgotten what it was like to view the future with hope rather than dread. Miss Hargreaves’s unflinching optimism was as flawless and blue as a spring sky. She was like a flash of light illuminating the darkness.

Poisonous grief threaded through his veins. Some things were better left in the shadows.

The youngest child held out her sticky fingers. “Boo-berry.”

The toddler rested a hand on his bent knee, smearing blackberries across his canvas trousers.

Nolan closed his eyes with a groan.

Miss Hargreaves absently grasped the tiny fingers and blotted them with her napkin. “Gracious, where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced us. Victoria is the oldest, Caroline is the middle child and you’re sitting next to Miss Elizabeth. You can call me Tilly. That’s short for Matilda.”

“I three,” Elizabeth stated, holding up the proper number of sticky fingers in confirmation.

Nolan scooted nearer the edge of the bench. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“I Isbeth,” the toddler said.

Tilly rolled her eyes. “My mother named my sister and me after her two favorite queens of England. Eleanor followed suit.” Tilly leaned over Elizabeth’s head and whispered in his ear. “That’s probably the only good thing that came of my brother-in-law Walter’s passing. Who wants a niece named Eadgifu? I’m sure she was a fine queen, but what an atrocious name.”

Her breath raised gooseflesh along the back of his neck. This close, he noted the delicate sunburn on the apples of her cheeks. Her hair was the same chestnut brown as the girls, but streaked lighter from the sun.

A suitable reply escaped him. Nolan finally settled on “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Are you talking about Papa?” Victoria asked.

“Yes.” Tilly covered the girl’s hand. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Victoria, her eyes solemn, only shrugged. “I don’t miss him as much as Mama. He was never home. When is Mama meeting us at Nanny and Poppy’s in Omaha? Will we visit you at your house after Mama arrives?”

Tilly’s lips whitened and made an exaggerated point of smoothing her napkin in her lap. “Your mother is only a week or so behind us. Of course you’ll visit me before I leave for New York. Your mother would never miss the opportunity to critique my efforts and find me wanting.”

“What does critique mean?”

Nolan glanced between the two.

Miss Hargreaves blanched. “Never mind.”

A bugle call sounded.

Instantly alert, his stomach muscles knotted.

Miss Hargreaves reached for his arm. “What’s that?”

“The cavalry,” Nolan said, stepping out of her reach.

“Is that good or bad?”

The arrival of his unexpected guests had distracted Nolan from his earlier unease. Had the cavalry been scouting him earlier? Captain Ronald, the leader of the local fort, had some odd notions. Nolan forced the tension from his shoulders and turned away from the four pairs of eyes staring expectantly at him.

“Probably nothing,” he said. “Everyone stay inside until I know whether there’s trouble or not.”

This had better be a routine check, because as long as Miss Hargreaves and her nieces remained at the relay station, the girls were his responsibility.

And if there was one thing the war hadn’t stolen from him, he took his responsibilities seriously.

* * *

After ten minutes, Tilly stood and tossed her napkin on the table. If only her brother-in-law hadn’t gone and died. Walter’s timing had never been good. Eleanor had married her father’s law clerk, a handsome fellow who might have made a good husband if it weren’t for the gold rush. Though her sister had wanted to remain living near Tilly and their father, as soon as the war ended, Walter had dragged Eleanor to the wilds of Montana in search of instant riches. They’d been gone nearly two years when he was killed in a mining accident.

Last month, Eleanor had written to say she was returning home to Omaha to live with Walter’s parents. Staying with Eleanor and Tilly’s widowed father was out of the question. Their father had never been much for disruption even before their mother’s death.

Eleanor had demanded Tilly’s assistance with their travels. Though frustrated by the delay in her own plans, Tilly had dutifully made the trip. Except nothing had gone as Tilly had expected.

Claiming she couldn’t finish tying up the loose ends of Walter’s passing with the children underfoot, Eleanor had sent Tilly and the girls ahead of her. Alone.

A fierce quarrel, conducted in hushed tones in deference to the girls, had ensued. In her usual high-handed manner, Eleanor had instructed Tilly to care for the girls better than Tilly had cared for her clothing and belongings as a child. The argument was old and recycled, and Tilly invariably lost. Eleanor was five years older and had an excellent memory. She’d dredged up every item of hers that Tilly had lost or broken over the years. When they’d reached the inevitable point in the argument when Eleanor recalled a borrowed dress Tilly had ruined with spilled punch, Tilly had thrown up her hands and relented.

Though not without a few muttered annoyances.

After all, if Eleanor thought so little of Tilly’s abilities, why entrust her with the girls? Eleanor had responded by pointing out that Tilly merely had to board the stagecoach in Virginia City, and disembark in Omaha.

The unspoken words had been cutting and obvious—even Tilly couldn’t botch such a simple task.

“I’m going to check on Mr. West,” Tilly said. “You three stay here.”

Elizabeth grinned. “I three.”

The child was inordinately pleased with her recent birthday.

“You should be very proud. It’s a very advanced age.”

Tilly stepped outside and glanced at the sky. A flotilla of angry clouds had formed along the horizon. Perfect. More rain. For the past week, there’d been nothing but rain, rain and more rain. The stagecoach had nearly gotten stuck more than once, and floating across the Niobrara River had been precarious against the swift tide.

Tilly paused midstride. A half a dozen cavalry officers on horseback had mustered in the clearing between the relay station and Main Street. Their uniforms might have been crisp and blue at one point, but the men were covered in a fine coat of trail dust. The gold braiding on their hats was frayed, and their brass buttons tarnished from wear.

“You didn’t tell us you had guests,” a voice drawled. “Be careful, West, or you’ll lose your reputation as a recluse.”

The man speaking was clearly the leader of the bunch. He leaned slightly forward, letting the reins of his horse droop. The officer was handsome, with a straight nose and a strong jaw highlighted by his bushy muttonchops.

“Didn’t have a choice,” Nolan said.

The officer smoothed one hand down the front of his coat. “Introduce me.”

Her gaze slid toward Mr. West. He stood with his feet braced apart and his arms crossed over his chest. Of the two men, she much preferred the clean-shaven stagecoach employee. He was too rugged to be strictly handsome. His jaw was too strong, his nose too aquiline and his mouth too hard for what passed for true masculine beauty. His hair might have been blond as a child, but had darkened to a tawny brown with age. Yet there was something compelling about him, a mystery in the depths of those hazel eyes. If she had more time here, she’d relish the challenge of solving the puzzle of his clipped answers and taciturn silence.

Except she wasn’t sticking around any longer than absolutely necessary, especially now that Eleanor was returning. Being under Eleanor’s thumb these past few days had only reinforced Tilly’s decision. She was heartily sick of always being judged and found lacking.

Following the end of the war, when her father’s law clerks had returned, the work she’d done in their absence had been gradually removed from her oversight. She was bored and restless.

The cavalry officer grinned at her, and touched the brim of his hat. “Captain Ronald, miss. At your disposal.”

Tilly plastered a cheerful look on her face. His attention was less flattering than perfunctory. If Eleanor was here, she knew from experience that he’d hardly spare her a glance.

“Pleasure to meet you, Captain. I’m Miss Hargreaves.”

“Where’s Perry?” Nolan demanded.

At the growl in his voice, Tilly took an unconscious step back. Clearly there was animosity simmering between the two men.

“Perry is patrolling another area,” Captain Ronald said. “You’ll have to deal with me, much as it pains you.” He turned his attention toward Tilly. “Don’t you worry about the danger, ma’am. We’ve got extra patrols between here and Omaha. You’ll be as safe as a baby in a cradle.”

“Danger?” Shock rippled through Tilly. “What danger?”

“As I said, don’t you worry your pretty little head, ma’am.” The captain touched the yellow handkerchief knotted around his neck. “The mining company is sending a shipment of gold from Virginia City on one of the stagecoaches, and we’ve gotten word that Dakota Red and his brother are in the area. They busted out of jail and need money. Nothing for you to fret about, though. We’re sending out a decoy to trap them. When they hold up the wrong stagecoach, we’ll nab them.”

“That sounds rather dangerous.”

“Nothing my boys can’t handle.”

Tilly thought she heard a low guffaw, but when she turned toward Nolan, his face was impassive.

“Why the stagecoach?” Nolan demanded. “Why aren’t they shipping the gold on the riverboat?”

“The last riverboat sunk, and they haven’t replaced it yet. Why do you think your stagecoach traffic has doubled? There’s a lot happening in the world. You ought to get out of the wilderness once in a while, Nolan.”

The stagecoach man made a sound of disgust. “The mining company ought to wait on shipping that gold. That haul is as good as stolen.”

His conviction chilled Tilly. What if the outlaws robbed the stagecoach near Pyrite?

“I’m traveling with children.” She made a feeble gesture toward the relay station. “Are you certain it’s safe for us here?”

“Children?” The captain’s interest seemed to slacken at the mention of her nieces. “Dakota Red and his brother were spotted on the other side of the river. There’s only one place to cross, which means they can’t travel south without one of my men spotting them. This relay station is the best place to be, given the circumstances. You’re safe under my watch.”

He added a self-satisfied grin that was probably meant to inspire her trust.

“Thank you, Captain Ronald.” She offered an overly bright smile in return. Since there was little chance of them meeting again, she might as well humor the man. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she trusted Nolan’s assessment of the situation more than the cavalry officer’s opinion. “I appreciate both your concern and the protection of your men.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.” His sat up straighter, puffing out his chest. “If those boys so much as sneeze, we’ll know.”

“I’m sure your men are more than capable.” Despite the captain’s assurances, a nagging sense of unease lingered. “I appreciate your vigilance.”

If something happened to the girls, she’d never forgive herself. Both her father and Eleanor had been frustrated by her irresponsibility in the past. Their criticism was exaggerated, though not entirely unfounded. She wasn’t exactly irresponsible, she was simply distracted easily. While the two of them could focus on one task to the exclusion of all else, Tilly preferred flitting from activity to activity. Her lack of commitment drove them to distraction.

“Aunt Tilly!” Victoria hollered from the doorway of the relay station. “You’d best come quick. Caroline is sick again.”

“Oh, dear. Duty calls, Captain Ronald.”

“Don’t let me keep you.” The captain touched the brim of his hat, a slight hint of distaste marring his handsome face. “We’ll scout the area. Those outlaws will be in custody in no time.”

“Much obliged, Captain,” Tilly said.

The captain signaled to his men, and the unit broke into a canter.

Tilly hastily returned inside. To her surprise, Mr. West was close on her heels.

Caroline had slumped over the table. Her arm was hooked over her head. “I feel worse, Aunt Tilly.”

“I gathered as much,” Tilly soothed.

Caroline was a replica of Eleanor at that age.

Because of their age difference, following the death of their mother, Eleanor had taken over the role of matriarch in the family. Eleanor had been a strict parent, stricter even than their father. Now the task of caring for Caroline fell to Tilly, though she was ill-suited for the role. She knew one thing for certain—she was going to be a far less severe guardian than Eleanor.

“I’ll fetch you some water,” Tilly said, uncertain how else to assist her niece.

She’d never been one to play house and care for dolls the way Eleanor had. She’d never been much for courting, either. Eleanor had always been the sister who attracted romantic attention, while Tilly had been the sister that men befriended. Usually in the hopes of getting closer to Eleanor.

Tilly had the uneasy feeling that her sister’s marriage had not been entirely happy. Though Eleanor had always denied any discontent, with each subsequent visit home, she’d become a shell of her former self. If the life Eleanor had been dreaming about since she was a child had done that to her, Tilly wanted no part of marriage. She refused to suffer the same fate as her sister.

“There’s a room in the back,” Mr. West said. “Caroline can rest there.”

Relief rushed through Tilly. “Thank you, Mr. West.”

“Call me Nolan.”

He scooped Caroline into his arms and carried her down the corridor. Grateful for his assistance, Tilly trailed after them. The room he’d chosen was sparsely furnished with only a bed and a small table, but the space was spotless. He rested Caroline on the counterpane.

Tilly touched his arm, and the muscles tensed beneath her fingers.

“Is she going to be all right?” she asked. “Do you think we should send for a doctor?”

“The nearest doctor is in the village of Yankton, and that’s a two-day ride. There’s a fellow who comes through town once in a while, but I never know when.” Nolan pressed the backs of his knuckles against Caroline’s forehead. “She’s not running a fever. It’s probably just something she ate.”

Bill Golden appeared in the doorway, concern etched on his grizzled face. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Tilly considered her options. Travel by stagecoach was uncomfortable in the best of circumstances. The air was stifling, the bumpy conditions grueling and the chance for rest all but impossible.

“I don’t think she can travel.” Tilly wrapped her arms around her midriff. “Can you wait until she’s better?”

“I’m afraid not.” Bill scratched his forehead. “This here is a mail coach. The mail has to go through. The passengers are secondary.”

“When is the next stagecoach?”

“Thursday.”

“We can’t wait until Thursday.”

“I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”

Tilly’s shoulders sagged.

Nolan scowled. “I can’t have a bunch of greenhorns underfoot.”

Her stomach knotted, and she pictured Eleanor’s disapproving frown. The simple task of boarding the stagecoach in Virginia City, Montana, and exiting once they arrived in Omaha, had suddenly become a whole lot more complicated.

She clasped her hands before her. “Surely you can stay an hour or two. I’m certain Caroline will be much improved by then. This town doesn’t appear fit for children.”

“She’s right.” Nolan set his chin in a stubborn line. “This lady has no business being here.”

Her spine stiffened. This lady? This lady?

The way he said the words made her sound singularly incompetent. She narrowed her gaze. At least Eleanor and her father had a basis for their criticism. She certainly hadn’t traveled all this way to take orders from a man who knew nothing about her capabilities. The stagecoach man had no foundation for the contempt in his voice.

“You don’t have a choice, Mr. West,” Tilly challenged. “If Caroline is unable to travel, we’re staying put, and that’s that.”

“I’m in charge.” The stagecoach man propped his hands on his lean hips. “And I’ll have the last say.”

Chapter Two

So much for being in charge.

The day following the arrival of his unexpected guests, Nolan glanced up from placing a harness on the peg in the livery. A scrape sounded and Victoria appeared in the opening of the livery doors. Her two dark braids rested against her shoulders, and her blue calico dress was clean and neat with a starched apron tied around her waist, an improvement over her younger sister.

Nolan brushed at the phantom blueberry stain on his knee.

The girl jammed her hands in the pockets of her apron, stretching the material taut. “Whatcha doin?”

“Oiling the harnesses.”

“How come?”

“Because dry leather cracks and breaks. Oiled leather is stronger.”

“What happens if the leather breaks?”

“The horses get hurt.”

“Can I help?”

“I’m finished,” Nolan said.

Victoria grasped the oil can. “What’s this?”

“Machine oil.” Nolan reached for the tin and replaced the base in the circle in he’d drawn on the workbench. “For machines.”

He nudged the handle until the tin faced north.

“Oh.” Victoria plucked a tool from the wall. “What’s this?”

“Pincers.” Nolan retrieved the tool and hooked the handle on the nail in the silhouette he’d drawn on the wall. “For shoeing horses.”

“Are you a blacksmith?”

“No. But sometimes a horse will throw a shoe on the trail. I can do some basic repairs.”

“It sure is quiet in this town.”

“I like quiet.”

“Hmph.” Victoria tapped her chin. “Do you have any matches? I want to light a fire.”

“Stay away from fire.” Nolan slid his hand over the box on his workbench. He surreptitiously stowed the matches in his pocket. “Even with the rain, the buildings along Main Street are nothing but dry tinder.”

“I just wondered.” Victoria shrugged. “Aunt Tilly found some oil lamps.”

“Where did she find them?”

“She and Elizabeth are exploring the town while Caroline sleeps.”

“Your aunt sure keeps busy.”

“Mama said that Aunt Tilly needs activity like some other folks need water or air.”

“You don’t say.”

He’d managed to cover his outburst the previous afternoon with relatively little notice. He’d set up a cot in the livery, and let his guests take over the relay station. Mostly he’d spent his time avoiding Miss Hargreaves. She had a look in her eye that didn’t bode well. She kept staring at him as though he was a knot she wanted to unravel. He wouldn’t let her get to him like she’d gotten to Bill.

“I like Aunt Tilly,” Victoria said, “but I miss my mama.”

He was curious about the circumstances, but reluctant to pry. Pulling answers from a seven-year-old didn’t sit well with him. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Mama stayed behind to sell our furniture and stuff, but that’s not what she told Aunt Tilly,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “I don’t think Mama wants Aunt Tilly to know that we’re poor. Mama even sold our horse and our dollhouse. We’re going to live with our nanny and poppy in Omaha because Papa spent all our money and left us with a worthless gold mine. Mama said that she wasn’t surprised our pa died. She always said that gold fever was going to kill him. Can you catch gold fever?”

“No.” Nolan cleared his throat. “Sorry about your pa, too.”

He tugged on his collar. That was more information than he’d intended to learn. While he figured Eleanor ought to confide in her sister, pride was an emotion he understood all too well, and he certainly wasn’t the man to pass judgment on someone else.

“I’m glad you can’t catch gold fever,” Victoria said. “I don’t think Mama liked Pa very much. She complained that he worked all the time and made us live in Virginia City.”

“I’m sure she liked your pa just fine. Sometimes folks say things they don’t mean.”

An ear-splitting scream sounded from the direction of the abandoned hotel. Nolan’s chest tightened.

Victoria took off through the double doors in a dash but Nolan quickly outpaced the child. He crossed the street and vaulted over the boardwalk railing, then shoved open the door of the hotel. Frightened chatter reverberated from the recesses of the building.

He wove his way through the abandoned tables and chairs that littered the dining space and pushed into the kitchen. A small hand tugged on the hem of his shirt, leaving a purple print. A muscle throbbed in his temple.

The toddler seemed to have an endless supply of blackberries.

“Ti-wy,” Elizabeth said.

The little girl appeared unhurt, and his heartbeat slowed a notch.

“It’s all right.” He patted her head. “I’ll take care of this.”

Tilly perched atop a single chair with a broom held protectively before her.

“What is it?” Nolan demanded. “What’s happened?”

“In there.” Tilly gestured with her broom handle. “There’s something in the stove.”

He motioned with his hand. “Hand me the broom.”

While he’d known the hotel was equipped with a kitchen, he’d never explored the building. An enormous cast-iron stove took up most of the limited space. The chimney pipe exited through the ceiling, and light showed around the space.

Opposite the chimney, a bench and shelves lined the wall. The room smelled of neglect and dust coated every surface. The untidy mess triggered his unease, and he searched for something to ground him.

Disorder in the spaces surrounding him had a way of seeping into his mood. The previous owner had left behind only a few dented pots and pans, along with some chipped plates and cups. He snatched a bandana from his back pocket and pinched the edge of a plate between the unsoiled fabric. With his fingers protected from the dust, he stacked one dish atop another, then repeated the process.

“What are you doing?” Tilly wore a scarf wrapped around her hair, pulling the chestnut mass away from her face. “I wasn’t shrieking my head off because the cupboards are in disarray!”

He nudged the handle of a cup toward the north, neatly folded his bandana and stuffed the square back in his pocket. “What’s the matter?”

Even the simple task of straightening the plates had a calming effect.

She urged him forward. “Take a look.”

The space between the workbench and the stove was narrow enough that she rested her hand on his shoulder and peered around him. The warmth of her touch seeped through his shirt and landed somewhere near his chest.

He grasped the broomstick once more and stuck the end through the oven handle. As the cast-iron door fell open, the rusted hinges squeaked. Tilly’s fingers tightened on his shoulder.

Something growled.

An enormous raccoon bared its teeth.

Nolan surged backward.

Tilly shrieked. From her perch on the chair, she leaned around Nolan and kicked shut the door. “I told you something was in there.”

“You can’t just trap the animal.” He splayed his hand to hold her back. “It’ll suffocate.”

Memories settled over him like a bleak dirge. He’d once spent an entire month in isolated confinement for a minor infraction of the rules. A month in complete and utter darkness with nothing but the scuttle of rats for company. His throat tightened painfully and he searched the open shelving behind Tilly’s head. There were four plates, an even number, and the handles on the cups faced north. Restoring order forced calm. If he spun the last plate clockwise, he wouldn’t even see the chip on the edge.

Tilly’s face swam before him. “Thank you for coming to our rescue, Mr. West. That animal startled me. Not what I was expecting to find during our explorations.”

“Explorations?” he said.

“Yes. Aren’t you simply fascinated by this town? Think of all the stories people left behind. Haven’t you ever wondered about who lived here and what they dreamed about?”

Frustrated by his inability to control the actions of others, he offered a curt “No.”

“I do.”

There was a gentleness and a guileless optimism about her that had been missing from his life for a very long time. An eternity. Part of him wanted to reach for the soothing comfort of her limitless hope in the world, but any thoughts in that direction were folly. He needed the distance. Nolan tore his gaze from the vulnerability in her clear eyes and stared at the dusty shelves.

Four plates. An even number. Even numbers symbolized order. With Tilly and the girls staring at him, he couldn’t very well scrub the dusty surfaces. They’d think he’d gone mad for tidying an abandoned building. He’d wind up like his aunt Vicky, who lived near his aunt Edith in Cimarron Springs. Aunt Vicky kept fifteen goats and dressed them up on special occasions. He needed to be alone because hiding his affliction only increased his anxiety.

“I wouldn’t waste time thinking about a bunch of strangers,” he snapped. “I don’t know why you’d want to meet a bunch of fool people who built a town without checking to see if there was actually gold in the river.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she said, a thread of hurt weaving through her voice. “Still, they must have loved adventure to go to all this trouble for a chance at gold.”

The adventure hadn’t turned out well for her brother-in-law, but Nolan doubted she’d made the connection. That was the problem with optimists. They ignored the facts that didn’t fit their rosy picture.

“Never mind,” he said. Her wounded eyes had him feeling like a first-rate heel. “Let’s see about this raccoon. I think there’s a reason she’s taken up residence in the kitchen stove.”

“The raccoon is a girl?” Tilly laughed. “I didn’t realize the two of you had met before.”

She leaned over his shoulder, and her cheek brushed against his ear. His pulse thrummed. She must have rinsed her hair in lavender water that morning, and the delicate scent overwhelmed his senses. He’d forgotten how much he missed the simplest pleasures of female companionship: the soft laughter, the swish of skirts, the way they made even the starkest places feel like home.

Home. This wasn’t his home, not permanently, and he didn’t need a bunch of folks crowding up the place.

“Your raccoon is definitely female.” Nolan focused his thoughts and eased the oven door open once more. “Look.”

Four tiny pairs of black eyes shimmered in the ambient kitchen light.

“Babies.” Tilly’s lips parted in a gasp, and her warm exhale puffed against his neck. “Now what?”

The mother hissed and they both sprang back. Tilly teetered and he automatically caught her around the waist. His breath hitched. She was soft and yielding and undeniably feminine. Once she was steady, he swiftly released his hold.

“It’s up to you,” Nolan said. “If you really want, I can relocate them, but there’s a good chance the mother will reject the babies if they’re moved.”

“No!” Caroline called from the doorway. “You can’t kill them, Aunt Tilly. They’re just babies.”

“You’re awake!” Tilly exclaimed. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much better.”

“That’s wonderful.” The relief in Tilly’s voice was obvious. “We’ll be able to leave on Thursday.”

Clearly she wanted out of Pyrite as much as he wanted them to go. The thought should have relieved him. Instead, her words left a deep, hollow ache in his chest. He’d lost his tolerance for people, though he hadn’t entirely lost the need for human connection. Yet the longer they stayed, the more he risked revealing his eccentricities. He couldn’t stomach watching their regard turn to disgust, or, worse yet, feel their ridicule.

Tilly took the broom from him. “If you don’t want them harmed, Caroline, then we’ll leave them be. It’s almost suppertime—we should go anyway.”

As they emerged into the dining room, a shadow passed before the front window. The five of them paused. The outline of a rider trotted down Main Street. The hollow thud of hoofbeats drifted through the partially open door.

An icy knot of fear settled in the pit of Nolan’s stomach. A lone rider around these parts was unusual. Most folks traveled in pairs or groups through Indian country. There was safety in numbers.

Tilly squinted through the filthy glass. “I didn’t think the cavalry would be on patrol again this soon.”

“That isn’t the cavalry,” Nolan replied, his expression grim.

Chapter Three

Tilly scrubbed at the grubby pane. Two more riders trotted past. Beside her, Nolan’s posture grew rigid and his expression was tense.

He urged her away from the window and held his index finger before his lips. “Stay inside,” he said. “Don’t come out unless I call for you.”

“But Captain Ronald said the outlaws couldn’t cross the river without being seen,” she whispered. “That must be someone else, right?”

“The captain says a lot of things.” Nolan yanked his gun from his holster, spun the chamber, then squinted along the barrel before replacing the weapon. “There’s more than one rider. Stay out of sight. No matter what happens to me, stay hidden.”

“You sound worried.” Her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her chest. “Why are you worried?”

“It’s probably nothing, but follow my orders, just in case.”

Yesterday when the cavalry officer had warned her of danger, she’d been frightened. His assurances of safety had been confident, but he’d unleashed a nagging concern. When the stagecoach was moving, she felt safer, more secure. Stranded in this lonely town, they were vulnerable.

Nolan touched her sleeve and she stared at the spot where his fingers grazed the material. Though they’d only been in Pyrite for twenty-four hours, some things had become obvious immediately. More often than not, he kept his distance, moving out of her reach and avoiding her at every turn.

He kept a physical distance, but she sensed his protectiveness, his awareness of them. When she’d been startled by the raccoon, he’d been at her side in an instant. Yet she sensed his annoyance. As with Eleanor and her father, he seemed to find her inquisitiveness irritating. Despite the contradictions in his character, he inspired a curious reaction within her.

When he gazed at her with those intriguing hazel eyes, she was instantly tongue-tied.

“Don’t come out of hiding until those men are gone,” he said. “There’s another gun in a box under the bed at the relay station. If anything happens to me, wait for them to leave, then lock yourselves up tight and wait for the next stagecoach. There are plenty of supplies.”

Her knees turned watery. Surely he was exaggerating. There was no reason to assume the men outside meant them any harm. Captain Ronald’s regiment was keeping a watch out for the outlaws. They’d know if something had happened. She glanced at the girls and quickly masked her expression. They had an alarming ability to read her moods.

“Let’s keep an eye on the raccoon.” Tilly urged the girls back toward the kitchen once more. “We should be extra-special quiet. We don’t want to frighten her.”

Victoria took Elizabeth’s pudgy hand. “We’ll be quiet. But what about the riders? What if they make noise?”

The girl’s curious expression, so like Eleanor’s, betrayed her skepticism. Victoria knew the distraction was about more than keeping an eye on the raccoon.

“Mr. West will take care of everything,” Tilly said. “Don’t worry.”

His terse orders reminded her of her father, but she didn’t doubt his ability. He had the bearing of a soldier and a hard edge to his eyes. She’d seen plenty of men with that same sharpness after the war. He was shielding them until he knew for certain the riders meant no harm, and for that she was thankful. He was the last bastion of safety in this untamed wilderness, and she clung to his unwavering self-assurance.

The girls scrounged chairs from the dining room and set up a horseshoe at the far end of the kitchen, safe from the riders and the mama raccoon, which, thankfully, had retreated deeper into the shadows.

“Keep your distance from the mama,” Tilly ordered. “Don’t touch her. Be as quiet as church mice. Stay here, and I’ll be right back.”

Unable to contain her curiosity, Tilly returned to the dining room. The warped door hadn’t shut fully behind Nolan. Her pulse thumping, she pressed her ear near the opening. Nolan met the three riders in the center of the street. The strangers were dressed in rough canvas jackets with their hats pulled low over their eyes. Foam flecked the sides of their horses, indicating a grueling ride.

Tilly fisted a hand against the dread settling in her chest. She didn’t like the look of the men. An air of menace hung thickly over them. There was something off-putting about the way they carried themselves—a desperation in the bedraggled cut of their clothing and the ribs showing on the sides of their horses.

Nolan propped one hand on his gun belt. “Where are you headed?”

One of the men tipped back his hat with his index finger. “We’re on our way south.”

“You’re going in the right direction.”

The second man chuckled. “Is this the route for the Pioneer Stagecoach line?”

“Yep.”

The man crowded his roan horse nearer to Nolan. Unease skittered along Tilly’s spine.

Nolan tensed, and he hooked his fingers around the barrel of the gun. He glanced over his shoulder with a piercing stare, and she scooted out of sight. He’d obviously sensed her scrutiny. Once again she marveled at his intuition. At home, her father rarely paid her any mind. He always had his nose in a law book. He rarely looked up except to scold her for interrupting him, or to admonish her for not being more like Eleanor. In contrast, Nolan was always aware of her movements. Not in a cloying, overbearing manner—but a watchful, comforting sort of a way.

The first man reined his horse around. “When is the next stagecoach due?”

“Week from Thursday,” Nolan lied.

Tilly frowned at the falsehood.

“Why so little traffic?”

Nolan shrugged. “Why take the stagecoach when the riverboat is faster?”

“That’s an odd thing to say. I heard the riverboat sank. You know something I don’t know, stagecoach man?”

“This station is isolated. We don’t hear the news except for when folks pass through.”

“Then you won’t mind if we stick around for a while.”

Nolan drew himself taller. “There’s nothing here. You might as well keep going south.”

“You’re all alone?”

“Just me.”

The man rubbed one finger up and down the side of his bulbous nose. “No. I think this town will be perfect. Just perfect.”

Nolan glanced over his shoulder once more. His lips were set in a hard line. Tilly shivered. Something brushed against her arm, and she stifled a shriek.

“Gracious, Caroline, you frightened me.”

Caroline clasped her hands. “Elizabeth is gone.”

“What do you mean?” Tilly demanded. “Where could she go?”

“Victoria and I only turned our back for an instant, and she was gone. There’s a door leading to the next building. I didn’t even notice because we were watching for the raccoon.”

Tilly started back for the kitchen but Caroline pointed, her face pale. Tilly followed the direction of her niece’s horrified gaze.

Elizabeth had exited the barbershop next door, and was clumsily navigating her way down the boardwalk steps and into the street directly before the strangers.

Tilly’s heart jerked into her throat. “Stay here,” she ordered the girls.

Her blood pounding, she pushed through the door and dashed after Elizabeth. Nolan spun around. She reached the errant toddler and caught Elizabeth beneath the arms.

“No-wan,” the toddler declared, reaching for Mr. West.

“You lied to me,” the outlaw declared. “I don’t like liars.”

In an instant the scene descended into a chaotic scuffle. The second man kicked Nolan square in the chest. Nolan doubled over with a groan. The third men leaped from his horse and wrapped Nolan’s hand behind his back. He struggled and the third man joined the effort to subdue him. The outlaw snatched the stagecoach man’s gun and tossed the weapon to his companion.

The leader remained mounted. He edged his horse closer, then drew his sidearm and pressed the barrel against Nolan’s head.

“You said you were alone here, mister. I don’t like when folks lie to me.”

The second man moved his horse between Tilly and Nolan. She clutched Elizabeth and scooted away. The third man blocked her exit. Frightened by the commotion, tears welled in Elizabeth’s eyes.

“Mama,” the toddler sobbed.

The mounted outlaw yanked on Tilly’s hair, tipping back her head in a painful stretch. “You should have told me you had a wife, mister.”

Chapter Four

A fierce haze clouded Nolan’s vision. The pain in his chest sucked the breath from his lungs. With a burst of strength he broke free from the outlaw twisting his arm. At the same time, the third man released Tilly. She launched herself toward Nolan. With Elizabeth clutched between them, she threw one arm around his waist and buried her head against his shoulder.

He stiffened in surprise but didn’t pull away. The toddler’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. He transferred Elizabeth into his arms and wrapped his free hand around Tilly.

“What do you want?” Nolan demanded, fearing he already knew the answer. “There’s nothing for you here.”

Tilly trembled and worked her hand between them, clutching her throat. Elizabeth hiccupped a sob.

“I’m Dakota Red.” The red-haired leader grinned. “This fellow is my brother, Charlie, and Snyder here is a friend we busted out of jail.”

Tilly gasped.

Though the brothers were similar in appearance, Charlie was at least a head shorter with small, sunken eyes and shaggy blond hair visible beneath his hat. Snyder was the largest of the bunch, a mountain of a man with a long, dark beard and heavy eyebrows. From the looks of the third man, Nolan guessed the brothers had busted Snyder out of jail for his brawn and not his brains.

Nolan slid his arm down Tilly’s back and drew her closer. “I told you, there’s nothing for you folks here.”

“Not yet. But there will be.” A scuffle sounded from the hotel and Dakota Red sighted his gun on the building. “Who’s there?”

Tilly wrenched from Nolan’s protective grasp.

Her eyes wide and frightened, she frantically splayed her arms. “They’re children. Don’t shoot.”

Nolan moved before her, but there was no way for him to shield both her and Elizabeth from the outlaw.

“You heard her.” Impotent fury settled in his chest. “Drop your weapon before you harm a child,” Nolan said.

The outlaw’s stance slackened, and the tip of his gun lowered.

His mocking laughter erupted in the strained silence. “How many young’uns you got, feller?”

“There’s just my wife and our three nieces,” Nolan answered quickly, his mind racing. They were outnumbered and outgunned. The safety of Tilly and her nieces mattered most. He grasped for any advantage he could exploit against the men.

“Where’s their pa?” The outlaw narrowed his gaze. “And don’t lie, or I’ll know.”

“Dead,” Nolan replied shortly.

Dakota Red didn’t ask about the mother. The outlaw must have assumed she was dead or he didn’t care. Another piece of information Nolan tucked away for future reference. The man clearly didn’t see women as a threat.

“Charlie.” Dakota Red motioned for his brother. “This place will work just fine.”

A muscle twitched in Charlie’s cheek. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Tilly’s hair had come loose from the coil at the nape of her neck, and the tangled mass tumbled around her shoulders. A break in the clouds sent a shaft of sunlight glinting off the silken strands. As though drawn by an invisible force, Charlie sidled nearer. He caught a handful in his gloved hand and brought the strands toward his face. Inhaling deeply, his eyes glittered dangerously.

Tilly shuddered and strained to get away.

“Let her go,” Nolan growled.

“Charlie,” Dakota Red barked out. “You heard the man.”

The outlaw’s brother remained defiant for a beat, then chuckled and shoved Tilly away.

The moment Charlie released his hold, Nolan twisted her free from the outlaw and tucked her against his side once more.

Dakota Red swung his leg over his horse’s rump and dropped to the ground. He tossed the reins to Snyder, then paced the distance, his hands planted on the double gun belts strapped around his hips.

“You and I both know what has to happen here. There’s a shipment of gold coming out of Virginia City. Without the usual steamship, that shipment has to travel over ground. The way I see things, trying to steal the gold outright will only get us shot. Which is why you and your wife are going to help us out. When the stages come through town, you’re going to steal the gold for us. By the time them cavalry boys figure out it’s missing, we’ll be long gone.”

Tilly stiffened. “What happens if we don’t help you?”

“I guess I’ll just have to kill you, won’t I?”

“No!”

“We’ll cooperate.” Nolan rapidly worked through his options. “On one condition. Neither you nor your men lay a finger on my wife or the children. If anything happens to one of them...” With a fixed stare in Charlie’s direction, he hardened his voice. “If even one hair on one of their heads is harmed, I’ll send up the alarm.”

Everything depended on the lie. As long as the outlaws believed Tilly and the girls were his family, he had leverage.

The outlaw pressed a hand against his chest in mock outrage. “I’m not here to spoil your little family. Me and the boys only want what we deserve. Them Union pigs took everything. I figure they owe us.”

Nolan gritted his teeth. A lot of men had lost their livelihoods to the war, but not everyone had turned outlaw. “That’s the deal. The stagecoach drivers and the cavalry know who lives here. If something happens to one of us, they’ll send in troops, and your plan is forfeit.”

“You make a real good point, mister.” Dakota Red grinned at his crew. “You got yourself a deal.”

“The children,” Tilly blurted. “I don’t want them frightened any more than necessary. As far as they’re concerned, you’re only resting here for a few days. Nothing more.”

Dakota Red ran his thumb along his bottom lip, his expression thoughtful. “You got an awful lot of demands considering you’re not holding any of the cards.”

“They’ll give you away,” she continued, her voice tremulous. “They’re children. They can’t keep secrets.”

Nolan admired her quick thinking. He didn’t want the girls living under the umbrella of fear any more than Tilly. They were an equal distance between both the river crossing and the cavalry fort. The travel time to each was an easy two days in the daylight. If he rode hard, he could make the trip overnight while the outlaws slept. But if he slipped out after dark, he’d be navigating without moonlight given the growing bank of clouds in the distance. He’d also be leaving Tilly and the girls alone with the outlaws if anything happened to him.

He narrowed his gaze at Charlie. Dakota Red appeared focused on the gold, and Snyder was too wary of the brothers to disobey orders. Charlie had him worried. The outlaw had a wild, reckless look in his eye, and he’d set his sights on Tilly.

Sensing the tension in the adults without understanding the reason, Elizabeth whimpered. Nolan cupped his hand around the back of her head, smoothing the fluff of curls.

“It’s all right,” he soothed. “I know where there’s a whole mess of blackberry bushes.”

“Boo-berry,” Elizabeth declared.

“Yes. Boo-berries.”

Dakota Red grunted. “Enough already. Get them young’uns out here and let me take a look at them.”

Tilly shook her head and strained away.

Nolan placed his hand over her trembling fingers. “It’s all right. Do as he says.”

He appealed to her with his eyes, willing her to understand. The outlaws had them trapped. There was nowhere for them to hide. Sooner or later, the fugitives were going to find out about the girls. The fewer falsehoods he told now, the better chance he’d have for pulling off a deception later.

There was no way of explaining his plan to Tilly. She was terrified, and she had every right to be. He reached for her, then let his hand drop to his side. Elizabeth wrapped her small arms around his neck.

Tilly glanced between him and the tiny head resting on his shoulder. She seemed to make some kind of a decision. Though her steps dragged, she made her way to the hotel and emerged a moment later with a bright, false smile on her face.

Holding each of the girls’ hands in one of her own, she said, “Victoria and Caroline, these men are going to be staying in town for a few days. We don’t want to bother them, so let’s keep our distance, shall we?”

Caroline pursed her lips. “They can’t stay in the hotel. I promised that mama raccoon no one would bother her.”

Charlie turned his head and spit into the grass. “Is your young’un touched or somthin’?”

“No.” Tilly glared. “A mama raccoon has taken up residence in the stove at the hotel.”

The outlaw chortled and reached for his gun. “I’ll make short work of that varmint.”

“You can’t!” Caroline shouted.

Dakota Red shook his head. “Don’t go teasing the girl, Charlie. There’s no reason we can’t oblige these folks for their hospitality. Looks like there’s a proper house next to the livery. No need to go bothering the wildlife.”

“That’s the undertaker’s house,” Nolan murmured beneath his breath.

Tilly’s eyes widened. “You’re joking,” she whispered.

“Not at all.”

“Serves them right.” She grimaced, then raised her voice. “Why don’t you girls return to Mr. West’s, um, return to the relay station and we’ll start dinner.”

The two older girls exchanged a confused look, but dutifully followed orders.

Elizabeth strained toward her sisters and Nolan set her on her feet with a pat on her head. “Go with your sisters.”

“Boo-berries.”

“After dinner.”

The toddler studied his face as though gauging his intent. Apparently satisfied he’d keep his promise, she ambled after the older girls.

Once they’d moved out of sight, Tilly set her jaw in the stubborn line he’d witnessed the previous day. He sensed she didn’t like being given orders, which didn’t bode well for the next few days. He’d have his hands full staying between her and the outlaws. If one good thing had come out of his time living in the camp, he’d picked up skills in dealing with folks who held all the power. Always let the man in charge believe he had his prisoners cowed. That way, he dropped his guard.

“There are five of us and only three of you,” Tilly declared boldly. “You can’t watch all of us all the time.”

“I don’t have to watch you.” Dakota Red chuckled. “Neither you nor your husband is leaving without your young’uns, and there’s no way them girls are getting very far in this terrain without horses. You follow what I’m saying? I don’t have to keep watch on you, I just have to keep watch on the horses, and I’ve got all five of you wrapped up tighter than a beetle in a spiderweb.”

Nolan’s gut twisted. The outlaw had effectively snatched the last best chance of fetching help.

There was no way he was making the cavalry station or the river crossing on foot, which meant he’d best think of another plan. Quickly.

* * *

The girls disappeared into the relay station, and Tilly glanced in despair at Nolan. How were they going to survive the next few days? The girls would certainly give them away. How could she explain the situation without frightening them?

Charlie sidled closer, and nausea rose in the back of her throat. Her neck throbbed from his earlier violent behavior. He reached for her and she instinctively launched herself at Nolan. His strong arms closed around her, clasping her shivering body tight against his side. The outlaw hadn’t challenged the stagecoach man before, and she prayed Charlie would keep his distance now.

“It’s all right.” The warmth of Nolan’s breath feathered against her tangled hair. “You’re safe. I won’t let him harm you.”

Angry tears burned in her eyes. If she hadn’t let her curiosity override her good sense, she’d have been watching Elizabeth, and none of this would have happened.

At least her nieces were safe. For the moment.

Dakota Red gathered his men. “Snyder will follow you two up to the house. The boys and I have a hankering for supper. Snyder will make certain there aren’t any weapons lying around. We wouldn’t want the children getting hurt now, would we?” He offered a toothy grin. “I just need to speak with the boys for a few minutes. You don’t mind, do you? And if you do mind, I can always shoot you.”

He took great amusement in his own macabre joke, laughing until his belly jiggled. Tilly quivered and burrowed closer to Nolan. When she realized she was clutching the stagecoach man with enough force to crush his ribs, she started and pulled away.

He tightened his grip and spoke near her ear. “Stay close. As long as Charlie is in view, we’re madly affectionate. If he wants my cooperation, he has to know how much you and the girls mean to me.”

His cheeks reddened. “You know what I mean.”

“I know.”

She did understand. Perhaps because the situation had turned dire, she was keenly aware of the stagecoach man. His expression was grave, but she noted the rapid rise and fall of his chest. When had her emotions gone topsy-turvy? She’d always assumed that she was the same person in any given situation, and that her inherent personality would surface under duress.

Yet here she was, cowering in the arms of a near stranger. She felt as though the outlaws had stripped away the thin veneer of her independence and exposed her weakness on a very basic level.

Tilly clamped shut her eyes. What was happening to her? The truth of her nature was disheartening. The woman she wanted to be wouldn’t count on this man for protection—she’d take care of herself. Except she wasn’t the brave person she’d thought herself. She was skittish and vulnerable, trapped between the outlaws and this quiet man.

Nolan’s hands moved in soothing circles over her back, heightening her awareness of him. Shocked by her flare of unwanted longing, she glanced away. She mustn’t read anything personal in his demonstrative actions. His caring was part of the act, nothing more.

As for her unexpected reaction, she was instinctively responding to his protection and his kindness. Wasn’t she?

No matter her own pitiable weakness, she had others to think about. “I have to speak with the girls, make them understand without frightening them.”

“We’ll keep them separated from the outlaws as much as possible,” Nolan said. “You’ll keep them busy.”

“How?” She tossed a glare at the outlaws’ backs. “I suppose we could start by digging our own graves.”

“Don’t even tease about that. No matter what happens, we have to stay focused on surviving.”

“All right then, but this town isn’t exactly teeming with activities. We can’t exactly visit the mercantile and select ribbons from the general store.”

“They’re children. How much entertainment do they need?” The stagecoach man appeared perplexed. “Keep them busy however you keep children busy. They’re your nieces, surely you know them.”

Barely. Even when Walter was away at war, Eleanor had always hovered over the girls. She’d never trusted Tilly alone with them beyond an hour or two here or there. Tilly was never an authority figure to her nieces.

“I’ve only been watching them for a few days,” Tilly explained. “And we’ve been traveling or packing for most of those.”

“You were a child once. What did you do to keep busy?”

Tilly snorted. “Eleanor gave me chores.”

“Then give the girls chores.” He pressed two fingers beneath her chin and forced her to look at him. “Your nieces are counting on you.”

She flashed a half grin. “I’d have them clean the relay station, but you’ve already scrubbed the wood grain from the floor.”

Something flicked in his eyes, an emotion she couldn’t read.

“I suspect they’ll make another mess soon enough.”

“You’re probably right.”

The girls were tidy. They’d grown up beneath Eleanor’s guidance, after all, yet they still managed to create chaos with shockingly little effort.

Eleanor had always striven for perfection, while Tilly had been content with disorder. In her teenage years, her sister had once sent Tilly to bed without supper for failing to put away her stockings properly. Treating the girls in the same manner didn’t seem right considering how much Tilly had chafed under Eleanor’s strict rule.

“Hey,” Dakota Red shouted. “You two quit your whispering.”

Her anger rose up. She wasn’t chattel to be ordered around.

“Get, woman,” the outlaw ordered. “The boys and I are hungry. Until I’m certain you don’t have any guns hidden around the place, the two of you stay together. Snyder will keep watch while you’re cooking.”

Tilly bit her tongue until she tasted blood.

Charlie crossed to his horse, making a deliberate show of brushing against her arm. Her flare of rebellion instantly died. Tilly shuddered and moved closer to the shelter of Nolan’s arms. The mercenary part of her feared being alone with the fugitives—she feared being separated from Nolan’s safety. Though she’d only known the stagecoach man for a day, they were banded together against the outlaws.

Their common enemy created an instant sense of union.

Her make-believe husband touched the spot where Charlie had brushed against her, as though erasing the mark of the outlaw. Their eyes locked and they both faltered for a moment. Her stomach did a little flip.

“Steady on, Miss Hargreaves.” His gaze softened, and one corner of his mouth tilted up. “Wasn’t Matilda called ‘The Good Queen’?”

“You’ve studied your history.”

“Only when forced. I’m certain your education is far more extensive. I grew up on a farm. I only attended school when I wasn’t needed for chores.”

Pressure built behind her eyes. This was the most he’d ever spoken to her. She hadn’t realized until then how very much she missed conversation. In the years since the war, as her employment with her father’s law practice had gradually dwindled, her circle of acquaintances had narrowed. As the men returned home, the ladies’ war-effort committees had gradually disbanded. Her friends had drifted away, moving on with their lives, marrying and starting families.

Everything had happened so slowly, she hadn’t realized until this very moment how isolated she’d become of late. How very lonely.

Nolan was staring at her, and his tiny quirk of a grin faded. “Tilly?”

He cupped her cheek and ran the ball of his thumb beneath her eye. “Don’t give them the satisfaction of your tears. Men like that feed off others’ weakness.”

“I’m afraid of being caught alone with Charlie.”

“I’ll see that you never are.”

“Thank you.”

At the quiver in her voice, his hand glided down her cheek. He stroked the pulse throbbing at the base of her neck. “He won’t touch you again. Not while I’m here.”

A delicate shudder rippled all the way to her toes. He was staring at her with an intensity that made her breath catch. Any hint of his previous cajoling smile had vanished. She couldn’t help but question what he was thinking. She sensed his inner conflict, and wondered at it. Her hand fluttered near his shoulder. She had an insane longing to caress him and comfort him, but she held herself in check.

One of the horses whinnied, and they jolted apart. The moment broken, Tilly glanced away. The wind caught her hair, whipping it across her face and eyes, obscuring her view of his expression. Had he been as affected by the moment as she had?

She’d consider the oddity of her reaction later, when they weren’t in fear for their lives. This wasn’t about feelings, this was about survival. Their pact was only temporary.

Nolan clasped her fingers and tugged her toward the relay station. His hand dwarfed hers, and the rough calluses on his palm chafed her skin. He caught her gaze and her heart kicked. She looked over her shoulder and caught Charlie following their progress, a speculative gleam in his beady eyes. She whipped back around.

Snyder grunted. “Let’s go.”

As far as the outlaws knew, she and Nolan were husband and wife. She’d been too stunned by Charlie’s unexpected attack to refute his words, but Nolan had latched on to falsehood. He’d used the lie as a bargain, and he’d saved their lives, and her virtue, in the process. Though she wasn’t adept at dealing with fugitives, she admired his ploy. He’d cleverly bargained his assistance for her safety and the safety of the girls.

Once inside the relay station, Snyder grabbed a heel of bread from the counter and bit off a hunk before wandering into the area containing the dining table. He didn’t appear in any great hurry to start his search.

Nolan led her to the meticulously ordered kitchen. Another tidbit she’d discovered about the stagecoach man in the short time they’d known each other—he was neat. Obsessively so. Her father and Eleanor had shared the same trait. They obsessed over even the tiniest imperfection.

If growing up in a spick-and-span household had taught her anything, the two of them were bound to clash. Tilly had never been praised for her tidiness.

While Eleanor and her father had been obsessively neat, Nolan’s living conditions were austere in the extreme. There were chalked outlines on the wall where the pots and pans had been arranged by size. Eleanor would probably swoon at the sight. An unexpected stab of jealousy focused Tilly’s attention. Eleanor wasn’t here. Eleanor was miles away, and Tilly had better keep her head clear. She’d already cost them with her inattentiveness.

Nolan lit the stove and adjusted the flame. “They’ll expect the woman to prepare the food,” he said. “Follow my lead and try and pretend you know where everything is located.”

She looked heavenward. “You should know that I don’t cook very well.”

Another piece of domesticity she’d never mastered. Women’s work was either frippery, like embroidering handkerchiefs, or tediously repetitious, like cooking and doing laundry. She hadn’t the patience for either.

They’d employed a housekeeper off and on over the years, depending on the state of her father’s law practice. That was another reason her volunteer work had dwindled. Since her father had to pay his current law clerk an actual salary, as opposed to Tilly’s free labor, she’d once again taken over the role of housekeeper.

“I don’t think they’re expecting much in the way of food,” Nolan replied wryly. “When Snyder is distracted, I’ll slip into the bedroom and retrieve my gun.”

“If he catches you retrieving a gun,” Tilly whispered harshly, “he’s liable to kill you.”

A crash sounded and Elizabeth toddled from the bedroom the girls had claimed.

“Uh-oh,” the toddler exclaimed ominously.

Victoria skidded from the room, Caroline close on her heels.

Caroline pointed. “It was her fault!”

“Was not.” Victoria’s lower lip protruded in an exaggerated pout. “She pushed me.”

Tilly heaved a sigh. “What’s broken?”

“Your looking glass.”

Tilly scrubbed a hand down her face. “Never mind.”

Of all the things that had gone wrong this day, a shattered looking glass was the least of her worries.

“Why don’t you three wash up for supper?” she directed. “Stay out of the bedroom for now. I’ll clean up the glass when I’ve finished with dinner.”

She paused on an expectant breath, waiting for someone to protest. When Caroline merely shrugged, Tilly exhaled loudly. She silently praised the innocent acceptance of children. She and Nolan were treading through a minefield with this charade. Who knew what pitfalls they were bound to stumble over in the next few days? Her nieces hadn’t questioned the fact that she was assisting Nolan with dinner, though he’d prepared the meals exclusively since their arrival.

She slanted a glance at Snyder, who’d been distracted by several burrs adhered to his canvas-clad calves. The men’s escape must have led through tall brush. He twisted around, his attention focused on the stubborn spikes. Tilly edged toward the bedroom Nolan occupied. The outlaw grunted and straightened, abandoning the effort.

Panic tightened painfully in her chest. Her three nieces crowded around the wash bucket, laughing and splashing each other, their argument forgotten as quickly as it had flared. Pain throbbed behind her eyes. They had no idea of the danger, and she was determined to keep it that way.

Nolan’s gaze darted toward the bedroom door at the opposite end of the relay station.

“You can’t,” she implored quietly. “It’s too dangerous.”

“We don’t have any other choice. Dakota Red has us trapped. He’s right, we won’t get very far without the horses.”

“Then we’ll help them. Once they have the gold, they’ll leave us be.”

Pity shimmered in his hazel eyes. “Sure.”

Her heart sank. “They’re going to kill us either way, aren’t they?”

“Let’s just get through tonight, we’ll worry about the rest later.”

He was backtracking on his words to keep her fears at bay, but she’d seen the truth in his expression. Once the outlaws had the money, their lives were forfeit. She glanced at the two long braids hanging down Caroline’s back. For the first time in her life she was entirely free of Eleanor’s authority and her father’s disapproval, and all she wanted was to crawl back home. She’d been angry with her sister for treating her as though she was still a child, and here she was behaving like one.

Eleanor had always been stronger, but something had changed since Walter’s passing. The facade of perfection had slipped, and her sister’s fragility had unleashed a desperate terror in Tilly. It was a truth she’d been unwilling to face. If Eleanor wasn’t the strong one anymore, where did that leave Tilly? As much as she chafed against her role in the family, at least she understood her place.

Victoria giggled and flicked water at her younger sisters. The juxtaposition of their innocence against the outlaw prowling the house was too much to bear.

Tilly’s chest pounded like a kettledrum. “Where are those blackberry bushes, Mr. West? Are they close?”

“Out the back door, and straight ahead.” He pitched his voice low. “You can call me Nolan when we’re around the outlaws.”

Her cheeks heated. “Of course. I keep forgetting.”

She squinted through the window. The three girls would be away from the house, but still within sight. Nolan was correct, they needed distance between her nieces and the outlaws at all times.

She grasped a bowl from the counter and approached Caroline. “Gather as many berries as you can. Take as long as you need.”

Once again Caroline shot her a speculative glance, but didn’t question the orders. Tilly made a note to watch herself around the middle child. All of the girls were intelligent, but Caroline was the most like Eleanor, and Eleanor had always known when Tilly was up to something.

Once the girls were gone, Tilly and Nolan began the meal. Snyder skulked about the station, poking his nose in all the cupboards and stomping on the floorboards. He emerged from the first bedroom empty-handed, and she and Nolan exchanged an uneasy glance. The barren rooms gave little clue as to who occupied them.

Nolan started for the door, but Snyder blocked his path.

“You stay where I can see you,” the outlaw ordered.

Nolan’s concentration remained focused, and Tilly sensed he was weighing his options, deciding if he could challenge the man alone. She studied the scattergun clutched in Snyder’s hands, then stared at her fingers. Nolan was the best hope for the girls. He was the only one who could truly protect them. He was the one the outlaws needed in order for their plan to succeed. Since she couldn’t let him put himself in harm’s way, she’d have to do this herself.

She wiped her hands on her skirts and straightened. “I can’t work with my hair unbound like this.”

She brushed past Snyder and marched toward the last bedroom. Nolan’s room. The room the outlaw hadn’t yet searched.

Snyder grasped her upper arm in a viselike grip. “I like your hair just fine the way it is.”

Tilly shot him a quelling glance. “I prefer my hair bound.”

The painful hold on her arm eased. Snyder let her go and swiped at his mouth with his sleeve.

“Be quick about it, girlie. I’m hungry.”

“I’ll be quick as gunfire,” she said over her shoulder.

If she wanted to live her life as a brave woman who wanted to live a purposeful life, then she’d better start acting like one.

Chapter Five

The shotgun layout of the relay station allowed Nolan to view all the exits. There were two rooms flanking the front entrance, which opened to the kitchen and dining room areas, and two rooms lining the corridor to the rear exit. He crossed the space and peered out the back door. The top of Caroline’s head was visible behind a tangle of blackberry bushes. The girls laughed with each other, blissfully unaware of the tension brewing in the relay station.

The task should keep them busy for at least another thirty minutes, give or take.

He cast a glance at the door leading to his bedroom. How long did Tilly have before the outlaw grew suspicious? His gun wasn’t exactly concealed, but he hadn’t painted a bull’s-eye on the barrel, either.

Snyder flopped onto one of the dining room chairs. He hooked his heel over the rung of a second chair, yanked the legs nearer, then propped his loosely crossed ankles on the seat. Nolan clenched his jaw. Bad enough the outlaws were forcing their participation in a heist before they murdered them, but they were a slovenly bunch of fugitives, as well.

The outlaw rested his shotgun across his lap and threaded his hands behind his head. The scattergun was an odd choice, but given the item was probably stolen, the selection made more sense.

Nolan ladled beans into a serving bowl, and the outlaw grunted.

“You always do woman’s work?” the man sneered.

“With only the two of us running the station, we alternate tasks.”

The outlaw grunted again, apparently satisfied with the answer. Nolan’s gaze slid toward the partially open bedroom door. A thump sounded and Snyder straightened.

Nolan slammed down the coffeepot, pulling the man’s attention from Tilly’s activities.

“Why are you running with those two?” Nolan asked. “Seems like you’re the sort of fellow who can take care of himself.”

“I owe ’em for busting me out of jail.”

“They’re using you,” Nolan said. “They’ll kill you and take your share once they have the gold. They’re brothers. They have no allegiance to you.”

“Like you said, I’m the sort of fellow who can take care of himself.”

The big guy was smarter than he looked. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to sow the seeds of discontent now and again over the next few days. Anything the hostages could do to divide the men might ultimately aid in an escape attempt.

The gang had obviously been riding hard, and fatigue showed in the bend of Snyder’s shoulders. His eyes drifted shut. Nolan gently set the stacked plates on the table, then wiped his hands on a towel. His nerves thrummed. Tilly was taking too long. Snyder was liable to wake and burst in on her at any moment.

He started toward the bedroom. The front door slammed open. Dakota Red and his brother stumbled inside, their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, their faces flushed and their eyes glassy.

“Where’s the woman?” Charlie demanded.

“Doing her hair or something,” Snyder mumbled from his half slumber.

Charlie kicked the chair from beneath his heels, jerking the outlaw upright. “You’re supposed to be watching them.”

“I am.”

Charlie slapped the back of the taller man’s head. “I told you we shoulda left this big, dumb lug behind.”

Snyder lunged upward but the quick tensing of Dakota Red’s body had him checking his actions.

“Leave him alone, Charlie,” Dakota Red snarled. “We need him. The next time he sleeps on duty, I’ll wallop him myself.”

“You say we need him.” Charlie threw up his arms. “I say we can work this heist just fine on our own.”

“Your last plan got us locked up in jail for fourteen months. I’m not swinging from a noose because you can’t hold your temper.”

The two men measured each other in silence, one deadly calm and sure, the other seething with barely concealed rage. Finally, muttering a vile imprecation, Charlie spun on his heel and stalked toward the partially closed door. The outlaw lifted his heel to kick the door, but the panel swung open before his boot made contact. The shock threw him off balance and he stumbled forward.

Tilly dodged his clumsy fall as she entered the room. Her face carefully impassive, she skirted past the prone man.

Charlie muttered another sharp curse, and Snyder chortled.

Dakota Red scowled at Snyder. “Don’t rile him up. He’s liable to shoot you, and I need a third man for this job.”

The humiliated outlaw sprang to his feet and slapped his hat against his thigh.

Nolan frantically searched Tilly’s face for any sign she’d had success in retrieving the gun, but he couldn’t read her expression. She’d pinned her hair in place once more, appearing cool and composed. Only someone looking closely would see the way she clutched her fingers together, hiding the fact that she was visibly shaking. Apprehension crawled up his nerves. He’d try again for the gun later. Snyder must have forgotten he hadn’t searched the room, because he didn’t show any sign of moving from his perch at the table.

Tilly took in the tension flickering between the three outlaws and scooted nearer to Nolan. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

Aware the outlaws were monitoring their every move, he draped his hand around her waist and drew her near. She offered a stiff smile that might have passed as a grimace. Neither of them was particularly comfortable with the ruse, but until he thought of a better plan, they were trapped in the deception. The irony didn’t escape him. He was an unlikely suitor even before the war. Women had mostly left him stammering and bashful.

Others in the prisoner camp had anxiously awaited letters from home, but his mother had died and his father didn’t write well.

The perfumed letters caused the most ribbing amongst the men. Yet there was a melancholy edge in the prisoners’ good-natured teasing. At the time, Nolan had been grateful he didn’t have a sweetheart waiting for him. Anticipating the letters was agony, and receiving a missive was joy tempered with the sure knowledge of everything the men were missing. They were supposed to be grateful they were alive, and he was—other men perished by the hundreds each day. Except balancing on the cusp of living was its own torture.

Tilly slipped from his hold and patted his cheek, then ducked into the kitchen once more. Nolan touched the spot her hand had caressed. A simple gesture, the casual affection of husband and wife. He’d best follow her lead and stay on his toes, no matter how unnatural the actions.

As she sliced the loaf of bread he’d left on the counter, Nolan finished setting the table for the outlaws.

“Ain’t you setting a place for yourselves?” Dakota Red inquired from his sprawl.

“We’ll wait until you’re finished,” Tilly replied, her voice clipped. “The girls, remember.”

“Ah, yes. Them girls who can’t keep secrets.”

She finished slicing the bread and carried the board to the table. Once she’d returned to the kitchen, she rinsed her hands and draped the towel haphazardly over the counter. Nolan automatically lifted the discarded item.

Tilly glared at him.

He glanced down.

She’d been covering the knife she’d used to slice the bread.

His ears burned.

He folded the towel in fours and rested the neat square over the knife once more.

She reached for the leather handle of the water bucket. “I’ll be right back.”

As she passed before the table, Charlie stuck out his booted foot and caught her ankles. She pitched forward and landed hard on her knees. The bucket shot from her hands and something skittered across the floor.

Rage surging through his veins, Nolan automatically reached for Tilly. Snyder squeezed his throat, holding him back.

“Well, well, well.” Dakota Red stood slowly and crossed the room. “What do we have here?” He lifted the object from the floor, and the metal barrel of a gun glinted in the light of the kerosene lantern. “You’re full of surprises, ma’am.”

* * *

Tears of frustration sprang in Tilly’s eyes, as much from the pain of falling as in losing the gun. They’d been watching her so closely, she’d thought she’d have a better chance of hiding the weapon outside. She hadn’t counted on the outlaws’ cruelty.

Charlie hooked his arm beneath her shoulder and hauled her upright. She cringed from the steely look in his close-set eyes, and braced for a cuffing.

“Teach him a lesson,” Dakota Red declared.

“Him?” Tilly’s eyes flew open.

The outlaw smirked. “Well, I can’t hit a woman now, can I?”

Charlie wrapped Nolan’s arm behind his back, and Snyder pounded him in the gut with a burly fist. Nolan paled and went to his knees.

The outlaw released her and Tilly rushed to his side.

Charlie grinned. “I knew you’d try something. Got anything else you’d like to tell us?”

He reached for Nolan and Tilly put her body between the outlaw and the prone man. “Nothing. That was the only gun.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“I don’t care what you believe.”

She reached for Nolan.

“I’m all right,” he said, his voice strained.

He didn’t appear fine as he staggered upright. His complexion was ashen, and his face was contorted in a grimace of pain.

Nolan declined her proffered hand. “I don’t need your help.”

Her fingers trembled. He might not need her help, but she needed his...desperately. The only other time she’d traveled outside of Omaha had been for Walter’s funeral, and she’d had the guidance of her father. She’d thought Omaha slightly wild when compared to cities she’d read about back east. The gold-rush town of Virginia City had shattered her naive belief. She’d been shocked by the rough conditions and the hordes of dirt-covered men desperate for gold.

Eleanor had never voiced concerns over her living conditions, and Tilly hadn’t pressed her sister. Being surrounded by these hardened men gave her new insight into Eleanor’s challenges. Why hadn’t her sister ever confided in her?

“Girlie!” Dakota Red shouted, a malicious grin slashing his craggy face. “The fellows and I have a powerful hunger. Fetch them vittles.”

A filthy hand tugged on her skirts. She stepped away from Charlie’s grasping hand, only to find herself bumping in to Snyder. The burly man laughed and plucked at her sleeve.

“Got any more guns hiding in there?” he demanded.

She dodged his grasp, her eyes flashing with anger. Charlie halted her exit, splaying his arms and grinning as though this was all some sort of game to him. She whipped around and discovered she was trapped. Panicked, she was near to crying. She set her jaw, refusing to shed a tear. Charlie seemed to feed on her desperation and fear. She wouldn’t break down. Nolan had warned her. If she broke down, they’d have her.

Nolan straightened, one hand braced against the table, the other clutching his ribs. “You know the deal. Leave her be.”

An insane gratitude swept over her. Though her independent spirit rebelled against cowering behind the stagecoach man, survival took hold. At this moment, she had no other choice except clinging to the safety he provided.

Charlie threw back his head and chortled. “Your man has some fight.”

“We need him, Charlie.” Dakota Red’s expression was a frigid as a winter wind. “Stay away from the woman.”

“She ain’t worth it anyway,” his brother spat out. “She’s plain as a fence post and she’s got hips like a buffalo.”

Outraged, she cocked her palm. In a flash Nolan caught her wrist. Blinking rapidly, she lowered her hand. If she struck Charlie, he’d be forced to strike back, hard, or risk losing face in front of the other men.

Lifting her chin, she moved away, refusing to let the outlaws see the devastation Charlie’s words had wrought. She was plain, and she’d always had more curves than the other ladies. Having her faults displayed before the other men smarted. Who was she kidding? Nolan’s opinion was the one that mattered most to her. She snuck a look at him from beneath her eyelashes. His expression was dark and unreadable.

“Git, woman,” Dakota Red ordered once more. “She don’t need to be pretty to make supper.”

The outlaws grumbled at giving up their game, but when Tilly hastily set the beans and bacon on the table next to the bread, they shrugged and relented. She returned to the kitchen and scooted nearer to Nolan.

“Are you all right?” she asked in a hushed tone. “How are your ribs?”

“Good,” he replied, his voice strained. “Nothing to worry about.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Woman,” Charlie hollered. “Fetch me more water.”

Tilly ground her teeth and turned away from Nolan. He caught her hand, his gaze fierce.

“We have to see this through,” he whispered. “Do you understand? Don’t let them get to you, or they’ll kill us all. They’ll try and get under our skin to keep us off balance.”

Her face burned. He knew. He knew she was humiliated. At least he hadn’t tried to appease her with lies, and for that she was grateful.

She’d rather have his anger than his pity. “I understand.”

“Charlie has to look tough for the other men. The best way to make himself look big is to belittle someone smaller than him. We’re caught in the middle, that’s all.”

“I said that I understand, and I do,” she said through clenched teeth.

Nolan pressed a kiss against her temple.

Her whole body quivered. She leaned into his touch, then caught Charlie staring at them. The affectionate gesture was obviously for his benefit.

Tilly moved away. Her looks weren’t what gave her worth.

The outlaws ate the simple meal with gusto, nearly emptying the pan of beans before the girls arrived with the berries. With her nieces present, the icy knot of fear settled in Tilly’s chest once more. She directed the girls inside with a nervous grin, admonishing them to wipe their feet. Best to keep everything as normal as possible.

Elizabeth had purple stains covering her mouth and the front of her dress. “Boo-berries.”

She approached the far end of the table and held out a handful of smashed purple. “Want?”

Dakota Red drew his chin toward his chest and angled his head with a shake. “You keep ’em. Let’s go, boys.” He pointed one gnarled finger in Tilly’s direction, his mouth set in a grim line. “Remember your young’uns the next time you want to try something. You got me?”

She suppressed a shiver of fear. His threat was obvious. “I understand.”

Gracious. She was beginning to sound like a parrot, chirping the same phrases over and over again.

“Me and the boys will be keeping a tight watch on the horses,” he continued. “You play along real nice like we asked, and everything is going to be fine. You got that?”

Tilly gave a hesitant nod.

“Glad we came to that agreement. We’ll just search the place again. Even though you’ve given us your word.”

The outlaws tore up the entire station looking for hidden weapons. They emptied all the drawers, moved all the furniture and tapped on all the floorboards. During the search, Tilly kept the girls busy with baking a batch of blackberry muffins.

Victoria glanced up at a particularly loud thump. “What are they doing? What’s taking them so long?”

“They lost something. They’re trying to find it.”

“Mama said if you put your stuff away when you’re done, you don’t lose things.”

“She’s right. But I don’t think they’re interested in your mother’s advice right now.”

Once the outlaws were satisfied, they left to tend their horses. Snyder took a seat outside the front door, and filled his pipe bowl with tobacco.

After the excitement of the afternoon, the rest of the evening passed in relative monotony. Only the faint stench of pipe smoke kept Tilly on edge. As much as she and Nolan struggled to present an air of normalcy, the danger was ever present. With each tick of the clock the tension took its toll, gradually draining her body and soul of energy. Tilly fed the girls and had the three wash up for bedtime.

Caroline stifled a yawn behind her fingers. “What time will the stagecoach come by tomorrow? I’m ready to see Nanny and Poppy.”

“About that.” Tilly tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “Nolan thinks the next stagecoach might be too full. If that’s the case, we’ll have to stay another day or two.”

Caroline shrugged. “All right.”

Tilly breathed a sigh of relief at her easy acceptance of the lie. The next few days were going to be a trial. Tonight she needed rest.

After they’d finished cleaning up the broken looking glass and preparing for bed, the three of them stretched out on the mattress in the main bedroom. Tilly pulled the covers up to their chins, and they each said a quick prayer. Caroline and Victoria prayed for their mother’s safe travels, and Elizabeth prayed for a puppy.

Caroline rolled her eyes. “You’re never getting a puppy. Mama doesn’t like dogs. She says they’re messy and they shed hair. She says dog fur is disgusting.”

Elizabeth set her chin in a stubborn line. “I pray.”

She stuck out her tongue for emphasis.

Caroline swiped at her sister and Tilly lunged between them. “No fighting. Elizabeth can pray for whatever she wants. No hitting each other at bedtime.”

Her nerves were stretched too taut for this sort of the nonsense. Thankfully, the two scooted away from each other. The girls chatted and their animosity quickly dissipated.

Pausing at the door, Tilly blew each of them a kiss. Their eyes drifted shut and she lingered in the doorway. She’d missed them terribly over the past few years. She hardly knew Elizabeth, who’d been an infant when her parents moved to Virginia City.

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